There is, I believe, an incredible feeling that comes when you learn a new skill. No matter what it might be, the process you go through to gain that ability is something intrinsically worthwhile, even as the skill itself may seem rote.
For me, it’s about throwing Frisbees (excuse me, flying discs, which I’m calling Frisbees because I don’t want to keep referring to something like a Discraft and confusing myself along with everyone else), and not just throwing them, but throwing them where I want them to go. You always start with your entire body torqued around the disc like you’re an electric screwdriver that’s about to stop working, and then you unleash your furious and silly momentum at the disc.
And it flies two feet, takes a hard right turn, and plows the ground.
If you are a parent trying to teach your offspring the Art of Frisbee, you have seen this. You do the “that’s all right, gender-based-child-of-mine” speech while walking to where the Frisbee is so you can shake it off and explain for the seventh time where to put their hand and that they only need to “flick”.
And eventually the disc flies straight. And eventually it flies far. And then you find a whole world of other people who play Frisbee for fun. You learn to throw forehand. You try playing ultimate. You get better, casually ripping a throw 60 yards downfield to someone who will willingly sacrifice their health to catch it.
Or you finally figure out what those ugly metal stands in public parks are when you see some dude throwing smaller frisbees into them. Frisbee golf? No, it’s Disc Golf, and Frisbees are pretty inadequate to the task as you soon find out when you try it the first time. You shank a few hits off of some trees, put your Frisbee in the creek, and hit two kids on a playground by accident.
Then someone teaches you about the driver discs and the putter discs…. And again, you realize there’s more to learn.
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