Let The Games Begin...

It's frisbee time again. Now that the night air stays a little warmer, the annual pilgrimages downtown to the riverfront have begun. Running, jumping, diving, sliding...all are important aspects of the friendly game of frisbee.

Unfortunately, I have this thing. It's some sort of condition that I have. Everytime I play frisbee I get injured in some way. It's almost become legendary. I've come away with twisted ankles, sore muscles, and face wounds, to name a few. And I have this issue with my hands...they are apparently very soft and sensitive. And when you are catching a speeding frisbee thrown by a spastic man, these delicate hands often get injured. I tend to get this condition called "fat finger." It's strange, but if the frisbee hits just in the right spot, my fingers turn purple and blue and immediately swell to 3 times their normal size. It has yet to be explained by medical science, but it happens alot.

Last night, John took it upon himself to act exceedingly spastic. He kept running in front of me, diving to catch frisbees headed in my direction, throwing frisbees at my head when I wasn't looking, and blocking my throwing attempts. During one of these episodes, he blocked a throw and hit my delicate right hand. Today, I am struggling to use my fingers to type and have a brownish/purplish spot on the top of my hand.

Why do I continue to punish myself with this nonsense? Maybe I'm a glutton for punishment...or maybe I have just a little too much sanguine in me to just stay home when there's a party going on somewhere. I'm not really sure. So here's to a summer of frisbee...and whatever injuries may come.