Now At A Farm

At age 33, I decided to become an athlete.

Re-integrating into society was really difficult for me post-pandemic. I adapted fairly well to isolation. E and I read books. We went to the land nearly every weekend. I transitioned to somatic therapy online (and couldn’t wait to go back to in-person on this one). I figured a lot of things out about myself and entered my thirties with a much clearer head about where I was heading. I didn’t mind having more free time on my calendar or more time at home. I enjoyed it, in fact.

When places started opening back up, I couldn’t handle it. I would walk into a room with just a few people, and my nervous system would ricochet inside my skin until I felt like I would collapse like a Jenga tower. So I stayed at home, stayed isolated, and avoided getting together with friends as much as I could. 

I missed my pre-pandemic social butterfly self. A lot.

Then my therapist gave me a fantastic suggestion. I’ve always liked going to a bar alone with a book. I did it frequently when I lived abroad and continued the pastime when I moved back to the States. It was a way I could engage socially, but on my own terms. In other words, I had a damn good reason to get out of an unwanted conversation. “Ok, I’m going to get back to my book now!”

My therapist reminded me of this and suggested I try it again. I could talk to absolutely no one but the bartender and practice being around other nervous systems. That first step was crucial to helping me re-acclimate to social life. And it was oddly a step toward becoming an athlete.

I realized I needed more structured socializing options. Just ‘hanging out’ was too hard. So, the first summer out of the pandemic, I signed up for two summer ultimate frisbee recreational leagues instead of one. I figured I would feel safe because I was outside. Bonus that I would have a built-in topic of conversation: the game at hand. Oh and HELLO more nervous systems to interact with!

I had never played that much frisbee before. I played on my college team, but I have vague memories of it. We practiced (I remember next to nothing about practices). We went to tournaments (I remember about two stories from all those tournaments). We had team dinners (of which I attended one, and got an award at the end of the season that said “Finally made it to a team dinner!”). I played in the recreational leagues for about a decade, but they didn’t include things like practice. You just show up and play.

In short, I was an ultimate player because it was fun. I didn’t really take it too seriously. It was just a reason for me to be outside with cool people and run around in some grass.

Post-pandemic, that shifted. I started to play more ultimate because it kept me around people and physically engaged. I liked that it was a sport where good spirit was actively rewarded, where players had to be able to have conversations about fouls because there was no referee. And I really liked that it was a reason to keep in shape.

The next summer, I decided to take it up another notch and join a club team. Solstice is a women’s and non-binary club dedicated to player growth and extremely good vibes.

The first season, I felt like a fish out of water. I hadn’t gone to a practice since college, which had been over ten years ago at that point. I had a recreational understanding of the sport. I could throw pretty well. I knew field positions. I could catch. I was calm with the disc. But strategies? Tactics? Nah. No clue.

Then there were the tournaments. Ultimate tournaments are intense affairs. Games are usually around 80 minutes long. You get a 10-20 minute break between games, then do it again. Day one is typically 3-4 games. Day two is at least 2, if not 4 (depending on how well your team does). It feels like running two marathons back to back. Or, at least, I assume that’s what this feels like? I’ve never run a marathon. All this to say: tournaments are really hard. It’s straight sprinting for two straight days.

I loved it.

I loved the challenge of staying mentally sharp on game three in ninety-degree heat.

Of figuring out how to fuel so you keep up your energy without upchucking that energy.

I liked playing the same teams and seeing the same players across the region grow and develop.

I really loved seeing my own teammates grow in their skills. Solstice usually has some players who have either never played or are fairly new to the sport. The skill gain of those players is astonishing after just one season. We make sure everyone gets as equal as possible playing time so we can all upskill. That’s the type of team culture I can get behind.

Last year, I took it up yet another notch. I started seeing a personal trainer to learn how to weight lift. I had read enough about how bodies work (and age) to know that I needed to start taking weight training seriously. For season two of Solstice, I noticed an immediate change in my endurance and recovery speed post-tournaments. It was the most clear action -> effect I had ever felt when it came to taking care of my body.

Now, club season three has started. Friends, it started off with a bang. We had our first tournament during a massive heat wave and played under a Level 1 heat advisory. Not only that, we had limited subs because about half our team was out on vacation. In short: those of us who were there ran A LOT. And rarely had breaks off the field. It was brutal.

And yet!

For the first time ever in our club history, we won our tournament pool, going undefeated. We beat a pretty darn good team, taking them to universe point (a tie-breaker).

I feel so incredibly proud of this crew.

And I’m so grateful that at an age a bit later than most, I decided to become an athlete. I feel healthier, stronger, and more energetic than I’ve ever felt. I’m diligent about taking care of my body. I’ve met and become friends with the kindest, most dedicated team you will ever come across. And I’m getting better at being out here in this world.

It’s still a different me post-pandemic. I second-guess myself a lot more in social settings. I still tend to avoid larger group activities. But ultimate frisbee helped me, and is continuing to help me, re-find my social self again.

Never in a million years would my younger self expect me to get into sportsketball.

But here we are!

Who needs sourdough?

Pick up a sport instead.