A standard Ultimate Frisbee team must include a minimum of four guys and four gals. Although only seven team members are in play at any given time, one team or the other gets to decide whether it is formed with three gals or four, unless both teams agree on an alternate configuration. Now guess how many of us gals showed up for game two. Three. I no longer remember how many guys turned out, but it was at least five. Point being, they had relief players.

Luckily, the other team that day was having the same dilemma, so it was an easy choice for the team captains. Three guys and three gals from each team would be in play. Um, exqueeze me? Do you not remember the last game, with the breathing and running and the quantum physics calculations? Well, okay, but… you say you’ll shave your head if we win? Look out, pretty boy. It’s ON.

And, miracle of miracles, it actually was! The other team was as well matched in age as they were in numbers, so the running, though still present, was much more friendly and relaxed. Suddenly, I found myself catching and throwing consistently in the right directions (though still to the enemy as often as not), and guarding like a fiend. This wasn’t like the first game at all. This was… what’s the word? The thing with the smiling and not needing to swear a blue streak just to keep yourself moving. Wait, wait, don’t tell me. Ah, yes, I remember now. Fun.

It wasn’t long before the score was 6 to 3. By half time, the gals on both sides were clearly beginning to get droopy, so the captains decided to switch the mix to four guys and two gals for the rest of the game. Why they didn’t do that from the beginning I will never understand but, since I was still feeling so good, I made it my personal goal to stay in the whole game. I was on fire again, but this time it felt good. The other team had better stamina in the second half though and we tied it up at 11’s and again at 12’s, eventually conceding at 12 to 14. Having won my own personal victory, I was happy to grant them their well deserved win.

On the way home, I began to worry about what I had just done to myself, experiencing bouts of tunnel vision that kept me driving more carefully than usual, though I was feeling amazingly good otherwise. I chalked it up to low blood sugar and, after some dinner and another long soak in a hot salt bath, collapsed into bed, content. It wasn’t until five days later at game three when I tried to run out on the field and my quads immediately started screaming that I realized the full extent of my foolishness. Long gone are the days when I could go from no activity to pretend athlete and think nothing of it. I was forced to sideline myself for the rest of the game after the first play. Two days later, I still couldn’t play, though my left leg seems usable now if I’m careful. So now I’m trying to stretch every day so I’ll be able to get back in the game next week.

Being out of shape is lame. Har har.

When someone tells you that a sport involves a lot of running, take them at their word. Bring water. And maybe a good cut man if you can find one.

It’s a beautiful day at the park for our first game. Sunny, but not too much so, plentiful grass, and a lovely, temperate breeze keeps the air moving. I put on my trusty, blue, bandana hat and some sunscreen, grab my frisbee and kit, and stroll over to a loose group of people in matching purple shirts. The hem of my pants swishes in the weeds, sending a cloud of dandelion seeds aloft in my wake as I scout around for a restroom. Always know where your exits are. A moment of panic when I can’t find one settles into a mild sense of foreboding as I spot one lone port-a-potty canted at an angle atop a rise on the far end of the next field over.

I spend a few minutes limbering up, grab a disc, and start hucking with the team captain, surprising both of us with a respectable forehand. Finally, that trick throw I learned in junior high will be put to good use! The under-the-leg forehand is too rusty for prime time though I suspect there’s something wrong with the disc; it won’t clear my leg properly. Faulty disc aside, I get in a number of good throws and prepare to rock the field. Why is my arm starting to ache?

Huddle up time, where the official rules of ultimate frisbee are explained. I get lost somewhere around rule 79: legal usage of particle physics and wave theory to affect the trajectory of the disc. Luckily, the other team is also new, though not a one of them is over 21 and after the first play it becomes clear that these guys have been practicing. They’re organized, and they can run and breathe at the same time. Durn kids. My lungs are on fire and I’m sure that I’m dying.

We swap team mates in and out throughout the game to give each other a breather. The blood has either all gone to my head or left it because I’ve completely lost my sense of direction and started throwing for the other team. I am grateful that the breeze is picking up though as it’s about the only thing keeping me upright anymore. Bending over gives me tunnel vision, so I don’t even attempt to sit down.

Final score: 2 to 13.

After the winning team heads out for post-game milk and cookies, we decide to play some scrimmage to learn tactics. Inexplicably, the theme song to Bonanza pops into my head as we continue to run around like drunken idiots. Except that we’re not drunk because the beer is still waiting for us at the bar. At one point, I actually throw up a little in my mouth. Why did I sign up for this torture? Surely it wasn’t the free beer. Ah, right, it was the exercise and doing something new. I am an idiot. Somewhere, on the other side of town, a salt bath is calling my name. And a big, fluffy pillow.

Spring is a very short season here. It seems as if within a month we go from winter to summer. I am so glad that I took the time to go out and visit my lilacs every day because they’re already starting to die off for the season. This picture was taken on Saturday.

We’ve been trying to get the rest of the yard in shape, which means I’m still cleaning out the garden beds. I should be ready to plant (finally!) this weekend. We will also be moving the two surviving Arbor Day trees away from the house. In the meantime, a friend of mine gave me some rhubarb from her garden which I am right this minute baking into a deep dish rhubarb-strawberry “pie” that smells divine. The ingredients differ a bit from the directions because that’s what I had in the house. I made a little tart shell with the leftover pastry which I will fill with ice cream and blueberries. Go me!

Deep-Dish Rhubarb-Strawberry Pie

Pastry:
1 1/2 c flour, sifted
1 ts salt
1/4 c unsalted butter
1/4 c salted butter
4 Tbsp cold water
Filling:
3/4 c sugar
1/3 c flour, sifted
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
8 c fresh rhubarb
3 c strawberries
2 Tbsp butter
milk
sugar

Directions:
Sift flour and salt into a medium bowl; cut in vegetable shortening with a fork or pastry blender until mixture is crumbly. Sprinkle cold water over mixture, 1 tablespoon at a time; mix lightly with a fork just until pastry holds together and leaves sides of bowl clean. Make a ball; flatten it. Wrap dough in plastic and store in refrigerator until ready for use.

Mix sugar, flour, cinnamon, and cloves in a bowl.

Wash rhubarb; trim ends; cut into 1-inch pieces (You should have 6 cups). Wash strawberries; hull and halve (you should have 4 cups). Place both in a large bowl. Sprinkle with sugar mixture; toss lightly to mix. Let stand 15 minutes. Toss again.

Spoon rhubarb-strawberry filling into an 8 x 8 x 2-inch baking dish; dot with butter.

Prepare pastry. Roll out to a 10-inch square on a lightly floured surface. Cut in 1/2-inch strips with a pastry wheel or knife. Weave strips into a lattice. Cover filling. Turn ends under just enough so that strips touch sides of baking dish. Brush lattice top with milk or cream; sprinkle with sugar.

Bake in hot oven (425 F) for 40 minutes, or until pastry is golden and juices bubble up. Cool. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream, if you wish.