Discraft and Daredevil

I am completely addicted to ultimate, or at least to discs, as anyone can see with only a five-minute knowledge of me. Today I spent an hour on the field at 34th and Chestnut throwing; yesterday two hours playing pickup; thursday twenty minutes throwing before class and then almost three hours worth in the evening what with practice and "soccer practice". And still, despite the odd pains in my hand and shoulder, I wish I could do more and I have no logical explanation. A constant need. There is a sense of rightness with a perfectly released disc, the knowledge that it will travel in the hoped-for path exactly as it was thrown, eternally satisfying. There is the exhilaration of a high catch or a low scramble or a sweet bid when no one (perhaps even yourself) suspected the throw was catchable. The firmness of a disc trapped in your palm, the gentle spin off the fingers, the smooth passage through the air. Like an odd, circular, flat bird soaring - poetry that we can create and sustain through mere physical action. If I had to pick between playing ultimate and just throwing it would be a hard decision. As much as I enjoy flowing up the field and pulling out all the stops on defense there is something elegant and simple about two (or more) people on a field, conversing through the motion of flight.