2000 throws up pink-and-green

It's been a good two days. Monday, waking up in Chicago, eating dinner for breakfast, hopping on the bus, the train, the bus back to my room, reading the paper over lunch, getting out of class early, finding books in the library, meeting outside to throw. The lights on the quad give just enough brightness that if we stay close together and don't throw too hard we can see. We get in a rhythm quickly, catch and release, catch and release, catch and release. There are rarely pauses for correction or missed discs. I am working on my backhand form, he's working on his I/Os. Nicely spaced, maybe 15 yards we toss. It's almost hypnotizing when we're not talking or people watching and we hear the campus carillon toll. 6:45 - one hour. He asks if I have time to stay, I do, so we do. Back and forth. 2 hours. My shoulder is starting to get tired and I resign myself to being the first to quit but once I get up the courage to mention it we just move closer, work on short backhands - popping them up, lots of spin, gentle touch, right into the midriff. We count - almost a throw a second - and keep going. Three hours. Three hours. We pause, aware that the sixty-degree weather is holding, the night can't get darker, our work no more pressing, and momentarily fear falling into the hole of inertia. Could we stay all night to throw? It feels possible, it feels like the right thing. But we hold still longer, decide it's time for dinner, pack up the disc and leave the dark field.

Tuesday, more hectic - three classes, overlapping, a quiz and then no lunch. Distraction, then work, then distraction. I leave the office, leave my room, bike to the gym. Lifelines. I feel like it's some kind of right-wing Christian group everytime I see the name - I keep waiting for someone to try to save me from hell. In the back corner, behind the gymnastics, the games, the boxing, the climbing gym awaits. I wish I had a partner to go with but I don't - always ending up a third wheel to my professor and the enigmatic grad student I've never seen elsewhere. I warm up, stretch, wander around the cave, hand and foot against the wall, trying to go the length without falling off. The wall is shorter than last week but the holds more challenging - my finger slip, grip, slip as I try to stay on. I am stronger this week - I knew I would be after last Wednesday's soreness - I can hold myself on now even with a foot sliding off, regain it and keep going. This is new. This is good. I go back to pink-and-green - two weeks ago I could stand up and reach one hold, nothing more. Frustrating. Half an hour of trying to reach and failing. This week I am eager, ready. We try again and I'm still stuck but with more options. We try different feet, different hands, one foot, one hand, staggered feet, together feet, pushing sideways, up and finally I reach the third hold, pull up my foot, match my hands and grip as hard as I can. Fall off. Get back on, fall off. Repeat. Finally I can reach up and then one more foot up and I'm over the overhang onto, amazingly, a nice reclining wall. Up and up, until I can't reach. The holds are too far apart. My professor looks, unsure - this isn't something I can get out of by matching an extra time or being creative with my toes - we add the wall - I can wrap my arm and push for balance. Get the hold, step up. Don't stop moving, my sister taught me, but I don't know where to go, fall off. Start again - to wrap the corner, match hands, try to reach for the end. Too short. An inch! I need just an inch! Creative feet finally come through. I don't know how long it took - maybe an hour. Probably an hour. One climb. The two guys of uncertain (to me) ethnicity have gone through practically every other wall. Five minutes off and I'm back to trying to reach the lemur. Still get stuck when I have to switch my grips - harder now, with tired fingers, knotted forearms, strangely popping shoulders (I worry about this) - I already made progress warming up and don't do better now but do manage to at least match my previous effort. A ladder at the end. Twice up, twice falling off because my forearms just can't hold - they would if I just kept moving but I still don't trust myself enough on the wall to step all the way up, let go and reach. But I am stronger this week, and more successful. Andy tells me to rest longer between routes, Scott says he'll see me next week. I wonder when it's time to buy my own shoes.