The Joy of Throwing the Discus

34 years ago this month I was starting track practice for my senior year of high school.

As a high school athlete I was best described as "adequate."

I wasn't quite as tall or quite as fast as the jocks, but I was way better than the kids who never went out for sports at all. That left me sitting the bench and rarely playing.

One of the things I loved about track is that there were so many events that the coach could always find SOMETHING for me to participate in. I had a twin brother who could beat anybody in anything at any time. I liked his success in the discus and tried that event for myself as well.

How good was I? Adequate. I placed in most of the smaller meets, but never did much of anything in the larger meets. As I like like to say, "I participated" in those events.

I consistently threw the discus 100-105 feet and was quite pleased that most couldn't do that. The winners, like my twin brother, were consistently in the 135-150 foot throw range. Those distances were good enough to compete at state.

So why am I bringing this up?

Something really fun happened this morning while I was out for my early morning walk. A little background, over the last couple of years I've lost somewhere in the vicinity of 100 pounds. I'm not sure how much exactly because after a while I just stopped weighing myself. I've become a little more dedicated about getting back into shape again so morning walks (that sometimes turn into short wind sprints) have become part of my normal routine.

This morning, while out for my regular morning stroll, I saw a discus laying by the track here in town. One of the Sleepy Eye guys must have left it out last night after practice.

It's been 34 years since I threw one of those things and it beckoned to me. 6:30 in the morning. All is quiet. It's just me and the discus. I'm 18 again.

The first throw felt a little off. The next dozen felt magical. It's as if I'd never stopped. The distances weren't great (around 80-85 feet) but that didn't matter. I was doing something I thought I'd never EVER do again and I was feeling great doing it.

I had to stop. As any discus thrower will tell you, your pointer finger on your throwing hand will get rubbed raw or blister if you throw too much when you're not used to it. That rubbing pain came back by throw ten or so. I threw a few more knowing I might never get the opportunity again.

My finger is sore as I type this. I am happy. I was adequate.