Two things about me are quite well-known: I am a textbook introvert, and I am outrageously clumsy (I dare you to search my closet for one shirt that hasn’t earned itself a coffee stain).
It naturally follows that my Sunday afternoon porch reading would be interrupted by some strangers (new neighbors) yelling out to me to join them for frisbee. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, but I say yes to life. And let me tell you, nothing makes a better first impression than forcing someone to run sprints because you somehow have the power of making a frisbee operate more like a boomerang.
While my first attempt was an extravagant spectacle, I also discovered some magic that day: following the animal instinct to chase a small flying object has a great ability to quiet my overactive mind. It also forced me out of my shell, as I learned that I enjoyed tossing that chunk of plastic even more than I enjoyed being reclusive. My new neighbors could not keep up with my appetite for it.
So I bought a disc golf practice basket.
The simple ownership of this basket seems to be a calling card for my kin. Nearly any time I set it up in a nearby park, a specific breed of forest-dwelling bearded fella who looks like he should be busy kicking a hacky sack materializes out of thin air. It has scored me phone numbers, and led to many summer afternoons romping through the woods chasing down rogue discs.
As it relates to my clumsiness, owning this disc golf basket has reinforced an important lesson: most conditions of my life are within my power to change. Sure, it applies to improving my dexterity. Just put in the reps, and you will improve. The recipe can truly be that simple for so many things: your fitness, your mental health, your artistic skills, and even making friends.
It was because of new friends that I discovered the great escape of disc golf. And now it is because of disc golf that I have numerous more new friends, and as a side-benefit, even the ability to throw on-par.