tiring

Despite my vague intentions, my life is generally a sedentary one. I manage to keep up a running program for short bursts of time rather than the sustained effort that would actually be helpful.

In an effort to combat my inertia, I have joined the local recreational Ultimate Frisbee league. This spring, the season was supposed to have been about eight weeks long (we play each Sunday). Through a combination of rain and bad luck, we only managed to have three weekends with games. My schedule only allowed me to make one of those three, a weekend back in late March.

This past weekend was the season-ending tournament. We were scheduled to play four games back-to-back, going straight through from 9:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. I knew I was in no shape to attempt such a feat, but since we've got about 20 people signed up on the roster and Ultimate is played with only seven people on the field at any given time, I figured I could manage.

Then I showed up and had trouble finding my team. Only natural, I thought, since I haven't seen any of them for a month. I kept looking around, though, and still nothing. Then I heard someone else looking for the same group. It dawned on us that we were the only representatives there. A few others arrived - we were six.

We managed to make the minimum requirement of seven through another team's generosity, and, later, with a couple of late arrivals. But instead of six hours of occasional participation, I had six hours of near-constant participation. The first hour went all right, but after that I felt the one extra gear I might have had fall right off, leaving me with one speed: slow.

I've had a habit of making my body go from nothing to far too much on the exercise front without any transition. This day was certainly good for my system, but my muscles and joints told me afterward they would have appreciated a bit more notice.