For two weeks now, and I wonder if I could count the days, likely if I tried, I have not played any ultimate. It's a time out.
I had played something like 4 or 5 weekends in a row, including a ten-day tour of duty at Worlds. Followed by the hat tournament in Austria and then Wildwood -- both of which tournaments have shorter games -- and I computed my July 2010 record to have been 21-10, not counting two forfeits in my favor, a television appearance on Austrian TV which I am declared one the greatest players in the world, and the game of mini mini won by myself, X and Q at the Five tent.
When you play that much ultimate, you need a break. But when you play that much ultimate you also have the drug in your system. You're going to need to play again.
This weekend I have nothing on my ultimate calendar and it is starting to gape at me, wide-eyed, barren, my cleats lie in wait. My body starts to get antsy -- I do try to keep up with the joneses by riding in alleycats from time to time or just pretending to when I haul into the city on my mudder, the Gary Fisher -- but it's not quite the same. There's little reciprocity. Not much sideline jocularity. No crossfield hammers to Coe alone in the endzone.
I'm not running, jumping, jacking the pull. It hurts to even write about it in the summer and not do it.
Well it is New York and options abound. I've got other things to do, plenty to keep me busy (my short film won a film festival this past weekend, so that career path may materialize and push ultimate further away). I've got family coming in next week, friends from out of town this week, and a puppet movie to help with in two weeks.
All that being said...still.... cleats are ready, disc is at hand....