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I started playing disc golf early this year when a few friends and myself decided to check out a new course in our town. I instantly fell in love with the game, as I was very active in sports growing up and was looking for something new and fun I could get into that my friends enjoyed as well.
Being a female, not many lady friends of mine were willing to give the sport much thought, but I continued to go out, playing about 4-5 times a week with my male counterparts. It was a rocky start, but once I found my stride I couldn't get enough. Another lady friend finally got on board and several of us formed our own small league, always trying to better ourselves, all while strengthening our bond and getting exercise in the process.
I entered my first tournament after only playing a few months and ended up snagging third place in the women's division. While the division was small, it was still a pretty great feeling to place in my first tourney. A tournament is held at our local course in October, so we started to practice even more in preparation. We visited courses in neighboring counties, trying out new obstacles and stepping up our game. Then September came.
I was out with a friend at our local course trying to squeeze in a quick game. As I was in sort of a hurry to get there, I decided to just slip on some old shoes I already had with me that weren't really fit for the course, but thought I would take extra measures to make sure I was careful as the terrain is rather hilly. I made it through the first hole no problem; onto the second. I finally managed to sling my disc into the basket after a few frustrating shots and went to retrieve it, when all of a sudden I lost my footing and slid down the hill. When I slid, my ankle couldn't withstand the pressure and as I was falling I heard a loud "pop" and my heart sank. I knew something was wrong.
As I laid there, the friend I was playing with rushed to my side to see if I was okay. I lifted my foot only to find it dangling there and a sick feeling ran over me. It was dislocated most definitely, and most likely broken. My mind raced to a million places as he dialed up the number for an ambulance and they hurried on their way. He sat there and talked me through it. I don't know what I would have done if I had decided to go out alone that day. He was truly a savior.
The ambulance finally arrived and the EMTs placed me in a temporary splint and rushed me to the hospital. After a series of painful maneuvers and X-rays, I discovered that I had not only dislocated my ankle, but broken a bone completely off and broken another in two places. The doctor told me I needed surgery. Needless to say after all I had been working toward, I was quite upset.
My friends, especially my disc golf buddies, were nearly as hurt as I was. We had become such a tight little team over the previous months that it felt like I had lost a little part of my family, or at least a family tradition. But since the accident, they have all pulled through and taken care of me more than I could ever hope a group of friends could. They came to visit, sat by my side, brought me lunch and kept me company in my downtime, as I couldn't put any pressure on my foot for five weeks after the surgery.
Then last month, the time came for the tournament. And just as my team has been rooting me on throughout my recovery, I rooted them on during the tournament from my couch. I'm happy to say that one friend took first place in his division. Boy, was I proud.
Last week I got to the point where I could finally put pressure on my foot in an air cast that I've been wearing, so I've been a little more mobile and hopeful for what the future holds. Plenty of people have told me I was the first disc golf injury they had ever seen. My doctor even said I was one of the worst sports injuries he had ever worked on (as I had to get 6 pins, 2 large screws, 2 plates and a suture in my ankle to put me back together again). Others asked whether I was going to try to play again after I've recovered. Some seem surprised when I tell them that's been a lot of what I've thought about, just getting back out there and reuniting with my friends and my love for the game.
Now the light at the end of the tunnel is brighter than ever. I started physical therapy last week and have been able to become more independent than I have been for a while. I can't wait for the day next spring when I can finally get out there again, feel the warm sun on my face and wind up for my first "grip and rip" as we like to say. Maybe if we have a decent winter, I can sneak out there even earlier. I've had a lot of time to reflect over the course of these last few months, and it's made me realize how grateful I am for my smooth recovery, but most of all, how thankful I am to have my wonderful friends and family who have been by my side. And be sure if I win this basket, it will not just belong to me, but my team: The Sterling Slaw Slingers.
Being a female, not many lady friends of mine were willing to give the sport much thought, but I continued to go out, playing about 4-5 times a week with my male counterparts. It was a rocky start, but once I found my stride I couldn't get enough. Another lady friend finally got on board and several of us formed our own small league, always trying to better ourselves, all while strengthening our bond and getting exercise in the process.
I entered my first tournament after only playing a few months and ended up snagging third place in the women's division. While the division was small, it was still a pretty great feeling to place in my first tourney. A tournament is held at our local course in October, so we started to practice even more in preparation. We visited courses in neighboring counties, trying out new obstacles and stepping up our game. Then September came.
I was out with a friend at our local course trying to squeeze in a quick game. As I was in sort of a hurry to get there, I decided to just slip on some old shoes I already had with me that weren't really fit for the course, but thought I would take extra measures to make sure I was careful as the terrain is rather hilly. I made it through the first hole no problem; onto the second. I finally managed to sling my disc into the basket after a few frustrating shots and went to retrieve it, when all of a sudden I lost my footing and slid down the hill. When I slid, my ankle couldn't withstand the pressure and as I was falling I heard a loud "pop" and my heart sank. I knew something was wrong.
As I laid there, the friend I was playing with rushed to my side to see if I was okay. I lifted my foot only to find it dangling there and a sick feeling ran over me. It was dislocated most definitely, and most likely broken. My mind raced to a million places as he dialed up the number for an ambulance and they hurried on their way. He sat there and talked me through it. I don't know what I would have done if I had decided to go out alone that day. He was truly a savior.
The ambulance finally arrived and the EMTs placed me in a temporary splint and rushed me to the hospital. After a series of painful maneuvers and X-rays, I discovered that I had not only dislocated my ankle, but broken a bone completely off and broken another in two places. The doctor told me I needed surgery. Needless to say after all I had been working toward, I was quite upset.
My friends, especially my disc golf buddies, were nearly as hurt as I was. We had become such a tight little team over the previous months that it felt like I had lost a little part of my family, or at least a family tradition. But since the accident, they have all pulled through and taken care of me more than I could ever hope a group of friends could. They came to visit, sat by my side, brought me lunch and kept me company in my downtime, as I couldn't put any pressure on my foot for five weeks after the surgery.
Then last month, the time came for the tournament. And just as my team has been rooting me on throughout my recovery, I rooted them on during the tournament from my couch. I'm happy to say that one friend took first place in his division. Boy, was I proud.
Last week I got to the point where I could finally put pressure on my foot in an air cast that I've been wearing, so I've been a little more mobile and hopeful for what the future holds. Plenty of people have told me I was the first disc golf injury they had ever seen. My doctor even said I was one of the worst sports injuries he had ever worked on (as I had to get 6 pins, 2 large screws, 2 plates and a suture in my ankle to put me back together again). Others asked whether I was going to try to play again after I've recovered. Some seem surprised when I tell them that's been a lot of what I've thought about, just getting back out there and reuniting with my friends and my love for the game.
Now the light at the end of the tunnel is brighter than ever. I started physical therapy last week and have been able to become more independent than I have been for a while. I can't wait for the day next spring when I can finally get out there again, feel the warm sun on my face and wind up for my first "grip and rip" as we like to say. Maybe if we have a decent winter, I can sneak out there even earlier. I've had a lot of time to reflect over the course of these last few months, and it's made me realize how grateful I am for my smooth recovery, but most of all, how thankful I am to have my wonderful friends and family who have been by my side. And be sure if I win this basket, it will not just belong to me, but my team: The Sterling Slaw Slingers.
