I used to be addicted to exercise in all its most joyless, soulless forms. It took a flying object to show me the magnetic joy of play
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t all begins with a flick of the wrist. I hold my breath as I watch a disc wobble through the air. When it starts going sideways, I grimace. In that moment, I bear a striking resemblance to a cartoon hen in Chicken Run, but instead of staring down the barrel of my pie-shaped destiny, I’m playing Ultimate Frisbee – and I’ve just executed a deeply suboptimal “pull”.
These are all words I learned mere months ago, and I’m likely using them incorrectly. Either way, they’re the language of a sport that has become my new favourite pastime – and the unexpected key to repairing my once-fractured relationship with exercise.
I’d never heard of Ultimate Frisbee until I was added to a ragtag WhatsApp group of 60-odd adults intent on playing the game a few months ago. Every Wednesday, anywhere from eight to 18 thirtysomethings pull up to the park at sunset with 30 drill cones, a 175g disc and most crucially, a desire to have pure, unfettered fun.
