One must wonder what the likelihood of getting hurt would be for a benign sport like Frisbee. And not the “ultimate Frisbee” version, but the in-the-park-on-a-Sunday game of Frisbee. Well, things got out of hand after the third jumping catch. I know this because today feels like I woke up in the dungeon of a torture chamber. Maybe that’s a bit harsh, but I still feel more beat up than most, I nearly guarantee, because of the parrot on my shoulder named Arthritis.

Such is life, I concede, and well worth the fresh air outside for a few hours. Despite the allergies, of course, which is par for the June course. But nevertheless, it gets chalked up as the “you don’t know unless you try” category of physical activity. And silly me thought a few stretches before and after would help.

At least the wrists are intact.