Two weeks after my return from the USDGC in Sow' Care-lina (I was taught how to pronounce it properly by three ladies at the Chile's bar while there), and I still have not thrown a disc. This is almost entirely due to my shoulder issues, but the overwhelming nature of my new day-job has something to do with it as well. I gotta say, even completely healthy addictions can have painful withdrawals.

I drove to DeLa a few days ago to re-pay Mark K. money he loaned me for collector Roc's at the USDGC, and the pain I endured had nothing to do with my shoulder. I was on the outside looking in, driving past holes I've played more than 1,000 times, seeing friends and strangers alike enjoying the warmth of the day and the greatness of golf. Realizing I'd miss the Faultline for the first time in more than a decade made me melancholy, and got me worrying for the first time: "What if my arm never returns to it's awesome and perfectly happy state of average-ness?"

I'm at a point (and I've mentioned this before) where my thirst for competition at the highest level may finally be quenched. I've won tournaments, played in the most prestigious event, and had a stretch (around 2006) where I had at least a 50-50 chance of beating anyone at DeLa this side of Bobby Hill. But my thirst to periodically (twice a week- is that so much to ask?) immerse myself in a round of disc golf is as strong as ever, and right now I can't. It's tough.

As soon as next week I'll finally get the chance to let a doctor check me out, so at least the unknown part will maybe be cleared up soon. But shoulder be damned, I'm going to try to play this weekend. It'll be like a tall, cool drink of water for the guy crawling through a scorching desert. And like that guy, I'll probably gulp it down and wish I hadn't.