Many the Miles

Has anyone been keeping count of my Sara Bareilles-themed posts? Anyhow.

This post is difficult to write, because I'm not sure how to set the tone. It's not a eulogy, so I'm not trying to make it sad. It's not a goodbye, because I know we'll see them all again. I don't know exactly what this is, so it's hard to write it without being overly sentimental or overly sad. I guess the best tone I can try to take on is thankful, so that's what I'll go with.


I have said goodbye to three senior classes, each special in its own way. The first senior class, the class of '07, was special because they were my first teachers. I still consider many of them my heroes. Sometimes, in ultimate-rages last year, Goose would yell things like, "I'll take Kristina Franke and six rookies over any of you any day!", and he said that for good reason. We all still look up to Ann Dailey, and I think it's sad that my class is the last class that understands how amazing she is. The class of '08 was the first senior class that I felt like I became "friends" with. This was the year I came out of my shell, and it definitely helped that I had Marsha's Stanford Facts and Obscure Sports class, or Informatix FTW!!1!, or Muyuan SUCKS, or CS105, with Chanaram. I really feel like this class helped me break out, even if they don't know it.

But the class of '09 was different. Because we "grew up" together. We had three years to cultivate a friendship, and to learn together. I feel like they're the older sisters I never had. I think that best explains how I feel about them: while we had the type of relationship where we could give each other shit, I really, truly admired them, and felt that I could always look to them for guidance and help. I look up to each of them, and I've learned something from all of them. They are all incredible players and amazing people, and I don't know if mere words could express how blessed I am to have met them.
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This is a special shout out to
Amanda "Mother Thereesie" Wind, #34


Even though I never got to play with you, your absence still leaves a hole in my life. I wish things had worked out differently ... *sigh* You're not around to hold my hand, and it blows. You're a baller because you basically destroyed your ankle and still played through it all. Number one overall draft pick, the heart and soul of the Soul Patrol. :-P>
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Melissa "PEACH" Blackford, #41


I learned hustle from Peach. Peach is one of those players who battles hard, no matter what the circumstance. She's not ready to let go of the throttle, whether we're up by 12 or down by 12. She just wants to win. She's one of those players you hate playing against, but LOVE to have on your team. That's because she's a train, a locomotive of PAIN. She just keeps going and going and going, and when you think she has nothing left and you ask more of her, she just keeps going. I think back on high school, when we used to practice 4 vs. 5 situations. I would play on that 4 team every time if I got to pick Peach for my team first. She may not be the most standout player on the field, but she undoubtedly leaves her mark on the game by doing all the little things and playing hard. She almost always has her hand in all the hustle plays that happen in a game. She's the one who catches almost everything (even your terrible throws that you never should have even let leave your hand), makes the smart throws, and denies her girl from making any plays if she even gets the disc.

She's a workhorse -- I don't know that there are that many people out there who train as hard as she does. She could probably do like 100 pull-ups with me draped on her like a backpack. I remember at track practice last year, thinking that the target times that Goose had set for us were impossible, that no one could do that shit. But Peach would do that shit, and sometimes she'd miss by a couple seconds or something and be pissed as hell, whereas I would be rosenwinkel-ing myself with joy if I could have come as close as she did. She is an incredible athlete, whose athleticism is probably only outshone by her work ethic.


Kim "Kimmy D" Dyar, #17
Danville, IL


I learned consistency from Kimmy D. No matter what kind of day she is having on or off the field, you can always count on Kim to deliver and just be steady as a rock. She's not the kind of player to blame anything that went wrong on-field on off-field distractions. She's not the kind of player who has meltdowns on the field, unlike some people I know. If she didn't have a particularly good point, she'd come back on the next point and do better. It was simple as that. Kim was always solid, day in and day out. There are things you can teach a player and things you cannot, and you can't teach someone how to be level-headed and calm. I love being on the field with Kim because those are traits she possesses -- you can trust her to make smart decisions with the disc, and you can trust her to be a calm, stabilizing force on the field.

Kim is everything I am not -- patient, level-headed, and consistent. When she's on the field, your eye isn't necessarily drawn to her right away, but she has those intangibles that make a player absolutely indispensable to a team. I was really sad to hear that she was graduating early, but honestly, I'm so glad we had her around in the fall to set a good example for our young kids. I feel like in a tumultuous fall season that saw a lot of change and lacked any real routine, she was a constant -- Kim is always a class act and always remains composed and fair while at the same time retaining a competitive edge.


Kelly "Miss Foster" Foster, #42
Naperthrillz, The Illest


I learned poise and leadership from Kelly. I look up to her in more ways than one (A-HA, A-HA! Sorry). There was something about being on the field with Kelly -- she was stoic, composed, and determined in all the best ways. I could never tell if she was nervous or afraid, ever. I feel like the change from Kelly 2008 to Kelly 2009 was incredible. Kelly 2008 was good, but unsure. She didn't have that mettle yet, didn't have that backbone yet. But Kelly 2009 was a badass motherfucker and she knew it. There were so many times when I'd just see her walk up to the disc, pick it up, and throw a perfect flick bomb as if the mark didn't even exist. And when that didn't work, she found another way to get the disc where she wanted it to go. There wasn't any panic or distress.

Unlike yours truly, I think Kelly displayed a lot of grace under fire, that's what I admire most about her. When faced with a challenge, she responded with: "Okay, here's what we're going to do" as opposed to "OH MY GOD, WHAT DO WE DO?!" If she was ever in doubt, ever in a state of panic, I don't think I could ever tell. She was a mature, calm, and steady leader, and she's someone I'd follow to the line in any situation, under any circumstance. Even though I Team Girlfriend-ed her little sister (yikes), she's a player I really want to be like one day, real talk.


Rachel "RACH" Graham, #8
Paraguay, Peace Corps


I learned to laugh from RACH. RACH, Row 19 Seat A, is always laughing, whether she's on the ground getting teabagged, hacking the shit out of some girl, or catching game-winning scores at Sectionals. She brings an incredible energy and just so much optimism to the field. She's the consummate teammate: works hard, cheers her teammates on, and plays hard when she's asked to. If College Ultimate was Major League Baseball, Rachman would be Jim Thome. She's got a winning smile, she's got one of the biggest hearts out of everyone I know, and everyone loves to have her around.

She's a positive presence both on and off the field. I honestly can't remember a time when RACH wasn't smiling or laughing. You could be having the shittiest practice of all time, you could be dying of heart burn (seriously one of the FUNNIEST practices of last spring ... RACH straight up says to me, "J-Wo ... you don't look so good."), you could be vomiting your face off after track practice, and RACH would tell a hilarious story or laugh about something, and you really just couldn't help but laugh with her. RACH brings a smile to ANYONE she comes in contact with, and I have yet to meet someone who doesn't love her company. If you don't love RACH, then I guess we can fight about it.


Mary "Murrles" Kim, #24
Puppet Regime
New York City, NY


I learned strength from Murrles. I remember getting that solemn message when I was abroad in China -- "I think I tore my ACL." I was heartbroken for her. I remember our Gimp Squad conditioning workouts at ARC, and how much it would suck to be on the sidelines with her during track workouts (ha, 100 push ups in a row fuck yeah). I remember thinking how terrible it was that this had to happen in her senior year. I know the injury happened early on, but I wasn't sure that she would be able to get back on the field by Series time, and even if she did, I didn't know if she'd be the same. But I watched her fight and work her way back onto the field, ahead of schedule, to play at Sectionals, Regionals, and Nationals. I can only imagine the strength it took, and how hard it must have been. Not only did she make it back on the field, but I seem to remember her torching some foolz deep on multiple occasions, knee brace and all!

I have to admit that I thought you were fucking crazy, Murrles. I love you and I wanted you on the field with me, but not at the cost of your future health. When you said you wanted to be back on the field for Regionals, I was a little nervous. But you did it, and I don't know if you can understand how much I respect you for that. I can't even begin to imagine the mental fortitude it must have taken to keep your head and heart in it, to keep your nose to the grindstone the way you did. I would have gone crazy. I have to admit, there were times when I thought you *had* in fact gone crazy (HA most notably Sectionals, when you drank beer and smelled cigars on the sideline). I can't even begin to fathom how difficult your journey back to the field must have been, but I am unbelievably proud of you, and I love you for it. You might drive on the wrong side of the road and you might kick couches and break your toes, but you've got drive and more strength than I think even you know about, and I respect that so much.


Tania "T-Bag" Reitz, #22
Backhoe
Durhole, NC


I learned heart from T-Bag. I will never, ever forget Texas Throwdown. It was secretly one of my favorite tournaments of all time, even though it was sort of miserable, weather- and playing-wise. That was one of those tournaments where you just needed some sort of inspiration to get you through the day. It just wasn't amusing anymore after the first game, when you're freezing and tired and hungry and wet. That weekend, T-Bag was our fire. After our first game against Wisconsin, we were dead. We had absolutely no fire, no emotion, and no desire to even play any more games, it seemed like. We just kept getting blown out, over and over again. Our last game on Saturday was against Truman State. I don't remember when, but T-Bag had hurt her shoulder. I mean, she actually had to come off the field, which doesn't happen often. After sitting out a few points with ice on her shoulder, she went back into the game. And she just. Kept. Laying. Out. Over and over again, onto that shoulder. You'd see her hit the ground and grimace, and it was hard to watch, honestly. But no matter what, she just kept playing balls out. We lost that game, probably by a lot, but I'll never forget how hard Bagels just kept playing.

There was a sense of security, a sort of swagger that I had, being on the field with Tania. I knew that she could catch any disc, outrun any girl, and D anything that came her way. I think a lot of people know about her physical gifts (not even gonna start on the best calves and BEST ass in ultimate, and it's not like I haven't been looking all over the place for competition for her ...) and I don't need to convince anyone of how good Bagelface is. For me, what set T-Bag apart from other great players was her heart. She just wanted it more than other people did. That kind of desire, that kind of drive to be the best -- it's exactly what you want in a teammate. I'd take that kind of attitude over talent any day. (We were just lucky that it came as a packaged deal with The Bag.)


Jennifer "Yen" Weizeorick, #3
Abusement Park
South Bend, IN


I learned bravado from Yen. Who else do you know who would throw blazing I/O forehands through the cup, on our own goal line, at stall 2, with little to no thought? That shit takes balls, and Henny Hen Hen's got those cojones, straight up. But all kidding aside, you don't hear much about Jen, really. No one really hyped her, and she didn't get the attention that I think she really deserved. There were so many times last year when we asked Jen to cover the other team's best player, and she always stepped up to the challenge. She was draped all over the other team's star, making her life a pain. She'd make that girl work hard on defense, too, because Jen was always all over the field, torching girls on in-cuts and going deep when the entire other team thought they'd be seeing T-Bag deep. Jen was the silent killer!

To be honest, Jen was sometimes a hilarious mess. You never really knew if she was paying attention or not, or if she had taken what you said to heart or not, or if she was a dying elephant/giraffe or if she was ok, but she knew when to show up. I remember one track practice, Yen dragging me out to the stairs, and sitting a couple steps above me. After I vomited, she let me lean against her legs. And that's how I remember Jen. She was always fuckin' hilarious and just a shit show in general, but she was always there when you really needed her.

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I know it's been over a semester and everything, but I still always expect to see you all at practice. I wonder why I don't run into Peach at the gym, and I wonder why RACH and Kim aren't doing plyos next to me. I tell myself that the entirety of Apartment 6 is just late to practice again because Jen probably threw their car keys in the snow or something. I know you're not coming to practice tomorrow, but I like to pretend that you will. But you know what, I'm so thankful that we got three years together. Playing with you all feels so comfortable. I'm so glad we went to Nationals together. I wish it had happened a year earlier, too, of course, but I'm glad I went through everything with you guys. All the injuries, all the rehab, all the tears. All the sweat, all the workouts, all the weights, all the aches and the pains. All the shit that happened on the field and all the shit that happened off of it.

Whenever I hear anything about "chemistry", I think about you guys. I think about what it felt like to play with you, be on the field with you. I was never, ever afraid when I was on the field with any of you. When we were playing well, we were a well-oiled machine, and everyone played a part in that success, whether it translated to an on-field stat or not. No one but T-Bag caught that game-winning score in the backdoor finals, but we ALL contributed to that score, somehow. We contributed when we all ran together. When we lifted together. When we pushed each other. When we battled each other. When we challenged each other. When we encouraged each other. When we picked each other up. There were even times, in moments of heat, in moments of intensity, when we yelled at each other. But I knew it was because we all just cared so much. We all wanted the same thing, and we were united in the pursuit of this singular goal. And accomplishing that goal? Oh my God, it was euphoric.

And the high could only have been that high because of the lows we had to go through to get to that point. I went through hell with all of you, and I know, without a glimmer of a doubt, that I would willingly go back there for any of you. When I think of some of the darkest times in my life, I always remember you there, right alongside me. When I think of some of the best times of my life, I always think of you all, laughing with me. You have all made an indelible mark on my life, and I can't imagine the person I would be without you. I can't imagine what my life would be like without your friendship.

I "tweeted" this (don't judge me) a while ago, but this is what I keep learning about my real friends, from high school, from college, from JSA, and beyond:

"i'm comforted knowing that the things i love most about my friends never change and that time & distance don't matter. love feels like home."

All of you remind me of home, and no matter what it is we're doing, whether we're running 5 800's, or sitting on a red eye from San Diego to O'Hare, or having dinner at Zorba's, or just sitting in my living room talking and laughing, or playing ultimate together, or even just being in each other's company, not doing or saying anything -- point is: I'm so thankful to have you in my life.

I don't have the eloquence to put it succinctly, or in a new, refreshing way, but thank you. Thank you, for everything you've taught me. Thank you, for being there for me. Thank you, for being the people you are. Thank you, for loving me as the person I am. Thank you, for being my friends, my teammates, and my family. I love you guys more than I know how to say, and I miss you a whole hell of a lot, too.





























How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles, many the miles ... How far do I have to go to get to you? Many the miles, but send me the miles, and I'll be happy to follow you, love ...