Why am I even here: A badger's guide to surviving a no good, very bad axe throwing marathon (and having fun doing it).

I should have known about 10 minutes after waking up. All the signs were there, after all. Today (today being January 1st) was not the day for me to marathon. I wasn't ready for a marathon. I hadn't slept well, I didn't prep my bag or self. I was so sweepy and hungry and in the middle of a rather unenjoyable visit from the black dog himself.

In short, I should have known, even at that early hour, that staying home would be a pretty smart move. But if you've learned nothing else on this site, dear reader, surely you've learned that your humble narrator is, above all things, not a very smart human.

So, I clambered into Nate's pleasure yacht of a vehicle with Otter and Willie, and off we went to Baltimore's NYD marathon. But even with the premonitions my very soul was screaming at me at first light, I didn't quite realize what kind of clown shoe, absolute mockery of a day I was in for. Let's break it down together:

A no good, very bad starting placement.

Well, friends. Well.

I have gone to Urban Axes Baltimore quite a bit. I love the place. But there's a curious thing that happens to me every single time that a marathon or tourney is broken up by average.

See, I'm not a great thrower. And over the past year I've only gotten worse, if we're being honest. But my career average is just on the cusp of being good -- or I should say: it's just good enough to be the lowest average thrower in the over group.

This NYD marathon, dear reader, was no different.

With an average that was a full 2 points below the next thrower in the "over" marathon league, I was the last pick in a league full of really, really good throwers.

Them's the breaks.

Sure, I coulda just been assigned the "lower" marathon league.

Sure, the person who knocked me into the "upper" league never showed up, meaning I could have just gone down into a league more accurate to my skill level. Sure. Yep. It coulda happened.

But I suppose there is some cosmic balance only satisfied if I get absolutely demolished at every turn in this sport, and we gotta feed that thing early in the year.

So, long story short, I finished dead last in the league, AND I won 3 games, total. It didn't feel great. Point in fact, it felt very not-great.

That being said, I had a hell of a lot of fun losing almost every match.

Why it turned into fun

Frankly, because I decided to make it fun. I stopped caring about winning or losing matches (much to the disappointment of sports psychologists everywhere), and started caring about how much fun the person next to me had. Somewhere around week 5 I completely forgot how to throw anyway, and at that point, who cares.

I had a much more pressing concern...

A no good, very bad pants situation.

As it turns out, ahem...AS IT TURNS OUT DEAR READER, My pants had already given up on the day. Maybe it was a holiday vacation full of starches and butter. Maybe it was just an inability to buy pants for myself at a regular clip -- maybe it was just the old gods deciding to have a little bit of new year fun -- but sure as there are Jell-O shots in heaven, my pants had a little, dime-sized hole in them. Right on the money maker. Right in the front.

During the hour-and-a-half-or-so trip to Balmur, I went through all the stages of grief and accepted that it was just my lot in life. To have this little hole in my pants. To show off my red boxer briefs a lil' bit. Just a lil' sexy sass for everyone to enjoy.

But (or butt, I guess in this case), the movement of axe throwing, at least when I do it, is very groin-centric. And I ended up with this by...oh I don't know...10:15 in the morning:

It only took a few years before I started sharing crotch shots on this website.

Now, most people (to the credit of the sport) didn't laugh at me outright. But I'm a modest sort of badger, and it felt just horrible to be walking around with a breezeflap right next to my jibblejubblers, so I tried to fix the tear with the least obvious, most respectable solution I could figure out:

...and that neon-green, hockey-tape solution lasted for, oh I dunno, maybe 2 minutes. Maybe less. After that I tried to staple the hole closed (thanks for the help, Joy), and that lasted around the same amount of time. My leg girth, working in tandem with pants that I likely should have retired a few years ago, didn't allow for a quick-fix solution.

Yes, I spent about 13 hours just displaying my badgerhood holster to the fine people at Urban Axes Baltimore. I'm sure to have a bunch of restraining orders heading my way.

Why it turned into fun

Frankly, you can't take yourself very seriously when you've got a navel-orange-sized hole in your pants. I looked like an extra in a poorly produced version of Annie. Sure, the extra airflow was nice, but every time I threw, I'm pretty sure my boxer briefs were displaying like some sort of trash-bird attempting to attract a mate. It kept me humble and grounded. And cool, tbh (temp-wise, not looks wise, obviously).

A no good, very bad scorekeeping stint.

This one is minor, all things being equal, but I kept score for hours during this tourney. For whatever reason, people weren't hip to the ol' rotation of scorekeeping, so I found myself just kinda hanging out for a long time tapping a pad.

You know, honestly, this wasn't very bad at all. It meant my jimmy-jobby area was hidden a bit more, and it gave my tootsies a rest, too.

Why it turned into fun

You gotta make joy wherever you are, right? I did it by just being loud, clear, and by making a bunch of stupid jokes. Plus it takes a little bit of pressure off of the hosting club, right? That's always a good thing. Sure, by the end of the night I was in no condition to even click digital buttons, but for a good portion of the day I was useful, and that's nothing to sniff at.

Overall, it was the worst-best or best-worst marathon I've done in a while.

I really didn't achieve any goals I had for myself, nor did I have a rip-roaring good time, but I did manage to laugh a lot and see old friends/make some new ones thoughout the day. Were axe throwing something that I only did for achievement, the poor performance at this marathon may have thrown me for a loop. But for me, like most of us, a marathon is a chance to hang out with fun people, and I did that pretty well, I think.

Next time: more focus, maybe a more appropriate grouping, and deffo some spare pants. Just in case.