The photo to the left is showing what happens when a bare leg meets the wild rose vines in middle Georgia.  Before you ask, yes, both of my legs, front and back, look like this.

Ok, so the next question is, where in the world did you run into those pesky man-eating vines? If your honestly going to ask that question, let me suggest you go grab a cup of coffee or a diet coke then come back and be prepared to be entertained… Go ahead, we’ll wait.

(insert theme song from Jeopardy! here)

Oh, so your back now? Ok here goes. As many of you know, I was introduced to disc golf a while back. Part of playing this sport is trying new courses all over the city. Some of my favorites are beautiful open park settings with manicured lawns and landscaped rough areas. Just the kind of place for a Sunday stroll. Others have the manicured laws, but the rough tends to be just that, rough. Lastly on some others it does not matter where you throw the disc, it is going to be ugly. I tell you the above to set you up for the tale that is to follow. And it is a tale of masculine stubbornness.

Let’s begin our tale on a Saturday evening. I have just spent the day helping a friends daughter move into her new apartment. Now this was not really heavy lifting, it was just bulky stuff. And since I own a pickup, I was asked to help. No worries at all!! This is followed by meeting a couple of friends at the local disc golf course for a quick round. Heading out to the park we meet up with Nathan and Paul to throw a few around. This particular park (Alexander) is of the second type listed above with the nice manicured fairways and the rough areas being for the most part clean, but un-tended. Anyway, I was playing in my normal disc golfing attire (tennis shoes, short socks, shorts and a t-shirt) and had one throw get a bit off line. This was my first introduction to the blood sucking vine. I got a smalls scratch on the outside of my leg as I reached for my disc. No big deal, wash it off and keep playing with no other incidents that day.

Heading into Sunday we agree to meet up with a few more friends to play another round at Alexander. This time it is quite a big crowd and Bruce, Phillip, Carolyn, Nathan, Paul, Ruth and I. Part of playing with a big crowd is that discs get lost. After 8 people throw it is sometime hard to remember where everyone landed. When one of the discs go missing it takes a team effort to find it. This time the man-eating vines were laying in wait for me. As I was walking into a bush area, one of these things, smelling the fresh blood on my leg, came to life, grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into it’s clutches where it started attacking my legs again. Only through the bravery and great risk of the group was I pulled free for it’s grasp. This left me with a few more deep scratches.

You would think after that experience that I would of given up for the weekend. But nooooo, I am not that smart. You see there is another course here that I have played twice before and Ruth once. The last time we played this course it was early spring and the trees had just started to leaf and there was no underbrush below the trees. Ruth had never played a tree course before and did not play well that day. So after playing in the trees at Alexander, Ruth decided she wanted to try Fort Yargo again.

(now it’s time for the ominous music to start)

Loading up the truck with the tools of ignorance, Ruth, Paul, Nathan and I make the 30 mile trek to the state park. Upon arriving, it was instantly clear that this was going to be a fun round. The trees had fully leafed and the undergrowth was 6-8 feet tall in places. There was also very little fairway on any of the holes. Of course, I still have not learned my lesson and continue to wear my golfing attire. You know what is coming don’t you?  After successfully escaping their grasp the day before, these vines are out for blood. It seemed as if every hole had another vine snaking it’s way across the fields to reach me. Most of the time I was able to stomp them back into the ground, but they were tenacious.  By the end of the round I felt that I had gone 18 rounds with a young Mike Tyson and felt lucky to get out with my ears still attached.

I do think i have learned a lesson though!  That is, always keep a pair of long pants in the truck to deal with these courses (and a spare can of weed-b-gone might not be a bad idea either!)

Now I admit that I gave blood this weekend and that I will be sore for a few days because of it, isn’t that what makes a good weekend?