The first was born on a day in January when the air thawed out and magically the temperature rose from 30 to 68 degrees. Due to my height (5’4”) and my fear of traditional sports (gay), the main athletic activity I found myself involved with back in high school was ultimate frisbee. My new apartment in Brooklyn was minutes from Prospect Park and I texted a group of friends to see if anyone wanted to go outside and play. Most of us would rather chase a frisbee than an invoice, so we left our laptops and met in the park, looking like the B-Cast from the movie Dodgeball. We played until the sun began to set and father winter dropped the temperature back to freezing. From there, our text thread of 7 people became a Facebook group that today, almost 8 years later, has 448 members. The frisbee group has remodeled itself countless times over the years. I can flip through our group photos and see faces of best friends who have long since moved away, my exes, my friend’s exes, randoms who showed up once and then never came again. We’ve had a lot of surprise strangers at our games, like the day two young priests and two young nuns asked to play while in their formal attire. I can’t say I ever thought I’d see a nun dive for a frisbee in full habit. We’ve also kept a tally of injuries: one broken collarbone, six shattered teeth, two split eyebrows, more rolled ankles than anyone would like to admit.