Disc Golf Bug — Issue #23

There are tournaments you win, tournaments you lose, and then there are tournaments that stay with you.

This was one of those tournaments.

Eleven FA1 women showed up to compete at Lady Chain Hawk. Not just any field either—some of the strongest players in Florida were there, and from the very beginning, it felt like a race.

Coming into the event, I honestly didn’t think I had much of a chance.

I had seen the scores from the day before. I knew the talent in the field. There were young players throwing bombs, sinking putts, and looking every bit as good as their ratings suggested.

Meanwhile, I was practicing in my backyard.

Not at a fancy training facility.

Not with unlimited time.

Just a mom squeezing disc golf into the spaces between real life.

Field work between naps. Putting practice after chores. Backyard throws around toys. Trying to improve while balancing laundry, dishes, family time, and the endless list of things that come with being a wife and mom.

Part of me showed up hoping to survive the day.

But another part of me kept asking:

Why not you?

So I stopped worrying about who was in the field.

I stopped comparing my preparation to theirs.

I stopped trying to play someone else’s game.

Instead, I focused on playing mine.

Athletic.

Calm.

Smart.

Competitive.

Shot by shot, hole by hole, I found myself hanging around the top of the leaderboard.

Then suddenly, I wasn’t just hanging around.

I was right there.

As we approached the final stretch, I was tied near the lead.

That’s when the moment happened.

The moment every tournament player dreams about.

I stepped up to an ace run.

One clean shot and I would take solo first place with just one hole left to play.

The disc left my hand.

It was tracking.

Tracking.

TRACKING.

For a second, it felt like the chains were calling my name.

Then came the almost.

The disc missed the ace by inches.

I still had a birdie look.

Missed.

Tap-in par.

Just like that, three of us were tied heading into the final hole.

The tension was unreal.

The first player stepped up and pulled her drive right.

My turn.

Forehand.

Smooth release.

Good angle.

Then the skip.

And immediately I knew.

The ground play carried my disc straight behind a tree.

Not ideal.

The third player stepped onto the tee and threw a beautiful turnover shot that settled inside 20 feet.

Parked.

At that point, we all knew the situation.

To force a playoff, two of us needed to convert our opportunities and hope she missed.

If she did, we could end up with four women battling it out for the win.

Everyone was holding their breath.

She stepped up.

Raised her arm.

Released the putt.

Center chains.

Game over.

She earned the victory.

And me?

I finished tied for second with two other women in one of the most exciting tournament finishes I’ve ever been part of.

And honestly?

I’m proud of that.

Because somewhere along the way, I had started believing I didn’t belong in a field like this.

I had convinced myself that the players with more time, more practice, and more opportunities automatically had an advantage I couldn’t overcome.

This tournament reminded me that isn’t always true.

You don’t need perfect conditions to compete.

You don’t need unlimited practice time.

You don’t need a professional training setup.

And you certainly don’t need to stop being a mom to chase your goals.

Sometimes all you need is belief, effort, and the courage to stop counting yourself out before the round even begins.

The almost hurt a little.

But it taught me something important.

Something I’ll carry into every tournament moving forward.

I’m closer than I think.

And maybe that’s the lesson.

Sometimes the biggest victory isn’t standing on top of the podium.

Sometimes it’s discovering that you belonged in the fight all along.

🎥 Check out the round and follow along as the journey continues. The win didn’t happen this time—but I have a feeling we’re getting closer. 🥏💚