The Skillet Throw 2.0

The Goshen Fair is an agricultural fair in Goshen, Connecticut.

It takes place every Labor Day weekend, and I’ve been going since I was a kid.

I’ve missed a few years along the way – when I was in college I wasn’t around, and for a few years I lived in Pennsylvania, and last year I couldn’t go, and the year before the fair was cancelled due to Covid.

The last time I was there was 2019.

I randomly entered the Skillet Throw in 2019.

(If you didn’t read that post, read it here)

I ended up getting 4th in my age group.

Fast forward to today.

I went to the fair with my parents.

The kids are with their father this weekend, and they went to the fair with him.

The girls found us watching the lumberjack show.

Gretchen asked me if I was going to do the skillet throw.

I both wanted to and didn’t want to.

I wanted to see if I could do better than I did that last time (even though I never did follow through on that practicing I declared I would do after the first skillet throw in 2019).

But I didn’t want to look stupid or realize that one decent throw three years ago was a total fluke or have people watching me who might make fun of me.

I told Gretchen I was afraid people would make fun of me or I’d look dumb.

“If they do that I’ll punch them in the face,” Gretchen said.

“BESIDES,” she said, “WHO CARES WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK???”

Dammit. She’s been listening.

GOOD!!! She’s been listening.

She left about five minutes later with Marit to go on the rides.

Around 3:30 we happened to be walking through the building where you had to sign up for the skillet throw.

My parents wanted me to do it.

I was really hesitant. I’m not sure why I made it into such a big deal.

Actually that’s not true.

I know why.

I made it into a big deal because in my head I had attached my value as a human being to the results of the skillet throw.

Like I’m worthy of praise or good things or who-knows-what if I do well, but if I don’t, well… then I’m a failure.

And I haven’t “earned” my spot at the proverbial table.

What the heck.

NO!!!

I am not my results.

I AM NOT MY RESULTS.

But, I am setting an example for my kids.

And the girls on the swim team.

I belong to a Facebook group for swim coaches. It’s called the Swim Coaches Idea Exchange.

I ask a lot of questions in that group. It’s an awesome resource.

It’s very common for swim teams to get t-shirts with some sort of motivational/inspirational/funny tagline/quote on the back.

So I went to the group and asked them what their favorite t-shirt quotes were.

It was a great thread with hundreds of comments.

And then a quote came to me that hadn’t been mentioned yet…

One of Ingrid’s swim coaches once said to her, “You have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable.”

That quote has stuck with me for a long time.

It just took a minute to rise to the surface yesterday.

This was my problem with the skillet throw.

I was uncomfortable.

My thoughts were uncomfortable.

The what ifs were uncomfortable.

It would have been A LOT easier to just say Screw it. Let’s go home.

I almost did.

But dang it my mom and dad guilted me into it.

“Why do you think we asked you if you wanted to come to the fair with us?” my mom said.

And I kept picturing Gretchen telling me the same things I tell her.

You have to get comfortable with being uncomfortable echoed in my head.

“UGH FINE,” I said and I put my name on the list.

There are four age groups in the skillet throw.

I don’t remember the names of all of them but I’m not sure what is worse – that I’m in the second to oldest age bracket or that my age bracket is called the silver cougars.

Anyway, there were a lot of women in my age group. Like maybe twenty.

And this year, out of all the women in my age group, I got…

FIRST!

I WON! 😂😂😂

When you win your age group you move to the final round.

I won my age group with a 43+ foot throw.

That’s pretty good for the second time ever throwing a skillet, but it’s not amazing relative to people who have been doing this thing a while.

And yeah, this is a thing people do.

Also if it is something Laura Ingalls might have done then LET’S GO.

Anyway, in the finals, you get two throws.

My best was 47+ feet which is pretty respectable.

I’m starting to figure out how to throw it.

But the two young whippersnappers in the age groups below me threw 52+ foot and 50+ foot throws.

So I got third over all.

It felt pretty good texting Gretchen after it was all over sending her that picture.

She said, and I quote…

Omg what

That’s so good

I could have stayed comfortable and told my parents I was tired and just wanted to go home.

But then I would have lived with regret.

And I wouldn’t have given myself a much needed reminder that the really good things only start to come once you get comfortable with being uncomfortable.

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