The Ax I Didn't Know I Needed to Grind

I tried to single arm the ax. Each and every time, the ax would just bounce off the wood. It was when I switched to the double arm set-up that the magic happened. I finally got to hear the satisfying, “thwonk” as the ax buried itself right into the bulls eye. Did I have any idea just how satisfying this would feel? No. It was like a whole amalgamation of bests: First thing Christmas morning. The first sip of coffee after a sleepless night. Finding your favorite pair of undies in the clean laundry bin.

I’ve known for years that I wanted to try ax throwing. When I first heard about this as a thing, my initial inclination was that I’d probably have fun with it. But, also, I have fun with just about anything, so that would be no surprise. My next wondering really leaned into whether or not we want to put any kind of sharp object (weapon) into my hands. Then again, we do need me at least minimally prepared if the zombie apocalypse ever hits. I know the first internal want to try it was about a billion years ago, in my past life of being married and living near a place that hosts ax throwing.

I had buried the wish to try it, with life lifeing. On a random Friday, hanging with a client on the reformer, I mentioned wanting to try it, feeling a little silly in the sharing. Since I have exactly zero shame at this point of my life, a little silly was not about to hold me back. While I normally have no issues doing things alone, this felt like the kind of activity to do with a friend and I wasn’t sure I had any friends interested. Her immediate response was that her partner had mentioned wanting to try it also, that while she never saw the appeal, she’d love to have all of us do it together. 

We walked in, checked in, and headed to grab a drink. Suffice it to say, we were all surprised to find out alcohol is served. Alcohol and supremely sharp instruments do not seem like a match made in heaven, but what do we know? My first throw, single arm, sucked. It went nowhere near any circle on the board. Like, we went from tracking points to giving points if we hit ANYTHING at any point because all of us needed a little work early on. 

I made a switch to the heavier ax with the double arm throw and the magic started kicking in. The instructor dude wandered over, with his silly socks and fabulous kilt, and gave me a few adjustments. And I hit the bulls eye. A literal dance fest ensued because who knew that hitting the bulls eye would feel like such an absolute accomplishment? And a little hot brag: Not only did I hit the bulls eye, but I hit the corner bit that’s the “next level” up version (more points) after multiple modifications and my instructor offering one final thought to help me land the blade right into the center.

Teaching both Pilates and strength training means I’m fluent in force and finesse… I just didn’t expect to need the Pilates half at an ax-throwing bar.

I felt powerful. I felt light. I had a goal and made the adjustments in the moment to reach that goal. I could clear my head, for even a few seconds, and just dial into the moment, into the movement. It was refreshing and relaxing in the same breath.

I walked in thinking it was about how hard you could throw. I walked out knowing it was about how well you adjust. Intensity wasn’t the key here. Consistently making micro-adjustments and allowing space for failure led to the actual success. 

It was a wish I’d buried. And I buried the ax. That satisfying, “thwonk” is going to stay with me a while. The dance party is going to keep happening. The remembering that fun and silly and all the things can be found in the randomest of places? That’s what I call a win.