Disc golf and the construction of happiness

It's spring 1990. Mike Plansky is standing in a municipal park near Palo Alto, California, crouched like the Karate Kid with a footbag resting on the back of his neck. With an undulating motion, he rolls the multi-paneled pigskin up his spine and over his head. Dropping on gravity's rainbow, the footbag suddenly stalls, impossibly, on the toe of Mike's black and white Vans. Then, with a fluid jerk of his foot, he passes the footbag to his friend.

Like most young, middle-class, white men in their final year of high school, Mike doesn't really care what the future holds. There are no exams tomorrow. He's not worried about finding a job or paying the bills. He has no aches or pains, no mischievous growths or illness. There is nothing in his mind that resembles discomfort.

As Mike watches his friend preform a clipper move, he has a kind of revelation. Without saying a word, or even thinking one, Mike discovers a simple truth-that happiness occurs when what we want to do is what we're doing. This feeling, this exhilarating feeling of enjoyment, shapes the course of Mike's life.