New throw. New axe? A story in 3 parts.

For the past...I dunno...almost year or so, I've been throwing the same axes. They are lovely. I love them. And I like to think they love me, too. And if you've paid attention at all to this lil' novel I've crafted one post at a time, you'll know I have tried - tried so hard - to avoid the siren's song of getting every axe I see. No, dear reader, I've tied myself to the mast and stuffed wax in my ears to avoid it.

But there is a saying in my culture: man plans, God laughs. And, baby, she's laughing up a storm right now, I'm sure.

Part one: the fixing of a wacky-ass throw.

Now, it should come as no surprise to any of you that my throw is, well...it's not gonna make the cover of Axe Throwers Monthly. Point in fact, I've been having issues with it since IATC 2024 (which is when I finally saw a video of it, and it made my head spin). You can read all about it here, if you're so inclined. But to make a story shorter, I knew I had to update my throw to something a bit more controlled. Less movement, more purposeful locomotion, all that stuff.

And, to my great benefit, I met a thrower who had the kind of throw I wanted. Restrained, effective. Elegant, even? That throw belonged to the fingies which belonged to the arm which belonged to Dr. Ketamine. She let me record her whilst throwing, and I tried on my own to mimic it. Unfortunately (and maybe expectedly), I really donked all of my attempts to make that throw my own.

Fast foward to the U.S. Open, where the good doctor had office hours, and was kind enough to give me a clinical on how to, you know, actually do it. 30 minutes later, and I was more or less confident that I could remember the lesson and -- oh, wait, I was going for a whole doctor punfest, there....

uh...

...30 minutes later, and I felt like the prescription was working. There we go.

And since the second week of March, I've been using that very same throw. I'm not going to explain what the new throw is, because frankly, it doesn't matter. What does matter is how much more controlled it is than my past throw. When I let go of the axe, I know where it's gonna go, more or less, and my consistency has gone way up.

Okay...way up, kinda. I feel like once I've locked it down, it's gonna do real good things for me, unlike my past throw, which kinda hit a plateau.

But this lead to a whole other problem that I hadn't at all thought of, stupidly.

Part two: "new" throw means "old" axes.

An issue I started bumping into was one of equipment, which I hear happens with badgers of a certain age.

But truly: I was/am coming along in this new throwing style, but my current axe stable (A Kevin Bradley Flying Fox and a - you guessed it - Kevin Bradley Cedar Pattern) doesn't quite work with the new throw. They both feel a touch too heavy for the graceful, almost fencing-maneuver throw I'm trying to perfect. Now, it COULD be that I just have to learn how to adjust these honkin' brutes to fit the throw. But I feel like somewhere between the handle length and the weight of the axe head, they both aren't quite fitting the bill.

Naturally, my very first thought was: Well, that's a cool ~$500ish bucks down the drain. And another few hundred AFTER figuring out what kind of axe works best for me. Shuckles.

But then comes Crazy Bob with a bag full of axes he doesn't want anymore, and there I go fiddling around with those axes, just to see. Just to know.

And, of course.

And, wouldn't you know it.

This abomination of a free axe just introduces itself and tells me all the little things I wanna hear when throwing it.

Look at this camel-humped summabich

Dear reader. There are so many reasons I shouldn't like this axe.

1. I don't particularly like half hatchets.

2. I don't particularly like the "extra lump of wood" bump. Like, to each their own but it's not for me.

3. I haven't thrown a lighter (about 1 pound, 11 ounces) axe in years.

4. It doesn't make me feel good when I look at it. It makes me feel not good.

But here I am, throwing this exceptionally free axe Crazy Bob gave me, and I'm throwing it well. In fact, I'm throwing it better than my very lovely axes.

Part 3: coming to terms with starting (my axe selection) again

And here's where I am, now. If this new throw is gonna work well for me, and my longtime selection of heavy, shorter-handled axes isn't gonna work alongside that new throw, what am I to do? Stick with my wild, behind the back (flat against my neck for some reason?!) throw? Get new axes that work with my new throw though it might not actually be my new throw unless I can actually lock it in?

And then this freaking Quasimodo of an axe rolls in like a summer storm and just works? This axe that I didn't haggle for, nor spend a month's worth of grocery money on? This free, loose-headed rat fink just decides it's gonna let me feel like I've been throwing this way forever and I should just get on with it already? Inflammatory. Scandalous.

Honestly, I don't know what I'm gonna do, at this point. I think it's likely I'm going to keep using this particular league as an ongoing experiment. If it turns out I do now need lighter axes, I'll be searching out a new clutch axe (with a much wider bit length), too, and the thought of that is deeply upsetting. Fun, I guess, but upsetting. But maybe I just need a little break from by chonky bois to get this new throw into my muscle memory. And to remind myself of how great they are.

But then again...