The Wind Round That Changed How I Throw

There are days on the disc golf course that test you more than others. Not because of your competition, not because of the layout, but because of the conditions. This story is about one of those days — a tournament round that started with a forecast and ended with a full evolution in how I approach the wind.

It was a Saturday morning at Riverbend DGC, a course known for tight fairways and swirling open-air holes. I had checked the weather twice before leaving, and both times it called for 20 to 25 mph gusts — strong, but playable. What I didn’t anticipate was how little I understood the wind’s effect on my discs until that round began.

Hole 1 was a 325-foot downhill shot, slightly right-to-left. I reached for my trusted neutral fairway driver and threw it on a flat line. The wind caught it almost immediately, flipping it up and sending it crashing into early branches I’ve never hit before. A bogey to open the round wasn’t the end of the world, but it planted a seed.

By hole 3, I realized my regular shot shapes weren’t behaving like they should. My hyzer flips were turning and burning. My overstable discs weren’t fading out like usual. I’d throw something low and controlled, only to watch it lift ten feet mid-flight. I was being humbled, and quickly.

But somewhere around hole 6, after another roller that wasn’t supposed to be a roller, I stopped trying to fight the wind. I stopped trying to throw through it. Instead, I began thinking like it was part of the course itself — not an opponent, but a landscape feature I had to play around.

I started leaning on lower-speed discs, thrown with more nose-down angles. My aim points adjusted, sometimes by twenty feet, to let the wind carry or resist the disc as needed. I went back to my Zone for approaches that I would normally throw with a midrange. I stepped up to putts with a flatter, faster release to cut through headwinds rather than lift in them.

And strangely, as the wind got stronger, I started throwing better.

By hole 14, I’d birdied two of the last three and was back under par. More importantly, I’d started trusting my adjustments. That confidence changed everything. I wasn’t reacting to mistakes — I was making informed decisions. The rest of the card was still throwing their normal lines and watching their discs drift. I was playing a new game.

The round ended with a 60, which tied my personal best on the course. But the score wasn’t what stuck with me. What stayed with me was the realization that wind isn’t random. It’s just misunderstood. And on that day, I learned that every gust has a lesson if you’re willing to listen to it.

Now, when I feel the wind tug at my shirt or push my hair during a walk up, I smile. Because I remember that round — and I know what to do.