July2026 (1) - Flipbook - Page 23
about 19 years now, this was
my fourth time shooting in the
Quigley. Last year I placed third
in the women’s category with a
score of 34/48. I had done a bit
of shooting over the last year,
way more than my years prior.
And I had done well enough
to place in the World Championship Big Hill Match and
win the ladies category for the
Mini-Quigley during that time.
So here I was, 昀氀oating into competition on a high note fueled by
a previously successful shooting
year. And I was 昀氀oating along
just 昀椀ne until my second target
when I dropped out of the sky
and began to circle that drain.
I had started on the o昀昀hand and
ended with only two hits. Friday
during practice I had hit three
in a row so I attributed my poor
score to the wind and a heavy
ri昀氀e and kept on with my morning. I rationalized that “everyone struggles with the o昀昀hand”
and tried not to let it echo in my
mind.
But then there was the Bu昀昀alo. It’s a 5ft x 7ft steel animal
with 805yds between you and
it. I hit it three times, and it
mocked me after every shot.
Every “miss” call from the
substitute scorekeeper dug into
my mind like a sharp cleat on
soft earth. My mind over昀氀owed
with disappointment after every
unsuccessful shot. My thoughts
became a whirlwind of curses,
lectures and quick math of what
I still needed in order of having
a chance at placing. The math
was my biggest tormenter. It
made the misses more devastating. And it started to a昀昀ect
every shot.
God Bless Black Powder!
By the end of the day, I was
more than emotionally exhausted, mostly because I’d spent
the vast majority of that day
昀椀ghting myself, beating myself
up for not performing well. I
just wanted every aspect of the
weekend to be exceptional and
here I was with one gigantic
part of it eating me alive. It
completely overshadowed all of
the other amazing parts of the
weekend. I felt like a failure.
That strive for perfection and
extreme lack of attainment
regarding my score took away
from everything else. The beautiful range, being with people
that I love and only get to see
once or twice a year and the
sheer happiness and gratitude
of other shooters. So, I went
back to my campsite to rest and
pout. I let that cloud envelope
me and as it got darker and
darker, being fed by all my mental turmoil I began to swirl and
get darker with it. I was greatly
disappointed in my shooting
performance, and I let myself
know about it. It completely
dominated my thinking.
Slowly, over the course of the
evening I would try to climb out
of that hole, little by little only
to keep getting smacked back
down. It took hours and some
encouragement for me to get
to the point where I wasn’t so
defeated but minute by minute I
was working at it.
The next day I woke convinced
that I wouldn’t let my score get
the better of me. It was already
too late to think about placing
so I was determined not to let it
overwhelm me again. Upon my
arrival to the 昀椀ring line, I was
met with nothing but love and
encouragement from my shooting group.
They knew something was
wrong with me the day prior, yet none of them pushed
that day. Instead, they met me
Sunday morning with concern
and care for their fellow shooter who is still too new into the
sport to know all the ropes. One
of those ropes being that you
can’t be your own worst enemy.
The sport is challenging enough,
wind, load development, adjustment knowledge, etc., you don’t
need to bring your own mental
torment to the party.
The amazing part to me was
that they were all speaking from
years and I mean years of experience. Not my “oh I’ve been
shooting sporadically for four
years” kind of experience but
real, tried and true knowledge
of living, failing and succeeding
in the sport. It’s funny to think
how each life journey yielded
the same lesson in di昀昀erent
words.
Once that bullet is out of the
barrel, it’s done, over. You can’t
go back and make corrections
and try the same round again
hoping for a better result, you
must accept the shot for what
it was. If it hit the target that’s
great, do it again. If not, you
make needed adjustments and
focus on the next round. Chasing the perfect score on a target
or your dreams of placing in an
event will only wreak havoc on
your mind. Just one missed shot
has the capability to plant that
seed of despair which can ulti-
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