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What Shooting Has Taught Me
Posted by Junior Shooters
By Kylie Delaney
I pick up a bullet, selecting it from the prearranged pattern in my ammo box. I inspect it to ensure there are no visible flaws before sliding it into the chamber of my rifle and closing the bolt. Glancing down at a ruler on the ground, I adjust the positioning of my feet as needed, sometimes only by a fraction of an inch. You see, if I angle the toe of my boot out, it shifts my balance; if I move my feet closer together, my gun rests lower on the target. Everything is done with precision and for a purpose. I fit my butt plate into my shoulder and align a Sharpie mark on my gloved left hand with a predetermined spot on my rifle. Now, I finally lift the gun.
As I lift my rifle, I shift my hips forward so that my left elbow comes to rest on my hip, snug and close to my body; the weight of my gun is fully supported by my skeletal structure. I close my eyes and feel the position: Is my gun balanced? Am I 110% sure my elbow is in the correct place? If the answer is yes, I look over the top of my sights downrange. Is my butt plate snuggly fit between the folds of my jacket? Is my weight distributed in the correct ratio between my feet? Have I prepared myself to shoot the best shot possible? If the answer is no, I put my gun down and begin the entire process again. I can’t afford the luxury of taking bad shots. However, if I have prepared my position to the best of my abilities, I will lower my cheek to rest on the cheek piece. My finger slips onto my trigger and I guide my barrel straight down onto the target – not forcing it, but allowing it to come to rest in its natural position. I exhale slowly and see my sights align with the target. For a split second – and believe me, it won’t last long – I am completely relaxed and steady on the ten. I break the shot.
I began shooting Olympic-style precision rifle at the age of 10; my gun was too big and duct tape covered a hole in the shoulder of my jacket. Six years later, you can find me at the gun club, staring down my sights at a tiny, black target. Over the years, my sport has been an outlet as well as an educator to me in many ways.
Shooting, for me, has been the single best instructor in self-sufficiency. My friends and family would describe me as a very independent person; I have to be. Since the age of 13, I’ve had to board airplanes with my gear and guns and take long flights to Colorado Springs, where I get picked up at the airport and taken to the Olympic Training Center. There’s no one there to make sure I eat enough protein before I shoot or keep track of me and make sure I get on the firing line on time. I have to be able to manage my time, and myself, if I want to be successful.
When a problem arises during competition, I can’t afford to lose minutes by coming off the line to talk to my coach. Sometimes, as is the case during most national matches, my coach is 1,300 miles away, watching the targets broadcasted online from behind a computer screen.
The ability to keep your cool and think through problems on your own is not only helpful, it is essential. However, there are times when you simply need help. Many kids my age either don’t know how to ask an adult a question or are too stubborn to admit when they need help. In a competitive sport, you have to be able to accept it when your way of doing things isn’t working and be willing to look at the situation from a different perspective. Unless, of course, you want to get left in the dust of all those who were willing to listen.
Every competitive shooter is well acquainted with the Plateau. Your scores climb for several months, then suddenly you hit a wall. I’ve gone through months of dry spells where nothing I do seems to make any difference, but I always break out eventually. When I’m riding a plateau, I can get frustrated and irritable. I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to shoot, and I don’t want to talk about it. However, I still put in the hours because I want to break out of the slump more than I hate being in it.
I often wonder who I would be today if I had never picked up a rifle. I’ve had to prioritize and set boundaries for myself that most kids my age can’t even begin to understand. Without rifle, I would have more time to spend with friends. I would probably have a closet full of clothes like most other girls my age if I weren’t always saving to buy ammunition and better gear. I wouldn’t have to miss the trip to the ice-skating rink because I couldn’t afford to get hurt before a competition.
My sport can genuinely make me want to pull my hair out and cry on occasion. It’s rearranged my schedule and caused me to make sacrifices, but I am proud of the person I am today. My sport has taught me to have great determination and perseverance, qualities that have been applicable in every aspect of my life. Shooting has given me the drive to be more than just mediocre. It’s taught me to be comfortable being uncomfortable and to be relentless in pursuit of my goals.
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