January 12, 2009

One of the Guys

The truck console read a balmy 34 degrees as the tires crunched across the ice in the parking lot. I pulled on my stocking hat, adjusted my sunglasses and zipped my jacket up as far as it would go.

As I jumped out of the pickup I was greeted by a blast of arctic air. Although the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly, the chill in the wind was enough to make you look for shelter quickly.

The breeze carried on it a scent all too familiar, yet longingly distant as well. It had been almost 4 years since I had smelt the acrid plumes of gunpowder (shotgun that is). Way too long for my taste. Like so many other things, getting out to shoot is more difficult as a parent.

Within about 20 minutes, the trap course was cleared and we were ready to go. My hands shook as I fitted my plugs into my ears. I wondered how badly I could suck in front of these guys. If they'd snicker and wonder why I even pulled my gun out of the safe.

To my left, C yelled "pull" and I saw the barrel of his 12 gauge raise in the corner of my eye. In front of us the vividly orange clay target exploded into a puff of dust.

I took a deep breath, chambered a round, and yelled "pull". As the target began its arc across the frozen landscape, I felt the familiar surge of adrenaline. I caught up to the flying orange disk with my sights and squeezed. As I ejected the spent cartridge onto the ground, my nervousness danced away on the wind with the smoke trail of ignited gunpowder.

I was back on the range. And back on my game.

I shot like I'd never taken a break. Holding my own with all 4 of the guys who stood at the trap line with me. We shot 3 complete rounds (each being 25 target/person) of trap yesterday. Each round I consistently hit 75% of my targets and was one of top 2 shooters at the line. No one could believe that I hadn't been out in 4 years. The guys in the clubhouse were trying to sign me up for league shooting this summer in between rounds.

As always, C cursed that I could "come off the couch and kick his a$$". One of the benefits to being a woman I guess.


Jessica said...

Way to hold your own girlie! ;)

Sometimes those boys need a good a** whooping lol...

Kristin, Rod, and Victoria said...

Awesome! No big surprise, but still fun to do!!!

Rod's dad/brothers get jealous that whenever we're out shooting (usually just in the yard) I can hold my own. My dad (analytical as he is) supposes it has to do with the fact that we actually take the time to aim and not just assume we have the Point-Aim-Shoot male gene that they assume they have ;)

Glad you were able to get out and have some fun!