The story of how I got into shooting is a fairly average one. My dad grew up shooting and decided that when I was of age he would do as his father did with him and teach me how to safely operate a firearm.  Little did he know, him teaching me to shoot sparked a passion that still burns almost 8 years later. Enter 10 year old me: I love video games, action movies, being in the boy scouts, and outdoorsmanship. I had expressed an interest in guns to my mom before when we were at Dunhams and had passed through the shooting section. I remember feeling humbled for some reason at seeing all of these magnificent machines. They interested little 10 year old me so much that I mustered up the courage to ask my mom if she would consider letting me get one and dad could teach me how to shoot and be safe with it. When I asked her if I could get a .22 bolt action to start out, I got immediately shut down.

“Absolutely not! They’re very dangerous”. She thought I was crazy for even asking so I just let it go as she tended to carry on about stuff like that. Looking back on it I probably should have mentioned wanting to shoot to my dad first and not my mom, this is a lesson that I definitely didn’t forget when asking for things in the future.

Fast forward about 4 months; my dad got wind of my interest in guns from my mom when she slipped up about it at some point, so he did what any sensible dad would do and surprised me with my first rifle, a Mossberg 801 bolt-action .22. The gun itself was nothing special, run of the mill starter rifle. Bolt action, poorly blued steel, cheap wood stock, stiff bolt, machining and tooling marks all over the gun, inside and out. This rifle was pretty much the equivalent of getting a Soviet-Era Lada as your first car; it’ll last you forever, get you from point A to point B, but my god is it ugly and crudely made. But it was mine. I remember feeling so happy and proud at the sight of my very own rifle, even though it was nothing to write home about, it was mine and I promised myself and my parents I would take care of it, be safe and responsible with it, and hopefully become proficient with it.

My first time on the range was a scary and awkward one to say the least. Virtually everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. My earplugs kept falling out so my ears got a pretty nice pounding from the rounds of 5.56 and .30-06 rifles being shot right next to me, my target fell down not even 10 minutes into the session, my gun kept failing to eject the spent brass so I had to reach into the hot chamber with the Range Officers Rambo-esque knife and pluck the brass out of the barrel. Thankfully everyone at the range showed great hospitality for a new comer and helped me out when I was obviously having a fairly difficult time. Nowadays my trips to the range are smooth as butter, i’ve got it down to a science. Most of my setting up and preparation is done before I even leave my house; my bag is always ready with a few hundred rounds of ammo for various guns, fresh targets, a knife, a screwdriver, flashlight, oil, ear protection, glasses, a pair of binoculars, a dozen chamber-clear indicators, a stapler for hanging targets, and a little first aid kit just incase. Once I get to the club that I shoot at, all I have to do is sign in, set up whatever gun i’m using that day, put a little chamber-clear indicator in my rifle, put on my eye/ear protection, and wait for the all clear to hang my target. The range officer that was working that day helped me get sandbags, taught me proper range etiquette, helped me fix my rifle, and last but not least importantly he showed me the proper way to insert ear plugs so I didn’t develop severe tinnitus. He ended up being my mentor of sorts. He was a shooting instructor in the Marines during the Gulf War so he taught me a few things about shooting that I remember to this day.

“Breath in slow and steady, line your sights up on your target, release your breath slowly - Slowly breath in again, this time resting your finger on the trigger and when you’re ready to shoot, exhale and squeeze the trigger very slowly.” It was sort of miserable but I still managed to have an amazing time. I can still remember the feeling I got as I squeezed off the first round from my rifle. I don’t think i’ve ever felt more focused and in-my-own-head as I did in that moment. Even with the report of high-caliber rifles booming all around me, it almost felt as if time had slowed down for a few seconds, allowing me to swing my front sight the most immeasurably small distance into the center ring of my target, slowly exhale, and squeeze the trigger. As I plucked the simmering hot brass out of the chamber of my uncooperative little beater rifle, I remember thinking to myself “Breath in slow and steady, line your sights up on your target, release your breath slowly - Slowly breath in again, this time resting your finger on the trigger and when you’re ready to shoot, exhale and squeeze the trigger very slowly.”

Looking back on that day all these years later, I realize that something clicked inside me that day after shooting for the first time. Maybe it was the placebo effect or just plain old bravado from wielding so much power for the first time, but I felt focused, refreshed, and even calmer after leaving the range that day. And so from that day forward, shooting became not only a passion, but a medicine of sorts for an ailment i’ve never had. It relieved stress that wasn’t there, made me feel focused even though I had nothing on my mind. These feelings of stress relief and my never subsiding love of knowledge about guns, their history, how they work, who used them and their purpose, kept me coming back. Because of how niche of a sport shooting is, I felt for a long time that I was an outsider in the community, and outside of the community i’d be vilified for taking up shooting as a hobby. But, I came to realize that it was just that, a sport, a passion like golfing or playing soccer. People inside the shooting community also helped me to feel more comfortable with my sport of choice, and less like an outsider.

It took me a while, but I learned from this that, no matter what your passion is, pursue it and do what makes you happy. Don’t let what other people think of you or what you do stop you from enjoying life and your passion. If there’s one lesson I learned from that first day shooting its that you have to be persistent with your goals and dreams. I could have easily been put off by everything that happened that day and the reaction from people when asked “What sport do you play?”, but I pushed through the problems that I faced and here I am today, almost 7 years later, still as passionate about everything shooting and firearms related as I was from day one.