The reaper has raised his sickle throughout the dark nights over the last four months. He makes himself felt and stands above me until he nudges me out of sleep. His efforts do not go unnoticed, as I can barely move my hands and shoulders once he forces me to open my eyes and acknowledge his presence. I can feel the tension build in my jaws as the grating of my teeth shatters the silence of the night. They tell me what nobody else can see -- or hear: Father Time is undefeated, and he will catch up to all of us.
I will be boarding a plane one week from today. When the aircraft touches down, I will collect my items at baggage claim and walk into the Florida sunlight with my bow rolling behind me. I will be headed to Mirimar Regional Park to participate in my first National Senior Games. Dad has participated for many years, and I know that not many father and son duos get to participate in the same Senior Games. It’s not too often that life allows that to happen, so no matter what happens during the event, we will both be winners.
I have gone out of my way to prepare for this event, and I feel well prepared. I have shot in calm conditions, high winds and rain. Although the reaper has visited me nightly, I continue holding him at bay. This event will test every ounce of will power I have inside of me. We all know how grueling it can be to shoot 90 arrows in a tournament. Then, if any tension exists, it is felt the next day. This tournament will require two days of 90 arrows, with 900 being a perfect score each day.
The weather has not made this easy, and I have probably spent way too much time getting ready for this event. However, I don’t like to head into anything while being unprepared. I’ve had a few phenomenal practice sessions, many average ones, and a few dismal ones. I will just go shoot my bow and take the test to see if the time spent on my homework assignments leads to a good test grade.
As we get involved in training, we sometimes get lost in the reasons why we shoot our bows. I’m guilty of this, too. The last month has been extremely frustrating at times. The wind, rain and snow have made it extremely difficult to achieve things with a setup that can be trusted. When those things combine with the shoulder and arm issues I deal with every day, it often makes me wonder if I should gradually disappear from competitive archery. I find myself caught in thought but don’t want to give in until I absolutely must. However, I’ve always been a baseball fan, and I’ve seen far too many great players hang around longer than they should have. It’s all for the love of the game, and I love archery. I guess it’s just a matter of accepting you can’t be what you once were. As Toby Keith says, “I’m not as good as I once was, but I’m as good as I ever was.”
This brings me back to my initiation to competitive archery. I always thought I was pretty good, so I decided to head to a local archery tournament at Iroquois Rod and Gun Club outside of Albany. I couldn’t believe the number of vehicles in the parking lot when I pulled in on that late spring day. There were archers everywhere, and it was an intimidating sight. I went with a friend, and after signing in, we were grouped with a few other guys.
When the dust settled and the scores were added up, I learned that I had won the tournament in the fingers class. We shot Cloud 2D targets, and 3Ds had not yet been introduced to the competitive archery world.
A lot of time has passed since that spring day in the ‘80s. I was in college, and the only aches and pains I ever experienced were from a hard skate while playing hockey or from running up and down the court while playing pick-up basketball for hours on end.
Over time, my body has encountered a lot of obstacles, and I’ve found a way to work around them. I’m hoping I figure out a way to work around these issues, but if I can’t, I will know the journey brought me to many destinations. I’m looking forward to the months ahead, and I’m sure things will figure themselves out in that time. I’m tentatively planning to attend a lot of events in case, in fact, this does have to be my last year.
Although I’m sure the reaper will not follow me off the plane next week, his presence will be felt. The fire from his breath will burn my neck and pierce my shoulders, but I will smile and be thankful that I’m on the field winging arrows. When the horn sounds for the first official scoring end, I will latch my release to the bowstring, draw my bow, anchor, and let the child inside me release my arrows. My face will broaden with smiles and an internal giggle will be felt in my belly when I know I’ve struck the highest scoring bullseye. Then, I’ll still smile if I must trudge down the field and pull arrows out of the grass behind the target.
The 10-year-old Todd will appear, then look at me and wink. He will pat me on the back, ask me to bend down, and he will whisper, “I love shooting my bow with my dad.”
I will look into his innocent brown eyes, wink back, and as he walks away, I will glance down the line to the man I call Dad and be forever thankful that that man bought me a bow and helped me chase my dreams around the country. We are not in our backyard shooting bows and wondering where life will take us, but we are still enjoying the flight of the arrow.
Thump, thump, thump… smack, smack, smack. Listening to bows releasing arrows and the arrows hitting the target, I’m brought back to reality. Seconds later, my last arrow of the first end is on its way to the target. The Bohning Air vanes spin the arrow through the air like a tight spiral. I step away and see my younger self rejoicing in the backyard… hands over my head and I’m yelling, “YES, YES, YES.” My arrow is in the 10.
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