There have been very few times in my life when I've woken to my alarm in the morning and had no interest in getting up and attending an archery tournament. However, today may have been the first time I've encountered the problem. I got no more than a few hours of sleep last night, but I've often shot with little to no rest.
When the alarm sounded, I crawled out of bed and just looked in the mirror... lost. With mind racing and feeling a little anger mixed with an incredible amount of what will be never-ending, unanswered questions, I slid my socks on and slowly threaded my belt from one loop to the next until I had circled my midsection and securely snugged in around my waist. Broken, I tried wrapping my lips with a smile. I never accomplished that over the course of the next three hours. Instead, I sat behind the wheel of Dad's truck and stared out the windshield as my hands lightly gripped the steering wheel and helped me guide the truck to Connecticut. I would try my best to bury a lot of conflicting thoughts, anger, and unanswered questions... and guilt.
After getting out of the truck and going inside to sign up, I paid my money and registered as a walk-on. Since professional classes aren't part of federation shoots, I just decided to register as a walk-on since that's what I'm considered at these shoots according to the way the ASA's Federation shoots work.
Halfway through the room after paying for the shoot, I saw Joe Santos sitting at a table. I stopped for a moment to share pleasantries. Joe is one of the most accomplished shooters to come out of New
England, and I've known him for just about 30 years. We have a deep, mutual respect for each other's accomplishments behind the bow.
As we began talking, some moments for deep thought were brought up. We talked briefly about the past, and Joe said something to me that hit hard, like a boxer taking the best punch the other fighter had to give. However, the punch wasn't thrown as a knock-out blow. Instead, it was thrown as a dose of reality. Joe said, "No matter what, we have to remember how incredibly luck we both are to be here today. We've been able to do everything we've wanted to do, and we can still do it today, even if we don't do it as well." He would go on to talk about how thankful I should be about still being able to do what I love with my dad. From there, the conversation turned into Joe telling me to cherish all the moments I've had on the trail due to the fact that I've been able to accomplish many of my goals, some goals that others would kill to accomplish. Since Joe is such a great shooter, I value his opinion.
When I put my head down to walk away, a tear rolled from my left eye and found its way onto my cheek. Hurriedly, I wiped it from my face and put a smile on before talking to the Lawheads while they waited for the bathroom to open. I love John and his daughter. They are great people, and I feel fortunate to have met them in my travels and continuously receive their support, even on my worst days. They are true friends and a wonderful support staff. 
Finally, after making it to the target butt, I shot nine arrows. Not one shot felt good,and the sight picture was atrocious, but all the arrows landed in the X-ring. I knew it was going to be a battle throughout the day. Without good rest and a clear mind, I would have to do everything I could to remain focused throughout the day.
Our First Half
I was lucky enough to shoot with some of my favorite people, including Wags, Barry Gates and Jason Kennedy. Although I knew we would have fun, my mind wasn't in the arena with all of the other gladiators. Instead of readying myself for what the emperor would turn loose, I battled my own demons that were racing through my mind, then slowing down and hammering spikes into my brain.
Drawing the bow on our first target, a grazing doe, the pin bobbed from back to belly a few times before the bow eventually fired, sending the arrow a tad to the left of the upper 12 for an 8. Thoughts in my mind had become things, and the things were doing jumping jacks at warp speed. I simply couldn't harness them, even among my closest friends who were all laughing, cracking jokes and having fun.
When I got to our second target, an antelope, I changed releases, made an average shot and barely missed the 12 for a 10.. and those two targets would spell out my day. Throughout the first half, I shot a few more 8s, and never missed the 12 by more than an inch on any of them... all for 8s. While my shot was somewhat sloppy, I stayed with the aim and executed well enough to stay all over the 12s but not getting lucky enough to anchor any of them onto my scorecard.
When the first half ended, I was satisfied with my shooting but really disappointed with the score. I guess it just shows you that many times your score isn't truly reflective of how you shot the bow. My mind never found its way to a quiet place during the first half, and I got off with only one 12. However, if I had a half inch on a ruler, I would've gotten eight of them. That is the difference between a giant score and one that makes many archers scratch their heads. So I walked off the first half and hoped for a little change of luck on the second half.
Second Half
We never stopped between halves and continued to the tree stand to begin our last half. Amazingly, nobody in our group shot a higher scoring arrow than an 8. The wind was hammering through the opening at that point, and we drifted to the right. We also had a few misjudges among us too.
The next shot, a long mule deer, might've been my best shot of the day. The pin sat for half a second before the release fired and the arrow appeared at the top of the 11, barely missing the 12... again. This would be the theme on this half too. I missed the turkey by less than an inch out the top for another 8. I made a perfect shot and didn't get lucky. They say you make your own luck, but I wasn't making much on this day.
While I found a way to navigate through the second half and execute decent shots, I also lost my focus, or better yet, never reached any type of focused mind. Nearing the end, I sat on my stool and waited for Wags to shoot an uphill hill-country deer. When his bow fired, I knew the target was between 40 and 45. I could hear it as clearly as day but never paid attention to it. Therefore, I looked at the target, dialed my sight to 38 and shot my arrow. The arrow hit the target in the belly and I walked away in a fog. My mind was still drifting in and out of thought and had no real direction. I was still living in reality, even though I hoped with everything I had that I was still sleeping and would wake up from the imaginary, dreamlike world in which I had become consumed during the previous night.
When I got to the second to last target of the day, a downhill blesbok, I had to lead it. The number stuck out to me, and I went into pilot mode. I reached full draw, got the pin to where I needed it, began executing, and the arrow cut loose from the string. It appeared behind my pin, and I turned and sat down on
my stool. It took me 29 shots, but I had finally shot one arrow with a quiet mind. It was effortless.
After putting an arrow in the 10-ring on the black panther to end my day, I gathered my stuff, slung my stool over my shoulder and trudged off the range. Unlike normal days, I stayed to myself and walked to the truck to put my stuff away. I thought about things from the past. I thought about times I had been less than a good friend to certain people, and I thought about all the people I sometimes take for granted. Then, I reconsidered what Joe Santos had said to me a few hours earlier, and I was thankful that I got to spend time with my friends whom I don't get to see too often.
A day with some of my favorite people. I cherish these guys.
I heard this guy was looking in the barn for his arrow from a few years ago.
Final Thoughts
Today was not about going to an archery tournament and trying to shoot well. Today was about navigating life and trying to understand something that I will never be able to understand. Why do some things happen? Why is life so unfair? Why do so many not-so-nice people get multiple free passes when truly genuine, nice, caring people must pay the piper?
Many of you most likely know that I lost my job of 33 years last March. After that happened, I have not kept in touch with many people from my former workplace. I do know that I'm not proud of that. However, I also will never forget the ones from work who have continued making sure I was OK and showed interest in my life and where it had gone and where it was going. One of those people is a girl who was in my department for a long time. She was about 10 years younger than me, and I always felt like she was a little sister. I tried giving her good advice when she asked, and I always listened when she wanted to talk about her life. She was close to her mom and dad, and she always told me stories about her father's hunting escapades. She was truly proud of her parents, and I could tell that her parents did a wonderful job raising her. She sat next to me for a while, then a few rows over from me. We would work on the same projects together, and I would assign her work to edit when I needed help. She was kind, compassionate, funny... and genuine. She was everything a little sister should be, even if she wasn't my little sister.
Well, last evening, out of nowhere, I was notified that she had died in a head-on collision when someone came across the divider and hit her. She was brought to the hospital, where when would later be pronounced dead.It shocked me, like I knew it couldn't be true. However, after a few more people sent me messages, I learned that it was true. It was not a nightmare; it was reality.
I apologize to anyone with whom I spoke today if I seemed off, distant or just lost in thought. Joe Santos said it best today, "You can't take anything for granted. Just be thankful." I'll be the first to tell you that I have failed at this throughout my life.
I do have some guilt surrounding this. Keri was such an incredibly caring person. Instead of taking her severance and taking time getting back to work like I did, she decided to jump right back into the workforce.
I will never forget the last time I saw her, as I pulled up to the gas pump at Cumberland Farms on the opposite side of where I could see her standing, and she was pumping gas. When I got out, I stood behind the pump so she couldn't see me and made a smart-ass comment about short people. She started laughing and didn't miss a beat and gave it right back to me. I figured she might not know who said it. We got to share a few minutes of laughter before we both headed in our own direction. Then a few weeks ago, she called me to check on me. I wanted to tell her that I had landed a new job, so we talked about other stuff for a few minutes. Then, my phone rang and it was a call I had to take. I told her I would call her back, if not that day, the next day. I never called her back, and that was the last time I would ever hear her talk. I will miss her kindness and her caring nature. I found this picture of her on her Facebook profile, and I don't think anything could sum her up better than this. I'll do my best to carry on her legacy in the future. My friend Keri Pike.
I had a great day with my friends today, even if my mind was elsewhere. I appreciated every minute of their presence, even if my presence was miles and miles away in some other world. I appreciated the brief conversation with Joe, because I needed what he said when he said it. Was he sent to me at the perfect time? It's odd how things like that happen.
The only thing I'd like to say is that I don't want the comment section filled out with the "I'm sorry for your loss, Todd." If anything, I was lucky to have been able to work side by side with such a great co-worker who also cared deeply about my well being and all the other people around her. I was no different than any other person whom she encountered. She treated everyone the same. Anyone who was blessed with her friendship is truly better for it now.
I hope all of you had a good tournament, and I encourage all of you to truly value the people in your lives, no matter how big or small of a part they play. One day, those people will be gone. It may take years, but it might just happen in the snap of a finger.
This week is Wags' annual cancer visit to make sure he is clear. I will be thinking of him and praying with all my might that his road remains clear of any debris. He's one of my people, and I'm glad he has played such a big part of my life. I'm thankful for him and his place in it, as well as the place in my life many of you who are reading this have taken. In case I've never told any of you, I appreciate all of you.
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