How Lucky Am I?

What thought do you have when you first step on the line? I have one that comes to mind over and over. I say it to myself as I feel the adrenaline hit my nerves, sharp like the whistle blowing to start shooting. I feel it, soft and familiar as my fingers slide over the fletchings. I feel it in the thrum of my heartbeat in the tightening bow string. One thought: How lucky am I?

I'll be the first to say I can lose this perspective. My short stint in archery thus far has been frustrating. My effort and my goals have yet to meet, falling short of most of my goals each season. Sometimes this was circumstantial (injury, sickness), other times it was apparent that it was all me: I choked, I prepared wrong, or I failed to adapt when I should have. If you're an archer, this is all familiar: knowing you can do better, but not knowing how.

And you also know the excitement of trying to find out how. Hours researching equipment and techniques, long nights at the range and the gym, hours spent in rain and wind learning to shoot with nature rather than against it. Hundreds and hundreds of hours and days all to take one shot that matters, over and over. Even on your most miserable days shooting, you'd give anything for just one more shot, one more chance to learn and try.

I know this about you because we've done it together : in every stage of this journey, I've been side by side with friends, teammates, rivals, coaches, judges, and volunteers. On long lonely nights at the range I walk down to the target with archers from around the world, my phone aglow with messages and pictures, successes and heart aches, dumb jokes and deep wisdom from all corners of the world. The friendship is constant, synergetic. In the morning, I wake up to messages from new archers and from mentors, each asking the same question: "How do we learn more?"

I think many people unfortunately can go through life without this: without this sense of unconscious purpose, without this community. I wonder how many other people wake up excited for years on end, how many live eternally in the present and learn from the past to prepare for the future again and again. How many people can truly get to experience this?

I don’t hear it talked about often, but gratitude can be a part of our practice, a tool to safeguard us against the frustrations and troubles we might face. We can prepare and train, but gratitude is what carries us when this falls short; it keeps us humble when we succeed; gratitude is what helps us carry each other in this maddening pursuit we call a sport.

When I stand on the line, awash with nerves and focus, dread and hope, fear and joy, there is just the one thought I try to keep, the one that snaps it all in perspective:

How lucky am I?