To Reload or Not to Reload …

I had never intended to be reloading when I first started shooting monthly revolver matches.  That turned into shooting the regional matches and eventually also shooting action pistol and some IPSC matches.   I quickly found it was very easy for me to go through 1,000 rounds every few weeks, depending upon the frequency of my shoots.

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Bass Pro Shops’ Media Day at the Range a success

February 14, 2011 – In its fifth-year, the 2011 Bass Pro Shops’ Media Day at the Range broke all attendance records.  The event which is held on the day prior to SHOT Show, was attended by  over 625 members of the media.  With over 70 manufacturers exhibiting, Media Day at the Range continues to be the largest media event in the hunting and shooting industry, giving outdoor media the opportunity to shoot and test the best new products for 2011.  Attending manufacturers get a jump on their competition with early media exposure highlighting their products for print, broadcast and internet coverage.

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Not yet the winter of my life

“There’ll be no more skiing around here,” my girlfriend spoke of her recent aversion to any physical activity that might inflict physical pain.  “Not by me, anyway!”

Kristie alluded to the fact that her husband, who had mountain biked over treacherous ground on their Utah vacation last summer, continues to recreationally risk life and limb.  Men who were born in 1950 are about as willing as is Mick Jagger to admit the limitations of age.

I heartily concurred with her swearing off of the slopes.  I’d suffered a broken ankle two years ago while walking my dogs (their fault), and ever since have avoided any sport more active than walking alone, and we both shared arthritic aches and pains that naturally accompany—ahem—a little later than middle age.  Last winter, I’d ceremonially and permanently hung up my downhill skis.

Instead, thinking I’d taken things down a notch in the danger department, I dabbled in cross country and fell head first in love with the sport and head back (twice) onto the snow so hard that I nearly suffered a concussion and another broken ankle.  The invulnerability of youth has therefore evaporated and in its place is my new standard:  Just not worth it.

Yet neither one of us want winter to serve as a reminder that we are nearing “the winter of our lives.”  We continued to ruminate—as in what to do in a chilly climate in order to stay fit and deter the aging process besides watching the same aerobic DVD over and over again without yawning and reaching for another cup of coffee and a box of chocolates.  Such videos had been our mantra for far too many years.  Decades ago we’d given birth and after changing the first diaper were right back to bouncing around to Jane Fonda’s gyrations.  Aerobic exercise and its ensuing video venue was, after all, the invention of our generation—and a stellar cultural achievement at that.  So now what’s a boomer to do during winter if not some punishing, heart pumping routine that is oh-so-cleverly disguised as dance?

I am undaunted when it comes to getting out of doors.  I strap on my Yak-Traks and hit the dirt (now blanketed in snow) roads out here where I live in the Ninemile Valley.  Breathing fresh air and ogling deer and elk are definite perks to my fitness purpose, and much preferred to the alternative of yanking on Lycra and driving thirty miles to Missoula for an exercise class.  I dutifully perform my Mari Windsor Pilates tape and relish the stretching, but ah … there is nothing quite like stepping out the back door clad in snow clothes, face mask, and mittens that house four hand warmers (the solution to Renault’s syndrome that deprives me of all feeling in my fingers) into the bracing January air.  Not to mention, my intrepid trek means a long hot bath awaits upon my return—if I can feel the faucet with my fingers to turn it on.

But where is the boast in admitting that no, I don’t ski, and no, I don’t cross country ski—I walk; it sounds so “old.”  I love my daily constitutional—don’t misunderstand me—but after three years on the same route I’ve reached the point where I can track every neighbor’s footprints in either dirt or snow.   I feel like I live in one of those English countryside towns of literature when I can determine by shoe sole who has turned up whose driveway to call.  I beckon to each dog by name as it dashes out of the woods to greet me.  I venture to say that if a pine tree has lost a cone in some breeze between yesterday and today, I notice, and when I can blindly walk my way home in a whiteout, it just might be time for a little variety.

Then I happened upon an article in a magazine about snowshoeing.  “If you can walk, you can snowshoe,” the accompanying advertisement reassured.  No sooner had I gleaned the details online than I was confidently whipping out my credit card and ordering a pair of REI’s MSR Denali Evo Ascents during the end of season sale last year.  This was my winter to go for it.

We’ve so far enjoyed an authentic Montana winter; one December afternoon our driveway was buried under fourteen inches of powder.  It was time.  I strapped on the platforms, grabbed the poles, and headed out the sliding glass door onto a blanket of untouched perfection.  After making a few adjustments to my natural stride, I was underway, scaling hills and maneuvering around pine trees on our forested property.  Areas impassable during dry seasons due to fallen logs, rocks, and holes were transformed—I could step assuredly!  No doubt to the casual observer I appeared altogether athletic.

In ten minutes my heart was beating like a hammer and I was breathing harder than I had when I visited my daughter’s Zumba class.  I desperately peeled off layers of clothing, in 10-degree temperatures, no less.  Wow—has Jane Fonda ever tried this?

Now I can brag, “I snowshoe!” when boomers my age and older are ruing their latest ski trip while propped on crutches and wearing a boot cast.  Today, when the winter storm warning is issued and my husband groans in anticipation of his workout once again being behind the arms of a snow-blower, I am jubilant, slithering into sleek Under Armour ski pants while tearing open with my teeth another hand warmer pack from the cut-rate Costco carton of them.

Best of all, I am walking and not clumsily attempting some graceful parallel turn.  Moving swiftly, dressed in a top layer of down, and hiding gray hair under a trendy cap—I might look, and will still feel, thirty.

Visit Kathleen Clary Miller’s blog to read other stories: http://kcmillersoutpost.blogspot.com/. Kathleen Clary Miller is the author of over 300 essays and stories that have appeared in such publications as Newsweek Magazine, The Chicago Tribune, The Baltimore Sun, The Hartford Courant, The Los Angeles Times, The Orange County Register, Orange Coast Magazine, Missoula Living Magazine, Flathead Living Magazine, The Johns Hopkins Memory Bulletin, and The Christian Science Monitor. For two years, she was a regular columnist for The Missoulian and now appears on their “Missoula Mom” Blog. Her column “High on the Wild” appears in the Pines Literary Journal and her column “Peaks and Valleys” appears in Montana Woman Magazine. She has contributed to National Public Radio’s On Point.

She lives in Huson, Montana.

Elizabeth Lanier hosts Shotguns and She-nanigans

Years ago I got bitten by a big shootin’ bug and I came down with the deepest infection of “love to shoot syndrome” anyone had seen in a woman around here. I absolutely fell in love with it. The biggest problem was finding other women who suffered from the same affliction! Read more

Membership has its privileges

If you’re over the age of 40, you probably remember the commercial tagline for American Express–”Membership has its privileges.”  I can personally attest that membership in the Women’s Outdoor Media Association has ITS privileges, too. Read more

Week 3 of the RV Diaries: Uncertainty of Battle

It’s my last night in the RV. In all I’ve spent 20 days and nights inside this little house on wheels. And every night, except this one, sleep has come at no cost. But tonight there’s something on my mind. I’m only one race away from accomplishing something that no one else in United States Biathlon has ever accomplished. Something I’ve never even come close to accomplishing. It is something however that I’ve dreamed of for years and have rehearsed in my head many times before. I’m so mentally practiced that this should come easy to me. It should be easy to accomplish. But it isn’t. And it won’t be.

Yesterday I “cleaned” my third race in a row. “Cleaning” is a termed used to describe a race in which athletes hits all their targets, either 10 for 10 or 20 for 20, shooting 100 percent. Cleaning two races in a row is not entirely uncommon. Cleaning three races in a row is quite a feat, but doing it in four is something entirely different. For every race you clean, the pressure mounts and those little targets you are shooting at only seem to get smaller and harder to hit. Adrenaline kicks in and your muscles start to shake.

I know what awaits me out on the course today. I have a target on my back the size of an American flag. Yesterday I won the race. It was a German Cup race and I was lucky enough to beat all of the Germans (as well as a Canadian, some Brits and a Norwegian). But not without a price: Today they’ll be gunning for me. It’s a mass start and this race is a head-to-head brawl on the tracks. There’s no solo trip around the tracks, or solitary bout at the range. You are fighting head-to-head the whole race. Clawing your way up the hills, fighting for position and shooting as fast and as accurately as possible to gain an advantage in the range.

So, why does sleep elude me? Is it the target on my back? Is it the fear and apprehension of going into battle? Or the unknown opportunity to achieve a dream? I ponder this for a second, and then realize it’s none of these. I’m excited. That’s it and that’s all. I wish the race were right now. Walk up to the start, set your skis down, yell “Battle!” and begin. So, with excitement running through my veins, I close my eyes and think, “Bring it on, Deutschland!” and fall asleep.

Several hours later, I’m lined up at the start line. I’m surrounded by the black, red and gold of the German suits. Everyone is breathing hard and fidgeting as we await the gun that will signal the start of the race. Thoughts are running through my head like a freight train. My eyes feeling like I’m reading a book at warp speed while I try to interpret all the thoughts in my head. Then suddenly a “bang.” I lean on my poles and my skis rocket forward. Any thoughts that were in my head are now gone. I look ahead of me and see the track and a sea of girls. Poles and skis are everywhere. Girls are jockeying for position. I get in behind a couple of Germans and try to focus on relaxing.

The hills in Ruhpolding are steep and the descents are unnerving. Already after the first loop my legs are screaming. We climb to the top of a steep hill and descend down around a corner that does a 180 to the left. I hear a sound and look back to see a girl go skidding on her stomach down off the side of the trail. I look back ahead again as the range comes into view. We ski around a corner and you can hear the roar of the crowd as we approach the range. I close my eyes and think “just breath,” which kind of makes me laugh as I’m struggling for breath and my heart is pounding over180 beats per minute. I take one big deep breath and open my eyes. It’s almost as if a switch went off in my brain. There are no thoughts of the crowd. No thoughts of the competitors around me, or the pressure of reaching my goal. I’m in autopilot now.

I ski into the range and up to a shooting point. I’m quickly down on my knees and slinging my gun off my back. Then I lie down, take a deep breath and squeeze off the trigger. I take five shots and five targets fall. I’m then back on my feet and skiing out of the range. I look around and see I am accompanied by three other Germans. They’ve “cleaned” the shooting stage too. And I smile to myself as I know this is going to be a race until the end.

We jockey for position and fight on the hills. Up and down we go, changing leads, fighting back and forth. We race into the range and come to a screeching halt on the shooting points. The crowd is now completely animated as it’s turning into a battle. Once again I shoot five shots, and five more targets fall. Once again I’m accompanied by the same three Germans, each hitting all of their targets as well.

We battle again on the skis. I drop in behind the other girls as I know the real battle is just about to start: the standing shooting. The standing stages are the last two bouts in the range and are by far the hardest. You’re getting more tired as you’ve already raced close to five miles and the standing position is more difficult than prone. We once again ski into the range and up to the shooting point. I drop my poles on the mat and sling my gun off my back. I take aim. The first four shots go down easy and then, right before the last shot a thought sneaks into my head. This thought is my enemy. It’s worse than any competitor, and makes a race more difficult than any hill we have to climb. It’s uncertainty and doubt. It’s the thing that keeps most people from accomplishing what they are capable of achieving. All it took was a split second and my focus is shattered. I hear the crowd, the sound of the shots from the other girls around me. I can feel the ache of my legs and the pounding of my heart in my chest.

For just a split second panic creeps in. I feel my legs tense and as I look down my barrel the target is dancing around everywhere. Hitting this target seems like trying to tame a wild mustang. It’s almost impossible. Almost.

Then I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. A sense of calm washes over me as I think, “It’s just one target. I’ve done this thousands of times in training. I’m ready for this.” It’s why we train. It’s why we study for that test or prepare so much for that presentation. So that when the time comes, we are ready. And can do it without hesitation. So, with that my eyes open and the shot is there. I squeeze the trigger and before the target even falls my gun is on my back and I’m skiing out of the range. I know it was a hit.

The last stage took victim two of the German girls. One is out ahead of me and the other two are skiing off their penalty loops from missed targets. I race hard over the loop and back into the range for the final standing stage. Out of nowhere a German girl races up beside me. She was able to ski off her penalty loop and was stronger over the loop on her skis and caught me just before the range. We come into the range together and the crowd is going wild. I look down to the first shooting point, where the German girl in first place is shooting. She has three more targets to go as we ski into the points next to her. Our presence must have broken her concentration because she missed her last two shots, opening the door for myself and the other German. We both quickly get into position.

Now the pressure is on. Not only am I shooting for a goal of cleaning four races, but for the win as well. This time however, my focus doesn’t waver and the five targets fall without hesitation. The girl I’m shooting with also hits her five and now it becomes a ski race. We both battle hard over the last loop, but in the end the girl was too fast for me and I finished second.

Now it’s race over and I’m heading back to the States. I accomplished my goal of cleaning four races in a row and am leaving Europe after avoiding the penalty loop – an extra 150-meter loop skied by athletes for each target missed). I learned a lot during this trip, especially that your faith in your dreams cannot waiver, especially in the uncertainty of a battle. And with that I turn the RV north to drive back to Munich and prepare for the next battle, whenever that will come.

Keep up with the Barnes’ twins here as they travel on their “Road to Russia (Olympics 2014).” And be sure to check out their website.

Heartbeat of the WOMA

A big thank-you to those WOMA members who helped at our booth at the recent SHOT Show held in Las Vegas for four long days. (The “backbone” of the booth was Melita Ellington, WOMA VP and Membership Team Leader, so a special THANK-YOU to her!) The response to The WOMA was beyond good; it was phenomenal to the point that it will take us awhile to catch up with dozens and dozens of new membership applications. Read more

Fifth Otis Invitational Golf Outing raises $41,000

LYONS FALLS, NY: The 5th Annual Otis Invitational Golf Outing for charity has proved that even in challenging economic times generosity can flourish when it means giving back to the community. Read more

Week 2 of the RV Diaries: Chaos, Carnage and Excitement

The highlight of week two of our RV racing tour was the 39th Annual World Loppet King Ludwig Race near Garmisch Partenkirchen in Germany. The race was named for the famous German King Ludwig II, who at the age of 40 was declared insane, and shortly thereafter met an untimely and suspicious death in a lake with his psychiatrist.

At the time of Ludwig’s death, he was in the process of building his fourth castle, the Neuschwanstein, a huge fortress on a hilltop that would have the most modern capabilities of the time, including running water from a spring in the mountain. When he died in 1886, the construction of the castle, which had been going on for 17 years, was halted. Ludwig was heavily in debt and building the castle would only put more strain on the creditors to whom he owed millions of marks. Only 34 of the 126 rooms were completed and the castle was missing a tower.

The Neuschwanstein – said to be the inspiration for Disney’s Cinderella Castle – was to be the centerpiece of the race. We were to climb over the hills and through the woods to King Ludwig’s castle and then back. All in all, the course would be 21 kilometers. Due to warm temperatures and a lack of snow, the course was changed and we would only ski up and down the sides of the valleys and would not circumnavigate the castle.

This race was a Worldloppet race and is said to be one of the biggest cross-country races in all of Germany. Close to 3,000 people lined up for the start of the race on Feb. 5. Some would be doing the marathon or the 50K while others – including us – would be doing the “sprint,” or the 21K.

This would be the longest ski race Lanny’s ever competed in, and it would also be our first race with this many people. The start would be in waves, with the top competitors from other Worldloppet races from the year, and the top competitors from last year’s King Ludwig race in the first wave. A “wave” is a group or cluster of people who start all at the same time. You are packed in, shoulder to shoulder. The start is as long as several football fields and as wide as a landing strip. The waves of people are separated by several yards and a banner. Each wave is 20 or so people deep with people shoulder to shoulder, about 100 to 150 people wide. There’s no room to move, let alone ski.

As Lanny and I are standing at the start, we are thinking to ourselves, “How is this going to work?” We are standing at the start of the race, surrounded by thousands of people who are all eager to win and suddenly the gun goes off … no warning. The mass of people lurches forward, then comes to a stop. Nobody can move, and it takes a few seconds for things to start up again, and then it’s utter chaos. Everyone is trying to win the first 100 meters. With no room to move, people are skiing all over each other’s skis and stepping on their poles.

I see a gap and I dive into it. I see another gap and I sprint for that. Meanwhile all around me people are going down. It’s total carnage! Left and right people are falling and then people are plowing right through and over the people who have fallen. There’s screaming and some cursing in almost every European language. Broken ski poles lay strewn all over the course. I feel like Kevin Costner in “Dances with Wolves” when he goes out on that buffalo hunt with his new friends. He’s riding his horse and is totally overwhelmed by what is going on around him. Down goes a buffalo on his right and another on this left. He’s wide eyed and riding hard. Suddenly he gets his groove and starts the hunt.

That’s me now. I yell to Lanny to follow me and I attack! I dive for an open piece of snow, just barely making it ahead of some guy’s skis. I double pole (just use my arms to push myself) up a narrow opening between two very aggressive German men. I then narrowly miss a collision with a Russian as I surged into another opening. Every once in a while I’d look back to see if Lanny was there and my last two glances confirmed my fear: I’d lost her. She was momentarily swallowed up by the sea of carnage and took a fall. She later said that she was so nervous about getting left behind that as soon as her butt hit the ground, she was back on her feet fighting through the crowds to reconnect with me.

And so went the race: See a hole, make a sprint for it. We spent the entire 21K sprinting to pass people. It took all of the 21K to pass the earlier waves of people. It was one of the fastest 21K I’ve ever skied. There was action the whole time. Even as we neared the finish, there were people still falling and poles still being snapped in two by aggressive skiers.

When all was said and done, we finished third and fourth – not bad considering we started near the back and fought a huge fight to get to the front. After the race we couldn’t believe how exciting it was. We loved the carnage and the aggressiveness. It was entertaining for us to pass people and get nasty looks from the guys who thought they shouldn’t be passed by two little girls in American flag suits.

After everything was winding down we took a drive over to the castle that we didn’t get a chance to race around. It was, like most castles, an amazing piece of work. We did a tour and were able to see most of the finished rooms in the castle. The paintings on the inside where breathtaking and must have been excruciatingly difficult to do. The year after King Ludwig’s death the castle became a museum and still to this day was never and will never be finished.

Unlike the Neuschwanstein castle, our little RV trip does have an end. One more week of racing and we’ll turn in the RV and fly home. Our last week takes us to Ruhpolding, Germany, in southern Bavaria. We will once again compete against the Germans in a German Cup race. We are both looking to again finish strong against the Germans with clean shooting and fast skiing.

Check back here for an update on the final week of the Barnes twins’ RV racing tour, part of their ”Road to Russia” – the 2014 Olympics. Also, be sure to check out their website.

Elk Country unwind

The weekends are meant to be a time for de-stressing and relaxation. We have learned how to do this through years of training.

Every so often Al and I pack crazily to drive to Elk Country in the White Mountains of Arizona to accomplish this mission. This past weekend was one of those times. Al has taught me not to take myself or life’s complications too seriously.

I am still able to get a little work done—one of my conditions for buying our cabin was that I have high-speed Internet. Waking early is one of my habits . . . so I get up about two hours earlier than Al. I do my Wii Fit exercising, then hop on the computer to do a little catching up!

Then the fun begins. We decide together how to have fun. When the lakes are not frozen—as they are now—fishing is #1 on our list. In the winter, however, we have to be more creative in our activities. So here we are in the winter, ATVing and elk watching. We love unwinding in the high country—Elk Country!

See more photos on Facebook here and here.

Marsha

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