Another Cautionary Tale

This time about archery.
I forgot the leather bracer that I wear over my left arm to protect it from the bow string when it snaps forward and releases the arrow. I was wearing long sleeves so I thought it would be alright.
There are bad ideas, very bad ideas, extremely bad ideas, and 'holy mother... that was a terrible idea'. Clearly, this was the latter. While going through my second quiver of arrows my string hit my arm very seriously. It wasn't so bad until it was struck again, even harder when I started my third quiver.
I had to quit early because I was in so much pain, I kept flinching away from the bow when I went to fire. I was very inaccurate. It wasn't worth continuing, I would either be hurting my arm more or just being totally off.
It's already a little swollen and turning black. Alas.

Incidentally, I read "A Scandal in Bohemia" last night. It's the Sherlock Holmes story where Irene Adler appeared. Funny that one short story has lead to many many spin-offs and paralits featuring her. Moriarty was also only in one novel, but was retrospectively made responsible for some of the events of other stories.
Two weeks until PBS airs the new Sherlock, the campus lit club is hosting a viewing party, we're all going to get together, bring snacks, and watch the frist episode's premiere.

Archery Excursion

In America this Monday was the Labor Day holiday. It is the unofficial end of summer and a day where the American people celebrate how hard they work all year by not working that day and usually barbecuing something. Though I had the day off from classes, I had to go work on putting the paper together Monday evening. However, my morning was free.
What better way to spend my last day of summer than by shooting arrows into a heavily padded target? Exactly, there is no better way. Last time I went to the range I received a bit of bow-burn on my left arm from the string snapping forward to release the arrow, this time I wore long sleeves along with my leather bracer and finger sleeves and I was relatively unscathed.
Another archer was leaving when I arrived, he was using a compound bow with lots of fancy features. He seemed moderately impressed that my starter bow was such a serious one- that made me nervous. Whenever people say their impressed or proud in regards to something I'm doing, I'm afraid I'll screw it up like an idiot and disappoint them or invoke their scorn. (It's a bad habit, I didn't even know this person which makes it all the more ridiculous.)
When I was preparing to take my first shot, I was anxious that he would be watching (sometime I over-shoot and find it buried in the ground behind the target later). So, full of self-conscious anxiety and all too aware of the wind ruffling my hair and the trees, I drew back and shot. Somehow, in spite of myself, I hit almost a dead bulls eye.
Of course, I'm lacking in consistency. I still over shot a couple times, but nearly all my arrows ended up in the target and several were bulls eyes or near enough for me. I'm getting better, so next time I'll try some more distant targets. I'm an over-thinker and in archery you can't think too much, you just have to feel it and trust yourself. This is good for me to force myself to stop thinking once in a while.
Arrows are so strange to watch in flight. When I saw an interview with Russell Crowe during the filming of Robin Hood he kept saying that arrows are alive, that they swim, which seems strange, but I understand now. They move through the air like they are searching for the target, skimming on a current and moving with a strange fluidity. It's crazy to think of yourself setting that in motion.

Call Me Robin Hood

Sorry I've been away, but I've finally picked up an amazing new hobby I've been longing for: archery. My father collects antique weaponry, so he went to a show looking for pieces for a 19th century restoration he's working. While he was there he met a vendor selling off several bows and a few quivers full of arrows for a ridiculously low price.
It's proof that he actually listens to my nonsensical chatterings and I am now the proud owner of a 28 inch, 50 pound recurve hunting bow. The poundage is how much force the bow provides when you pull it back the correct amount of inches, in this case 28. I went to the archery range yesterday and actually hit the target a few times, but also discovered that I have weak, girly wrists. I ended up wearing leather arm bracers from my Renaissance Faire days to support my wrists and protect me from the bowstring as it snapped forward. I had some leather scraps from other historical pursuits, so I made myself little finger covers to keep me from cutting up my right hand when I pull the string back.
When I consider the fact that the yeomen of the middle ages used bows with 100 pounds of force it amazes me. The more force the tighter the bow string and the harder it is to string. My 50 pounder took three people to string all variously holding the end, curving the top and pulling up the string. My brother, enlisted to the task, told me I have to be careful not to break the string because he is never doing that again. Ever.
With my ridiculous schedule I'm not sure if I can get a regular practice schedule but my dad said, "Sometimes you'll need to get away." Proof of how well that man knows me, I can think of no better way to unwind.