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I had the good fortune to be able to go to the pistol range for the first time in a while yesterday. Was minding my own business when I noticed two new shooters having been placed one on either side of me.

The guy on the right obviously had new equipment - pelican case, ammo boxes, etc. - and was blasting away with a 1911 with a smile on his face. We struck up a conversation, due to me asking for his 45 cal brass sweepings, and I found out that he had been given the 1911 by his father and was proud that he had recently bought his first firearm - an M&P Shield 2.0 - which he was doing a reasonable job with of being on target.

The lady on the left appeared to be shooting a Glock 19. She took her range-bought reactive target, mounted it sideways on the cardboard target backer, and proceeded to very seriously address the target. It so reminded me of my first couple of times at the range in 2015, where the safest place to be was often in the X ring.

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Watching her made me reflect that we are all in a journey here at the range. However, rather than concentrating on our own personal progression, we often times seem to concentrate more on those who we perceive to be "better" around us - the target next to us syndrome - than on our own journey.

A little perseverance, some education, a dash of concentration, and a bucket full of practice...

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...leads one to reflect that there is always more to learn and more improvement to be made.


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I'd never shot a handgun before Bootcamp so my first was a 1911. To this day they feel like an old friends handshake. I've got 4 now days, 2 in 45acp, 1 in 38 super and a Browning 1911-380.
 
When Inwas about 21 my boss took me to his shooting and fishing club, along with a bunch of coworkers. We shot skeet. I hit most of them. He hit a few. He was more than a bit embarrassed.
 
It was on deer hunt on Molokai Ranch. A wild dog (hunters are required to shoot them as they are responsible for cattle deaths) ran across the dirt road into the brush and I fired a .223 rem round into the brush. Didn't hit anything but oh well.
 
I was maybe 8-9 years old in the 1950s. At a range south of Santa Ana. A single shot rifle that you closed the bolt then pulled back the cocking piece. I shot prone. Dad watched for a while. Then went and shot his deer rifle (721 270) I bought another box of ammo for 50cents
 

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