Target archery is a very repetitive sport.  A competition consists of a set number of ‘ends’ (groups of arrows), shot at a set distance, at a stationary target.  There’s other forms of archery, like field archery, that use moving targets, or variable distance targets, but in target archery, you know how far away the target is, and it doesn’t move.  The league that I’m in meets once a week, we shoot 10 ends of 3 arrows at a target 15 yards away.  It’s a mixed league, so you get some people shooting with sights, some without, a few shooting compound bows, but most shooting recurve.  I shoot recurve, and use a sight.  Because target archery is static, the secret is to shoot exactly the same way each time.  There’s something very relaxing about the repetition, especially given how interrupt driven and variable a typical day can be.

Competitive archers use a multi-step breathing pattern to track the steps in a single shot.  I’m not to the point where I can do something so consistent, but I have started to develop a pattern.  I wrote it down, as a way to remember it, and to play around with it a bit.  As I progress, it will certainly change.  Here it is, written long-form.  A few definitions will probably help.  The feathers on the arrow are called fletches, the notch at the back that you fit to the string is called a nock.  A stabilizer is a short pole that sticks out of the front of the bow, adding weight and stability to the bow.  The riser is the center handle piece in a take-apart recurve bow, two limbs are attached to the riser and connected with a string to make the bow.  The arrow sits on an arrow rest on the riser, and is pressed into a button on the side of the riser.  The button and rest combination can move the arrow a tiny bit to the left and right.  Getting the button and rest tuned for a straight shot takes some effort.  I was using a clicker, a small metal piece that clicks when you’ve drawn an arrow to a consistent length, but recently took it off the bow to simplify my shot.  The sight that I use  is a long cross bar that sticks nine inches out of the front of the bow.  It has fine adjustments for height and windage (left and right movement), and a small red dot that you put on the target.  For a good video that shows a full recurve bow in action, check out this competition footage.

First, I pull an arrow from my quiver by the nock, and spin it until the fletches are in the right position.  I rest the bow on the stabilizer, and slide the arrow down the rest (this makes more sense when you use a clicker, but I like the sound the carbon arrow makes on the rest).  I nock the arrow on the string, and use grip it with one finger over and one under.  I line up the arrow with the stabilizer, and the string with two screw holes on the riser.  Because the sight doesn’t have a rear sight (like a rifle, or some hunting bows), it’s important to make sure everything is lined up.  I lift the bow to a 45 degree angle and recheck the alignment.  Then I bring the bow up and level it with the target, then draw the string to my chin and put my nose on the string.  I pull my back elbow up, and drop my front shoulder.  I open my bow hand, so that the riser is pressing the thick of my hand, and my fingers are loose.  I press my shoulder blades together and open my chest.  One deep breath, another alignment of the string and sight, then release the arrow, making sure to not grab the riser when I do.  I have a thin strap between my index finger and thumb on my bow hand, so the bow pitches forward on a slow pivot, and I grab it as it falls.

A few steps are specific to problems that I’ve had in the past, the elbow and shoulder checks, making sure not to hold on to the bow, multiple checks of the alignment of the string.  It’s a short list, but is gradually growing.  I spend time visualizing the steps on the train, and sometimes when I’m walking.  I’m interested in experimenting with repeating the steps as I breath (breath 1 – nock the arrow, breath 2 – align the string) but that will take some time.  The first step towards that kind of discipline is knowing what I’m doing piece by piece, writing this all down helps me do that.

There’s a bow range off of Belmont Harbor that I always wondered about.  A full blown archery range in the middle of Lincoln Park is an odd sight.  I’ve known about it for a few years, but never thought much of it until last July.  For some reason I thought about it, and started googling to figure out who ran it, and what it took to shoot there.

I found the Lincoln Park Archery Club, which maintains the field.  Membership is cheap, and you get a key to the clubhouse, which gives you full access to their targets.  However, you need your own bow, and experience enough to shoot competently.  While searching, I found the SEO-friendly Archery Bow Range Chicago, which was associated with LPAC (one of the founders of ABRC is the President of LPAC).  ABRC offered a beginners class.  I signed up, took the class, then took another, another, more, and then joined a full blown beginners league that shot once a week.

I’ve shot once a week or so since, and am now comfortable saying, “I’m an archer” without feeling weird.  Archery is a sport, an olympic sport even, and requires patience, practice, and exercise, three things I’m not always good about. In fact, I’m still not terribly good at the practice and exercise parts of the sport, and it’s starting to adversely affect me.  My left shoulder (the one that holds up the bow) is starting to hurt whenever I raise it above my head.  I think I have some sort of muscle strain.  More about this after some more history.

There’s two major categories of bows used in competition, compound and recurve.  Compound is the kind of bow you normally associate with bow hunting, the Dukes of Hazard, and Rambo.  There’s a complicated cam system that means you can hold the string at full draw with almost zero pounds of pull.  Recurves are more like what elves shoot.  It’s a standard looking bow.  Unlike the long bow (think Robin Hood), the recurve has a slightly curving top and bottom limb which increase the force the bow can deliver.

In the beginning, I shot a standard beginner’s compound.  It was a great way to learn, as you could focus on the mechanics without worrying too much about draw poundage.  I liked shooting compound, but was attracted to the recurve for mostly aesthetic reasons.  I liked the idea of tinkering with the bow without getting too into the cam system, the more traditional feel of the bow, and the sound they made.  ABRC bought a few nice entry level recurves, and I sort of claimed one as my own for the duration of two 8 week leagues.  It’s a nice bow, with a wooden handle with woodgrain that acted as a great sight.

After a few months of shooting the club recurve, I decided I wanted a bow of my own to focus on.  I bought a bright red Hoyt Formula Excel, a new 2011 entry level model that Hoyt patterned after their much more expensive Formula RX.  It turned out to be a bit of a gateway to more equipment.  Now I have a pretty full kit with a stabilizer bar, adjustable sight and some pink fletched carbon arrows.  Like a lot of sports / hobbies, there’s an endless supply of equipment you could buy, all of which tweaks the experience a bit.  I’m at the point where I have very nice equipment, but my skills are still at the beginner approaching intermediate level.  When I whip out that red bow and hot pink arrows, there’s a lot of expectations to live up to, most of which I totally fall short of.

That said, I really do love the sport.  It’s relaxing, approachable, but with a learning curve, and rewarding when you start hitting the mark.  The relaxation part is key.  There’s a sign up at the range that says, “archery is 90% mental.”  It’s absolutely true.  If I have a bad day, I have to spend some time shaking it off before I start shooting, or my score suffers.  If I’m in my head, it directly affects my shot.  Archery demands an immediacy and presence that I love.  I’ve seen it referred to as ‘standing meditation,’ which is a very appropriate way to think of it.

Meditiation or not, there’s still a sport aspect to it that I sometimes forget.  Like a lot of sports, if you don’t prepare properly, you can hurt yourself.  My new bow has a draw weight of 30 pounds.  Not a tremendous amount, but it takes some effort to pull it back. I bought the low poundage so that I wouldn’t have to build up a huge amount of shoulder strength to pull it, but wanted enough that I could shoot long distances eventually.  Even with the small amount of weight, I’ve still managed to damage my bow shoulder. Which is partially why I’m writing this. I’m in a slump score-wise. After a 20 shots or so, my shoulder starts to act up and my score suffers.  Plus, I have a pretty complicated rig with a lot of moving parts, all of which I’m getting used to.

Recurve is the Emacs of archery, very powerful, but can take some time to figure out all the key combos.  I also stepped up my league a bit, moving from the 10 yard line to the 15.  It’s not a giant jump, but it’s enough to register a significant change in score. I went from a reasonable average of 215 (out of 300) points, down to 125.  It’s been rough.  Between the pain, and the slumping score, I’ve been reexamining the whole thing.  Part of writing this, and some future articles I’d like to whip up, is to get my head back in the game.  I’m excellent at starting up a hobby, getting all the equipment, messing around for a bit, then ditching it.  I don’t want to do that here.  Part of the reason why I took so much time to buy a bow was so that I was sure this is something I wanted to do for a while.  Now that I’m in, I’m in.  I’m not ditching.  So…while my shoulder recovers, I’m writing a bit more, reminding myself why I’m an archer.