My new obsession

After a 15 year hiatus I have rejoined the ranks of bowhunters. I always loved shooting a bow and the release of being focused on the flight of the arrow and tuning my skills to their finest. Now , as of christmas , I have rekindled my relationship with the stick and string. My how things have changed since my old 87 model bear compound and the monstrous arrows we used to shoot. The main thing that has changed has nothing to do with my bow but with me. When i was fifteen years old 65 pounds on my whitetail compound was nothing. Now , at 36 , 42 lbs on my diamond razors edge is a strain even at 75 -80 percent let off. It has taken me 4 months to finally work up to actually cranking the poundage up to close to 50. Between multiple football related shoulder separations , a 8 year stint of powerlifting , 14 years of baseball , your basic farm, ranch and saturday night idiot accidents , and one very invasive shoulder surgery , I have the shoulders of a 65 year old man. The funny thing about the situation is that I absolutely can't get enough shooting in during the week. I have already started going thru the arrows and having to buy more. My target is getting eaten out from the carbon punishment that it has been taking. Now for the first time in months I can draw the bow without a sharp stinging shot to my left shoulder. I am obsessed.
  The reality of the situation came to me yesterday while i was shooting. I need to fire at something alive. It's time for me to set the trap , lay the bait and bring home the bacon. Feral hog season is on and it's time to find one. The question in the wind with my scenario relates back to a time in my life when I decided I was going to be a cowboy. I roped the dummy religously and honed my roping skills on the ground so that when my time came I would be ready. I could go 50 for 50 on the ground. When i loaded the horse into the chute for that first run I went down like a gut shot dog and never made it to the steer let alone even got to swing a loop at him. Spitting out dirt was my taste of victory that day. Now I only wear a cowboy hat to keep the sun off my bald head while I cook out. Let's hope that the next arrow i shoot at an animal doesnt find the proverbial dirt like I did....adios , thanks for reading and be sure to check out our sponsors. There are some great outfitters and people contributing to this site..