One summer day when I was seven, I went with my family to a camp called Farnsworth. After a long day of doing activities and driving, we arrived at the archery range. Five big targets stood 30 feet away and bright orange cones were between each person shooting. Arrows raced towards the targets and landed far from the middle. My mom asked me if I wanted to try archery and I told her no. I flinched as an arrow hit the middle that a girl shot. She turned around to her friends and smiled. My mom questioned why I wouldn’t and I replied dryly with “because the arrow gets too close to their faces. That makes it scary.”

She told me how it wasn’t that bad and the arrows didn’t actually touch their cheeks. I shrugged it off while she kept pleading for me to do it. The thought of pulling back, having the string so close to my face, shooting the arrow and it ripping through my skin. It scared me so much I felt the hot burn in the back of my throat as tears swelled in my eyes.

“Come on, just do it!” my mom said lightly pushing my back towards the shooting line.

“NO!” I yelled as tears fell down my cheeks. I ran away from my mom and sat down on the wooden table as my mom walked towards me.

“Just shoot one arrow and you never have to shoot one ever again.” She said in a quiet, calm voice. I sat there for a moment, thinking.

“Okay.” I said with hesitance. After a while of waiting nervously, the instructor called up the next group of girls who wanted to try. I walked up to the orange cones and stood in between two. After explaining some safety and how to do it, it was finally time to shoot. Next thing I know I have a light wooden bow in my left hand and an arrow in my right. I tipped the bow and layed the arrow in the middle of the bow, lined up the nock with the string and clicked it into place. Then slowly raised the bow, now feeling heavier and pointed the arrow in the middle of the target. I put my bare fingers on the string and pulled back. Slowly. Feeling the weight of the bow in my hands and the tension on the string. Further and further until it reached my chin. Whip the string flew away from my face and the bow vibrated in my hand as the arrow shot the target in the blue. Not where I was aiming but I felt the sudden urge to try again. To try to hit the middle. I whipped my head around to look at my mom. A huge smile plastered on my face. She laughed as I ended up shooting more arrows until we had to leave. I never stopped thinking about archery that day.

Today I shoot competitively and even travel for tournaments. This summer I went to Alabama for outdoor nationals and won 2nd place three times. I think about archery all the time and can’t wait until the next time I get to shoot. There is an amazing community where I go to archery and I just love the sport so much. But sometimes I stop and think: where would I be today if I never worked up the courage to shoot that first arrow? Taking risks plays a huge part in our lives and if you don’t take them, you may regret it someday. I am so grateful to live in a place like America where I get to try new things and take risks daily like I did on that hot summer day. If I didn’t take that risk I would not be where I am today and I am so grateful that I did.

© Sydney. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.