Paper Zombies & Cute Shoes

I finally went to the range this week. I don’t even remember the last time I got to kill paper, but I made up for lost time by throwing 250 rounds down range.

Target #1:


I got her phone, too. 🙂

Target #2


It was at this point that my shots began to drift to low/right. I also began to do that anticipatory jerk thing that tends to plague me after about 100 rounds. To test this, I asked the dude in the lane next to me to load my magazine with anywhere from three to seven rounds, but not to tell me how many. Sure enough, after 4 shots, my wrists anticipated a recoil which never came and I jerked. After some breathing exercises and some dry firing, I tried again. This time the dude loaded 3 and on the 4th trigger pull, I was smooth again. (thank you, Jim Lane, for teaching me this exercise!)

This is target #3:


The 1st two shots were right where they needed to be: one in the forehead, the other in the mouth. The rest of the shots were for fun, some off-hand.

I also got some new heels on my range day:


I can’t normally wear heels for very long because my sesmoids start screaming at me after about 15 minutes, but a thought occurred to me: if I can train myself to run 26.2 miles, surely I can train myself to wear cute shoes. So, to this end, after Bataan next week, I will wear heels every day for ten minutes or so, adding 5 minutes each day. I will continue my stretching and strengthening exercises and rolling my feet around on a golf ball to ease the discomfort. …seriously, I can make it through natural child birth, marathon running, and Angry Beavers episodes, I should be able to wear heels.

….that’s the plan, anyway.

Now begins the count down to Bataan. I’m hydrating, thinking about packing, and stretching. Only shake-out runs from here on out to calm my nerves. No weird foods, no chocolate.

Thinking caaaaaaaalm thoughts.

No I’m not. I’m freaking the heck out, is what I’m doing. I’ve got butterflies the size of Mothra in my gut every time I think “Bataan”. See?! There they go again. Maaaaaarathoooooon. Bataaaaaaaaan. Twenty six point tooooooo.


I’m gonna go stare at my blisters some more.


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