When my first arrow of the morning center-punched the bull’s-eye, I smiled then quickly took a picture and sent it to my son, Jason. The text wasn’t meant to gloat – rather, I was surprised that I was able to shoot so well. I jokingly told him that I considered stopping while I was ahead.
You see, in the past year, I’ve only shot my 20-year-old Hoyt bow a handful of times, and it felt good to once again be at full draw.
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