Vera Koo weighs in again with sage advice about life after retirement, and how to enjoy the grind during what she calls, “the bonus phase.”
Life without pressure or deadlines bores me. I adopted this mentality from my husband, Carlos.
Carlos set a blistering pace for our family. Carlos is on. Always. He crams his schedule full, down to the minute. Our children learned to follow his lead. So did I. Whether in business, raising a family or pursuing sports, Carlos and I went go, go, go, full throttle, no time to waste. No time for a breather.
Even at 77-years old, I’m still not ready for a breather. As I prepare for my third year competing in sporting clays at the World Senior Games next fall, I am approaching this at full speed, training and shooting in regional matches to hone my skills in a discipline I have not mastered. I do not know how many more years I will be healthy enough to train or travel to competitions. Now, more than ever, not a moment can be wasted. I am up against the clock.
Good thing I welcome pressure. Nothing motivates me more than having a goal in front of me.
When I retired from action pistol shooting after the 2018 Bianchi Cup, I intended to be done with competitive shooting. I did not make the decision lightly. I thought hard and deep on it, but I am the kind of person who, when I make the decision to walk away, then it is decided. I don’t turn back.
Not usually, anyway.
That 2018 Bianchi Cup was it for me, as far as being in the competitive arena. Or, so I thought.
As my husband of 55 years, Carlos is my closest confidant, and he got in my ear. He reminded me that I had spent more than 20 years honing my shooting skills and reaching a championship level in my sport. He thought it would be wasteful to throw all of that away, like tossing good food in the trash.
Shooting is like most other sports: The skills you build are perishable. If you do not keep your skills sharp, they diminish over time. Trigger control is crucial, and after a sustained period of not shooting, you’ll lose the feel for trigger control.
Carlos’ wisdom resonated: Was I sure I wanted to throw away the skills I had worked so hard to acquire?
Then, 2020 hit, and the world shut down amid the pandemic. There really wasn’t much you could do in my home state of California. I did not travel or see many people.
I had a membership to my local shooting range, though, and I could still go to the range. So, I kept shooting. Often, I would go to the range and have the place to myself.
I would set up Coke cans 40 yards from me, lining up the cans 20 inches apart so they took up the whole range. I filled the cans with water so that when my bullet hit the target, the can exploded. Talk about visual satisfaction of hitting the mark.
By making these frequent trips to the range, I kept up my skills and maintained my trigger control. For the first time in years, though, I had no concrete plans for my shooting or any intention to compete again. I just kept making Coke cans explode.
Then one day, my longtime friend and mentor Jim O’Young called me. He informed me I was going to compete again. I reminded him that that those days were over. Or, so I thought.
Jim told me about the World Senior Games and its shotgun shooting competition. I had never competed in shotgun shooting before. I knew it would be a much different discipline than action pistol shooting.
Jim believed I could win medals at the World Senior Games, but that’s never what motivated me during my shooting career. Winning was never as important as pushing myself toward a goal and improving my skills to meet the high bar I set for myself.
I always tell people that I’ll just do something for two years. That’s how I started shotgun shooting. I’d do it for a couple of years. That’s not realistic, though. My experience with sports tells me that it takes about five years to get your foot in the door of a new discipline. If you want to become good, it takes at least 10 years of focused training and competition.
I don’t know if I will be blessed with that kind of time, but I see no reason not to try, while I am healthy enough to compete. Right now, I am not good in this discipline. I know I will have to work to get good. Fortunately, I am familiar with the road map. I know from my Bianchi Cup career the level of commitment required and the physical and mental toll this improvement journey takes.
I was not predisposed to this lifestyle. My mother was a housewife, and she filled her social calendar by playing Mahjong or meeting up with her lady friends. When I was young, I thought maybe I would marry a rich older man who would pamper me, and I would live a life of leisure and comfort.
And then I met Carlos, who has never known a dull moment. When we met, I was a weakling. I could not swim or do a pushup or sit-up. All these years later, I am stronger. I learned how to windsurf, horseback ride, downhill ski and waterski. Each sporting discipline required work and commitment. Carlos was always such a good and patient teacher.
Shooting, though, became my personal endeavor – a path I carved on my own. I’ve never had any objection to doing the hard work required to gradually improve in a sport. If something is hard, that’s not a reason avoid it. It just takes longer to master.
Anyway, why should I gravitate to a boring, relaxing life? What else should I be doing?
I like gardening. I enjoy nurturing plants and watching them grow. But, I don’t have to wake up early in the morning to garden. I could start that in the afternoon.
I need something to motivate me to exercise, to encourage me to keep my mind and body sharp, an extra push to help me get out of the bed in the morning.
This sporting clays journey I am on gives me that extra encouragement.
People often asked me throughout my shooting career whether I am having fun.
I rephrase: Are you asking me if I enjoy the grind that is required to achieve my goal? If that’s what you are asking, then I am having fun.
All I want to see is progress.
Carlos calls this the bonus phase of our lives, and if we don’t catch the moment, it will quickly pass. I do not want to miss my moment. This probably will be my last athletic pursuit.
At least it won’t be boring.
Vera Koo is a first-generation Chinese American woman. She’s a wife and mother, author, entrepreneur and retired competition shooter. Along with two published books -- "The Most Unlikely Champion" and "Wisdom and Things: Essays From an Unlikely Champion" -- she writes her column, Vera Koo, at "Women’s Outdoor News." View all posts by Vera Koo
