The Second Act I Didn't Expect

I picked up a shotgun for the first time at 54.

That sentence still surprises me.

I did not grow up with guns, hunting, or shooting sports. My life has always centered on writing, travel, design, food, hospitality, and storytelling. If you had told me five years ago that I would spend several days a week on a sporting clays course, travel for competitions, or become passionate about introducing other women to the sport, I would have laughed.

And yet, that's exactly what happened.

What began as simple curiosity, encouraged by my husband, quickly became something much more meaningful. It became a passion. As I spent more time in the sport, I began to imagine what it could be for other women like me—women who were curious but perhaps didn't see themselves reflected in the clay shooting world. I wasn't looking for competition. I was looking for connection.

I imagined time in the field. Time at the table. Travel, conversation, friendship, and the satisfaction of mastering a new skill alongside other women; what began with clays has led to greater confidence and, more importantly, community.

When people ask what I love about clay shooting, they usually think it is the challenge of hitting targets. That is definitely part of it. There is a real satisfaction in seeing a clay break after hours of practice. But what surprised me most was not that I was learning a new and very unexpected sport. It was what the sport taught me about myself, because clay shooting demands complete presence.

The target appears, moves, and disappears in seconds. There is no room for yesterday's worries or tomorrow's to-do list. You cannot think about unanswered emails, deadlines, travel plans, or dinner. For those few moments, your entire focus must be on the bird in front of you.

In a world where distraction has become the default setting, that level of concentration feels almost luxurious. The sport has also taught me patience, humility, and perseverance—none of which have ever been my strong points. The only way forward is to keep showing up, keep practicing, and trust that improvement will come.

Somewhere along the way, many of us, especially women, begin to believe that certain pursuits belong to others. We convince ourselves we are too old, too inexperienced, too busy, or that we simply missed the opportunity. We watch from the sidelines rather than stepping into the arena ourselves. My experience has been exactly the opposite.

Starting something new later in life can be liberating. There is less pressure to prove yourself and more freedom to enjoy the process. You begin because you are curious, not because you need to be the best. The joy comes from learning, improving, and discovering something unexpected about yourself along the way.

When I first started shooting, I didn’t see myself represented in much of the shooting world. I wasn't a young woman on the competitive circuit, nor was I looking to become an expert. I simply wanted to learn and have fun. I quickly discovered there were many other women who felt exactly the same way—or were simply curious about what I was doing when they saw my Instagram posts; the messages began arriving almost immediately.

Some women were fascinated by the idea of clay shooting but didn't know where to begin. Others had shot skeet with their fathers when they were younger. Most worried they would feel intimidated or assumed they would be the only beginner. I simply wanted to offer a welcoming and supportive environment.

As Slim Aarons famously described his work as photographing "attractive people doing attractive things in attractive places," I began to imagine a world where women could gather, learn, and enjoy the experience together. That vision ultimately inspired me to create my own retreats and gatherings. My goal was never to create a new group of competitive shooters, though some women do discover they love competing. I want to introduce women to a sport and lifestyle that brings confidence, friendship, travel, and connection.

I want women to feel the satisfaction that comes from learning a new skill. I want them to spend time outdoors, challenge themselves, and realize they are capable of more than they ever thought possible. I want them to meet other remarkable women who share their curiosity and willingness to try something unfamiliar.

I believe that when women are welcomed into the sport, many become passionate clay shooters. Equally, many simply enjoy the occasional day on the course with friends. Both outcomes are equally valuable. Sporting clays is about much more than breaking targets. It is about confidence. It is about community. It is about discovering new sides of yourself. It is about believing that growth never has to stop.