If you caught our latest episode of The Guns Podcast, you know it didn’t start with a multi-page script or a list of highly researched talking points. Instead, it came from a thought that hit me while lying in bed, right before we pressed record.
A couple of weeks ago, Roy and I did an “opposite day” episode where we swapped sides on the great pistol red dot debate. It was a fun mental exercise that lasted about 12 minutes before evolving into a genuinely great, balanced discussion on pistol optics. But when we posted about it on Instagram—where the demographic skewing toward the comment section is a bit younger—the reception was... let’s just say, not entirely supportive.
There was a lot of finger-pointing, calling us “Fudds,” and a general wave of online callousness. It got me thinking: in the firearms world, we frequently talk about the mechanics of getting older. We joke about how we can’t see the front sight anymore, how much our feet and knees hurt, and the fact that we can’t hear a darn thing. But we almost never talk about what it actually feels like to be an older shooter.
The transition from a young, testosterone-fueled hotshot to a seasoned, wiser marksman comes with a profound shift in perspective—and it’s a journey we wouldn’t trade for anything.
The Three Stages of the Shooting Journey
As we discussed on the show, there seems to be a natural progression most shooters go through if they stay in the game long enough:
The Youth: You think you know everything, but in reality, you don’t know anything. You’re driven by an intense need to prove yourself to everyone else on the range.
Middle Age: You become genuinely competent. The focus shifts from trying to prove yourself to trying to improve yourself.
The Older Shooter: You never stop trying to improve, but your ultimate goal shifts toward becoming wiser.
Roy made an incredible point during our chat. He recalled his younger days training in Chula Vista and traveling down to Mexico for shoot-offs. Even back then, amidst the high-speed, exciting environments, he never bought into his own hype. He always recognized there was someone better and looked at every match, and every single cartridge reloaded, as an incremental step in knowledge.
When you’re young, it’s easy to get caught up in the “testosterone clouds” that dominate so much of modern gun culture and social media. But that level of arrogance is just misdirected energy.
The Ultimate Perk: Losing the Burden of Ego
Perhaps the single greatest benefit of reaching our age as shooters is that criticism and self-doubt completely lose their teeth.
When we were younger, if someone called us out or told us we were terrible shots, it would get right under our skin. Today? We don’t care. Your opinion doesn’t move the needle for us.
Motorcyclists have a saying: “Ride your ride.” Backpackers say, “Hike your hike.” For older shooters, the mantra becomes “Shoot your shoot.” We stop worrying about what we look like to the guy in the lane next to us and we stop pretending to be the toughest, fastest, or strongest guy in the room. Putting up that kind of facade takes an immense amount of energy—energy we’d much rather spend actually enjoying the sport.
When people resort to personal attacks or online name-calling, it’s almost always because they lack a foundation of real experience, information, or knowledge to work from.
A Breath of Fresh Air
Now, we don’t want to sound like we’re just sitting on the porch shaking our fists at the younger generation. The toxic internet commenters represent a very small, loud sample size.
In reality, some of our favorite experiences lately have been interacting with the overwhelming majority of young shooters who are respectful, open-minded and eager to learn. There is nothing more refreshing than a young shooter who has the quick reflexes, sharp eyesight, and physical health we miss, but still says, “I want to take advantage of your decades of experience.”
Looking back, I realized that’s exactly how I built my own career. I was never going to shoot like Jerry Miculek or Robbie Leatham, and I was never Delta Force. But because I approached those masters with respect rather than trying to “puff up” and pretend I knew everything, they treated me like a human being and shared their wisdom. I got to hang out with legends like Jim Cirillo and serve as a “tackling dummy” for the Navy SEALs simply because I was willing to sit at the feet of the masters and absorb.
Would We Trade the Wisdom to Get Our Knees Back?
I think it was summarized perfectly: “I wouldn’t give you a million dollars for the experiences I’ve had, but I wouldn’t give you a nickel to go back and do it again.”
Sure, it would be nice to stand up from the ground without making a series of involuntary grunting noises. But trading the wisdom, the decades of incremental knowledge, the paid-for house, and the quiet comfort of being entirely secure in our own skin just to be an 18-year-old testosterone-filled goofball again? No thanks.
Being a mentor, appreciating the journey, and enjoying the firearms community without the burden of ego is a beautiful place to be.
What about you? Where are you at on your shooting journey? Do you find your mindset changing as the years roll by? Let me know in the comments below!
its funny, listening to old fudds talking to me about their firearms “expertise”, and then they find out I was an army ranger. they tuck their little wee wees pretty quick after that.