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I’m back.

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Front Sight is this kind of crazy gun training compound out in the Nevada desert. I went out there with my brother and a bunch of cops from five local agencies and we joined a couple of hundred others for four days of pistol and rifle shooting. I’ve been a cop for almost fifteen years, and this was the most rigorous, exacting, and challenging gun training I have ever received. I can not believe what they were able to do for me in such a short time. I thought I was a damn good gunfighter, and I was.

But now I am something else entirely.

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As part of the training they have a man-to-man competition where two shooters stand on line and on a signal they each engage a hostage-taker target, where the hostage is in front and there is just a little sliver of the bad-guy’s head to shoot at. You take that shot from about ten yards, then engage two other steel targets farther out. The fastest shooter who does not hit the hostage wins.

So I beat everyone in my class of about forty, and then I go up against the winner from the other class. When the other guy steps on to the range, everyone is laughing. He’s about a hundred years old, little guy, huge coke-bottle glasses, practically in a walker, hands all shaky.

He steps up next to me, we shake hands, and the whistle blows.

Before I’ve made my first head shot, he’s nailed all three targets and is back in the holster.

The crowd went nuts.

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I can’t wait to go back again!

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It feels so incredibly good to be home. I miss this place so much when I’m gone. I’m a big baby when it comes to spending time away from my wife. I cain’t stand it. I fret and pace and whine like a dog at a closed door.

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It’s good to be home.

Real good.

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