In a world full of fast-paced, want-it-now attitudes, fishing can force us to slow down and be present. Those emails can suddenly wait, and unless you’re looking for it to take a picture, you’ll probably have a hard time locating your phone. And the best part about that is the fact that it’s okay! No matter how busy we all are, we deserve the space to disconnect and just enjoy our surroundings.

Then, on a cold February day on the Appomattox River, it all came together. I had begun targeting larger bass on my own, armed with my new knowledge, and that was the day I caught what is still my PB Largemouth. I didn’t have a scale, but the picture tells the tale. A black-and-blue football jig with a black-and-blue craw provided me with a lifelong memory. Nothing could possibly top that.

When most people think of fishing, it’s usually the thought of a single pole, with a worm, maybe a bobber, and the thought of passing time until a fish happens to find it. And for me, that’s exactly how it started. With countless hours spent on the James River, waiting for a bite from a blue or channel catfish. It wasn’t just idle time, though; it was time spent with men I admired greatly. The men who would shape the version of who I am today.