Well I tried to do what I had planned. Relax, be free and joyful and let the fencing roll out. Yet, it seems that it requires more than a conscious decision to override my tendency toward tension. I even let my back arm drop in hopes it would translate to more freedom of movement for the rest of my body. But I couldn't rid myself of all of it. It's not because I am nervous or scared of competition. On the contrary, I rather relish it, even when I'm losing (often). But I think it stems from want of surety of my own capabilities. I am quite concerned with executing everything properly maintaining proper form. If I weren't being watched by my coach, my husband, and several teammates, maybe I wouldn't worry about that so much. Maybe if I could distract my incessant concern with propriety by doing something else - like taking up that piste-bouncing that seems to be all the rage of kids these days. Maybe. (Insert look of skepticism here).
When my DE opponent (read: trouncer) approached me afterward with a tip for doing better next time I thought him both a scholar and a gentleman. But I wanted to lay a hand upon his arm and say, "My dear fellow: The position of my blade is but a drop in the bucket."
Again, competing served to reinforce what I already know about my deficiencies. But what was the real lesson learned yesterday?
- I think I would compete better at night, when I am feeling a little unbridled and mad anyway - that's what I was thinking on the way home from dinner at any rate - even though I was exhausted, I felt coiled, ready to spring.
- I need a new pre-tourney soundtrack, which I am working on as we speak. I'm thinking all Pink Floyd because it makes me feel sharp and taut all at once.
The really interesting thing was the conversation that ensued on the carpool up between Maitre and my spouse. Perhaps another day for that story.
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