Er, Hi again

*cough, cough* Man, this place is dusty.

Yes, I know I said I would start writing again after the summer was over, but...well, something happened this summer and it looks like I'm going to be redshirting this season.

Truth is, I am going to have a baby, so no fencing for me this year. I kept up with practice through August and part of September, but I'm out of it for now. In some ways, this forced break was welcome; I had been having a lot of mental hang ups and frustrations and didn't always look forward to practice. That's never a good feeling and not a good way to get better. So I hope that when I return sometime next summer it will be with a clear mind and a positive outlook.

But of course I miss it too. Practice has always been more fun than competition and I miss hanging out with my friends at the club. I miss bouting with people who I'm pretty sure can read my mind at this point and still managing to surprise them every now and then. I had been excited that there was another NAC I could attend in Atlanta but given that it's only a couple weeks before my due date, I'm going to go ahead ad say that's a no-go.

And I worry - I worry that getting back into shape and rebuilding muscle memory will be a daunting and discouraging experience. I worry that I'll fall behind and never be able to "catch up" to the people that pass me in the meantime. But I try and remind myself that I've got a darn good excuse for any and all slippage.

I'm not totally inactive. I've been swimming at the Y and walking a lot. I haven't actually gained any weight yet and I still feel capable of almost everything; I just get tired a little faster. Plenty of women bounce back quickly from pregnancy. I'd like to say that I'll be one of those without sounding foolishly optimistic.

So, that's about it for now. I don't imagine I'll be posting here too often for the near future, but fencing is still on my mind so who knows.

Good luck to all this season.

2008 Southeast Sectionals

This past weekend was the Southeast Sectional Championships in Columbia, SC. It's the first year I've been to this type of event so I didn't have any particular expectations, though I did expect attendance to be higher. With seven states to pull from, there were only thirteen women in the senior epee event. I suppose it is largely due to the fact that Nationals are on the other side of the country this year and a lot of people, me included, have already written it off. Last year, with a much closer Summer Nationals, there were 23 competitors. Still, there were entire states which had no representation.

Regardless, the thirteen of us that did show up gave a good accounting of ourselves I think. I felt compelled to fence my very best all day without exception and I got to test myself against women that are As, Bs, and Cs which is one of the main reasons I wanted to go.

I was glad to be placed in the "big" pool of seven and I was feeling pretty good, despite having gotten up at 5 am. I had two coaches, my husband, and other cheerers-on to give me confidence and keep me relaxed. I tried my very best to exercise my mindsets and mantras as a means of remaining level and cool and the result was what I think may have been one of my very best pools ever. I was 4-2 with a +11 indicator. My losses were 5-4 and three of my wins where 5-1. My losses, to two very young, very fast girls, were both frustrating . At 4-4 I felt in both cases that I could have gotten the last touch. On the other side of the coin though, I am also proud of the fact that I even got to 4-4 because they were both very good fencers that I probably could not have hung with a couple months ago.

So, overall still happy and feeling good at the end of pools and I was surprised to see that I was seeded 4th. There were lots of upsets going on in both pools I think. In the first round DE I was up against a girl that I had beat in the pool 5-1, but I started the first round too cautious and slow and at the first break it was 10-6 for her. Thankfully, I had some good coaching at the break and at the end of the second period it was 13-11 for me. I grabbed my last two points pretty quickly with fast straight attacks in the third period. My coach told me he saw three completely different fencers in the three periods and I need to sit back and consider how to get rid of the first and be the second two more often.

I clung tightly to those second two fencers in the round of 8 when I was slated against the A who had beaten me in the pool. This girl is awesome - her attacks and hand movements were deadly fast, but I still felt like I could hang with her. I'm glad I had gotten to fence her in the pool and knew what to expect. I felt great in the beginning; never discount the great mental boost that you can give yourself by getting the first touch. After that the score stayed really tight - I think I led twice and scored on a fleche and a toe-touch - more mental boosts for me. At the break it was 12-11 for her, but I think the break was detrimental to me - giving me an entire minute to cogitate on the necessity of my getting single lights from here on out. I rejoined the fight with a sense of overwhelming imperative. I have to attack and I have to get the touch. Such was the weight of this thought upon my mind that I forgot pretty much everything else, including moving and actually attacking. So it was that the last three touches were scored in the manner that my coach has been warning me about for weeks. I got in the bubble and I stopped. And I lost 15-11.

My final placing was 6th because of another upset, but I'm cool with that. I feel like except for those last three touches of the last bout I fenced pretty awesomely. I also qualified for Div IA for the first time and was awarded a giant hunting knife which I will try to take a picture of and post. I'm a little scared of it. The top four got awesome samurai swords so that's my goal for next year.

This tournament, more than any before, has left me with a lot to think about. I've been reliving those last three touches all weekend. Also, the gold medalist was one of my 5-1 victories in the pools so I can't help but think what if I had been on the other side of the bracket and fought her in a DE? I guess the what-ifs keep it fun, keep me returning; no one likes to leave questions unanswered. Maybe I can answer them next year.

Double Feature: I

Well I've got some catching up to do. I've been to two tournaments in the last two weekends, but I had a vacation in the middle so I wasn't around computers too much. It was quite nice, but if you've been holding your breath for my next titillating blog post...well you can exhale my friend.

Now, get ready for two...TWO tournament reviews in one.

Last Saturday, which seems like last year to my travel-addled brain, was the NC Div II/III Qualifiers. In 2007, I finished third place and back when I was writing out my goals for this season they included finishing first this year. I was still pretty comfortable and confident in this decision at the start of fencing on Saturday. I was lucky enough to get a lesson from our club's new international man of fencing-genius which made me relaxed and eager to get to the actual bouting. I did pretty well in my pool, but was frustrated by the bladework of one of my opponents which gave me my only loss: 4-3 in "overtime". I believe I was seeded fourth after pools and still felt good mentally, though the facility was so hot I was feeling physically a little ill. Luckily, I was able to mostly ignore that and I made it through my first two DEs without too much trouble, including a much more graceful handling of the girl that beat me in the pools. In the round of 4, I was up against the one girl that really worried me in the whole competition, who I have seen at some competitions but never actually gotten to fence. Turns out my worries were well-founded because I wasn't able to get around her strong counterattacks. During the first period I tried several things but managed very few points. In the second period, I was better at keeping the score down, but still couldn't get very many touches of my own. So the third period opened with a wide gap in the score and I was feeling a little desperate and losing my temper (at myself). I started doing crazy things, trying to get any points I could, and you can guess how well that worked. So, I tied for third, again, but that's okay, because I lost to a good opponent, who did take first. I qualified for Nationals (which I won't attend this year) and renewed my cute little E.

Overall, it was a good, satisfying tournament, in no small part because I received a lot of great coaching and encouragement from my teammates. I was able to perform much more closely to my best than usual because I was reminded that I could. My clubmates too had some great results and I was glad for the little bits I got to watch on Saturday. You guys are the best.

The results are in

SitS Results

Well despite my best efforts (<-- sarcasm), my 30th place finish still garnered me the honor of top-placing female in the Open Epee event last weekend. There were 12 women out of 45 competitors and we're all in the bottom 30% of the results? That's more than a little disappointing, not just as a competitor, but as an conscious member of the fairer sex. Where are the bloodthirsty battle-maidens of yesteryear? The cagey and conniving iron ladies? The sinewy and nubile minxes on a mission? Where??

Lady's Blade, Part 4: My E is better than your E

This past weekend another of my teammates earned his B (that's two B's in less than a month, and a third earned his C)! I am, of course, excited for him. But I'm also anxious as to what this means for me. I can't consistently beat these guys, but I feel competitive against them, and every now and then I'll pull off an upset. Our coach has told me that I'm definitely fighting at a C level and if I were to get into a high rated women's tournament I'd likely earn my B too. This makes me feel pretty good, but also makes me wonder.

If I were to earn a new rating in a women's event, is that worth more or less than earning it in an Open? I follow almost all the tournament results from my division and those of Virginia and South Carolina, paying particular attention to the final placing of the women. From my very unscientific observations, it appears that women placing in the top 25% of an Open is a rarity, but it's hard to draw any real conclusions from this. While the total number of women competing is statistically small compared to men, the number of them with a C or higher is even smaller, so its hard to gauge how the higher rated women do against men of similar ratings. And of course, beyond the local level, the competitions are going to be segregated.

I will admit to slightly more personal satisfaction upon beating a guy in a DE than a girl (what does that guy feel like? I'm sure I obsess about this way more than anyone else). I don't really have a good reason for this, but an interesting tidbit from last week's New York Times gives me at least a little justification. (Article: An Enduring Measure of Fitness) According to the article, and the video that accompanies it online, women have 20% less muscle than men and therefore 20% less strength. Now, we do push-ups as part of the conditioning portion of our practices and generally, I feel like I can keep up with the guys fairly well in this regard. I don't use my knees and I don't finish too far behind (20% behind?).

Unfortunately I have no real conclusion to all this incoherent babbling, but my ultimate question is: If I earn my C in an Open, does that make me a better fencer than earning it by strictly fencing other women? At this point, I feel equal to any man with an E, but can still become intimidated by a D of either gender. I guess the only way to find out for sure is to earn a new rating and then see who continues to kick my butt afterwards.

Mid South Grand Open - A review in verse

With apologies in advance

O! sweet predictability!
Wherein nerves render me
Hopeless for no less than
bouts three.

O! A victorious score
Twice, with losses four
Seed me low down but my pals
Had many more.

DE! Round of thirty-two
A rematch is overdue
With Mr. H, he's got more youth
than you-know-who

Fight! Fight Fight!
Red light, green light
And another red means you've made
The sixteen by a mite.

Now! You're in the clutch
And you want to win so very much
15-14 is so #%@!* close. You missed your
D08 by a single touch.

Seriously though, I want to acknowledge the Mid South club for a very efficiently run tournament, even in close quarters. And I did get a medal and other prizes for being the top-finishing woman. That's really a nice touch in a mixed event; so often when I'm reviewing tournament results (whether I was in the event or not) I notice there are no women in the top 25% of the results, but that doesn't mean that the women in the tournament aren't awesome in their own right. I did feel sort of odd accepting the award though since I didn't even fight any of the other women that were present. Just a bunch of young bucks with lots of strength and "go". But how many of them went home that night and roasted a chicken? Hmm?


A poem by someone else:
Last night as I was sleeping,
I dreamt—marvelous error!—
that I had a beehive
here inside my heart.
And the golden bees
were making white combs
and sweet honey
from my old failures.
Antonio Machado

Turn the page

For the last couple months, I've kept a feed from BBC Sports in my RSS Reader just in case anything ever comes up about fencing. Nothing so far, but what I have found is that the British devote a disproportionate amount of reporting to the sport(?) of darts with almost daily articles covering competitions and athletes. I usually skim right past them but the title of one this week caught my attention.

Taylor reveals motivation issue

Basically it's a short little article about how the number two darter (dartist? d'artagnan?) in the world is beginning to look towards retirement as he gets older. This struck me because it's the exact opposite of how I see fencing going for me. I didn't start fencing until 2005; I turned 27 part way through my beginner class. For the math-averse in the audience I will make it easy on you: next week I turn 30.

I am certainly not looking to pare down my fencing or competition time. If anything, I fear events that will force me to do so (but that's another post). Fencers in my age group (25ish-35ish) seem to be in the minority; most of the women, and men for that matter, that I fence at tournaments are at least a decade older or younger than me. During last year's Div II at Summer Nationals, I was easily the oldest person in my pool. This can at times be unsettling, but it is also a motivator. I am focused on not being left behind by the younger guys at practice and intent upon keeping pace with the high school and college girls in tournaments.

And while I'm focused upon the present and bettering myself right now, I will share with you a secret thought I often have: I seriously want to pwn those Vet ladies at the 2018 Summer Nationals.

Lady's Blade, Part 3: The Scareder Sex

My life has been much defined by fear. Whether it's fear of not being accepted in a new group, the fear that dinner won't come out just right, or just plain old fear of fire, it seems as if the feeling is always hanging out in the back of my brain. My husband constantly chides me for this, telling me there's no reason to be so afraid of everything that comes along. But the truth is, this fear was largely trained into me. You see, all through Jr. High and High School, the girls were constantly being separated from the boys and taken to watch some video or hear some speaker telling us all about the dangers that we would face, as girls, in this world. And because you can never have too much fear mongering, my parents made me read every article in the local newspaper about abduction and rape "just so I'd know what could happen".

The message was always the same: Keep your keys between your knuckles, use your elbows and the heel of your palm when attacked. But the most important message was AVOID questionable situations and failing that, RUN. This is the message that I couldn't help but to carry with me.

Of course, I let go a little bit in college. I went for midnight runs and took chances on new friends and boyfriends. I had a few adventures, but fear is a sticky thing. And even though you think you may have scrubbed the last bit off your hands there's going to be a little bit stuck under your fingernails, just waiting. So it is that I find myself still tethered to it today. There are people that I would like to reach out to and become close to. There are new adventures I'd like to have.

Lest you think me totally paralyzed, I will get to the point of this post. If you guessed fencing, you guessed right. In the interest of honesty I will tell you that it took me a long time to work up the courage to begin fencing. I learned of my first club at least two years before I finally ventured to take a lesson. It was mostly a fear of failure, I think, that was responsible for my hesitancy. And of course I still encounter fear when I am fencing, but it is the only venue where facing my Fear head on is as easy as stepping on the strip. I find I am protected and armed against it on the strip. I am powerful, I have leverage, I am impenetrable. And I will only ever become stronger in facing my fear on the strip. And the seemingly simple realization that fear CAN be overcome has given me courage in other parts of my life; and that feeling too, can only become stronger.

Writing this now, I wonder if the reason I still fear the dark alley is because I've never had reason to face it.

....
Til every river runs dry
Until the sun, honey's, torn from the sky
'Til every fear you've felt burst free
And gone tumblin' down into the sea

Pop culture

A visual representation of my inner dialogue while fencing. Previously I had thought it rather Gollum-esque, but Madonna is prettier than Gollum, so I'm gonna go with this.

"Maybe we should fleche now."

"Now? No, I'm not ready yet."

"But we're close enough."

"But he's just going to counterattack."

"How will we know if we never try?"

"Well just let me do this other thing firs...." *HIT*

On the subject of teams

I rarely think of fencing as a team sport. I have participated in a few team format competitions, but for the most part it's me alone against the hordes. And those same hordes often include other members of my club. But when it comes to practice, and seeing the same guys (I am the only female epeeist at the moment) week in and week out, sweating along beside me, I find myself referring to them in my head as "the team."

I am now at my third club in three years. Three very different clubs with different demographics, styles, and levels of competitiveness. So I feel somewhat qualified to speak on the topic of camaraderie in fencing practice. All have been mostly friendly places, though fencing, by its nature I think, always breeds a few standoffish, haughty types. But I've never felt as really welcomed into, and as much a part of, a group as I do now with the other epeeists at my club.

While I suspect this has a lot to do with me and an increase in confidence overall, I think it also has something to do with the level of competition at the club. Of the three clubs I have belonged to, my current club is the most competitive-minded, with nearly everyone competing at least at the local level. It has the most people competing at the National level and the most rated fencers - not that that is a valid measurement of anything by itself. How does this contribute to a team atmosphere? Common goals for one. Plain ol' human nature for another: No one wants to be left behind so no one is slouching off at practice. We're constantly egging each other on and pushing one another and sharing feedback. It helps, I think that we're all competitive with one another and no bout is ever a sure thing. It seems to mean absolutely nothing that I am the only female, which is good for me.

What does all this mean? It means that when one of my teammates wins a tournament, I am nearly as excited as if I had won it myself. (It was a rough day on Sunday, watching two of my teammates fight the gold medal bout and not really knowing who to root for. I just cheered for all the good touches and congratulated both guys at the end.) It means I always look forward to practice. It also means that I'm scared to death of falling behind these guys, of being a drag on the team. Whether it's because they're younger, stronger, or just have more free time, I am spurred to work as hard as possible on our two practice nights a week to make sure I can keep up.

I've had a lot more thoughts about the subject of teams, but I'll save them for another post.

The Titanic

Sweet monkey dumplings! I won a tournament. The Titanic Open (a women and children only event...get it?) was this past weekend so I took the short jaunt up to Greensboro to play. I knew it wouldn't be a big event, and at close of registration there were seven ladies lined up for the fight. I like seven person pools. More bang for the buck. Lots of fencing.

It was a nice pool and everyone was friendly and in good spirits throughout. I ended up winning all my pool bouts, but none were too easy. My entire purpose for attending this tournament rather than the much larger one in Columbia on the same day was to get as much experience fighting other women as possible. My few forays onto the National scene, where only other women are involved, has lead me to the realization that I need this experience if I ever want to break the top 16 at a NAC. Though it's been mentioned previously, I will just reiterate how different it is fighting women rather than men. And at practice, I mainly fence the latter.

Beyond the victories listed on the score sheet, I am most proud of my secret mental victories. Of not losing my head and giving up leads (as I did in the last tournament). Of having enough self-possession to take control of my mind and my body to come from a deficit in the gold medal bout and then maintain a lead.

That last bout was the hardest and I'm not above admitting that I was quite terrified during most of it. My opponent counter-attacked successfully nearly everything I did. Nearly everything was a double. And taking advantage of some foolish attacks I made in desperation, there were a few single lights on her side. So it is that we came to 12-11 in the third round, me with the 11. It took all my energies to remain collected. I carefully maintained my routine of walking back to the warning line after every touch of any kind and then calmly walking back to en garde. I find this ritual helps me to "reset" after any touch, good or bad. I muttered my mantra constantly: "one touch at a time...one touch at a time". And so that's how I managed to find myself at the final "Halt", with time expired at 14-12. I was trembling so bad, I could hardly shake hands, but I was happy too. Beyond beating my opponent, I had overcome that defeatist voice, and today that makes me happiest of all.

This weekend has me thinking a lot about the place of women in fencing and I mean to write more about it soon.

Dorothy Parker was a fencer?

"I require only three things of a man. He must be handsome, ruthless and stupid."

Ms. Parker has quite a few biting quotes to her name, but I happened upon this one again today and suddenly thought: why that would make a perfect fencing opponent!

Stupid: I guess that one's obvious. If I could spend an entire bout winning touches with the same attack over and over, and my opponent not figuring it out, well that'd be just fine with me.

Handsome: Well, he's going to take his mask off at some point, and it might as well be something good to look at. It's convenient that whites, like other uniforms, are attractive on most men.

Ruthless: Perhaps this one requires a little more explanation and perhaps I am a little loose with the meaning of ruthless. But I have in mind that opponent (you know him) who wants with every fiber of his being to assail you with huge beats, sweeping parries, and fleches from halfway down the piste. These types are often daunting for a woman upon first meeting, but they can be solved quite easily with a few studied derobements, small disengages and point control.

Without question, there are many strengths of male fencers that I find very difficult to overcome. With some men I fence frequently, I simply know that I cannot get into a shoving-parry match with them because I will lose. But the lady fencer should keep in mind that she too has strengths that can be played successfully.

Third is good

Despite my placement at the end of the day, I never really felt like I was on top of my game Saturday. Whether it was a product of the opponents that I faced or just an unprepared mental state, I'm not sure. Fighting only other women at a local level was a new, frustrating experience. Until my final round of the DEs I didn't feel pressed to perform much at all. Instead, I felt rather lulled into a wait and see sort of mode . I fear this may have been the main ingredient for a wicked spell of cloudiness that brought about my loss in the round of four. My eye was off, my timing was off and I just couldn't get a good mental hold on what needed to be done to win the bout. It came down to 13-13. No one thing had been consistently successful and I was feeling a sort of agitated desperation in the final time period: I should know what to do to end this. Two quick touches later, it was over and I garnered myself a third place finish.

Don't misunderstand, stepping back and viewing this objectively, I recognize that this is a very noble spot in which to finish and I am well-pleased. But, that last bout was so close, and even to the very end, I thought that I'd be able to figure her out and pull it off. But then it was just over, whether or not I wanted to keep fencing, I no longer had that prerogative.

This weekend I had been crediting my torpor, somewhat affectionately, to a loss-induced broken heart. But after the news from Virginia Tech today, that description is just so. so. ... far. away.

Mortal Coil

Or, Literary Cross-Referencing

Would that I could shuffle off said coil and return to that coil of yesteryear. Yea, the coil that was lean and strong and never got tired; felt weightless and looked good in cutoffs. But nay, I have taken up this new coil, which weighs upon me and makes me sore and tired and desirous of Advil.

Coil, I name thee albatross! I carry you as penance for watching cable television and cooking with butter.

Weighing me down, this coil is the brand that burns red hot when I cannot lunge fast enough or grow weary too soon in an evening of bouting. Burning so that all may see what a cumbrous coil I have reaped.

Ware, Coil! For I sow new seeds. I eat many vegetables and yea, even do I jog a little. Your day will soon turn to twilight and in time even that shall wane.

I shall lunge and recover and lo! I shall redouble and I shall be as graceful and strong as the African swallow.

Coil, be not proud, for coil thou shalt be shuffled.


Oi. With apologies to Shakespeare, Donne, Monty Python and....oh, everyone.

The Gender Gap

So this should be apparent by now: I am a female. Do I fence like a girl? Likely. However, at practice and even at tournaments I fence almost exclusively men (and boys).

Now, this doesn't really bother me. For several years I've worked with mostly all men. Going farther back I've mostly been a participant of sports where the guys and girls were, if not competing against each other, at least practicing together. So I'm comfortable sweating around members of the opposite sex, to say the least. I am not a priss. That fact becomes important in a couple paragraphs.


Likely, this informs my style of fencing. From a purely physical standpoint, I am almost always the weaker opponent. I know with most men that I have a difficult time taking the blade and I can never bind unless I catch them at exactly the right point. So this has forced me instead to hone my disengage, find speed, and (as a perpetual work in progress) try tactics like second intention. This is all fine and good and I have no complaints about this facet of the gender gap.

Here is where I have a complaint: fencers who practice unnecessary roughness. Fencers for whom Finesse is just a shampoo. Who always hit as hard as they can, no matter what. Who wield their epees like a machete and hack at you like they were running blindly through the jungle with so many rabid wildebeests on their tail.

Exhibit A: A knot on my palm after my opponent crashed into my bell guard so hard last night that it lodged the pommel nut into my hand.

In all fairness, there are probably women who fence like this too, I just haven't met them. Call me a coward or a wimp or anything you like. But fencing is supposed to be fun and to me, it's just not fun to limp away from every touch.

Maybe I'll never be able to beat these guys who choose brute force over tactics. I'll just take solace in the fact that I look way better in knickers than they do.

The introspective epeeist

I fought the first bout of the match and closed it out 5-1. Unfortunately, our lead was whittled down when I came up again, but I was able to retain it by finishing my second bout 6-4. My final bout (second to last of the match) was against who I suspect was their strongest fencer. She had beaten both of my teammates and against them had fleched successfully. I knew she was going to fleche if she had a chance to move forward, so I pressed her as much as I could, keeping her on the back third of the strip. There were several double touches because she was aggressive. I, in keeping with my strategy of the day, simply waited for the openings and hit them rather faithfully. But this is not what I should have done. I had seen the girl fence twice before already and I knew she scored points from being aggressive. But I am both stubborn and naive and did not see fit to change what seemed like a winning strategy to me. What I should have done was take over the aggression and initiated more attacks. I can't recall how much my teammates tried this tactic against this opponent, but - knowing my teammates -I would guess not much. Perhaps she had horrible defense; perhaps she cracks when pressured. I guess I'll never know unless we should fight again. But I wasn't all the way in the game. There were acres of strip behind me and I was wearing a rather muted confidence, so I slipped and took a few steps back. That's all it took - it was a great fleche, fast and surprising. I didn't stop it; I can't even recall whether I had time to react at all. It ended the bout and put them ahead by one point. Unfortunately my teammate could not overcome the deficit in the final bout and the day was over for us after that.

So now I keep seeing the scene over and over: my steps back, her fleche. I study it from many angles to see if I could have stopped the fleche. I wonder if I had been the aggressor from the very beginning whether we could have avoided such a narrow loss. And now I'm wondering if all this not-so-instant replay is doing anyone any good. I'm not brooding mind you, I'm just wondering.

Tourney Reflection v. 7

So my first impression upon walking into JMU's UREC for the tournament this past weekend was Holy crap, I so picked the wrong college. Not that I minded running along the cracked pavement of suburban Lynchburg sidewalks to get my exercise. But wouldn't it have been nice to go and play on a nifty rock wall on those rainy days instead of retreating to the dark smelly weight room in the basement of the LC gym. Oh well.

Honestly, I'd rather keep talking about the amenities of the building than talk about the competition. Out of three Salle Green women competing, we won a total of...um...zero pool bouts. But what can we say - none of us had even an inkling that we might be qualifying for Nationals and I think most of our competitors were hoping for it. So we were just beefing up the numbers to help them out. They can thank us later.

For me, four out of five pool bouts were well fought and well lost on my part. I was simply outclassed and thus hold little enmity for my opponents or for myself in this case. I hope that I will be fencing as well as certain other women in a few years. (Few years? Will I still be alive so far into the future...)

The need to put 18 fencers into a round of 32 made for a very small first round of the DE. It also pitted me against my salle-mate and frequent sparring partner. A Pyrrhic victory to say the least so I'm not really ready to check "Get to 2nd round of DE" off my to-do list yet.

The watchword is "Speed". This summer: how to get it, what to do with it when you find it.

A Lady's Blade, Part 2: Nature vs. Nurture

Upon admitting my reluctance to bout with children, I have been told that these reservations are unfounded. The fact that "Well, they want to beat you" seems to be provided as carte blanche to whip the little ankle-biters into submission. And, while in a tournament you can be assured I would (do my best to) whip them all heartily, I just can't bring myself to be merciless at a practice.

I have noticed the look of frustration when they find they can gain no ground. This is especially apparent with boys who cannot bear the thought of being beat by a girl - even if she is twice his size. And so, we come to an area of great contention for madam fencer. That is that battle between herself and her foe in so many pursuits: the mothering instinct. It is a battle which isn't meant to be won, but a game of careful balancing. For me, it goes something like this:

Score a couple touches. Then, respond a little too slowly and let them land a solid attack. "Oh! You got me that time for sure." (It is not condescending, but matter-of-fact.) Another touch for me. Another for them. "Okay, here we go." Of course, I must win in the end, but I find for them a look of sincere relief when I pull off my mask: it was close all along, I assure them silently.

In the vast reaches of my experience, I have found false hope to be a faithless teacher; losses will pay for themselves in time.

Coaches aside, do men have this same sort of struggle? I suppose it depends on the man. And the child for that matter. I admit I have come across some that certainly deserved a right and proper beating. For those, the nurture trigger is dampened. Let nature take her course.

A Lady's Blade, Part 1

When a man lifts a sword, it is a mark of power and an expression of virility. The author assures her audience that the simple action of a sword being swung by a worthy man is enough to make her tingly all over. For the sword is a tool designed, crafted, and used by men. Of course, dear audience, we speak of the sword in the context of history at this point, leaving the modern sporting arena to for discussion another time. Thus the sword has been a tool for achieving whatever man desires: power, land, religious converts, and yes, even tingly women.

So we are used to seeing a sword in the hands of a man. It is natural and to be expected. (The author wishes to point out here that even if it is natural, it's still hot.) However, in the hands of a woman a sword becomes a whole other beast. The woman herself often becomes a beast, though in a cunning and fiercesome manner rather than hulking and grisly.

Women, for the most part, are not wired to claim power with the same forthright audacity as a man. If a woman picks up a sword, you can be assured that she too seeks her own kind of power. Though the sword be heavy, and bear a hilt not meant for fair hands, she will raise it with finesse. And though she may assume a defensive stance at first, there will be a certain light to her eyes that says, "Yes, I am going to kill you. But won't you be surprised when you find out how."