Numbers Game

Hello, I am an epee fencer, and...I am an askFRED addict.

There, I said it. Admitting you have a problem is the first step right? And I am admitting to you loyal readers, all dozen of you, that I went slightly nutty earlier this week waiting for the results of Sectionals to be posted. Of course I knew the final results, I was there till the end of the my event, but I just wanted to look at the results, to revisit my bouts and everyone else's. I find numbers comforting in their plainness and somehow find solace in the fact that you can't argue about simple facts on a page(screen). I agonized somewhat over a few "ugly" touches that I got last weekend, but now when I look at the results of those bouts, there's nothing to see but a final concrete score: all touches were equally um, touched.

For validation of my unhealthy obsession, I tried to search for some qualified person's opinion on whether or not reviewing statistics is a valuable tool for athletes. I didn't come up with much, though I'm sure this is as much due to my search-short-attention-span as anything else. Thus, this unqualified blogger is left to make her own observations about the good of staring at numbers and, as I have been known to do, make spreadsheets of them and apply dubious formulas to come up with new, even more dubious, numbers.

I can't convince myself that this is a bad thing, except that it's time spent I could be doing other, more productive, things. I also can't provide any proof that the time spent has done me any good (besides the aforementioned number-induced comfort). I don't think there's anything I can do at practice with the knowledge that I win X% of my pool bouts and Y% of my DEs; though certainly bad percentages must engender a desire to work harder. What I could use is information such as how often I win (or lose) touches on counterattacks, second intention, etc., but I don't yet have the self-awareness for recording this level of detail.

Great, just what I need - one more thing that just takes practice.

No Sprechen Fechtsport

Last night practice was solely a preparation for Sectionals. We fenced a lot of bouts, mimicking both pool bouts and DEs not so much to practice fencing, but moreso to practice mindsets. And maintaining a proper mindset, for me, is at least as challenging as maintaining proper form. It was a great, well-timed practice but it is the practices that challenge me the most that usually leave me the most frustrated. My frustration actually came to a head last night and I swallowed my pride and I just said to our coach, "I don't get it. I can't see what you say I should be seeing." Of course he was kind and reexplained things to me but I felt a bit deflated for the rest of the night.

Something that he's been drilling into us, me especially, for a while now is that the way to fence is to move in and out of the bubble. You move in the bubble, look for opportunities and move back out. In and out. When you move in and see an opportunity for attack, you take it - quickly! - and then get right back out, whether or not you were successful. So I'm in there looking for these opportunities but I don't really know what it is I'm looking for. I'm trying to create reactions in my opponents, but I don't really know how to identify these reactions or what to do with them when I get them. So I get in the bubble and I look for...something...and I forget to get out. I enter the sacred bubble temple sending prayers to the fencing heavens that they may grace me with a sign of exactly what it is I'm supposed to be doing in there. But the heavens are silent, or the devotee is blind and deaf; either way, I'm just not getting it.

I resign myself to the fact that this must be a function of time and experience and that slowly the great Truth will be revealed to me. The funny thing is, some of my most successful attacks are when I quit thinking about this most important tenet and fall back upon my animal instincts (rabid bunny mostly). At the Sword in the Stone, my single lights against the A fencer in my DEs came when I just went after him, throwing in a few beats and double disengages when they seemed appropriate. Maybe I do see the opportunities - sort of subconsciously - and it's only when allowing my brain to get in the way that I botch it up. Wouldn't be the first time my brain has let me down.

I guess the important point for the day is that I'm looking forward to Sectionals this weekend; I'm going to exercise my mindsets and just try to have fun. I finished the practice last night with one of my most fun touches ever - a fleche disengage. Fear the bunny!

Double Feature: II

So that's that (see previous post). Then this past weekend there was a smallish tournament at the club which I was a little iffy on, but I woke up feeling good on Sunday so I decided to do it. Turns out it was bigger than I expected, about 17 people. It was a strange sort of day, everyone seemed real low-key, including myself. I warmed up well, but in true neurotic-style I blew my first pool bout which I should have won. Though I won two others (including a very tense and exciting bout against one my clubmates) I had a crappy place in the bracket and had to fight the same clubmate again in the round of 16.

This was an awesome bout and spanned most of the nine minutes though I almost blew it in the first period, facing a score of 9-3 at the break. Somehow, miraculously, I was able to get my head around what I was doing (or rather, not doing) and closed the gap in the second period. At this point, I was just so proud of myself for figuring out what needed to be done and then doing it, that it was a little victory just for me. In the third period we were neck and neck all the way till it came to 14-14. It was a really emotional bout and I think I lost my cool a little too much once or twice, which I felt guilty about immediately. I don't like showing that side around people I respect, so...it was a learning experience. And it was a victory, for my teammate, 15-14. But that's okay, it was such a good bout and I think we both did great. Not a great finish, objectively, but I'm still mostly happy with what I accomplished.

Unfortunately, at the last minute, I had to skip practice last night, which I was really looking forward to. But moving forward, I'm all about practicing the parry-riposte...especially the riposte. I just hope my week and a half off does not kill me on Wednesday.

Comfort Zone, or Lack Thereof

I honestly am looking forward to Divisionals this weekend. Women's Epee is actually a relatively strong event compared to the other women's events this weekend, though it doesn't look like it'll be as strong as last year's. Still, as per usual, I am fretting a little bit about how I will do.

I haven't felt like my fencing was all-together in quite a while. While struggling to improve my form and tactics, I seem to lost a lot of "comfort" with my body on the strip. It's like I have to instruct each limb separately which, as you might imagine, can seriously impede one's threat level. Practice has left me with a low-level of frustration lately. It's not a serious, mood-altering frustration that makes me want to throw my mask; it's a low-level pulsing sort of frustration that hovers just under the surface of my brain and just makes me want to sigh. Why is this so hard? I do understand that it will just take time and eventually things will begin to feel in harmony again.

But I am left wondering what to do in the meantime. Faced with an important tournament, should I fall back on my "comfortable" fencing style where I am confident, but essentially reliant upon counterattacks? Should I try to be the new fleet fencer that I want to be: dancing in and out of the bubble, but losing mental acuity in the meantime? I thought I was trying to be the latter at SitS but was informed afterwards that I still looked like my old stiff self most of the time. I guess we'll just have to see. T minus 1 day and counting.

Sword in the Stone in the Rearview

Try as hard as we may for perfection, the net result of our labors is an amazing variety of imperfectness. We are surprised at our own versatility in being able to fail in so many different ways.
- Samuel McChord Crothers

After weeks of building myself up for this event which I perceived to be both huge and terrifying, I arrived Saturday morning to find it neither. Epee was just over fifty people, but the strips were spread out over two gyms so I never really felt the press of a large tournament. I did my warm up and got in a decent practice session with one of my teammates and was raring to go right on time. Of course, this feeling had ebbed slightly when fencing did actually begin almost an hour later. As a general impression, I was not impressed with the running of the tournament. Little things were skipped over: no one ever checked to see if I was wearing a plastron or asked to see the armorer's mark on my mask. Our pool was half-reffed by a "trainee" who very obviously had never picked up a rulebook. Turned backs went unnoticed and the clock alternately overran - or didn't run at all. When the refs starting calling fencers for DE bouts (remember we're spread over two gyms) it took everyone by surprise and it was mostly by accident that I stumbled upon the posted brackets and was thus able to find my strip on time. But enough - that was my personal experience and I know others found it a well-run tournament. At least it didn't drag on forever like some others - we were out of there at 1:30.

Perhaps if my own performance had been up to par, I would be more forgiving to the tournament organizers. But, as my sage blog advised me Friday, I make no excuses for my poor showing; I was just fencing poorly. I went 2-3 in a pool where I should have been 4-1 or, at worst, 3-2. This seeded me 30th going into DEs and while I made it easily out of the round of 64, I came up against the third seed, an A, in the round of 32. And that was it for yours truly.

So about that poor pool showing? I continue to have trouble dealing with styles that I have not seen before. I have always struggled with tactics and, especially under the stress of a tournament, my mind grinds to a halt and I am left rather dumb except to fall back on my old habits of pure reactionary fencing. Old habits produce old results. A 2-3 pool is like going back in time two years.

What to do? It's a hard thing to practice, but I resolve to be a more mindful fencer, to exercise my tactical mind as much as my body. I think at the next tournament I'm also going to draw the tactical wheel on my hand so I'll have a crib sheet when my mind goes blank. And now...I'm done agonizing over Sword in the Stone (or SitS, to those in the know). Divisionals are in two weeks and I mean to redeem myself.

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.

...And that's when our beautiful young heroine's brain exploded

Think like a [wo]man of action, and act like a [wo]man of thought.
Henri L. Bergson

One of the things I constantly grapple with when trying to put together vocal instruction with actual action is that there are SO MANY things to 'keep in mind' while bouting. So many in fact that I feel some nights like if I have to keep anything else in mind, I may well reach critical capacity and burst my poor overworked melon at the seams.

So, as mentioned, I have changed my footwork and it has been good for me. But during a recent practice, I was working so hard on getting my footwork right that it was announced to me that I was now telegraphing my attacks rather plainly. So then I try to keep my footwork going, keep making attacks...but in a more nonchalant manner...and now I'm getting scored on by really simple attacks because where is there room for thinking about defense in all of this other thinking?

Of course this is not a new problem. I think I wrote about this same feeling in my first few months of blogging over two years ago. So that's reassuring because the things that I used to have trouble with are now second nature to me.

When I get really frustrated though, I try to remind myself of all the complicated things I do everyday that take a lot of coordination of different senses and movements but are now easy things. Driving is the best example I think: there is a lot of awareness, a lot of body parts moving at once, things to watch and listen to, bagels to eat, sticks to shift - all at one time. And now I do it everyday with very little risk to myself or others. I keep my fingers crossed, hoping that one day fencing will be equally second-nature - with perhaps a little more risk to others...

Even if you’re on the right track, you’ll get run over if you just sit there.
Will Rogers

Lunge Into 08

Since the fencing season really started back in September (give or take), the first tournament of the calendar year is little more than a convenient demarcation. However, this particular tournament felt like more to me because it was the first tournament I've competed in since beginning training with our new coach. And it felt like a whole new ballgame, to use a phrase loosely.

As I wrote about previously: my tactics have been taken, placed in a jar, shaken vigorously and then dumped back on the strip upside down. That is to say, I am fencing differently. It is by no means second-nature yet, requiring still a great force of will on my part not to revert to passivity and relying solely on counterattacks. But the verdict: the new style, it works. I lost only one bout on Sunday. After making it through the pool undefeated and the quarterfinal DE, I lost the semifinal DE to one of my club mates. It was not a terrible loss, 15-10, and he beat me fair and square by continually taking over tempo and being faster than me. Another day perhaps, the score might be different.

The tournament did end on a high note, however. We had a fence off for third and even after a couple of mistakes that nearly cost me the place, I managed to win 15-14. I did feel like there was a lot of room for improvement in that bout though; I was still more reactive than I want to be. It's funny that after I got home and checked my RSS feeds, one of my quotes for the day was:

"Never confuse movement with action." - Ernest Hemingway

Which is very apt. Because I am moving a lot more, but it is not always producing the ownage of the strip that I'm aiming for. Sometimes I have to think so much about the moving, that it drowns out thoughts of attacking and/or defending. I'm hoping that once I can make the movement more instinctual the other aspects will follow.

Embrace the Bubble

Since starting our "new" epee program, I feel like I've learned so much; more than can be communicated here, even with italics. When we switched from drills to bouting last night I felt out of sorts, my head swimming with all the things we've been discussing and practicing these many weeks. So many things to be aware of, to remember, to do or not do; I was overwhelmed and started out by losing the majority of the touches in that first practice bout because I couldn't get a handle on everything at once.

But then we moved to more focused bouting with immediate feedback and direction and that really helped. The word of the night was bubble. This is the space where fencing actions which result in a touch can occur. Basically it's advance-lunge distance, but being aware of this distance actually pushed us even closer in many instances, uncomfortably so sometimes. My goal, both mentally and tactically, was to keep myself from relying solely on defense and attempt to be the one controlling the bout as much as possible. Whoa! This is so antithetical to my status quo that it was actually easier than I thought it would be. If I had been instructed to only change one aspect of my fencing, then it would have been too easy to lapse back into habit, but with this 180º turn, it was all I could think about: I didn't have a chance to become reactionary like usual and I felt like I actually did pretty well.

Still, I am nervous about the tournament this weekend. My normal plan for tournaments is to let myself be ruled by instincts. I don't try to incorporate new or more complicated maneuvers in tournament play until they become instinct. But I think more is expected of me this time around and I hope I can pull it off. Also, everyone else preregistered so far is from our club and I never like fencing teammates in tournaments. Am I more scared of losing to them or winning? I know, but I'm scared to to tell you.

I'm Not Really Fencing....

Is it a social consciousness or just coincidence? There was an article by Gina Kolata in the New York Times yesterday about an aspect of competition I have been thinking about a lot recently.

I'm Not Really Running, I'm Not Really Running

Myself, I keep thinking about it as mind-over-body, a term that is used once in the article also. The article is largely about how athletes push their bodies beyond the limits which our minds set for us. Kolata speaks mostly of endurance sports, but I find the same ideas very applicable to fencing. I have, in fact, exercised some of these ideas in both practice and tournaments.

A relatively new thing with our epee squad is conditioning. Holding the arm out straight at shoulder height for minutes at a time is something that some of my clubmates seem to have trouble with, but I've found it manageable. If I think about my shoulder, then I realize that it does indeed hurt like crazy after a couple minutes, but I find that if I focus on some spot on the far wall I almost don't even notice.

But the limits of endurance are not often tested in fencing - for me anyhow. The limits that I do find pushed are those of coordination and mechanics. And this is when mind-over-body really comes into play. If I envision a move or series of actions I want to make, can I force that action to come out of my limbs though it is foreign and unpracticed? Occasionally we have played a fun game at practice, mostly for the kids, where the leader will announce an animal and each person must attack the target as they think that animal would attack it. The bull rushes headfirst at the target while the butterfly dances across the floor and lands a delicate touche. These are not things we ever have or ever will practice, but if you can suddenly command a strange series of actions from your body, then I think that bodes well for performing other actions when under pressure.

On Wednesday, we did a fun drill where only touches to the mask counted. When both opponents are trying for the same target, it requires increasing complex combinations of feints, parries, and footwork and in the end I felt really proud of some of the maneuvers I was able to pull off at the spur of the moment.

This is, of course, an optimistic post. One of the reasons that I think about mind-over-body so often is because it often fails me. How often have I tried to tell myself to fleche and then not been able to convince my body that it was capable at that very moment. But I'm hoping that having an awareness of this disconnect is the first step to resolving it.

Belated update

So I won another tournament this past weekend. Like the last, it was small, but not without a reasonable amount of competition. I did in fact beat a D07 to win. A young energetic college boy D07 no less. It was a close bout all the way and the final score was 15-14. I nearly beat myself, however, because I had at least a two point lead most of the time and upon reaching 14-12, got a little over eager to end it. When the score hit 14-14 I thought I was going to throw up. Really. This has never happened to me before. I was balanced upon a rather precarious edge between simply scoring one more point and giving myself over to fear, like has happened so many times before. It was solely a triumph of will that allowed me to keep my cool and get the last point.

I have had some other thoughts lately besides about tournaments and I will try to post them soon.

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.

Season Three Premiere

After my first bout of pools, my hands were shaking so bad I could barely take a drink of my water. This is not unusual for a tournament for me, especially at the beginning. It's like all my energy comes up from my core and gets caught up in my arms and legs, vibrating there, waiting to be let out.

I did not win that bout, nor did I win the next. In both of these bouts, both against C's, I started out in the lead and held the lead at 4-something. But then I lost both of these bouts 5-4. I don't think that I was outclassed in fencing mechanics. I think I was outclassed in terms of strategy and constancy.

Technically, I am starting my third competitive season. I told myself that I simply lacked the experience that I needed this weekend to recognize what I should have done when the score is 4-3 or 4-4; that I was facing more experienced fencers that did have this experience. All true perhaps, but at what point do I start to glean this information from bouts and squirrel it away for use in similar situations? (Of course, it was only toward the end of the last season that I was even able to consistently score four touches in pool bouts.) And now, the time between "Halt" and "Ready?" seems to whiz by in a stuporific haze. I assume this is the time when I need to be telling myself that I don't need to rush in like so many fools to wrest that last point from my opponent, that I should be patient and worst-case, go for the double.

So that is this weekend's moral. The final result is less important. I felt like I was strong and relaxed in my fencing. I was the top-finishing woman and I made it past the first round of DEs. All in all, a great improvement over the first tournament of last season.

Now...for some strategory.

Within the sound of my voice

I recognize that it's been a while since my last post. To be truthful, I haven't been thinking that much about fencing. I'm sure this is due largely to the fact that it's been over a week since I've been able to go to practice, but hopefully I won't suffer for that too much tonight.

What got me thinking was this weekend's episode of This American Life. The subject was the devils inside each of us and one of the stories was about the Voice that many of us suffer inside our own heads. I have several of them. One of them makes me stay in bed too late. One of them makes me eat things just because they're there. And one of them likes to tell me what I can and cannot do with my body.

I first became acquainted with this last voice when I was a runner in high school. The voice was sometimes kind and sympathetic and would say to me in the middle of a cross country race, "You're tired. Who do you need to prove yourself to? There's no need to push so hard." Sometimes the voice was cruel but practical and would say, "You know you're not going to win this race anyway so just knock it off. What's the difference in 10th place and 15th place anyway? They both suck." Yet again, sometimes the voice was just downright wicked, "Look how tired you are! Look at that hole! If you were to twist your ankle right now, you'd be able to rest and everyone would want to take care of you." Luckily I never gave in to that last voice, but it was unfailing in its arrival on steep inclines.

During my years of sloth after college, I lost touch with this voice. Perhaps it was sated by my indolence and lulled into gratified slumber. But since I have started fencing, it has roused itself again and I find that often during tournaments I am facing two opponents, one of which lives inside my head. I suppose I should be glad that it is not ever present, but it likes to strike when I am weakest: when I have slipped up or am facing an especially daunting opponent. The voice was the winner during my div 2 event at nationals.

Unfortunately, This American Life did not extend its broadcast to offering ways to foil our inner devil. Attempting to drown out the voice with an internal mantra has met with some success, as has simply getting better and more confident in my fencing. But I have a feeling that the voice will never be squelched entirely and that my best recourse is simply to become better at arguing.

Patience? Not one of MY virtues

Nationals, nationals, nationals. Tired of hearing about it yet? I wish I could stop thinking about it - dreaming about it. So I'm going to keep writing about it for a while. If you're bored, feel free to pop over to ICHC till I get done.

I just finished listening to this interview with Soren Thompson. He is exactly the type of fencer I want to be. Granted, I have no delusions of fencing anywhere near that level, but I want to occupy the same mind space. Among other admirable confessions, the thing that he mentioned that most struck home for me this week was his recounting of a recent team competition. Soren describes how his team slowly builds a lead and concentrates on not making mistakes, instead letting the other team make mistakes.

What a brilliant f-ing idea! How many bouts last weekend did I take the lead in early on, only to lose it, and the bout, in a blink? At least three, maybe more. And the DE that I lost 15-13? Yes, I was in the lead more than once and then, poof, bye-bye.

Perhaps you cannot sense my incensed mood through this 2-D medium. Take my word for it: just thinking about it makes me so angry. I wish that I'd had a bit more presence of mind on Saturday to record exactly what caused me to lose the lead, but I know that each of the following culprits was to blame at one time or another.

1) "OMG! I have the lead. Quick, close it out!" Followed by leaving my brain at the on-guard line in favor of spastic flailing.
2) "OMG! I have the lead. Quick, stop everything you've been doing so far (that's been working) and freeze up!"

OMG.

My Black Eyed Dog

I had planned for a couple light weeks of practice this month because I am feeling a little burnt out after Miami. However, upon hearing of my results, K. was quick to express his displeasure at my placement and set out to make Tuesday night's practice a rather miserable one. My legs are still sore. No more practice this week. Next week is up in the air.

I know that I could be more in shape than I am, but my physical state is not what is keeping me back. It's not even my technical skill, because; heck, I bet 50% of my touches last weekend were hand/wrist/forearm shots. No, my proverbial roadblock is my Crazy.

I see my Crazy as a skulking beast, small but heavy, running in circles around me and slicking my path with a cool slime of doubt. Every step is taken with trepidation and even the slightest stumble sends me back several paces. It's a dangerous spiral and I went for a helluva ride last Saturday.

I suppose that the upshot is that I am very aware of this problem and that in the waging of the war against my Crazy, I am beginning to win every so often. It actually took physical effort (jumping, jogging in place, various noises of frustration), but after my third bout/loss in Div 2, I shook free from the dark cloud. It couldn't save my placement, but it was a small personal victory.

He who overcomes others is strong. He who overcomes himself is mighty. - Lao Tzu

What a long strange trip.....

I've been thinking for quite a while how I wanted to write about my trip to Nationals, or if I wanted to write about it at all. But I think I can only help myself by doing so. And the results are a matter of public record anyhow.

Generally speaking, I will never return to Miami again. The humidity, the run down, dirty streets, bad food, the automatically applied gratuity and bad service, and the thumping bass till 5 AM all combined to make an absolutely miserable experience outside the doors of the convention center.

Inside the convention center, it was not so bad. The tournament seemed to be well run. Events started promptly and it wasn't too long a wait till DEs. Our Div 3 pool was actually the last pool to start, but we had a good time chatting until our 12 year old ref (who I saw later deeply involved in a game of Halo) showed up.

On a more personal level, the events became a struggle; a battle not between two ends of the strip, but between my mind and my body. I began the event confident and excited. This carried through my first pool (Div3) with four wins and two losses. But after a narrow loss in the round of 64 things went quickly downhill.

Gathering for the Div2 pool was apparently on a completely different planet. There were no friendly words, no good-natured ribbing. A row of cold, blood-thirsty opponents lined up against your intrepid kite-flyer (me). After losing (quickly) 5-1 to the girl that eventually won the pool, I was shattered. My tenuous confidence is easily rattled, and not easily settled.

It is endlessly frustrating that some of the things I value most - strength and an unflappable composure - are so slippery in the unsure fingers of this nascent epeeist. However, in the spirit of every problem having a solution, I'm sure I will continue to relive each nexus and turning point of last weekend, both mentally and on "paper" in the hopes for a happier return next year.

Me: Made to Order

On an orphaned coffee cup in the break room: "Life is not about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself." While I find this a little heavy to be considering over morning coffee, it was a provocative enough apothegm to keep me occupied on the way back to my desk to write this.

If I were going to create the perfect me, what would that be? Master gardener, able chef, world traveler, carbon neutral, 15 pounds lighter? Naturally, restless heart that I am, the list could go on for quite a while, but being that this is a fencing blog, I will narrow the scope a bit.

The coach that I currently work with most often thinks that I ought to be training like I am on the path to the Olympics: 1500 target drills, 1000 lunges, strength training, 30 bouts...did I mention these are recommendations for a daily regimen? I hate to disappoint him. I meekly plead my case of having to provide for my small family in lieu of international fencing fame. But to be honest, I don't even want international fencing fame; that's not the kind of fencing self I want to create.

Considering... Simply ecstatic upon receiving my E, I quietly covet the vaulted C that a few fencers at the club have. I like to be competitive at state tournaments, especially with the other women and currently I'm not looking much farther afield than this. I am looking forward to Div II/III events at Nationals this year, but have not as yet set any goals for final placement, and I probably won't. Hopes were made to be dashed. Two nights a week is about all I am willing to surrender at this point to training, though I would be glad to give up a Saturday morning were it an option at this club. More likely, that's when I should be doing those drills.

Having considered... I present to you the carefully molded fencer I would create: An able C epeeist, consistently finishing in the top eight at divisional tournaments and regular in attendance at Div II/III NACs and Summer Nationals. Strong and fast with excellent point control. Witty and intriguing contributor to club life. Thoughtful and eloquent blogger. Still 15 pounds lighter.

Title Track

Yes, I've been writing in this blog for two years and now at long last, a post about sentiment de fer. I have been thinking about it since last practice. During the lesson, our coach spoke about something which is totally obvious, but perhaps does not receive enough consideration. That is, despite all the footwork we do, all the strategy, tactics, and conditioning. Despite fancy bladework, second intentions, and sweat-wicking stretchy FIE uniforms, what the whole sport boils down to is: does my point land on my opponent or does his point land on me? The "point" (haha) was driven home later the same night when our most veteran epeeist was giving me an impromptu lesson. Frustrated at my apparent ineptness he grabbed my tip and compelled me in his booming voice: "Brain should be here! Brain is here!" It actually worked and the rest of the lesson went better.

Thinking about how to be more aware of my point is what has reminded me of sentiment de fer. That feeling of being one with my steel. Because really, the point is a rather ungainly thing. It's dangling out there, 110 cm away from me controlled by, essentially, two fingers; all the while you are moving and your opponent is moving. Always knowing where this little 1/2" piece of metal is in relation to your opponent and being able to place it willfully onto clear target is really the culmination of being one with your weapon. It really is a marvelous marriage between the human brain and body.

Unfortunately, this is not inborn and, for me at least, it's not even like riding a bicycle. You can't learn it and then just keep it forever. Every hour that I fence is an hour that I am trying to tighten my feeble grasp on such a rarefied idea, and constant diligence is required not to let it slip away. There are nights when I feel completely devoid of my sentiment and there are nights when I feel like I have reached a new level of awareness.

Observing fencers who have truly made their fer part of them is really is a beautiful site. The result is a fluidity and an effortlessness of movement that is best appreciated and most coveted when you are on the receiving end of one of their touches.

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.