I suck. One of my coaches* has been trying to get me to learn to change lines with my attacks, which means, for the moment, practicing holding my arm and hand in a much higher on guard than I am comfortable with. It also means, as I learned last night at practice, that I have next to no game left at all. Which sucks. I cannot tell you how much. For months, since sometime in February or March , for the first time in my eight years of fencing, I felt like I had a game. Okay, so not all of my attacks landed in the way that I hoped, but I had learned (finally, finally, finally, thank God!) how to asses what I was doing during a bout, think about the mistakes that I had made, and try something different: change distance, change tempo, feint, set up an attack. I was fencing , God dammit! Fencing. Really and truly fencing. And, let's not forget, enjoying myself. It's all gone. All of it. I am back in the Pit, staring a...
I was down there from Thursday afternoon through today, working at the Beinecke and visiting a college friend, and I was wondering why there were several people with black tote bags labeled "Speculum" on them. Now I know!
ReplyDeleteThat was us! Pesky medievalists, they get everywhere, don't they?
ReplyDelete