Fencing Bear at Prayer

I have been meaning to write this post for over two weeks now.  It would have been better if I had been able to write it back on the day , but of course if I had been able to think clearly then, by definition I wouldn't have choked, so there you go.  Has it been long enough now for me to think rather than simply be overwhelmed by my emotions?  I can still see my opponent's face so clearly when we took off our masks and were signing the bout sheet after she had won.  She knew what she had done to me, and I knew what she knew she had done.  I still don't know how I am going to live that feeling down. So let's start by making a list.  Why?!!!    Why, why, why, why, why???--when I knew what kind of fencer she was, when I had in fact warmed up with her on that very day and so had some more recent information about how she was fencing, when I had just seen her beat someone whom I knew to be a stronger fencer than she (or, at least, than she had been...

It feels almost miraculous.  Everything in my life (well, almost everything) that was holding me back (funny, I feel anxious just writing that) is now, well, perhaps not gone, but markedly better. I have a whole new set of tools for thinking about my eating and my body and my weight; I even forget to count calories most days (and know that it is better to stop myself when I start and simply ask whether I am hungry), and yet, I am eating better than I ever have and ( mirabile dictu ) enjoying my food. Our home is calm and happy, no longer stuffed full of junk we don't need .   Even better, I have gone shopping several times in the past month and come home without having bought anything because I couldn't find anything that was exactly right. I have established a regular schedule for working on my research and stuck to it for nine months even though I am not on leave.  I have made good progress on my translation , as well as researched, written, sent out for review,...

"The 'Zone' is that all-is-right-with-the-world feeling sought by the athlete on game day.  Like most things sublime, it is uncommon and elusive.  Its mystery and rewards come to those who diligently seek moments of near perfection through the daily grind of training.  If the zone is like the view of the victor from Mt. Olympus, then training is like the life of the soldier in the trenches.... "Striving to reach beyond one's limits, in sport and in life, does not come without some measure of personal suffering.  Thus the premium placed on toughness--the ability to get mind and body through the crush of chaos and uncertainty that is endemic to the competitive environment.  While not conspicuous in day-to-day behavior, tenderness is an implicit element in sport culture, a counterpoint to the denial of emotion that is inherent in toughness.  It is the moment of greatest threat and tension that gives way to the strongest emotion, be it the unbridled joy of th...

My sister says that what matters to me is to win. In her words: "I have an older sister who is by nature super competitive, always needs to 'win' (you can imagine how frustrated she is).... She's in a zero-sum game in her head--she either wins or loses.... And dammit, she's going to win." In fencing. In my career. In love. My sister hates this. Again, in her words: "She's happy now that she thinks she won, but I guess that's what's bugging me. This living business is not a zero-sum game. You win and the goal post changes." Which is something I told her I'd thought about (the goal posts moving), but never mind. In her view, winning itself is a distraction from "real" life; the point is the process, not the goal. Which, again, I can totally get around. But, dammit, there needs to be a goal, a vision, something worth fighting for, right? Something that actually matters so that you get up willing to face the day. No...

I'm here again, my eyes puffy from weeping, my muscles aching to no purpose, sleepless and angry at myself for losing in that way yet again. How many times have I been here over the past year? I don't even want to count. I knew what I had to do in that bout and I blew it. I was so close, I was ahead, but I rushed it and made the same mistake over and over again. It makes me sick just to think about it. And then, when the bout was over, I totally lost it, even before I got off the strip and had signed the sheet. The women were so kind to me, but I'm not sure they should have been. I'm a grown-up, for goodness' sake, I know better than to behave like that. But I had been ahead. Mirabile dictu , I had won 3 of my 5 pool bouts (actually 4, but one of the fencers had to drop out for medical reasons), I had placed 10th out of the pools, the highest I had ever placed in a Veterans' event. I knew my opponent in the DE, I knew what I needed to do in order to ...

I fenced a tournament today. I was pretty stiff this morning, not really sure I was at all up to doing anything other than skyving off for one more day watching puppy videos, but I'm going to a NAC this weekend in Pittsburgh, and I really needed the warm-up. I did only so-so in my pools in foil (2-5), but I fenced my first DE well (15-9, or maybe 15-8, I'm not quite sure). I did even worse in my pools in epee--seeded LAST after the pools! And, of course, I lost my DE, even though I did get some good touches in the end (10-15). And now I'm sitting here on the couch with a cat curled up next to me, thinking about how busy I'm going to be for the next couple of days because this weekend I didn't do my grading or class prep or anything other than the reading for my classes this upcoming week. But--can you believe it?--I'm still glad that I went. Not ecstatically glad. I still hate fencing, and I still want to quit. But sort of soberly glad because, truth to ...

I had a thought for this post while I was praying this morning, but now that I'm sitting here in the hotel restaurant so as not to disturb my still sleeping roommate, my thoughts are all of a-flutter and I simply can't concentrate. It snowed last night (!). Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize (!!). I want a puppy (!!!). Jump, jump, jump. My thoughts are everywhere. The point of the post was going to be about how I don't like change, which, at the moment, would seem to be true. This post would be much easier to write if I were sitting in the usual spot where I blog, on the couch at home. It would probably be easier to write if I were able to sit with my laptop on my lap upstairs in the room. At least then I would be in my usual posture as I blog. As it is, I am sitting in a booth with unfamiliar lighting and noises around me, and all I can think about is how I can't think. I don't, as a rule, tend to like change. At least, I tell myself I don't. I have--a...

Sometimes the answer really is staring you right in the face, if only you could see it. As you, my faithful readers know, it's been a hard past couple of weeks for me, preparing for the almost certain disappointment of Summer Nationals. But why "almost certain"? I could tell I wasn't ready, boy, oh, boy, could I tell I wasn't ready . The problem is (was), I didn't know what to fix. Some of my friends spent the latter part of June at fencing camps, working out extra hard, getting their bodies ready to compete. I've done camps before with much the same hope, but I knew from past experience that, for me, at least, they haven't really worked. Sure they sound like a good idea, but I knew that if I went this time I'd just get hurt and exhausted and come out none the wiser for all of the extra bouting.* So, instead, I got depressed . Well, okay, so that wasn't so much my plan as what I fell into, but I really didn't know what else to do....

As any of you who saw me yesterday at the venue know, I did not do as well as, well, I might have if I were a different fencing bear. Div III Women's Foil: I won two of my pool bouts (5-4, 5-1), lost three (4-5, 4-5, 4-5, 0-5), and then proceeded to lose my first D-E (9-13) to the girl whom I had beaten in the pools 5-1. Tears followed...and followed...and followed...and followed. But, happily, because fencers are such amazing people, I was not alone. Huge thanks to all of you who were there for me, even as I was in floods, again. Special thanks to my dear roommate Lynn Botelho for being there to coach me through the only pool bout that I fenced like I actually know I can fence when whatever it is that is holding me back lets me go for the moment; to the ever-so-generous coach from my alma mater (Rice University) for coming back to talk to me even after I had broken down after losing to his student (4-5); to Kristin Vines for being there as I went to get water and smiling and ...

One day, I am going to be able to write a post about what it feels like to win at a fencing tournament. That day is not today. Perhaps, indeed, that day will never come. I will keep going to tournaments until I am too ridiculously old to compete, and I still will never had have the sensation of having won every D-E that I fenced.* So why do I even try? Because quitting would be even more painful? Because I really still do have hope that one day it will be different? What on earth gives me the confidence to believe that it ever could? Look at me: 44 years old, only been fencing for six years as of this coming summer. Even against the women my age, it is actually probably hopeless. Sure, they are not necessarily that much stronger or fitter than I am, but many of them have been fencing since they were in high school or college. There is no way that I will ever beat them on experience, and I don't seem to be able to tap into the luck. My husband is sick beyond words of my c...

1. Humiliate yourself by crying whenever anybody asks you how you did on the first day of the tournament; spend at least an hour when you get home weeping about how life is meaningless and you don't know why you keep trying. 2. Do lots of Facebook quizzes to try to figure out who you "really" are. 3. Drink two big glasses of champagne so that you get a headache from having been crying so hard and so that when you fall asleep, you wake up almost immediately and can't get back to sleep until almost dawn. Watch The Matrix (1999) and wish you could see The Code . 4. Spend the wee hours of the morning reading webcomics about mad rabbits , neurotic cats , and sexy skunks . 5. Wake up after only two hours sleep (if that), pack your still unwashed uniform and then drive in the rain for an hour and a half wondering if you will run out of gas. 6.Change weapons from foil to epee, but tell yourself that you're actually really a foilist; you're just fencing epee to...

What are my goals in fencing? Winning clearly can't be one of them because the more I want to, the surer the guarantee that I never will. And yet...and yet, I am sick of writing these posts after tournaments. My eyes are puffy with crying, my head aches, I didn't eat properly today and now I can't sleep. How is this possibly worth it? Worth what? Why do I do this to myself? I was having a really good day yesterday: I got the opening to my second chapter written; it's finally warming up and I was able to wear my new shoes; I'm going to get my new navel ring soon and it's going to be beautiful; my son is turning thirteen in three weeks. Life is good, but I'm sitting here now feeling miserable, life meaningless, wanting to throw myself under a bus. For a sport, God damn it. There had really better be an important life lesson in here that I'm missing somehow because otherwise I haven't a clue why I'm going through this--again. I must be rea...

I didn't qualify for Div II/Div III Summer Nationals. After seeding 2nd out of 15 after the pools, I lost my second D-E to make top 4. By two points. Enough said. You know how I feel already. Here are the results of the quizzes I've just done on Facebook: Which Peanuts character are you? Charlie Brown : "You might be a big blockhead, but you're the best friend someone could ever have." I thought for sure I'd be Lucy. Some mistake, surely. What is your greatest fear? Death : "The fun things in life are too risky to try is your motto. You constantly worry about death and you refuse to attend a funeral [true, I didn't go to my grandfather's ten years ago]. You only watch comedy movies as a sad ending sends you into deep depression [again, true; Salvador still haunts me]. As a child, the death of your pet caused you to miss school for weeks [I'll tell you sometime about when my first guinea pig died]. You never take risks or go anywh...

[Click on images to enlarge.] **Dancing Badger, Top Secret Dance Off, DQ4-- Badger Dances on Top

Overheard at the NAC ... (click to enlarge) It's interesting how carrying a stuffed toy bear around all day makes it easier to behave like a grown-up. Thanks, Bear!--RLF

I want to be up there. Someday. No: I want to be up there today , not tomorrow or three years from now. I want to be one of the ones that everyone is taking pictures of and envying. I want to be wearing a medal around my neck and smiling because I know I fenced well. I want to be able to say to everyone who asks me after the tournament, "How did you do?": "I WON!" I'd tell everybody: my coach, my friends, my mother, my husband. Wouldn't it be wonderful to make that phone call? Not the one that has to say, "I didn't make the cut. I lost my first D-E. I fenced well but I just don't seem to be able to win." But the one that says, "I'm great! I'm the best! I fenced as well as I know I can! I set up my actions correctly. I was patient and didn't rush. But I also kept the pressure on, making her disengage, finishing the attack." Oh, what power! What glory! And all day and all the next and even into work ...

Bear on her way to the NAC in Atlanta... click to enlarge With thanks to the Austin Lounge Lizards for the hum.

I think this says it all. No wonder, even when I fence well, I feel somewhat disappointed--"It was too easy"--and when I lose, I still enjoy having made that touch (and, oh, it was a beauty!): "Competition is characterized by a variety of paradoxes which derive from the difficulty of satisfying at once a wish to demonstrate aggressive individuality and a wish to be approved and protected. Many psychological needs are served by a single action, and each response to a stimulus represents the sum of myriad desires. Often simultaneously, and at least alternately, the competitor seeks opposing goals. He wants to have his cake and eat it too. He wants to be daring, and he wants to be careful. He wants to expose himself, and he wants to hide. He delights in risk and uncertainty--early in the [bout]--and resents it later on. He desires victory and feels undeserving if he achieves it. He wants to fight and to flee, to charge and to escape. "He seeks freedom, unre...

I feel old. Okay, so I spent yesterday fencing against women at a minimum 20 years younger than myself, but it really isn't that. Or only that. It's that three years ago, when I was 40, I was in the best shape I had ever been in my life, thirty pounds lighter than I am now (albeit probably fifteen pounds underweight, to judge from the way my body reacted), able for the first time in decades to run with pleasure, able to keep up with even the college-age fencers in footwork, able to fence a fifteen-touch bout and stay with it hard throughout. And then my father died and I grieved for a year. I stopped coloring my hair, in part because it was falling out, in part because everyone kept telling me how beautiful the white was with my face. My yoga center closed and I could not find a class elsewhere that fit with my schedule, so I fell back on books to keep my home practice alive. And now, three and a half years later, for reasons I really do not fully understand, I feel old....