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...

Something died in me this weekend.  It was the spring Veterans' NAC.  All the usual suspects, plus a few new faces.  I fenced brilliantly in both my pools: 4-1 on Friday in Veteran Women 40-49 foil, 5-1 yesterday in Veteran Women Combined foil.  On Friday I placed 4th out of the pools overall; on Sunday I tied for 6th.  And then I blew it.  TWICE.  I lost my first DE on Friday 8-10, thus losing my place in the medal round (top 8).  And I lost my second DE yesterday, again 8-10, again losing my place in the medal round--the first time ever in Vet Combined that I even had a place to lose after the pools.  And that basically broke my heart. One of my friends was watching the Veteran Women Foil Team finals with me on Saturday, and he said something about fencing being a fickle sport.  Fickle is exactly the word--and its god is Loki.  No matter what kind of offerings you bring to the god, he will cheat and trick and lie to you.  N...

 Heh.  Not bad for a couch potato , eh? Posted with Blogsy

Seeding is based on results from the past three national events: Summer Nationals 2012, December NAC 2012 and March NAC 2013. It's been a good year! But I've also spent the past seven months sitting on my couch, writing. And I've had the flu for the past month. Last night I woke up coughing again, and my energy is really low. It is going to be a tough day today. Posted with Blogsy

This is not #$%&ing fair. I didn't drink last night. I didn't hang out late with my friends. I didn't stay up watching television. I was a good girl. I even went to sleep while my roommates were still talking. AND I STILL WOKE UP WITH A #$%&ING HEADACHE. It's not fair, it really isn't. I was feeling so good--SO GOOD--on Thursday as I was driving up from Chicago for the tournament this weekend. Even strangers were noticing. I was glowing, I was so happy about finally getting started working on my book again. I had pages written! I had an outline for the rest of the chapter I'm working on! For the first time in over three years, I could see how I was actually going to finish writing this book! I had hope! I had a plan! I had confidence in myself and my work! I was such an idiot. It never lasts. Eeyore, that's who I am. Give me one good day, one really good day when I feel confident, strong, capable, and--BAM!--I come down with th...

So, that went well--NOT! Sigh. It is supposed to be a good thing to keep a fencing notebook. You know. To keep a record of all of the pools and DEs that you've fenced. To make notes on the opponents you've had, what you've learned about how they fence. I know fencers who keep beautiful notebooks, with carefully, calmly written notes about every bout they've ever fenced, thoughts about things to work on, strategies to try the next time they come up against a particular fencer. I've tried to keep a fencing notebook, I really have. But when I come off the strip after learning NOTHING, it's the first thing to go. I have no idea how many fencing notebooks I've gone through. They never survive very long, maybe a year or two. I will dutifully keep track of all of the bouts that I fence in a pool, make notes about things that I noticed in this or that bout, write myself encouraging notes about what to work on...and then there will come a day like to...

Photo courtesy of Badger Merritt. Posted with Blogsy

Best result ever. Posted with Blogsy

Div II Women's Foil . 124 fencers. I seed 63rd before pools. In a pool of 7, I win 5 out of 6 bouts (!!!!). My best ever pool result in Div II. I seed 22T out of the pools. And lose my first DE to the 107th seed, thus finishing 65th. Damn it. I don't know whether to feel elated or pissed.

I shouldn't even been trying to write right now, my head hurts so much, but you know me, always a glutton for punishment. Why? Why do I do this to myself? Don't answer that, there isn't really an answer. All I know is...all I know is that I fenced really well yesterday, better than I've fenced almost ever...and I still lost. Worse. I didn't just lose, I was destroyed. By an opponent whom I was beating until the very last touch. But she got inside my head and I just couldn't shake her. And then, afterwards, when I was talking to my friend Ed and he was asking, "What do you think happened?" (luckily, he was there on the side of the strip encouraging me during the bout, so he saw), I was just too embarrassed to be able to say. But now I think that I can. She wore me down. She got inside my head and wore me down. And I let her. I let her. Why? I just posted this status on Facebook: "I don't think that I am nasty enough to be any go...

Short answer: No, not if you're doing it right. As, for example, here, where I am trying to explain an insight that came to me at the tournament this past weekend while I was thinking about whether I should just quit trying to fence épée as a second weapon and stick to foil.  I've been competing in épée off and on, I now realize, for going on something like three or so years .  And yet, I am nowhere nearly as strong in épée now as I was when I had been competing in foil for the same amount of time.  By the time I had been competing in foil as long as I have been competing in épée, I was a D.  I'm not even an E in épée at the moment, nor is it likely that I will be any time soon. So why is that?  Well, I don't really get to practice épée much now that our club moved and most of the fencers that I practice with only do foil.  But that isn't all of it.  I could say that it's because I haven't been working hard enough at it, but that isn't quite it e...

All of my friends got medals this weekend.  My roommate (the one closest to me in the picture) even got two.  And I was back on the ground taking photos for everyone. Yes, I feel a little bit sad.  Who wouldn't?  I've been up there twice (although not in this particular event, Vet Combined as opposed to Vet 40s), and, yes, I liked it.  The question is, why?  Why does it make so much difference whether one gets on the medals podium or not? I used to think that it was because being up there on the podium would prove something about my fencing, that I was good enough.  But, again, good enough for what?  To fence?  I'm already that.  Even the fencer who comes dead last in the event is good enough to fence.  Nobody has to earn the right to compete, at least not as such. Sure, getting up on the medals podium usually means that you got to fence more on that particular day, but, again, it isn't like all those of us standing round tak...

I do not want to fence this event today. Not. Not. Not. I am terrified. Who am I kidding, thinking I can fence epee? I'm a foilist, I don't practice epee. What on earth was I thinking signing up for this event? Okay, so I've fenced it before. Several times, in fact. Over the past two (or is it three?) years. And I always lose. Badly. Even worse than I did yesterday. Okay, no, yesterday was pretty bad, and even in epee, I have occasionally won the odd bout. But. This is ridiculous. What do I think is going to happen? That I am suddenly going to discover a hidden talent, find that, in truth, I am really an epeeist? That all the struggles that I've been having in fencing were simply owing to the fact that I was fencing the wrong weapon? Yeah, right. Yeah. Right. I do think this. I think about how hard I found it learning to start an attack in foil, so terrified was I of getting hit, but in epee, there is much less advantage in going first (at leas...

National tournament, day two. I should not be writing this, it is only going to be one of those upsetting posts where I tell you all about how terribly I fenced, but the demons are chattering and I have not been able to get them to stop, despite having stayed at the venue to watch my event (Div II Women's Foil) all the way to the end. Chatter, chatter, chatter, chatter. "Be perfect," the first one says. "You missed that action, you rushed, you failed you failed you failed you failed. What did you think you were doing, trying to fence these girls? Don't you wish you had been fencing when you were their age? They are already much much better than you are." "Hurry up," the second demon chimes in. "That girl only started fencing three years ago, and she is miles better than you are. You suck, you're slow, you're never going to learn how to do this." "And you should," Be Perfect chides. "You've been...

Look at me. Okay, this would be easier if I could figure out how to upload a photo into Blogger from my iPad. But imagine you can see me, sitting calmly on my fencing bag. (Remembering, of course, that I am just a little bear, not a full grown woman or anything.) There I am. Not crying, not beating myself up, not telling myself stories about how I can't learn and never will. Just sitting. And, yes, I lost today. Not badly, not well. Just lost. And that's it, end of story. Or the beginning of a whole new one. Because I fenced in a national tournament today against the best women in the country my age (well, some of them, not everyone who was signed up decided to fence the event so as to save themselves for their big event on Monday), and...nothing. Or everything. I'm fighting a bit of a caffeine-headache right now, not having my usual supply of tea for the day, but I am still nevertheless oddly calm. So calm I'm not quite sure what to think about it. Beca...

Yes, well.  This was supposed to be this oh-so-clever post about how sending my writing out for review was like going to tournaments, but I didn't write it on Saturday when I first had the idea because, yes, I was on my way to a tournament and now, three days later after a day of teaching, I can't think straight.  Which is frustrating, because as it came to me on Saturday it was really cool. So let's just pretend this is practice.  Because, in fact, that's what blogging is, at least for me.  Practice.  It's easy.  I can just noodle around here, pleasing only myself.  I like having readers (a lot!), but I don't need anybody to say that what I've written is worth publishing because, hey! here it is, not even copy-edited, just blurted out as it comes to me, however I want to say it.  Sometimes I might come up with something really cool that somebody might find worth reading or even sharing, but it doesn't really matter because the point is to writ...

Use the whole three minutes. Breathe.

Simone Weil said it better than I could . It's about attention and how everything that we do--she says, every subject that we study in school--is preparation for prayer. Because study requires us not just to concentrate, but to attend, to care, to be wholly present to the object of our attention. I see it now. I have been making it too complicated. I kept thinking that prayer was about having a particular kind of experience; a feeling rather than a thought. I expected prayer to be, I don't know, exhilarating, rapturous, absorptive, mystical. Which it can be, but not for the reasons that I had thought. Prayer is being there, absolutely, attending to God. Not expecting anything else, not wanting to be changed or validated or inspired, just paying attention. What could be simpler? I felt it yesterday, there on the strip. I was so tired from the previous two days' competition, I had no energy left for expectations. All that I could think was, "This bout is...

Every muscle in my body aches, even my armpits. I'm not sure how I am going to get on the strip again today. Even my mind is foggy, despite the fact that I finally seem to have been able to sleep through the night, no thanks to the a) altitude, b) time zone difference, and c) frozen margarita I had yesterday evening while sitting in the hot tub with my girl friends. (Happy days!) But I'm still here, so I guess I have to fence today. Have to? Get to! This is the first year that I have qualified for this particular event (Div II Women's Foil). And it's going to be tough. I've fenced Div II before at NACs, but I know from my experience of Div III that Nationals is even harder. What is going to be my plan for today? Let's concentrate on getting me to the strip in the first place. First things first, write this blog post. Let my mind settle into thinking about what is going to happen today, what I am going to need to focus on. Have some coffee, even ...

It really isn't that complicated. Relax. Breathe. Visualize yourself on the strip. Think what it feels like to have your foil in your hand, your mask over your face, your body in on guard. Think what it feels like to hear the director say, "Fence." Look at your opponent. What is she doing now? Does she look tense? Relaxed? Ready? Sly? What kind of traps is she going to be setting for you? Start moving towards her on the strip. How does she respond? Does she step back or in? Watch the distance on your tips. When the tapes cross, you are close enough to be hit--or to hit. Do something, don't just stand there. Play with her blade. Move in, move out. Take a beat and see if she responds. Take another beat with extension. Nothing yet? Make it a little more convincing, make her think you are going to attack. Attack! Ah, she parried--which one? A four. Yes, she's right-handed, that's going to be her strongest parry. How to get around it...