1 day ago
Monday, March 13, 2006
I have whacked a ping pong ball 1000 times for Jesus. Well, technically I delivered 1000 surgical strikes with a foil on a ping-pong ball for learning epee. But often God got a mention, along with my prayer “Lord, why give perfect hand-eye coordination to all the wrong people? Why not me? Also please give me the reflexes and flexibility of a 16 year old gymnast. Amen.”
What have I learned? I learned that if my feet aren’t perfectly aligned in fencing position it throws off my shoulder. I learned that hitting an angulation shot is really tricky and I learned that currently if there was a tournament between a ping-pong ball with an epee and me, I would lose.
On Friday night all that fencing practice came together when fencing Gerald. In the first hit of the night I snapped from a defensive guard to a high angulation and put my tip right over the top of his guard, hitting his forearm. Perfect.
For the rest of the night no one let me even close to their arm.
A new epeeist has started named Steven who is 6’8”. Mr. Ho seems, like the King of Poland, to have a lust for collecting really tall fighters. For the first few bouts Steven maintained form but now, remembering how people have hit him, his actions are really erratic. He likes hitting my leg a lot. Plus because I tend to hit his arm, as soon as my blade comes close he just pulls his arm all the way back. Sometimes he crouches on the ground. This is not to say he isn’t effective as he has several inches on all of us and as he is withdrawing targets we must either chance a hit when he decides to attack (dicey for me as I miss more often than hit) or charge the body and hope he doesn’t get his blade up.
In the first bout I hit him in the groin four times in a row. Now, while I may be a mild man-hating-lesbo I certainly am not going to just aim for the guy’s groin. I finally realized that he kept parrying my sword down. So I would aim for his shoulder and he would parry the lunge right into his groin, time after time. For once I might not be the most bruised person at the club.
He actually is quite nice and says that he is “rich with a cushy job” which involves something with the government. In the last bout of the night he beat for the first time; 5-3. He consoled me by saying that I was tired. How nice is that? He’s almost too nice to demolish. Good thing I practice throat strikes on Teddy Bears.
Posted by Elizabeth McClung at 6:44 PM