Monday, May 15, 2006

Epee, groin attacks of love & fencing Death

If this week’s epee has a life lesson it is: keep going. Monday’s fencing was singular in its forgetfulness. I just kept working on the same three things I have been working on for the last two weeks: lunging to the forearm, lunging to the body and engaging the blade. The reason I always work on footwork is because I am slow. S...L...O...W. I am the bionic woman. Remember on the TV show where they slow down her movements because of her super speed; that me but without the super speed part. This is why I lunge to the forearm, on the premise that if I lunge at the farthest point from the body, I might have a chance to escape when it goes wrong.

Friday I arrived to see that Tornado had returned. He had notched it back a bit so that he was a force 4 instead of a force 6 attack. That didn’t stop him from hitting my leg so hard that he not only raised a welt but his epee tip ripped open the double thick cloth. There was a new male fencer whose style was so eccentric I call him Snap. Snap fenced like a foilest, waiting until the other person attacked to deflect or engage the blade and then striking out in the longest lunge I have ever seen, finishing by launching himself horizontally from the extended position. William and I were disturbed and whispered encouragement to our blades as there was a fair chance they would be snapped like bamboo tonight. The match between Snap and Tornado was pretty interesting as Tornado’s weaving bladework meant that finding and engaging it was beyond Snap. Snap, after retreating, folded himself up, going to his knees and eventually into a fetal position. Any qualms I might have had about hitting someone curled up in a ball weren’t shared by Tornado – pow!

After a few rounds like that William and I decided that we should “go get a drink of water,” which meant sitting on the bench and talking for 10 minutes. During this time, Glen, one of teens, joined us and the conversation drifted to my love life. Glen wanted to know if I was married to the 6’7” Steve who fences epee or just going out with him. Seems all those stabbing blows to the groin are signs of a love in some people’s head (won’t be asking about your parent’s relationship, thanks). Guess my wearing the “Butch” T-shirt last week was too subtle.

By the time we returned Brian and Amanda had arrived and both Tornado and Spark decided to fence foil. There followed the best hour of fencing I’ve had in a while. Oh yeah, I beat Brian. And he wasn’t fresh from the hospital. I did it with engaging the blade, lunges to the arm and the body. Ha ha! Yes, the practice actually worked. The next bout with Brian after I took the first two points he changed from “the world’s laziest fencer” to an aggressive and attacking fencer. I lost, but I made him change his game.

I have put in the practice, the lunge training, the endurance training, the point training, the mental analysis. Sometimes, when fencing someone good, like William, I experience what I call, “uplift.” Somewhere, between the points, the strain on the body falls away, and I don’t have to think about footwork, or arm position, or keeping distance as my body adjusts by itself. I read his body, ready for attacks, but not worried, watching. On his arm I see an opening, and I feel my tip yearning to be there. Time starts to slow as the world and my body falls silent, leaving only the opening and the blade. I feel my body moving, lunging, but all I can see is the point where my tip will hit, closer and closer. And just before the tip hits, with my whole being focused, time almost stops. Of course, if my tip slides off and I am dumped back in real time, cursing to myself and with a microsecond to decide whether to leap back or try again, it isn’t so pleasant.

This is part of why I fence, and why I push myself to get better. The closer I can get myself to perfection and the closer I can push my opponent there, the more chance of uplift. The more uplift, the more I call to my real opponent, Fencer X. Ever since I started fencing, I always searched for personal perfection, waiting for a fencer who would be inhumanly good. That is the fencer I want to face. Winning against other fencers isn’t an end in itself, but it does tell me that I am improving. And while winning the provincials or the nationals would be nice, that’s not why I fence. It wouldn’t be enough.

Recently, I have come to know the name of Fencer X: Death. So yes, I train to fence Death. But only my Death, not Death incarnate (I’m not that greedy). I don’t want to win, I want to FIGHT. I know it is impossible to win. But then, I guess it is the impossible that attracts me. If Joseph in the Bible got to wrestle with an angel, then why can’t I fence with Death; it is certainly more interesting than a chess game. I worry that I’ll never get a chance to go out fighting. Linda thinks I’m already fighting, and that I have been for quite a while.

10 comments:

GayProf said...

Please, please, please tell me you dress like Zorro when you fence.

funchilde said...

great post! go bionic woman go!

Elizabeth McClung said...

Sadly the Fencing Federation frowns on dressing like Zorro even act practice - there is no reason I can't do that in the rest of my life - which actually sounds reasonable:

Stranger in town: "Who was that woman dressed in black who handed me this leaflet "Death - meet me at the park this Sunday"
Local: "You do not know? That is Zorro Girl, she has been searching now for seven years to face and fight Death....also the six fingered man who killed her father, but that's another story."

kathz said...

Why dress like Zorro when you could be d'Artagnan? D'Artagnan definitely has better sleeves, frills, collars and boots.

By the way, have you seen the Swiss ads using fencing (and ice hockey and motorcycling) in their anti-AIDS campaign? You can see them by going to http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/4769255.stm
and clicking on the Stop AIDS campaign link somewhere on the right hand side. I keep wondering why they're fencing epee in the posters and sabre in the TV ads - and then I start wondering if I'm missing the point.

Anyway, I'd be interested to know what you think? Has it made the news in BC?

elizabeth said...

"Hello... my name is Inigo Montoya prepare to die"

".....as........you........wish....."

The Watcher said...

Inconceivable!

elizabeth said...

Stop this rhyming and I mean it!




.........anybody wan't a peanut?

The Watcher said...

Why do you wear a mask? Were you burned by acid, or something like that?

Oh no, it's just that they're terribly comfortable. I think everyone will be wearing them in the future.

The Watcher said...

An' so, ye see we swing back t'dressin' like Zorro...1, 2, 3.

elizabeth said...

Last time - I promise...

"Whoo-hoo-hoo, look who knows so much. It just so happens that your friend here is only MOSTLY dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead, well, with all dead there's usually only one thing you can do...Search his clothes for spare change."
AHHA - are you the dread Pirate Robert?!