I recently took my first fencing class.
It was all I’d hoped it would be.
It has been a while since I’ve taken part in something purposefully competitive. Years of competition tennis, swimming carvinals and debating teams during my formative years, (and, perhaps, my existence as middle child) have engendered me with more than a dash of a competitive streak. I had too many successes as a youth, and not enough failures.
Nowadays, I’ve got this idea that if there’s something I want to do, I can do it, I could best anyone if I worked for it. That’s how I ended up in this fencing situation after all, so it can’t be that bad a trait.
We learnt the steps, forwards and back, the lunge, attack, counter-attack, parry 4, reposte. It’s starting to seem all familiar. Tomorrow, I’ll do some training on my own. Not yet with swords and masks (for even I am not overconfident enough to presume readiness for that on my own), but with my own two feet.
If you see a straight white line on the ground, think of me, moving back, forth along it. Step forward, step forward, step back. On my way.