I didn't do too badly, apart from the deathly fear

I've been taking classes in medieval longsword since January, from the Chicago Swordplay Guild. So, tonight was kind of a final exam for the fall semester type of thing. Not drilling or practicing choreographed cuts or perfecting footwork, but actually strapping on masks and wielding padded swords (which will still pack a punch...I know, I had 2 bruises for almost 4 weeks this past spring), and engaging in a 3 minute bout with an advanced student.

In May, I fenced against Dan, whom many people call The Wall. I find him to be a teddy bear-ish sort of guy & know that he'll push me, but won't break me. Then, I fenced against another advanced student, Poji, I believe his name was, who'd just mopped the floor with another student. I begged him to be gentle with me. He was, and he even gave me pointers as we fought.

You would think that 3 minutes isn't that long. I mean, when I am meditating, 3 minutes passes in about, oh 18 deep breaths. Easy, peasy. NOT. Not when you're trying to stay loose, to move, to defend, to strike, to recover ... and to do almost all of it without thinking. In the spring, I thought the first bout was almost over when the marshal called "2 minutes remaining". I thought I was going to die. My lungs were on fire.

So, here's my second shot at fencing, tonight. Now, I'm scared. The first time I did this thing, I felt like I had some protection, being a newbie. Now, I've taken these classes for 10 months, and I've joined the guild, all official like. I worry about what will be expected of me. I have to NOT think about it or I'll start my heart racing. It was like that for the past WEEK, people. I had to work hard not to think about it. But, when I'm driving there, I can't NOT think about it. I am thinking to myself, "In less than 30 minutes, you could be up on deck." My heart begins to pound. I talk to myself to calm myself down.

When I arrive, I stretch, then toss around a medicine ball a bit with the rest of the class. It's time to start. As before, they ask who wants to go first. Dan ("The Wall"), my teddy bear, is suited up & carrying the practice blades & marshal's baton. I want to get this out of the way, so my heart will stop pounding out of my chest. I stride up, mask in hand, and pick out some hand protection. I am geared up, and our instructor, Jesse (who doesn't LOOK all that scary, but I've seen him move. He can do freaky things, like forward flips without touching the ground.) is giving instructions, explaining to the new folks how this works. At this point, my anxiety starts to fade a bit (now I am only a little bit nauseous, my breathing is mostly normal, and my vision isn't closing in at all). I can do this. I've fenced Dan before. He's really good, but I also know that he won't scare me. Much.

So, I put on my mask & wait for Dan to do the same. He hands me a practice blade. Then, he hands one to someone off to my right. Wha???? No. No. No .... NO! I'm fencing JESSE???!!! help. oh, help. *whimper* If I hadn't had my mask on, people would've seen the look of stark terror on my face. And my jaw really would have hit the floor. I command my body, "Move out onto the floor. Just go." I remind myself, "Stay loose. Pay attention. Keep moving. Monitor your range." For the next 3 minutes, I try my best to follow those directions. The rest of the moves? The moves that involve actual swordplay: blocking, striking, footwork? Just instinctual. I know for certain he was holding back on me (bless you, Jesse!), but he did keep it challenging. I caught myself, too late, moving into sloppy guard positions and delivering careless blows, striking with the flat or intersecting too low on the blade. I know those are Bad Things ... but my body, in its frenzied attempt to protect itself, well, it didn't care much about those details.

The net result: I need to work more on my range. I got too close. I also need to do more drilling so I can have better muscle memory. I know can do these things cleanly when I'm not being attacked, dammit! And ... as far as I can tell, no bruises. So that means I didn't get whacked anywhere. I stopped most of the hits with my blade, or by just escaping. As far as I can tell. I'll check tomorrow morning to see if I am wrong.

I fought Jesse. And I lived to tell the tale. Just don't ask me to do it again anytime soon.