As I already mentioned (buried under pages of junk), I’m doing an intermediate sabre class every week. Sorry, yes, it's sabre. What I *didn’t* mention is that it’s me – and a room full of teenagers. It’s the only class that fit into my schedule and would prepare me for last weekend’s festivities. The adult class was too basic, and I can’t swing the weekend training classes in the foreseeable future because of my daughter’s intro class that precedes it. (The sacrifices we make for our spawn…Oy!) ...
Performance anxiety indeed. I get a bad case of it before every tournament. I dislike tournaments. Intensely. Although I’m not a very good fencer (as those who have seen me will agree), I love to fence. I LIVE to fence. It’s what feeds my soul these days, and what keeps me from going nutty, self-medicating, or killing someone. It also gives me great leg muscles, so it has to be good for me, right? How can I continue to do something I love so much when I'm so bad at it? For an overachiever, that's ...
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