Fencing Solo

[madrobins]

Fencing class begins with twenty minutes of footwork drills, or as most of us like to call it, torture. Teeny weeny little advances, larger retreats, mixed in with jumps, lunges, appels, cross-steps forward or back, all faster than my lizard brain can decipher. And then there's forty minutes of class on top of that. And we pay for this. Tonight was cool, though: once all the advanced students who were just there for footwork disappeared, there was left only...me. So the instructor and I did forty minutes of attack work: beat-attacks, ripostes, disengage-attacks, and the like. I am so tired my hair hurts, and the atmosphere inside my fencing gear was distinctly swamplike, but boy was that fun.

Then I came home and had ice cream. And scotch. But not at the same time.