Humility is good for the soul, they tell me.

The last few times at fencing, I've ended up fencing people who only started a few months before me, or who'd had an enormous length of time off, or who had just started a few weeks *ago*. I was feeling pretty good about my own progress, frankly, keeping up with them, trying new techniques, getting more points (touches) each week than the week before, even winning a bout once in a while.

Last night I fenced someone who has a few years of fencing under his belt, *and* is far, far less than half my age, *and* is fabulously athletic. He hardly moved his blade at all, and got point after point after point.

I am not feeling so good at the moment about my own progress.

And — also discouraging, but unavoidable — with the huge influx of newbies, there is no time for anyone who's been there longer than a month or two to have lessons, as the coach (and I think rightly so) wants to get the newbies to where they can bout safely as quickly as possible. And we only meet once a week. And the next closest salle is over an hour away and also only meets once a week.

I work extensively on footwork and fitness on my own (and a good thing, too, obviously, or things would be even more discouraging than they are!). And at least it reduces my feelings of futility and frustration.

I'm making myself remember back to my days as a no-belt in my wonderful karate school (in that school, you took a belt test to even get your white belt). When I'd only been doing karate for a few months, could I successfully spar brown belts? I had trouble doing even the most basic techniques correctly, let alone with power and accuracy. So why should I expect instant expertise in fencing, just because I eventually acquired expertise in karate? (Although it's true that footwork, at least, gives me very little trouble.)

I wish my coach had the time to give half-hour lessons. Hell, yes, I'd find the money somehow. But he's said that until he retires from his day job, it's not going to happen. And that's over a year from now.

Deep breaths, Grasshopper. Patience. Cheerfulness. Persistence. Humility.


Image snurched from Unapologetically Female. The blogger there notes, "Exciting lives of fencing aside, at least we know floor-scrubbing is still for women." I am compelled to add that last night my husband devoted quite a bit of time and effort to scrubbing the floor — but then, he does not fence, and scrubbing the floor may therefore seem exciting, as it doubtless did to this woman before she took up the sword.