Fighter Practice, 04/28/10

So this week I actually made it to fighter practice! O frabjous day!

Isles practice is not as satisfying as it once was--people who go there tend to show up later, because many of them live within 5-10 minutes away from the practice site and when I have an hourlong commute to consider and work to get to the next morning, fencing from 8 to 11 really isn't an option. The time between me (and Nate) getting there and everyone else getting there, however, is long enough for me to do all the solo footwork and pointwork drills Laertes gave me.

I also spend too much time socializing, and not enough fencing, but that's my fault, not anyone else's. :)

So I spent some time fencing with Vernon. Specifically, we did the box drill, which I had done a few weeks earlier with Juanica. I've pretty much gotten to the point where I can do the cone footwork drills backwards, forwards, and in my sleep at top speed without feeling like I'm losing my center, so I usually do them for warmups (or I'll take a newbie through who's having trouble with their footwork). Here's a hint for footwork, kids: If you feel like you're walking like a duck, you're doing it wrong.

Anyway, the box drill. The box is made of four cones and is rectangular--two long sides, two short sides. The only rule of the box drill is you can't leave the box. Sounds easy, right? Well, when you're me, Chief Warlord and Supreme Ruler of Going Backward to Get Out of Trouble, no, it's not easy. That box is also small. Like, probably two feet on a narrow end and three on a wide. It's basically big enough for me to do a tiny advance and retreat when I'm standing in the center facing a narrow edge, and a tiny right or left step when I'm facing a wide edge.

The goal of the box drill is to improve defense by removing the ability to move. If you can't move, you've gotta have good hand and sword parries, fast reflexes, and good balance. The balance thing isn't really important until you don't have it--then that great big head void becomes you falling on your ass and feeling, in a word, dum. No, you don't even get a B on the end of that. That's exactly how dum you feel.

So all was fine and dandy in Boxland until Vernon offered to let me come back into the center of the box. I hadn't even noticed, but I'd stolen a couple tiny retreats until my back heel was planted happily between the two back cones. I knew I couldn't go backwards anymore, so I didn't. This said some nice stuff about my ability to gauge distance when I'm not looking... but I was still trying to go backwards. Just less.

So I moved into the center of the box, resolving not to move again. Instantly, everything fell apart. I was getting hit right, left, and center. I was so hung up on NOT GOING BACKWARDS that my reaction time slowed, my reflexes shorted out, and my brain totally shut off. In short, I was thinking too loud. My Zen was gone.

I realize it's a ridiculous thing to have happen, especially since I was fencing fine without going backwards before it was called to my attention. I think part of the reason I moved backwards in the first place is because I do place a lot of trust in my ability to maintain balance, so I wanted to get back to a more comfortable engagement where I felt like I actually had room to void and move a little.

The brain-fartery carried on when we changed positions and I was facing a wide end of the box. I started including my right hand in parries, rather than just my sword hand, and ended up grabbing Vernon's sword like an absolute newbie, or perhaps a bad Highlander reenactor. At that point, I lost my temper a little, kicked a wall, and forgave myself for not being perfect all the time, even if I wanted to be.

Better this week, I hope.