Mr. Topp and the Big Bad Blog

A Note from Mr. Topp: What follows below is a guest entry from Shawn Burns. Shawn and I were friends in high school. After high school, he started going to the University of Toronto and then ran off to California. Now he blogs at Backpacking Dad.

I used to fence a lot. I fenced every day for a week once, then Steve (that’s Mr Topp to the readers of the Big Bad Blog) kicked my ass in an end-of-week tournament and I had to settle for the silver. We were fifteen or sixteen, and it was Fencing Camp at Queen’s University. Steve had done the camp the year before, as I recall, so I don’t feel too badly for losing to him; I remember feeling like that about a lot of things he beat me at during and after high school, consoling myself in some way with the “he’s older” line.

He beat me at fencing pretty consistently throughout my brief high school career. And I believe he handed my ass to me even after high school while we fenced on a tennis court in Hamilton.

Steve also beat me to blogging. In fact, he really introduced me to blogging. I started my first LiveJournal account just so I could leave comments on his blog without having to retype my info each time.

But…I beat him to dad-blogging. He says he doesn’t want to become a dad blogger, but it’s kind of inevitable. Just as eventually finding out that you have a higher tolerance for dirty fingers in your mouth than you thought possible is inevitable with a child, so too is dad blogging. Steve is doomed. I applaud his resolve to keep The Big Bad Blog something apart from the usual dad blogs in which photos of babies are posted and stories of drool are told, but he won’t be able to help himself. He’ll be shouting his daughter’s farts from the rooftops and exclaiming his joy at her smile every day.

For a while at least.

Maybe after the three thousandth diaper change and four thousandth bottle cleaning he’ll return to some semblance of form; he’ll remember his interests in things like fencing and roleplaying games. Even I returned to fencing after my daughter was born…for a time…until my son was born. Then who has time to fence? Who has time for anything beyond work and children and then who has time to find blog fodder that isn’t related to one’s children? So I daddy blog, and when the kids are sleeping I try to remember what the rest of the world is like.

Ah, there’s the hope, he thinks: I won’t have two underfoot, just one. So surely I’ll still have time for the rest of life….Sucker. It’s OVER. Kids stay awake until it’s inconvenient for you, and they wake up earlier than you require for early morning excursions. There is no life but theirs until they’re old enough to be sent to fencing camp for a week, to make friends who will kick their ass at things and introduce them to new things and eventually be overcome with joy that their friend is having a baby of his own.

Good luck to Mr Topp, and to the Big Dad Blog.

(Read more from Shawn at Backpacking Dad.)

I often reflect on how my fencing development might have been different. Usually the bulk of this attention has been devoted to my fencing in high school: I wonder what might have been if I had been thrust into a competitive environment as a cadet or junior, how much better I would have been when I reached University. In a sense, I like to imagine that I would have been considerably better had I had that opportunity.

Following the Leon Paul Cup the other week, I was again reflecting on my development as a fencer. But this time, it came out in a different light.

My competitive focus this season is focused on two tournaments — both of which are satellite world cups. They are, quite simply, the two best competitions I have access to given my skill level and geographic location. Better competition would require me to meet a standard or to spend money I do not have.

My focus, in other words, is on the highest standard available to me. Other events I might enter — British domestic tournaments, for the most part — are not part of the equation. They are just another training opportunity, at most. Those results don’t really matter to me, so long as they lead to better ones at the events I do consider to be important.

It occurs to me that it was not always this way. Most of my fencing development occurred during university. I did not train to be competitive beforehand — I just fenced for fun, at practice, and would compete once or twice a year. During university, my focus was not the best events I could attend. I did not attend the CSC events or nationals until the end of university. I did not attend a real open for several years.

Instead, I concentrated on the university-level events: The Ontario Challenge Circuit and Ontario University championships. The only time I would step outside of that comfort zone was for the provincial championships.

This served to limit me as a fencer — moreso than the fact that as one of two teenage fencers in Kingston, there was nothing to push me towards appropriate competitive activities. After my first year of university (in which adapting to the level there was more than enough challenge), I was perfectly capable of not embarrassing myself at a national level had I pushed myself to fence there.

After graduation, I started to attend tournaments at that level but stopped training — time at practice was spent coaching, not fencing. Little bouting, fewer lessons, and even less footwork. One’s fencing cannot improve without practice, and my only practice — competition — happened far too infrequently.

So this marks the first time that my competitive focus is aimed high while I practice at the same time. Though I am certainly past the peak of my potential, I am quite curious as to how this focus on a higher level of competition will impact my fencing — hopefully the results will be positive. In the past, when training, I have been able to fence to the level I would expect of myself.

Hopefully this will hold true when expecting more.

As previously mentioned here on the Big Bad Blog, I have recently returned to the fencing fold. While I may be getting as much practice in as possible, the same cannot be said for tournaments.

To me, the fencing season consists of very few tournaments. These are the satellite World Cup events, held in London, Amsterdam and Copenhagen, and the British National team competition. I try to do a warm up tournament before each of these, but I do not really care about my results in domestic tournaments in the UK — they simply do not matter.

The satellite World Cups are wonderful, however. While the winners of the competitions are often on par, ability-wise, with the winners of UK tournaments, the skill level does not bottom out in the same way. This takes away the easy bouts — which I do not really enjoy — making for thoroughly enjoyable competitions, even if my results do not measure up.

This past weekend was the Leon Paul satellite men’s foil event. Of the satellites, this is easily the most difficult of the lot. The reason is that there is a Junior World Cup event held the day before, and many of the athletes stay around for a second day (and a second tournament).

As a result, when I came to my pool, it was full of under-20s, all of whom were much better fencers then myself. I entered with a simple mantra: They’re all better then me. Good fencers — otherwise they would not be here for the junior event the day before — faster, and in better shape. My only advantage is that I have been fencing much, much longer. Remember this, be the wily old man, and I would see what I could do.

The plan worked for a little while — it got me through the first two bouts. Then I was derailed by a good fencer, followed by technical difficulties, followed by myself — I made mental mistakes in my last two pool bouts, and the fencers were simply too good to make such mistakes against.

However, it was enough to get me through into the elimination rounds as a low seed. Luck would have me matched against a clubmate in the first round — one who was having a better day than I was — and my day ended shortly thereafter.

From there I became a cheerleader, spectator and photographer for the remainder of the day.

While it was not technically my first competition since returning, it is the first that is actually part of my short-list. The next will have to be missed, due to work obligations, but I am looking forward to fencing in Copenhagen come March.

It’s nice to be back in the saddle, and to have a ranking again. Even if it is 484th.

A few more photos available over on Flickr.

It is 7pm, on a Thursday night. This means that I should be fencing right now. That I am currently typing on a computer should give away the fact that I am not currently fencing. Yesterday’s delaying symptoms have continued into today.

Last night I could not get through a 15 point bout without becoming what Bob referred to as “a biohazard area”. Today I am not trying. To allay my guilt, the usual roleplaying entry is being passed over in favour of a discussion of sport. Yes, the weekly bit of roleplaying has been passed over too often lately. There are a couple of articles floating around my head, however. A return is guaranteed.

Today I stumbled upon this article on Jure Robic from a few years ago. Robic is an ultra-endurance cyclist, and quite probably the greatest athlete you have never heard of. The competitions he wins require riding for a week straight with little or no rest. Quite impressive.

Approximately two thirds of the way through that article, it goes on a tangent regarding fatigue — muscle fatigue in particular. Muscle fatigue, it tells us, is not muscular. It is mental. When it feels as though you have no strength left in your legs, arms, or whatnot, that is your mind lying to you. You have more to give — a lot more to give — if only you can convince yourself this is true.

The corollary to this is that it takes mental conditioning, rather than physical conditioning, to improve your physical endurance.

My own experience fencing seems to bear this out. Performing at a high level at the end of a tournament, or at the end of a difficult bout is all about willpower. My body never gives out on me in these situations, unless my mind refuses to fight it into place.

Of course, one might then start to hallucinate that one is being chased by Mujaheen on horseback, as Mr. Robic does. I suppose that is just part of the process.

On more of a fencing note, there is now lots of excellent fencing video available online. I recommend it.