For the last couple of months, when I look at the list of websites that direct people to the Big Bad Blog, I notice the following pattern:

1. Google
2. Facebook
3. SQW Racing Journal

The first two need little introduction. The third may look a little odd.

While we are growing accustomed to seeing this in our statistics, others may understandably wonder why a triathlon blog refers so many viewers to the Big Bad Blog. After all, two years into the Big Bad Blog, this is the first time that triathlon has been mentioned.

First, the flashback

For answers, we must first step back approximately twenty-five years.

At that time, I was a young boy growing up in Kingston, Ontario. Like many children, I was involved in several different organized sports — most memorably (but not only) soccer in the summer, hockey in the winter.

I was not the only child involved in these things. For instance, Adrian Leslie played on my soccer team.

And, after St. Mary’s folded from the CAL and I joined the Chalmers team, Adrian Leslie played on my hockey team.

Why Adrian Leslie? Because I thought he was awesome when I was nine. I cannot remember him in a sporting (or any other) context after the age of thirteen.

Also on that Chalmers hockey team was a kid named Simon. I’m guessing that Simon also did lots of these sports, though my only pre-high-school memories of the guy are with the hockey team.

For the record, our hockey team was awesome.

Flash forward, just a little

Moving ahead to a mere twenty years ago, I no longer played hockey but had joined the cross country running team in high school.

Why cross country running?

I couldn’t tell you. I had never run a race prior to joining that team. I had also never run a distance longer than a soccer field. But it seemed to be the thing to do — after all, anybody can run (if not run fast), I had always done sports, and there were people I knew on the team.

And one of these people was Simon.

I remember him being good at hockey, but he was an excellent runner. And suddenly, halfway through high school, Simon was gone. Off to Australia, I was told, to practice triathlon.

That seemed incredibly strange to me. I was never Simon’s friend. He was just a guy who went to my high school who had been on a couple of sports teams with me. But … Australia? To train in triathlon? As a teenager?

It just did not seem to jive with the kind of advice the guidance councillors at the school would tend to dish out.

Flash forward, a little bit more

It’s the summer of 2000, and I am at my mother’s house for reasons unremembered.

In the morning, I grab a coffee and flip on the television. The Olympics in Sydney have just begun, and there’s a little bit of a time difference so I am watching things on replay.

What do I see? That Simon kid from high school crossing the finish line and winning an Olympic gold medal in triathlon.

In retrospect, that decision that seemed so strange in high school starts to make sense.

Flash forward, for the last time

It’s September 2010, and I’m on a bus. I’m drunk on a bus.

In fact, I am quite drunk on a bus. Maggie is expected in approximately a month, and I won’t drink this much again for the foreseeable future. Also, I’m bored and my mind is wandering back to the 1980s.

So I tweet at Simon about the glory of our hockey championship in the CAL. The next day, the Big Bad Blog is linked to from Simon’s blog, and our seemingly out of place #3 on the referral list begins.

Everything I know

Who are these people arriving from Simon’s blog?

There is some chance that they are common acquaintances from those halcyon Kingston days. Or they could be people who, reading about all things triathlon, decide that the Big Bad Blog is their next stop. This latter group should be warned that my knowledge of triathlon is as follows:

1. First, you swim.
2. Then, you ride a bicycle.
3. Finally, you run.
4. All of this is part of a single race.
5. This guy I knew when I was a kid — name is Simon — is very, very, very good at it.

Hence, the spectre of writing about triathlons is daunting. I have never done a triathlon. I have never even been in a bicycle race. I am a horrible swimmer, though I can manage to not drown and can theoretically rescue a drowning person (a skill which has thankfully never been tested). I have my White badge, and everything.

Actually, I think I could be pretty fast on a bicycle. Giant thighs.

But you will have to forgive me for ignoring this seemingly significant demographic, and never writing about triathlon again … at least, until August 2012, when I will wander down to Hyde Park to cheer Simon as he tries to add to his Olympic medal collection.

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.