The days when I could get raped 0-5 and 0-15 and smile sure were nice. My equipment was brand new, and I was in a really cool sport that I could brag about to my friends. Guys with letters after their name were scary, and getting any touches on them was a victory.
Now comes the days of bitter disappointment and discontent.
Today I fenced my first Division I event here in Atlanta in Men's Epee. I was expecting to get blown out, never mind that I am a B07. As it turns out, I am never as bad or slow as I think I am. Only one fencer in my pool lit me up with his speed, but that was my first bout - and I typically always lose my first bout at a national event. Every other pool bout I lost in a very competitive way. (5-4, 5-3, 5-3, 5-4*) If I lost all my bouts (I won one), or got destroyed in most of them, I would be happy. I would know that I still need to work to play at that level, and I would cheerfully train to do so. Instead, with the knowledge that I was two less cockups away from being 3-3 and actually making it to the Direct Elimination I am pretty pissed.
So here I sit, brooding, drinking a Sam Adams Winter Lager, with Black Sabbath's "Iron Man" playing in my head, scheming of how I am going to run the table at Sectionals in May.
I am coming for you.
* F'ing body cord crapped out on me. Weapon tests fine, after-bout examination by the armourers condemned the body cord. Not again.