Been doing some of that cross-training thing. Trying not so much to turn back the hands of time as slow them down, just a little. Running, cycling, swimming and a little bit of weights thrown in for good measure. It’s been working, too.
Three weeks ago I went back to my collegiate roots, found a local fencing club, hit the piste.
Starting to, you know: Regret it.
Turns out that a couple three generations of younger fencers have come up since last I was at the nationals. Some of them quite good. Some of them right here in Sandy Eggo. And the first week I was reminded of leg muscles that you don’t use for anything else, except for fencing. Vividly reminded. And then last week I got back spasms trying to keep from falling after 25-year old synapses wrote a check 45-year old legs are apparently unable to cash. That was with me all week.
This growing old gig? It’s not for sissies.
But tonight? Tonight was the worst yet.
Because just for the record? A sabre cut to the wedding tackle is this whole other class of pain.
Ouch.
Ouch-ouch-ouch-OUCH!
51 responses so far ↓
1 Charles // Apr 10, 2006 at 10:09 pm
Lex,
My father learned this too a few years ago after he got a motorcycle and after becoming friends with the salesman finding out that it was one of his heroes from motorcycle racing back in the 60’s. When he was given a chance to do a quick lap on a dirt track near him on one of his hero’s bikes. He survived the lap but had a problem of getting off the bike and then had back problems a little later in the week as the same thing happened. Synapse and rushes from becoming 25 again (if just for that minute),but my father couldn’t compete with muscles that were 60yrs old.
2
Bomber Guy
// Apr 10, 2006 at 10:14 pm
Aye, the unkindest cut of all!
3
kat-missouri
// Apr 10, 2006 at 10:35 pm
I was thinking “the deepest cut of all”.
but then, I wondered if that said the tackle was very big or very small, so i thought maybe I shoul take my mind from the gutter and just imagine how painful it was going to be to rip the butterfly bandages off the hair.
4
Kris, in New England
// Apr 11, 2006 at 4:06 am
So when are you going to stop trying to cash those checks? Methinks this might be the appropriate lesson - painful though it is.
5
Brian
// Apr 11, 2006 at 4:51 am
I know what you mean about growing old…played tackle football with my son the other day. The ground seems a whole lot harder these days, and I had one of my knees saying things to me that I don’t ever remember hearing before.
Did appreciate the reminder of the kind of pain that can be obtained from that particular physiological area. I’ll be walking funny all day in sympathy…
6
William
// Apr 11, 2006 at 5:36 am
Yes, fencing muscles are unique, and ageing ain’t for sissies.
I would strongly reccomend, however, a piece of equipment to protect the wedding tackle: the cup. (Or, if you’re feeling exhibitonistic, a codpiece.)
7
lex
// Apr 11, 2006 at 5:45 am
Kris - I’ll stop writing those checks when they pull the register from my cold, dead hands! I’m Peter-fracken-Pan
But I do hope to write them more cautiously. And, pace William, I think I’ll go with the jock rather than a cup. Henceforward, running shorts are right out!
Or was that an over-share?
8
Brian
// Apr 11, 2006 at 6:07 am
Lex - I presume your choice of wearing running shorts in a fencing match stems from the old aviator motto - better to be dead than look bad (often heard on the back deck of the Cubi O’club as we drank Sammi’s and graded the guys coming into the break…).
9
Kris, in New England
// Apr 11, 2006 at 6:59 am
“…Henceforward, running shorts are right out!”
Could be considered TMI Lex…just a tad. And you might be “Peter-fracken-Pan” but it seems you don’t have Tinkerbell on your side…;-)
10
John V.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 7:15 am
I don’t know about the Tinkerbell comment… a few more whacks in the willy and who knows what!
11
FbL
// Apr 11, 2006 at 7:40 am
The post is amusing enough, but the comments are right hilarious!
But being the kind chere that I am, one who never snarks such a respected personage as my blogpapa, I’ll not add to the levity here…
‘Cept to say: that’ll teach you, Lex!
12
kat-missouri
// Apr 11, 2006 at 7:57 am
Yeah, I was thinking that this is one way Peter Pan could be tinkerbell or a wendy at the least.
13
lex
// Apr 11, 2006 at 8:08 am
This all reminds me of the difference with which poor John Wayne Bobbit’s - em… misfortune - was dealt with by the ladies on one hand, and the gentlemen on the other. For the gents, it was a time of solemn introspection on life’s cruel vicissitudes, while for the ladies it seemed a moment of delicious frivolity. A man lost his life! Or, it were as good as though he did…
What is it with the distaff side’s prurient interest in casualty producing mishaps engendered by edged weapons in proximity to Vital Organs?
Where, faith, is the empathy?
Sob!
14
FbL
// Apr 11, 2006 at 8:20 am
There, there, Lex… *patting arm sympathetically*
If you need some feminine empathy we could always invite Were-Kitten for a visit. I’m sure she’d be all attentive kindness, selflessly offering to fill the role of nurse for you.
15
Steeljaw Scribe
// Apr 11, 2006 at 8:52 am
so…would it be safe to say that a ‘nick to the nethers has banished the posting paucity?
16
GreyEagleO6
// Apr 11, 2006 at 9:33 am
Here is a war story for you: A ways back in the good old days of Ronaldus Maximus and the Cold War, I was the primary jumpmaster on C130 bird #7 of a 12 ship flying NOE on an EDRE from Bragg to A. P. Hill. Ruck was 120 pounds(was carrying my own radio amongst the rest of the impedimentia) when the bouncing around caused my right leg strap to slide inboard before the green light. The rest was painful history and I learned a new medical term: epididimitis about 8 days later.
17
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 9:50 am
My dear Aviator… I did not realize that you participated in the Dance of Steel…
When next I venture down Sandy Eggo way, I shall bring my swash-buckling gear with me, and mayhaps we might meet at the Gates of the City at dawn (or, owing to your advanced stage of eld and decrepitude - noonish?) and I shall be honored to cross blades with you…
Yes sir, that is indeed my gage at your feet… I offer you the choice of weapons with which we shall engage one another: Case of swords, sword and dagger, sword and cane, sword and lobster, sword and Hornet (tho’, to be sure, I would like to see the parry and ripost for THAT one…)
*grin*
18
lex
// Apr 11, 2006 at 9:51 am
OMG that must have hurt. Used to double cinch my harness, just to prevent anything like that from ever happening - and that was when I was pretty much committed to staying with the jet, rather than jumping out of it.
I used to have nightmares about stuff like that.
Well, that and the girl who used to stalk me when I worked at Baskin-Robbins as a teenager. I think secretly, she was only after the pralines ‘n cream, though.
Didn’t really make any sense, viewed any other way…
19
lex
// Apr 11, 2006 at 9:53 am
Sgt. B - actual fencing now, right? None of your creative anachronisms, mere brawling in the streets?
‘Cos in that case, yer on!
20
Scott
// Apr 11, 2006 at 10:15 am
Ouch.
I, too, spent some time on the strip in my collegiate days (being in Texas, ‘piste’ sounded a bit too high-falutin’ for us, I suppose). I fenced mainly foil, but ventured into saber for awhile. Although I managed to avoid that particular low line cut, I did sport my share of bruises from that particular weapon. You have my sympathy.
I’ve thought several times about finding a local salle here in Orange County, but with three young kids, I seem to be lacking an abundance of free time, for some reason. Nonetheless, I’m sure I’ll make the plunge at some point. I’m also sure that my body will repay me in kind.
Oh, but it’ll be worth it. =)
21
GreyEagleO6
// Apr 11, 2006 at 10:23 am
Yep, everyman’s nightmare. Ever see a guy in the harness trying to hold his own 210lbs plus the 120lb rucksack off his own by grabbing as much of the risers as one conceivably could. I think I recall even having some shroudlines in my hands… . In a 28 year career, that memory is chisled in granite.
22
GreyEagleO6
// Apr 11, 2006 at 10:27 am
Oh, yeah, I think it would depend on what stalkerette looked like. Or mebbe she was some variation on Glenn Close’s character in Fatal Attraction.
23
Were-Kitten
// Apr 11, 2006 at 10:48 am
*grabs itty bitty nurse’s uniform from FbL and quickly, yet seductively, dresses for the occassion*
Think a kiss would make it better, Lex?
*wink*
24
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 10:51 am
Of course, dear Lex…
As detailed in Camino Agrippa’s Trattato di Scientia d’Arme
Or
Salvator Fabris’ De lo Schermo, overo scienza d’arme…
though I prefer
D. Alvaro Guerra De La Vega’s Comprension de la Destreza
being that we are men of action…
25
Were-Kitten
// Apr 11, 2006 at 10:55 am
“being that we are men of action…”
*rolls around on testosterone catnip and purrrrrs*
26
Kris, in New England
// Apr 11, 2006 at 10:58 am
Were Kitten and FbL - can I be there too? I’m great with a damp cloth…
27
lex
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:00 am
Well, look what the kats dragged in
28
Kris, in New England
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:03 am
…being that we are WOMEN of action…
29
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:06 am
I fear me that I do not remember all of the rules regarding right of way or Corps a Corps… But I DO remember the flash of steel by lamplight, when I was beset by some assassin while returning to my ship…
(That was the scenario of the tournament…)
…and did foil his efforts handily…
30
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:13 am
(Truth be told, I have all respect for the science of modern fencing as well as the skills of a modern fencer… But I truly belive, Lex, that you would make a grand 17th Century swashbuckler…)
31
lex
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:19 am
Well, I wouldn’t mind showing the ladies my basket-hilt rapier. It’s verr nice
And as for your offer, WK, it might make it better. For a while. And then it would probably make it much, much worse again.
The Hobbit being a crafty soul with a knife, such as might make Lorena Bobbit blush with envy.
Now, as for damp cloths - what’s the worst could possibly happen?
32
Kris, in New England
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:22 am
Basket-hilt rapier - I’m with Sgt. B, you WOULD make a fine 17th century pirate. And you know us girls, we like the “bad boys”…
The damp cloth would soothe and pacify, that’s all. Well, maybe for you…the wielder of said cloth, not so much.
33
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:23 am
Funny, “Lex” doesn’t sound a bit like “Porthos”, but I swear that, in this place, they meet, and jump as one…
34
Soothing in a time of pacification
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:38 am
Well, that hardly sounds fair, Kris - soothe for one, soothe for all!
(And Sgt B - I always thought that Porthos got the best lines, even if he didn’t get the girl…
35
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:42 am
“Pirate”? Nay, my lady, the term we used was “Privateer”… A race-built galleon, the “Katherine Rose” was our version of Lex’s favorite steed…
…But this is Lex’s venue, and I’ll not attempt to either challenge his literary legerdemain, or engage in “one-ups-manship”…
(Besides, I’ve no doubt of Lex’s prowess on the piste… At least in MY version, I could get him drunk and rap him gently on the noggin with a belaying pin to secure the victory… He’d be mad, but we’d be well out ot sea by then…)
36
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 11:45 am
Porthos didn’t get THE girl… He got two or three of the suppporting cast…
37
Kris, in New England
// Apr 11, 2006 at 12:01 pm
“…soothe for one, soothe for all…”
OK, I’m game…
38
Kris, in New England
// Apr 11, 2006 at 12:03 pm
Sgt. B - Privateer, Swashbuckler - all equal “Pirate” to me. Call it what you want, at its core it’s a “bad boy” - ’nuff said. We girls like our men to be kind and sensitive and compassionate, but with just a hint of the bad boy mixed in, for fun doncha know.;-)
39
GreyEagleO6
// Apr 11, 2006 at 12:51 pm
And me just sitting here looking the letter opener in my desk drawer… .
40
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 2:23 pm
Ahhh, dear Kris…
A “pirate” is a sea-going criminal… A thief, a scoundrel, a rogue…
A “privateer” sails with a letter of marque and reprisal from the hand of the Sovereign of his (or her) country, and wages war upon enemy ships…
That isn’t to say that they aren’t scoundrels and rogues… *grin*
Just sayin’, y’know?
(In fact, the reason that the Royal Navy salutes palm down, versus palm out like the British Army, is because there were so many former sailors sailing with Drake and Hawkes against the Spanish Armada who had their palms branded for pirate crimes, that Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth, in appriciation of their having saved England, granted them the privilage of hiding their shameful past while still displaying their obedience…)
41
lex
// Apr 11, 2006 at 2:43 pm
Trust me, Kris - when it comes to scoundrels and rogues, whether private or commissioned, a Marine knows whereof he speaks
42
Sgt. B.
// Apr 11, 2006 at 3:42 pm
Aye, listen to the man, he knows of what he speaks…
43
Kris, in New England
// Apr 11, 2006 at 4:40 pm
OK, I demur to the greater knowledge of the Navy and Marines.
Though it does seem that whatever you call it -privateer, swashbuckler, pirate, scoundrel rogue, scallawag (had to throw that in, how often do you get to use that word) - it’s still a bad boy…and that’s a good thing.
And cool fact Sgt. B about the palms down salute.
44
Were-Kitten
// Apr 11, 2006 at 6:42 pm
*grin*
45
bad cat robot
// Apr 11, 2006 at 7:08 pm
“They’re not really *rules*. More like … suggestions.”
Ah, pirates!
46
steveH
// Apr 11, 2006 at 9:06 pm
*cough*
{waves away mist of testosterone, etc}
And here I was, wondering if a couple hours of kayaking next Sunday would be overdoing it…
I’ll just step back in the shadows and be off, now.
47
badanov
// Apr 12, 2006 at 4:39 am
Liberal love dead Americans.
48
lex
// Apr 12, 2006 at 6:02 am
Buzz kill.
49
kat-missouri
// Apr 12, 2006 at 10:25 am
LOL..
Foresooth, brave sir, I see your flashing steel and raise you a week taking out the garbage and scrubbing the floors and shopping for groceries and cooking dinner, doing laundry, etc, etc, etc…
Ahh…I see the steel has lost some of its rigidity. A woman knows how to win the fight, sharp edges not required.
50
lex
// Apr 12, 2006 at 11:34 am
See, that’s the problem: Here I am trying to craft a win-win solution, and you have to go all “zero-sum game” on me
Tell you what, you scratch my back and I’ll rub yours. Talk about whatever pops up. Everybody’s happy.
51
FbL
// Apr 12, 2006 at 12:07 pm
Sounds good to me…
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