My mind works in odd ways. I can find any paper I need in the massive piles on my desk, remember exactly where I saw a certain fabric in a shop, and can figure out which book a kid wants when he asks for "the blue one about a dog that my friend had last week." But when I'm learning new things, if I don't write things down, I tend not to remember what I've heard. That being said, sometimes my notes make absolutely no sense. I wrote down a bunch of notes over the past few weeks while intending to turn them into a post, but they make absolutely no sense without anything to connect them. For example, this is what greeted me when I returned to finish this week's blog:
Keystrokes
Uberfluffen and Unterfluffen
This is the house that jello makes
Abschneiden
Schnikt - Wolverine?
Riceballs
Robot videos
Guest readers- guys, cops, firemen! Inhibition games too.
Grapevines
The point of a versetzen
Noisy windows
Most of that makes no sense. Some of it I remember writing, though not necessarily why. Thankfully though, my mind is used to the weird, convoluted twists enough it all comes back eventually. Usually.
Schlussel. The keys were funny. For some reason, that morning before practice, the Professor stumbled over a certain YouTube video of an instructor telling his students how to 'turn the key,' which involved some crazy hip movement thing and a lot of disgust on his part. So during practice when the Professor's daughter and I paired off to do an exercise about parrying off an attack before sending a new one, it degenerated into us snickering "parry it off, turn the key" with a little hip twist and a lot of giggles. A stern look and a proper explanation of what schlussel should be just made it worse. I at least, was fairly useless for the rest of class.
Uberfluffen and Unterfluffen I can't forget. They're my furry darlings. Tonka, my super-fluffy husky mutt, has more fur than sense. He's the one who sits on the table on the deck and stares forlornly at me when I practice and has taken to running alongside and trying to trip me while I do footwork drills on my own. He's also the reason that every bit of clothing I have seems to have a fluffy golden thread woven in. Unterfluffen is the dear little black chupacabra-looking mutt that I had on loan for a while from the Professor. He has a thin black coat of wiry fur that barely covers his body, and spent most of his time while I was practicing alternately sleeping and systematically destroying all the screens in my windows. The Professor has been kind enough to let me bring the fuzzy boys with me to practice at times, and the difference in their coats and shedding capabilities earned them their new nicknames.
This is the house that jello makes... That one was actually a lot of fun. We were all paired up and were supposed to be going back and forth, throwing attacks, parrying them off, then counter attacking- only we were supposed to move as slowly as though we were fighting in jello. Pardon, JELL-O®.
Since my left hand was in a brace, I couldn't hold my longsword properly, so got to break in the singlesticks and play with sabres instead. It would have been great, except that I had to use my right hand for everything- normally with the single handed weapons I switch back and forth. The Professor had us going back and forth, explaining about the rolling motion of a ship that would necessitate movement. Then of course, our ship was full of jello, and we'd go into slow motion, which just made the whole thing a snicker-fest. We were playing cooperative uncooperative sword fighting. The massive slow-down was to get us to recognize the incoming attack and give us time to come up with the proper counter- which sometimes took a few tries. I got paired up with Riceball (his choice of nicknames, not mine!), and we took turns: strike, parry off correctly, then counter. Once we got the idea, the Professor had us add in another move each time. So Riceball would attack. I'd see it coming, prepare a parry. He'd attack again, I'd parry it off. He'd attack, I'd parry it off, then counter attack. He'd attack, I'd parry, I'd counter, he'd parry, and so on and so on. Reminded me of the "this is the house that Jack built" story I read to the kids sometimes. Or maybe that game Simon, where you poke the colored buttons that correspond to the tones you hear, and it keeps adding them until you're ready to throw the thing out the window. When we lost the pattern, we were supposed to start over with a new one. I think we made it to ten steps once. But we started over a lot. It was a neat exercise really, and the slow speed gave us a chance to figure out what counter worked best- and to notice that the right one was usually one that felt the most natural. A cumulative tale in steel. Oh, I like that...
Abschneiden. Gesundheit. Wait, that's slicing off... stuff. I think. No, pretty sure. Not sure about the what or how, so I'm just going with a generic slicey motion for that one- drawing or pushing your sword along someone's tender bits. I could go look it up, but I'm tired.
Schnikt. That's the noise Wolvie's claws make in the comics. You gotta love onomatopoeia. Or it could've been schnitt- that makes more sense. Oberschnitt comes from above. Unter comes from below. Duh. We did those with the melon-baller thing.
The video reference must've been referring to Deadpool's birthday gauntlet. One minute for every year older- and HEY! I would totally like to know why it's only one minute now, and I had to do a three minute match for every year?! I'm twice their age! Mine took two days! Oh, maybe that's why. Well, at least mine wasn't filmed. We filmed Deadpool's. The Professor was going to have us critique the fights after, but thankfully seems to have forgotten about that. It's so much easier to pick out the bad than the good anyway- especially when I'm critiquing myself. I do it with everything- a new recipe I tried, a quilt I just finished, these goofy blog postings. And seeing yourself on video is an extremely eye-opening and horrifying experience. We held Deadpool's birthday gauntlet with 24 minutes of fights for him, 5 rounds for most of us, whatever weapon sounded good at the time. All of it on camera. And I am not at all photogenic at the best of times. In any way. Seeing my horrifyingly bad footwork and malfunctioning robot stance is definitely something that needs improving. But I did pop the birthday boy with a lovely scheitelhau at the end of one of our matches.
Ah, the guest readers thing I'm thinking I wrong-windowed while taking notes at school. Sorry about that. Inhibition games could be fun though- duck, duck, goose WITH SWORDS! Red light, green light SWORD! Simon Says SWORD!
Grapevines. That has to be referring to the footwork stuff. The Professor had us do some drills that involved the different steps- passing, triangles, that skipping one- and moving across the field, both forward and back. Then we had a ladder of swords laid out on the ground, and we had to footwork our way through the gaps. Triangle step this way, passing step this way, shuffle step the other, then the one where you do an about face that I can't remember the name of. We'd done this one at the IGX seminar too, so the reinforcement was cool. All practice long, we were supposed to be sure that we stepped with every swing, which is still not an intuitive or natural thing for me for some reason. Apparently I'm all good with just standing there and letting someone hit me. Professor gave us all a quick and dirty assessment of our footwork at the end of class too. One of the guys moves his feet less than I do. One leans forward before he takes any step and broadcasts what's coming. One of the others moves his just to move them- the Professor says it seems without point or purpose. Mine apparently is STILL the faerie feet. I'm convinced that comes from walking in heels and being forced to walk on tiptoe. Next time I'm going to try practicing in heels, see what that does. The guys have all been into the "Wiggins Kick" lately, booting each other in the chest. Just imagine how much more effective that could be in heels!
Vier versetzen: Four ways to break a guard by throwing your opponent's sword offline and seeing that you threaten him enough that he gets the point... of your sword, hopefully at his throat. We paired off and practiced lots of those, both breaking the guard and then trying to counter whatever broke it too. I got paired up with Deadpool, who also had a skitchy hand- mine's still recovering from IGX- works fine most of the time, but it doesn't like repetitive swiveling motions- which means no zwerchs for a while :( As we were versetzing with our off hands, we were working together to figure out counters for each as well, then counters for the counters.
It was at this point that we discovered that there seems to be a direct correlation between the vehemence of my apologies, and my doing something correctly. I'd been hanging out in pflug, Deadpool schiel-ed me, and I countered that with some kind of absetzen-ish thing that resulted in a wicked thrust to his throat. We weren't wearing masks or anything. I was horrified. Apologies flowed like water as he tried to cough it away and we took a break. We were using sabre simulators and weren't at combat speed or anything, but still. Deadpool's an odd duck though- he seems to like it.
Lastly was our homework assignment. Sprechfenster. Talking windows. That much I remember, and it's all tangled up with langenort, but I'm too tired to figure it out just now. We're supposed to look it up in the manuals and check on counters or how to apply it or something. Tomorrow.
My windows don't have screens anymore anyway. Thanks Unterfluffen.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
IGX - HEMAtomas & Seeing Stars
Boston... I do not like your traffic. And I'm from D.C. Well, -ish. On the up side, we had about ten hours to harass the Professor on the way home, so that was fun.
After crashing at his place and crawling into bed at 2am, I had to drag myself out before 6 and drive the hour and a half home to pick up the dog from the kennel, take him home, change, shower, and be back on the road to make it to work by 8:30. I actually made it, which probably means I was speeding the whole way there. Weirdly, I wasn't tired- but I don't remember the drive either. I'm trying not to think about that too much, because that can't be a good thing.
Work has been interesting so far this week. The teachers all think I'm nuts, and eye me with thinly veiled worry for my sanity. The kids now think I'm Wonder Woman. Conversations like this played out in all six of my classes today, plus at dismissal time in the hall as they were leaving:
Kids: Whoa, what happened to your hand?!
After crashing at his place and crawling into bed at 2am, I had to drag myself out before 6 and drive the hour and a half home to pick up the dog from the kennel, take him home, change, shower, and be back on the road to make it to work by 8:30. I actually made it, which probably means I was speeding the whole way there. Weirdly, I wasn't tired- but I don't remember the drive either. I'm trying not to think about that too much, because that can't be a good thing.
Work has been interesting so far this week. The teachers all think I'm nuts, and eye me with thinly veiled worry for my sanity. The kids now think I'm Wonder Woman. Conversations like this played out in all six of my classes today, plus at dismissal time in the hall as they were leaving:
Kids: Whoa, what happened to your hand?!
Me: I got hit with a sword.
Kids: (eyes going huge) No way! A real one? Cool!
Me: Yup.
Kids: You could have lost your hand!
Kids: You could have lost your hand!
Me: That would have been bad.
Kids: Did you die?
Me: Um... no.
Me: Um... no.
Kids: (poking gently at my hand) What if your fingers fall off?
Me: Then you can have one.
Kids: Really?!
Me: No.
Kids: You're lucky you survived! Most people who get hit with swords don't. Did it hurt?
Me: Oh yes.
Kids: Did you cry?
Me: Almost.
Smarta$$e$: Aren't you supposed to not get hit?
Me: Yes.
Smarta$$e$: (inspecting the bandage & bending my purple fingers) You need to practice more.
Me: .... Don't you have a bus to catch?
* * * * *
I survived! Goal #1 for IGX accomplished. I managed to score some points from decent shots, so Goal #2 was accomplished too. Goal #3 was to take steps with every cut, and I know I slipped on that one, because it's still a conscious thing for me and I know I wasn't thinking of stepping while in the ring. But it was such fun!
Before I forget, superhuge kudos go out to Jeff and all the IGX organizers and helperfolk. I know what a nightmare scheduling can be even for small events, so one as grand and ambitious as this was bound to have a few hiccups. But the classes and workshops I was able to attend were all excellent, the fighting was wonderful, dinners were good, and the company world class. Thanks so much for putting it all together!
IGX: The Beginner's Perspective
Day 1: Getting up early when I don't have to work rots, even when it's for something fun. We made it over to the venue and staked out a corner. Many people seemed to be walking around half asleep, but all were friendly. I'm not the social butterfly the Professor is, so it was nice to see some familiar faces. The cutting tournament was first, and a lot of fun to watch. I had half-wanted to enter, but knowing my luck with the pool noodles, I didn't want to waste the tatami mats. I'm going to practice though, so I can enter the next one :) We watched the cutters and chatted until it was time to suit up for the Open Steel.
I swear, getting all geared up in fencing gear is more complicated than even getting into my wedding dress was. I know why knights had squires now, because it's a royal pain to try and get everything on quickly. My new gambeson hasn't been finished yet either, so I busted out the blue again. And I had all the same problems this time I'd had last time, the worst being that the sleeves are too long. When they're strapped down by my forearm guards, the whole mess tries to push my gloves off. So once I got geared up, I just stood around with my hands clenched, trying to keep my gloves from moving. Since it was such a pain to get the gloves on and not moving, I couldn't take them off to put my mask on. Fitting the mask over my glasses never seems to work the same way twice. I'm seriously thinking of ditching the specs when I have to fight. If I aim in the general top/middle/bottom direction of my opponent, it won't matter if I can't really see, right? Anyway, I felt like a kid on Christmas who'd eaten an entire plate of cookies the night before- super hyper-excited to the point I was bouncing, but kind of queasy at the same time.
How do I always seem to end up in the first round? Do organizers have this special sense that tells them if I think too much about what I'm doing that I might run screaming or throw up in my mask? It happened at Longpoint, and then again at IGX too. First round, both days! At least I was early enough that the Professor's matches didn't overlap, so he could coach me a bit.
I swear, getting all geared up in fencing gear is more complicated than even getting into my wedding dress was. I know why knights had squires now, because it's a royal pain to try and get everything on quickly. My new gambeson hasn't been finished yet either, so I busted out the blue again. And I had all the same problems this time I'd had last time, the worst being that the sleeves are too long. When they're strapped down by my forearm guards, the whole mess tries to push my gloves off. So once I got geared up, I just stood around with my hands clenched, trying to keep my gloves from moving. Since it was such a pain to get the gloves on and not moving, I couldn't take them off to put my mask on. Fitting the mask over my glasses never seems to work the same way twice. I'm seriously thinking of ditching the specs when I have to fight. If I aim in the general top/middle/bottom direction of my opponent, it won't matter if I can't really see, right? Anyway, I felt like a kid on Christmas who'd eaten an entire plate of cookies the night before- super hyper-excited to the point I was bouncing, but kind of queasy at the same time.
How do I always seem to end up in the first round? Do organizers have this special sense that tells them if I think too much about what I'm doing that I might run screaming or throw up in my mask? It happened at Longpoint, and then again at IGX too. First round, both days! At least I was early enough that the Professor's matches didn't overlap, so he could coach me a bit.
The calibration round: It was kind of a neat idea, now that I get it. I had absolutely no idea what was going on though at the time. At school, I've got a schedule, but it rotates. I know I'll have fifth grade at a certain time, but I'm never quite sure which class it will be. I just teach whoever shows up. That's kind of the way the calibration round went for me. I geared up, they color coded me, and I just went where they told me and fought whoever stepped into the ring. I didn't have much of a grasp of how it worked. I hopped in the ring, they started the match, and then it was over. Actually, I guess there was 20 seconds of fighting in the middle, but I'd swear I blinked and missed it. And there were stars too! I don't know what they were really, but I liked the idea of keeping them. I read the rules, I really did. But apparently I didn't quite get it. I knew it was counted blows, but I thought initially that meant that you only got three shots, so you had to make the most of it and then you weren't allowed to throw any more. So that's what I did- went in the ring, threw my three shots, then spent the rest of the second parrying incoming shots. When I got out of the ring, of course the Professor told me I was being too defensive, and told me to throw as many good shots as I could, try not to get hit, and let the judges sort out the rest. It's one of those communication things I notice about the county where I work too- a lot of times, people in the know assume that everyone knows how everything works, and that everyone has the same background info so some things don't get explained quite as thoroughly as one would hope. I felt kind of dorky, but the feeling improved when they said the calibration round wasn't really going to count.
The real round: I was in pool D with McKenzie E., Jonathan G., and Charles S. I sort of knew McKenzie by sight from my sparky match at Longpoint, when his pal Marcus trounced me. The others were new, but the fights were fun. I had all these grand ambitions and thoughts about throwing specific cuts and working in at least one zwerch (they're my favorite), but all of those thoughts kinda fell out of my head when I stepped into the ring. Mostly I just remember trying not to get hit. I did manage to score two points on someone, got thumped by McKenzie, and somehow managed to hold on to all but one of my stars. According to the Professor's daughter, I came in second in my pool!
Real round 2: Next up was pool E, with Jess R., Keith C., and Julie C. Jess I knew from Longpoint and one of OtherJake's KDF practices. Keith's the one who eased my mom's worries by decking me out with protective gear- and who's holding my new jacket for ransom or something ;-) Julie I hadn't met before, and sadly didn't get to find after either. Keith easily trounced me, but Jess, Julie, and I all managed to fend each other off long enough to keep most of our stars, and I think earned an extra, so we tri-tied for second. Professor was off socializing and MISSED IT! lol. The boogerhead. But I did well all by myself! So now I know I can, which I guess is a good thing.
The rest of that day was spent in watching other fighters, pal-ing around with Miss Cat, and watching the Invitational Tourney, which was awesome. So many awesome fighters- Axel and Charles, Nathan and the Professor, Andrew and Casper and Omar and so many others- it was great. Though to be honest, I was totally starving by the time it started, so was cheering for whoever's name came first alphabetically. Except for the Professor's, of course. Truly. His was an awesomely fun match to watch though. He and Andrew looked like they had a blast.
Back to the hotel for a shower and change, then to the restaurant for dinner. Apparently not everyone went for the 'shower and change' option though, so major apologies to everyone we disturbed coming in late for the lecture. But because we did, we got a small table in the back, which turned out very nicely. We got to meet Graham and Ange, who also came in late, and had fun conversations with them all night. Then back to the hotel where we all crashed early.
The real round: I was in pool D with McKenzie E., Jonathan G., and Charles S. I sort of knew McKenzie by sight from my sparky match at Longpoint, when his pal Marcus trounced me. The others were new, but the fights were fun. I had all these grand ambitions and thoughts about throwing specific cuts and working in at least one zwerch (they're my favorite), but all of those thoughts kinda fell out of my head when I stepped into the ring. Mostly I just remember trying not to get hit. I did manage to score two points on someone, got thumped by McKenzie, and somehow managed to hold on to all but one of my stars. According to the Professor's daughter, I came in second in my pool!
Real round 2: Next up was pool E, with Jess R., Keith C., and Julie C. Jess I knew from Longpoint and one of OtherJake's KDF practices. Keith's the one who eased my mom's worries by decking me out with protective gear- and who's holding my new jacket for ransom or something ;-) Julie I hadn't met before, and sadly didn't get to find after either. Keith easily trounced me, but Jess, Julie, and I all managed to fend each other off long enough to keep most of our stars, and I think earned an extra, so we tri-tied for second. Professor was off socializing and MISSED IT! lol. The boogerhead. But I did well all by myself! So now I know I can, which I guess is a good thing.
The rest of that day was spent in watching other fighters, pal-ing around with Miss Cat, and watching the Invitational Tourney, which was awesome. So many awesome fighters- Axel and Charles, Nathan and the Professor, Andrew and Casper and Omar and so many others- it was great. Though to be honest, I was totally starving by the time it started, so was cheering for whoever's name came first alphabetically. Except for the Professor's, of course. Truly. His was an awesomely fun match to watch though. He and Andrew looked like they had a blast.
Back to the hotel for a shower and change, then to the restaurant for dinner. Apparently not everyone went for the 'shower and change' option though, so major apologies to everyone we disturbed coming in late for the lecture. But because we did, we got a small table in the back, which turned out very nicely. We got to meet Graham and Ange, who also came in late, and had fun conversations with them all night. Then back to the hotel where we all crashed early.
Until like two in the morning, when the Professor woke me up. "You made the eliminations!" It didn't register at first. I remember a vague feeling of disbelief and the thought that I was still sleeping, but he showed me the pools for the next day, and sure enough, there we were. Both of us made it! His making it was no surprise, but I have no delusions about my ability. But it seemed that the defense game had worked out for me! And I apparently was so good, that I made the list twice! Either that, or the organizers knew I'd need twice as many chances as anyone else to actually have a prayer of getting any farther. Or maybe someone was just sleepy. Whatever the case, I was in both pools A & B.
Luckily, someone else caught the double booking early in the morning, and it was sorted before the eliminations began. I ended up in a pool with Casper, Graham (was supposed to be Eric, who I still need a dance with), and Michael S. I'd heard those names before. I knew this one wasn't going to go as well as the day before, but I didn't have that healthy fear thing going I'd had previously. My faithful squires helped me get dressed- remember when you were 5 years old and your mom had to zip you into your snow suit and help with your boots and gloves and hat?- and I curled my hand around my sword so my gloves wouldn't loosen, got tied up with my green ribbon, and off I went- again, FIRST ROUND. Casper very gently, very thoroughly, kicked my tail. He was so relaxed, just letting me try a strike, then batting it aside and lightly poking me, tapping his sword along my arm as I tried a thrust from entirely too far away (forgot to step again). One star down. I don't think I even came close to hitting anything. Then Graham, who came hard and fast like a bull, but with this sidestep dancing step that threw me for a loop. I remember thinking I had been using pflug way too much and so ought to try something else, extending my arms for a cut of some sort, and then... CRACK!
Eventually, I will learn to pull back into a guard after a strike. That morning, I did not remember. Which is a bit ironic, because I don't remember much after that hit either. Apparently my sword hanging out there made a lovely target, because he scored a magnificent hit right across the back of my hand. I'm sure there were other hits, because I think I lost another star too. I found it a moment later though- it was circling in the air above my hand and my head as if I was Bugs Bunny or something. The third match was mostly a blur of pain, from which I awoke with about five seconds left. I pulled myself together enough to strike out at the other guy's leg and force him out of the ring. My ducking down left my head open though, so I got whacked for that maneuver- which served me right, really. Unfortunately, the judges didn't see my shot to his leg, though the ref did, so I lost that one instead of tying. No less than three people came by after to tell me they'd seen the shot, which was kind of nice.
Honestly though, I didn't care at that point- I just wanted my glove off. Miss Cat helped me get the thing off, saying she could see my hand shaking through the glove. Cripes it hurt. I've got pretty decent pain tolerance, but I was blinking back tears when I saw what looked like a small turtle perched on the back of my hand, slowly turning red and getting bigger. Luckily, the booboo-meisters got me wrapped up and iced, told me all sorts of horror stories about what would probably happen over the next few days (whole arm turning black and purple, more swelling, stiffness, major pain- none of which have come to pass, thankfully), and gave me advice on treating it. They told me to RICE it. I replied that I didn't like rice, and they laughed. So I learned a new acronym: Rest Ice Compression Elevation. I got to spend the rest of the day just watching everything, feeling like a dork with my hand wrapped in ice on top of my head. But apparently it worked, because so far, I have had none of the extra nastiness they hinted at, just my fingers turning a bit purplish and the back of my hand hosting a smaller turtle. I've been advised to go to a doctor anyway though, so have an appointment next week. They were great though, and every time I went by the booboo station, they pulled me over to check on it. The nurse was very sweet too- I stopped and chatted with her a bit, even ended up buying a pair of gloves from her.
Unfortunately, because of the way they wrapped my hand, I couldn't get my gloves back on, so had to drop out of the women's mixed tournament, which was kind of a bummer. On the up side though, I was able to attend Axel Petterson's class on using all the guards. Even though I couldn't play (couldn't grip a sword at all) or take notes (it was my left hand that got squished), I at least got to observe and listen in as he taught us how to use the more uncommon guards to your advantage. There's one he mentioned that I really want to try for sure- the really high vom tag, but from a lowered position- seems like that could really mess with an opponent's head. Since I'm lefty, everything we learned was backwards, but I'm used to that. Even not being able to participate much, I enjoyed it. Weirdly, being on the sidelines gave me the opportunity to meet new people too, which was nice. Whether by loaning out swords, watching the cutting clinic, even just standing around, there were always great people to talk to. The next day was the Professor's class, which was fun too. I'd expected it to be stuff we'd already done, but he pulled out some new exercises and drills that I hadn't gotten to do before, so I was trying to keep up with an imaginary sword. Felt a little dorky zwerch-ing and krump-ing with nothing really in my hands, but at least I got to pretend. Thankfully Natasha was walking by and took pity on me, and handed me one of the singlestick sticks, which was light enough I could hold it without my hand screaming at me. So I got to play fight at least, standing parallel to the participants and faking zorns along with them. Being the odd one out though, I was also free to talk to people who wandered by, and got them to come play too. Plus there was something kind of fun about poking people with a stick.
OH! And I didn't apologize once! Well, not counting that one slip during warm-ups when the Professor was taking me through the paired form routine. But in my matches- not one apology! Which probably means I didn't do anything right, now that I think about it. lol. That's usually when the apologies slip out. But it was sweet when Graham came by to apologize for the hand. Twice. It wasn't until then that I recognized him as the fellow we'd had dinner with the night before. And again later that night, actually. It's funny the things that bring people together. Getting knocked out of the eliminations I'd expected- but there's no shame in being beaten by two of the eventual finalists. It's kind of neat that even as inexperienced as I am, you can just TELL some fighters are amazing.
So overall summary- HEMA folk are great. Bruises suck. I really liked the idea of the star system, though I'm not sure I ever figured it out entirely. 20 seconds is either an eternity or a blink, depending on how you're doing. I loved being able to keep my points (it was a touch demoralizing to have any points you scored negated by an opponent scoring more). I want to take more clinics, and hate that sometimes being in an event makes you miss the class that sounds most fascinating. I'd never been to IGX before, but really enjoyed myself, met some great people, and learned a ton- which are the reasons the Professor used to persuade me to come in the first place. Figures that he'd be right.
Luckily, someone else caught the double booking early in the morning, and it was sorted before the eliminations began. I ended up in a pool with Casper, Graham (was supposed to be Eric, who I still need a dance with), and Michael S. I'd heard those names before. I knew this one wasn't going to go as well as the day before, but I didn't have that healthy fear thing going I'd had previously. My faithful squires helped me get dressed- remember when you were 5 years old and your mom had to zip you into your snow suit and help with your boots and gloves and hat?- and I curled my hand around my sword so my gloves wouldn't loosen, got tied up with my green ribbon, and off I went- again, FIRST ROUND. Casper very gently, very thoroughly, kicked my tail. He was so relaxed, just letting me try a strike, then batting it aside and lightly poking me, tapping his sword along my arm as I tried a thrust from entirely too far away (forgot to step again). One star down. I don't think I even came close to hitting anything. Then Graham, who came hard and fast like a bull, but with this sidestep dancing step that threw me for a loop. I remember thinking I had been using pflug way too much and so ought to try something else, extending my arms for a cut of some sort, and then... CRACK!
Eventually, I will learn to pull back into a guard after a strike. That morning, I did not remember. Which is a bit ironic, because I don't remember much after that hit either. Apparently my sword hanging out there made a lovely target, because he scored a magnificent hit right across the back of my hand. I'm sure there were other hits, because I think I lost another star too. I found it a moment later though- it was circling in the air above my hand and my head as if I was Bugs Bunny or something. The third match was mostly a blur of pain, from which I awoke with about five seconds left. I pulled myself together enough to strike out at the other guy's leg and force him out of the ring. My ducking down left my head open though, so I got whacked for that maneuver- which served me right, really. Unfortunately, the judges didn't see my shot to his leg, though the ref did, so I lost that one instead of tying. No less than three people came by after to tell me they'd seen the shot, which was kind of nice.
Honestly though, I didn't care at that point- I just wanted my glove off. Miss Cat helped me get the thing off, saying she could see my hand shaking through the glove. Cripes it hurt. I've got pretty decent pain tolerance, but I was blinking back tears when I saw what looked like a small turtle perched on the back of my hand, slowly turning red and getting bigger. Luckily, the booboo-meisters got me wrapped up and iced, told me all sorts of horror stories about what would probably happen over the next few days (whole arm turning black and purple, more swelling, stiffness, major pain- none of which have come to pass, thankfully), and gave me advice on treating it. They told me to RICE it. I replied that I didn't like rice, and they laughed. So I learned a new acronym: Rest Ice Compression Elevation. I got to spend the rest of the day just watching everything, feeling like a dork with my hand wrapped in ice on top of my head. But apparently it worked, because so far, I have had none of the extra nastiness they hinted at, just my fingers turning a bit purplish and the back of my hand hosting a smaller turtle. I've been advised to go to a doctor anyway though, so have an appointment next week. They were great though, and every time I went by the booboo station, they pulled me over to check on it. The nurse was very sweet too- I stopped and chatted with her a bit, even ended up buying a pair of gloves from her.
Unfortunately, because of the way they wrapped my hand, I couldn't get my gloves back on, so had to drop out of the women's mixed tournament, which was kind of a bummer. On the up side though, I was able to attend Axel Petterson's class on using all the guards. Even though I couldn't play (couldn't grip a sword at all) or take notes (it was my left hand that got squished), I at least got to observe and listen in as he taught us how to use the more uncommon guards to your advantage. There's one he mentioned that I really want to try for sure- the really high vom tag, but from a lowered position- seems like that could really mess with an opponent's head. Since I'm lefty, everything we learned was backwards, but I'm used to that. Even not being able to participate much, I enjoyed it. Weirdly, being on the sidelines gave me the opportunity to meet new people too, which was nice. Whether by loaning out swords, watching the cutting clinic, even just standing around, there were always great people to talk to. The next day was the Professor's class, which was fun too. I'd expected it to be stuff we'd already done, but he pulled out some new exercises and drills that I hadn't gotten to do before, so I was trying to keep up with an imaginary sword. Felt a little dorky zwerch-ing and krump-ing with nothing really in my hands, but at least I got to pretend. Thankfully Natasha was walking by and took pity on me, and handed me one of the singlestick sticks, which was light enough I could hold it without my hand screaming at me. So I got to play fight at least, standing parallel to the participants and faking zorns along with them. Being the odd one out though, I was also free to talk to people who wandered by, and got them to come play too. Plus there was something kind of fun about poking people with a stick.
OH! And I didn't apologize once! Well, not counting that one slip during warm-ups when the Professor was taking me through the paired form routine. But in my matches- not one apology! Which probably means I didn't do anything right, now that I think about it. lol. That's usually when the apologies slip out. But it was sweet when Graham came by to apologize for the hand. Twice. It wasn't until then that I recognized him as the fellow we'd had dinner with the night before. And again later that night, actually. It's funny the things that bring people together. Getting knocked out of the eliminations I'd expected- but there's no shame in being beaten by two of the eventual finalists. It's kind of neat that even as inexperienced as I am, you can just TELL some fighters are amazing.
So overall summary- HEMA folk are great. Bruises suck. I really liked the idea of the star system, though I'm not sure I ever figured it out entirely. 20 seconds is either an eternity or a blink, depending on how you're doing. I loved being able to keep my points (it was a touch demoralizing to have any points you scored negated by an opponent scoring more). I want to take more clinics, and hate that sometimes being in an event makes you miss the class that sounds most fascinating. I'd never been to IGX before, but really enjoyed myself, met some great people, and learned a ton- which are the reasons the Professor used to persuade me to come in the first place. Figures that he'd be right.
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