This weekend, [livejournal.com profile] mnemex and I went to a dinner for our fencing maestro, Ramon Martinez. Good company, good food. Then, we went to open fencing the next day, in uniforms we hadn't worn for six weeks.

And... I don't suck. I don't think I'm good, but I don't suck. Oh, at most, I think, I got one hit on anyone I played with. But, I did get that hit every now and then. And there were minutes when I was seeing what was happening, not just flailing. Okay, maybe what I was seeing was, "Wait, he stepped forward, and he hasn't stepped back, and that means I'm in his distance. This is bad." But I was seeing it.

Today, of course, thigh muscles whose existence I'd forgotten are not very happy with me.
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