The Lazy Dog versus the Lethal Rabbit: Humility, Footwork and the Triumphant Return of the Amateur Fencer State-Side!

"Dear God," my instructor sighed.

She was staring wide-eyed at my awkward lunge and how precariously my foil was sent careening into the padded chest of the practice dummy before me. I looked up, expecting to see her beaming at the dynamic new stance and technique that I had melded into my fencing style after observing Ho Sum and the other wu shu students back in Hong Kong.

No such luck. "That...really sucked, Otto," she exclaimed, in her thick European accent.

Clearly, my attempt at emulating Ho Sum's prior demonstration of athletic prowess was not what I had envisioned it to be. During the plane ride from Hong Kong back to New York, I attempted to forget the constant, rumbling turbulence by focusing on the intricacies of Ho Sum's elongated stances and imagining how I would incorporate them back at the Fencing Academy, sending my instructor, Monty and the other students into a fit of gloriously jealous awe at my newfound fencing technique.

Instead, I saw my instructor now frowning at how clumsy my lunge appeared and how my foil nearly snapped in two after landing with a thud on the right side of the practice dummy's chest, when the target was on its left side. My stance was twice as wide as it should have been, causing me to nearly fall over in the middle of my lunge. My instructor cocked her head to the side. "What happened to your stance? You were making such nice progress! Did you practice at all during your vacation? This is unacceptable! And you say that you want to spar with Monty again...like that?!"

I assured her that I had been practicing in my hotel room during my vacation. I explained the magnificent wu shu demonstration I witnessed in Hong Kong and my attempt to incorporate fencing into martial arts and vice versa. I told her how I thought that a longer, more martial-arts-like stance would help my reach; or how more of a curve to my striking hand would help my speed.

My instructor simply shook her head at all this. "Learn to walk before you can run," she said, causing me to slump my shoulders in defeat as I stood up. "Come," she said, motioning to the adjacent fencing lane. "Let's get you back into it." With that, I moped over to the fencing lane, again mumbling expletives to myself while swinging my foil at nobody in particular. I sullenly assumed the en garde position, still embarrassed by the dressing-down I just received from my instructor. That's when I felt her sternly rapping me on the side of my mask to wake me up and pull me back into the present.

"Cheer up," she said, spinning her foil in smooth, circular spins, loosening the muscles in her sword hand. "Time to learn something new." I shook off my anxiety at these words. Whenever I attended these lessons, and no matter how much humiliation I took, this phrase always made the training worthwhile: Time to learn something new.

Determined to redeem myself by mastering whatever new challenge she threw my way, I regained my composure and straightened my back. "Today's lesson," she announced, "is speedy feet. Fencing is just as much about being quick on your feet as it is about being quick with your foil."

"I'm already quick on my feet," I said with a slight hint of defiance. "Really," my instructor quipped. Before I could respond, she batted my foil out of her way, lunged forward, and sunk hers into the left side of my chest. In the back of the room, I could hear Monty, who was watching us the whole time, chuckling as he taught a group of young students. "You'll need to be quicker than that if you wanna fight me again, dear boy," he bellowed out heartily.

You know what I said about shaking off the last of my anxiety? Suddenly, I felt like I needed another vacation.

"One thing Monty and I notice about you is that whenever you feign back, you always drag your feet," my instructor continued, "which slows you down and makes it easier to strike you." By way of demonstration, she assumed the en garde stance and moved to feign back just as I normally do. However, as she feigned back, she sloppily dragged her front foot across the polished wooden floor, causing the slighest of squeaks....just like I normally do. It was amazing how observant my instructor was, to the point where she could not only predict but also mimic my every movement. It was like watching a mirror image of myself...except...with longer hair and boobs.

"Your step must be lighter, with larger strides," she said, as she hopped back, lightly picking up her front foot by the heel, which added probably a good half second of speed and three inches of distance onto her retreat. There was no way she was within range of my blade. "Now you try."

She suddenly whirled her blade in a disengage to distract me and then thrust it forward at my chest. I instinctively blocked and jumped back, but I was too slow. My front foot dragged, allowing her to actually step on it and hold me in place while she brought the point of her blade just under my chin.

"You are like a lazy dog today," she yelled, loud enough for the whole class, including Monty, to hear. "You must be like...like a rabbit!" Again, this was loud enough for the whole class to hear.

Sigh.

"Again," she bellowed, as she recoiled and lunged mercilessly at my chest, not allowing me a second of breathing room. I again blocked and huffed as I sprung myself lightly back, but again, I was still too slow, lifting my front heel a second too late, allowing her to push her blade through my defense. More expletives emanated from behind my mask.

"Again," she shrieked, coming at me once more, as if her foil was magnetically drawn to my chest pad, which was now riddled with divits from the abuse it was taking. As her foil moved in for a third killing blow, I thought back to Ho Sum once again. In particular, I focused on his demonstration of how wu shu helped his fencing skills. I recalled how he smoothly scuttled his feet back and forth, darting in and out my range, without making a sound. I focused on his feet and how lithely they moved.

Then it dawned on me: Ho Sum didn't really jump back, but rather just...stepped, ever so lightly. Heel first, then toe. One quick movement.

I refocused on my instructor's blade, making a lightning beeline straight for me. I took a deep breath and just...stepped back, my back foot first, my front foot following, making sure my step was wide and landing on my heels first, then my toes. As I did so, I flicked the wrist of my sword hand downward, blocking my instructor's blade and opening up her chest. Then, without warning, I followed my gut and lunged forward in a counter-attack. Suddenly, one good move turned into two.

Why the hell not? Let's see where this takes me.

I saw my foil nearing the left side of my instructor's chest pad. My hamstrings stretched out, my biceps loosened and my heart began to race with anticipation as I realized that I couldn't miss! Ha! I was about to score my first point on my instructor, without any warning and with the element of surpr-

My instructor promptly batted my blade to the ground, causing me to fall over with it. I was sent sprawling over the gym's hardwood floor, my mask tumbling off my face and my foil rolling to the other end of the fencing lane. I turned over onto my back to look up at my instructor smirking down at me. Then, Monty's smiling mug entered the picture as he suddenly stood over me as well. Here it comes, I thought. Another dressing-down about how my stance was too wide, how my stride was too slow and how I still looked like a lazy dog rather than the lithe, lethal rabbit. I braced myself.

Instead, my instructor elegantly stuck out her hand to help me up. "Better," she said as she yanked me off the floor. "Your step was a little better that time. And your lunge was good. I almost didn't expect that," she admitted. When she saw me break out into a sweaty grin, she held up her long, thin index finger to stop me. "I said, 'almost.' "

She patted me on the shoulder. "We're done for today. I want you to practice this footwork, up and down your apartment, until your legs are tired, every day," she shouted as she walked back into her office. I unscrewed my bottle of Gatorade and took a gulp when Monty, with his impeccable timing, slapped me across my back, once again sending a wave of blueberry-flavored electrolytes and vitamins shooting up my nostrils. "We'll make a fencer out of ya yet, m'boy," he laughed heartily.

And then he was gone, leaving me standing in the fencing lane, all by myself, surrounded by the other fencers, spinning and parrying with each other as I wiped sweat from my face and envisioned the day when I would eventually be like them; when I would be able to lunge, parry, feign and spar without losing my balance, my foil or my cool.

With each lesson, I was getting closer to that point, and, despite the admonishment I received from my instructor today, it looks like I received a little help from Hong Kong after all.

Thanks, Ho Sum. M'Goi-Sai.