Div 1 is in Virginia this weekend. It's been a couple of years since I was
called an aberation of nature by then being the oldest oldfuck to make it out of the pools fencing [strike]snot-nosed children[/strike] Olympic hopefuls a quarter my age... Then doing it again a couple of months later <harrumph!>
I finally healed up from cracked ribs, plantir faciitis, a broken rib, etc. I have been training hard enough that I kicked everyone's ass at the club two nights running, came in second three weeks ago at a North American Cup tournament, and I want to go fight the demi-gods of my sport. One last time.
So far, the comments have been:
My kid: Dad! You're just going to hurt yourself. Act your age.
The BF: Dan! You know you're not going to take it easy. I'm worried that you're going to get hurt. Ask your coach what he thinks.
My coach: Why are you doing this? You've got a chance to medal in the World Championships [grandpa age bracket -- Bleh]. I'm worried you're going to get hurt and fuck up your training schedule.*
Fuck you all. I'm going to drink a fucking gallon of Starbucks fucking espresso, pick up a weapon and go make some little fuck freak out that he got his ass kicked by an old man. Then I'm going to keep doing it until some real goddamn fencer steps up and takes me out.
Wish me luck.
*plus screw up his kid's only real sparring partner.
called an aberation of nature by then being the oldest oldfuck to make it out of the pools fencing [strike]snot-nosed children[/strike] Olympic hopefuls a quarter my age... Then doing it again a couple of months later <harrumph!>
I finally healed up from cracked ribs, plantir faciitis, a broken rib, etc. I have been training hard enough that I kicked everyone's ass at the club two nights running, came in second three weeks ago at a North American Cup tournament, and I want to go fight the demi-gods of my sport. One last time.
So far, the comments have been:
My kid: Dad! You're just going to hurt yourself. Act your age.
The BF: Dan! You know you're not going to take it easy. I'm worried that you're going to get hurt. Ask your coach what he thinks.
My coach: Why are you doing this? You've got a chance to medal in the World Championships [grandpa age bracket -- Bleh]. I'm worried you're going to get hurt and fuck up your training schedule.*
Fuck you all. I'm going to drink a fucking gallon of Starbucks fucking espresso, pick up a weapon and go make some little fuck freak out that he got his ass kicked by an old man. Then I'm going to keep doing it until some real goddamn fencer steps up and takes me out.
Wish me luck.
*plus screw up his kid's only real sparring partner.