At the PASO conference, the practical sessions are set up in 2 sessions, one running from 8:30-noon, and the second running from 2:00-5ish.
On the second day, we started with the footwork necessary to make the false-counterattack / false-parry actions work; the role of the half-step or check-step is crucial, since it creates the illusion that the distance is either expanding or collapsing faster than the opponent might want. Buckie also ran us through some footwork exercises involving catching gloves and dodging extension cords.
We reviewed video of the Nam/Salvatori bout from the 2007 Women's Foil Grand Prix in Japan, as an example of a bout where tactical progressions from half-steps were really well-defined, and then did tactical progressions off the false-counterattack. Buckie also showed a more traditional technical lesson.
The final day was spent working on a variety of parries (extended v. medium distance v. close), and actually teaching the techniques necessary to hit at infighting distance. We wrapped up with a soccer game, an off-campus fiesta (alcohol isn't allowed on the OTC grounds), and then many of the attendees went out dancing before coming home to catch their 4:30am airport shuttles.
All in all, I'd say the conference was a success. The Olympic Training Center itself is a special environment; when you're there, you're surrounded by people whose purpose is helping others achieve greatness, and you have to be pretty jaded for that not to rub off. More important, it was inspiring to work alongside so many people who shared a common motivation - there was a divergent set of skills, but everybody in my group wanted to learn as much as possible.
The USOC International Relations group and the USFA (specifically Andrea) put in a large amount of time and effort into making this work well, and it showed. Hopefully the USFA can show that it used its grant money well, because this was an excellent opportunity for the domestic coaches who came. If this type of conference becomes more commonplace, it will only be good for our zonal relationships (a good thing -- stronger fencers in our zone mean stronger competitions outside of Europe) as well as the development of American coaches.
My advice for anybody who goes to such a conference (whether USFCA, Coaches' College, or something similar to this) is to maximize the number of teachable moments. They may come in the formal instruction, but often the moments that stick are little tidbits in a lecturer's ADD tangent, an extra Q&A session in the weight room, or something shared over a beer.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
PASO Day 3 / 4
The final lecture session was "Creating a Periodized Plan" by a USOC Strength & Conditioning Specialist. Again, it was good information, nothing particularly specific, just a set of general principles on how to build a periodized training plan. He also followed up with a second S&C lecture which talked about the relationships between S&C properties - Force, Power, Strength, etc, and how development of those properties fits together.
During the lunch session, the group went to Garden of the Gods; most of the American coaches had been there before, so we stuck back and I explored the now-defunct library. If you call ahead, you can still get access.
We got split up into groups by weapon and introduced to the practical instructors.
Buckie Leach is doing the practical sessions for foil, and today's topic was "Active Defense". The system is structured around idea that a foilist can be enticed to finish their attack, given the correct distance. We primarily worked actions off false-counterattack (parry-riposte, counterattack, getaway-go), and false-parry (parry-riposte, counterattack, hit-getaway).
I don't have enough information to write about the epee or sabre, but I will if I can find that info.
During the lunch session, the group went to Garden of the Gods; most of the American coaches had been there before, so we stuck back and I explored the now-defunct library. If you call ahead, you can still get access.
We got split up into groups by weapon and introduced to the practical instructors.
Buckie Leach is doing the practical sessions for foil, and today's topic was "Active Defense". The system is structured around idea that a foilist can be enticed to finish their attack, given the correct distance. We primarily worked actions off false-counterattack (parry-riposte, counterattack, getaway-go), and false-parry (parry-riposte, counterattack, hit-getaway).
I don't have enough information to write about the epee or sabre, but I will if I can find that info.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Notes from Mike Pederson's Presentation
Mike Pederson Presentation - The Road to Beijing (MS Word .doc)
These are my notes; they contain much of the material that Mike wrote and some extra paraphrasing on my part. Any misrepresentations are my fault.
These are my notes; they contain much of the material that Mike wrote and some extra paraphrasing on my part. Any misrepresentations are my fault.
PASO Day 2
Our first session on Day 2 was "Implementing Performance Thinking Training" by a USOC Sport Psychologist. It's something I've thought a lot about, but not in terms of "sport psychology" and more in human terms - how do I put my athlete into a place where they can express themselves as a fencer? The biggest tag in the presentation that caught my attention: "You are doing it anyway, might as well conscious and systematic."
For those interested, the USOC has some mental training resources available for sale. I haven't done more than a cursory glance, but they look well-prepared and will likely be an addition to my library.
The second session was done by Alex Ryjik, the owner of Virginia Academy of Fencing, titled "Fencing Clubs in the US." More than anything, I felt the cultural divide here - it was educational on how the club system worked in the US, and specifically how VAF (one of the more business-savvy clubs in the country) worked, but for an audience whose stated interest was achieving high-performance goals, I'm not really sure it fit. One of the interesting tidbits was from an attendee, who pointed out that in his country, fencing clubs were not allowed to make a profit! We often complain about how other fencing powers have it easy with state sponsorship, but we're hardly the worst-case scenario.
The third session was "Deveoping a Strength & Conditioning Program", by the USOC's S&C coordinator. None of the material was groundbreaking, but the general principles established were sound, and it covered a lot of ground. I would have loved to see more specific examples -- I'm quite curious about assessment (especially when we're talking about imbalances which develop through hours of skill training), and ended up cornering the presenter in the weight room for a half-hour in the evening.
The final session, "Optimal Nutrition to Enhance Performance," fell a bit flat for me. On one hand, the hydration, supplement, and general ideas were fine. The few specific recommendations seemed off. Or as another attendee put it, "I think that's the first time I've ever been told to eat MORE carbs." However, she did specify that her background was in endurance sports, specifically cycling, which would explain some of the discrepancies. However, the general recommendations on how to create a nutrition plan made a lot of sense, while eliminating the tedium of trying to track down every last calorie.
I do have the material from these presentations, but want to check with the appropriate people before making it available.
For those interested, the USOC has some mental training resources available for sale. I haven't done more than a cursory glance, but they look well-prepared and will likely be an addition to my library.
The second session was done by Alex Ryjik, the owner of Virginia Academy of Fencing, titled "Fencing Clubs in the US." More than anything, I felt the cultural divide here - it was educational on how the club system worked in the US, and specifically how VAF (one of the more business-savvy clubs in the country) worked, but for an audience whose stated interest was achieving high-performance goals, I'm not really sure it fit. One of the interesting tidbits was from an attendee, who pointed out that in his country, fencing clubs were not allowed to make a profit! We often complain about how other fencing powers have it easy with state sponsorship, but we're hardly the worst-case scenario.
The third session was "Deveoping a Strength & Conditioning Program", by the USOC's S&C coordinator. None of the material was groundbreaking, but the general principles established were sound, and it covered a lot of ground. I would have loved to see more specific examples -- I'm quite curious about assessment (especially when we're talking about imbalances which develop through hours of skill training), and ended up cornering the presenter in the weight room for a half-hour in the evening.
The final session, "Optimal Nutrition to Enhance Performance," fell a bit flat for me. On one hand, the hydration, supplement, and general ideas were fine. The few specific recommendations seemed off. Or as another attendee put it, "I think that's the first time I've ever been told to eat MORE carbs." However, she did specify that her background was in endurance sports, specifically cycling, which would explain some of the discrepancies. However, the general recommendations on how to create a nutrition plan made a lot of sense, while eliminating the tedium of trying to track down every last calorie.
I do have the material from these presentations, but want to check with the appropriate people before making it available.
Monday, July 20, 2009
PASO Day 1
The PASO Conference is divided up into two sessions: Theory and Practical. The theory session encompasses the first three days, and the practical work will all happen during the final three. We started off with a welcome from the usual suspects: Kurt, Andrea, Sunil, as well as the head of the USOC, and a typical visitors' tour of the OTC complex.
The first session was by Mike Pederson, entitled "The Road to Beijing" in which he gave an overview of what he considers are the most important factors to making athletes successful at the elite level. I took copious notes and will post them shortly.
After lunch, we got an introduction to the software package Dartfish, given by a USOC Sports Services staff member. Most of the information is available on the Dartfish website, but it was interesting to see the potential uses of the software, which has two main purposes: collecting and visualizing video data, and tracking and tagging the same video.
The video overlay comparisons were fairly cool, but I was most intrigued by the software's ability to capture sensor data. They did some neat things with pressure plates and accelerometers to measure the acceleration of a weightlifter's bar, graphing that data alongside video of the lift itself. Those technologies may not be commercially available -- I was told they were created in-house -- so it is uncertain if coaches in the fencing community could duplicate some of the more interesting uses of the software. It is, however, a useful opposition research tool, as long as enough video source material is collected and properly tagged.
The final session was again run by Mike Pederson, who talked about how he does opponent research without Dartfish. He notes the position on the strip of a touch, and an abbreviation of the phrase. The advantage of this method over video is that it can be easily done in real-time at a tournament without needing to go back, parse, and classify every action. You're still looking for the same thing -- trends and tendencies in where people prefer to be on the strip, as well as what actions they favor. We've done this at several NWFC camps, and if I can find those materials, I'll post them here as well.
Most of the coaches here are from Caribbean and Central/South American countries, so Spanish is the most-spoken language. The USOC has flown in people to do real-time translation via radio earpieces. I understand we're the guinea pigs for this system, which seems to be working well.
Day 1 is in the books; Day 2 should be more technical, with sport psych, strength & conditioning, and nutrition lectures.
The first session was by Mike Pederson, entitled "The Road to Beijing" in which he gave an overview of what he considers are the most important factors to making athletes successful at the elite level. I took copious notes and will post them shortly.
After lunch, we got an introduction to the software package Dartfish, given by a USOC Sports Services staff member. Most of the information is available on the Dartfish website, but it was interesting to see the potential uses of the software, which has two main purposes: collecting and visualizing video data, and tracking and tagging the same video.
The video overlay comparisons were fairly cool, but I was most intrigued by the software's ability to capture sensor data. They did some neat things with pressure plates and accelerometers to measure the acceleration of a weightlifter's bar, graphing that data alongside video of the lift itself. Those technologies may not be commercially available -- I was told they were created in-house -- so it is uncertain if coaches in the fencing community could duplicate some of the more interesting uses of the software. It is, however, a useful opposition research tool, as long as enough video source material is collected and properly tagged.
The final session was again run by Mike Pederson, who talked about how he does opponent research without Dartfish. He notes the position on the strip of a touch, and an abbreviation of the phrase. The advantage of this method over video is that it can be easily done in real-time at a tournament without needing to go back, parse, and classify every action. You're still looking for the same thing -- trends and tendencies in where people prefer to be on the strip, as well as what actions they favor. We've done this at several NWFC camps, and if I can find those materials, I'll post them here as well.
Most of the coaches here are from Caribbean and Central/South American countries, so Spanish is the most-spoken language. The USOC has flown in people to do real-time translation via radio earpieces. I understand we're the guinea pigs for this system, which seems to be working well.
Day 1 is in the books; Day 2 should be more technical, with sport psych, strength & conditioning, and nutrition lectures.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
It's Been Such a Long Time
I'm at the Pan-American Sports Organization's "High Level Technical Courses for Fencing Coaches" at the US Olympic Training Center in Colorado Springs. What's supposed to happen? 3 days of classes, including strength & conditioning, nutrition, Dartfish, and then 3 days of practical sessions.
This program is being offered with USOC International Relations money, so rather than send US Fencing poobahs on wine-and-dine junkets, they're sponsoring a coaching clinic, using "Learn how we got 6 Gold medals at the Olympics!" as a teaser, and attracting coaches from all over the Pan Am zone. So far I've met some Brazilians and some Chileans. The coaches involved in putting on the clinic aren't really the ones responsible for our medal haul (except in foil), but that doesn't necessarily mean the conference won't be good.
One of the requirements is that we're supposed to disseminate whatever information we get to members of our own federation. I plan on doing an honest assessment over the whole week I'm in Springs...if the information seems incomplete or invalid, I'll say so. If it's good, then credit will go where it's due, and I'll try to get it out to other fencing coaches. From talking to Andrea, the timeline for this conference was extremely quick; the information wasn't up until June, and I didn't know about being selected until Nationals was almost over.
Thus far, I'm impressed - we received cute little swag bags. The one super-interesting item is a 6 DVD set of every single medal match in the 2008 Olympics, compliments of the USOC.
The OTC has changed a bit since I was last here in 2006. Currently MIA -- the library, apparently a victim of budget cuts. That's disconcerting, given that it contained so much interesting information, not only on fencing, but any topic related to sport.
This program is being offered with USOC International Relations money, so rather than send US Fencing poobahs on wine-and-dine junkets, they're sponsoring a coaching clinic, using "Learn how we got 6 Gold medals at the Olympics!" as a teaser, and attracting coaches from all over the Pan Am zone. So far I've met some Brazilians and some Chileans. The coaches involved in putting on the clinic aren't really the ones responsible for our medal haul (except in foil), but that doesn't necessarily mean the conference won't be good.
One of the requirements is that we're supposed to disseminate whatever information we get to members of our own federation. I plan on doing an honest assessment over the whole week I'm in Springs...if the information seems incomplete or invalid, I'll say so. If it's good, then credit will go where it's due, and I'll try to get it out to other fencing coaches. From talking to Andrea, the timeline for this conference was extremely quick; the information wasn't up until June, and I didn't know about being selected until Nationals was almost over.
Thus far, I'm impressed - we received cute little swag bags. The one super-interesting item is a 6 DVD set of every single medal match in the 2008 Olympics, compliments of the USOC.
The OTC has changed a bit since I was last here in 2006. Currently MIA -- the library, apparently a victim of budget cuts. That's disconcerting, given that it contained so much interesting information, not only on fencing, but any topic related to sport.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Playa del Carmen
Things that consider Kathryn to be food (in order of generally accepted level of danger to most humans):
- Barracudas
- Mosquitoes
- The Sun
- Pelicans
- Doorways
- Sea Turtles*
* We can only speculate; the female turtle was quite full of sea-grass by this point. But given K’s inability to escape from inanimate objects such as doorways, I believe that the sea turtle could totally have eaten her.
Day 1:
We arrived in Mexico. We rented a car, an hour-long experience, and drove to Playa del Carmen from the Cancun airport. Interestingly, the printed reservation slip for our hotel didn’t have the address on it. Therefore, we spent close to an hour navigating the streets of Playa del Carmen looking for parking. We learned about the “Alto” signs at intersections, which look similar to Stop signs, only if you do anything other than flash your brake lights, you will be subjected to a wall of honking horns. This applies regardless of how many pedestrians or stray dogs have just darted in front of your bumper. We also learned that “pedestrian zone” is taken with a bit of a grain of salt, enabling us to wedge our tiny car into a parallel spot right outside our hotel.
We’re staying at the Hotel Fusion. This has the advantage of being a beach club hotel right on the white sand beach of Playa, and the disadvantage of being in a 3rd world country. K: “Do you think this sign means you can’t flush the toilet paper?” Correct, unless the parasites in the water consider you food as well, in which case, I’m all for being an ugly American.
Food was discovered at La Parilla, a Mexican joint right in the center of town. The place was kitsch, with mariachis and all, but the food was good. In keeping with the idea of being entertained throughout dinner, K’s steak was flambéed at the table.
Day 2:
Breakfast: Omelette with the best black beans I’ve ever eaten and salsa, at the hotel restaurant. We sat at an open-air bar, facing the glassy Caribbean. Unfortunately, we also failed to apply sunscreen (“It’s just breakfast!”) – why bother postponing the inevitable transformation from Canadian to lobster?
After breakfast came the initial stages of getting K to properly use snorkel gear. This was not as easy as it sounded, partially due to some cognitive dissonance in the underwater stage. Water does not fill our newfangled fancy snorkels when they are submerged. However, this in no way means that inhaling will be rewarded with oxygen. Disaster averted, she was diving like a champ. Of course, we got yelled at to come back behind the buoy, because that’s where there’s stuff other than sand. You know, like dead coral and tropical fish…only jet skis and boats are allowed out there.
Once inside the buoys, K became braver and decided to start really diving under the surface. I was about 10 feet away, having come up for a breather. Right as K flippered down, a pelican swooped down out of the sky and skimmed the water by her flippers. We can only speculate on his bird-y motives, but I suspect that he was looking for a polite lunch. Discovering that his prey, although unsuspecting, was slightly larger than anticipated, the pelican took off before she managed to get to the surface.
Playa seemed like a decent place to learn, but not particularly brilliant snorkeling, and there were clearly hidden dangers. We had to come up with something else.
Like lunch. Our indecision was solved by a pushy Mexican who gave us the hard sell on his place. Ceviche, which is fish, tomatoes, cilantro, onion, avocado, and lime juice. K had sopa lima, which is lime and chicken soup, which left us somewhat disappointed. The margaritas were not disappointing at all, enough that both of us were actually feeling the tequila (+ sun + dehydration + light lunch); we were hustled into the shop next door, where Cheech tried to sell us Mexican knick-knacks. “I got good stuff, for my friends here…we got Cubans, we got pot…”
“Pot, and drugs?” K asked as we left the shop, not particularly interested in the 34th lime green sombrero we’d seen in 36 hours.
“I missed that part. But maybe he meant prescription drugs.” Like Xanax or Vicodin, or whatever those crazy kids are taking today.
Taking the hard sell approach worked well for lunch, so we applied the idea to dinner. Most of the way up 5th street, we got offered “traditional Mayan dishes.” K had a super-sweet Caribbean shrimp dish. In keeping with the food-must-be-entertainment meme, I had “pil pil shrimp”, apparently a Mayan dish despite the use of soy sauce. Note to self: must set things on fire when cooking at home, it makes everything taste better. PS – Use brandy, not 151.
Day 3:
We had breakfast at a place my mom recommended, called “100% Natural”. It’s a hippie joint, with a fruit-laden waterfall, and you sit shaded by big trees. The juice - phenomenal. The omelette – meh, although it was hard to compare entrees; there was a big void in my stomach which could only be filled by exceptional black beans, and the side here was a house salad with tomato vinaigrette. For breakfast?
Oddly, at 100% Natural, they had a little weightlifting icon by dishes that were high in protein and thus good for active people. Oatmeal had it, but omelettes, not so much. Weird.
The Internets had pointed us in the direction of Akumal, which is where sea turtles come to nest. Plus, there was living coral there. This seemed like a brilliant idea, so we piled our snorkel gear into the rental car and drove down the highway. Akumal is in the process of building their very own highway exit, but right now it’s just a badly-paved road that you take (after a U-turn). After parking, we jumped into the water. The bay is protected by a barrier reef, so even though the ocean was a bit choppy, there were no waves, and we swam out past the tourists and started poking around in the sea grass.
Huge sea turtle. Check.
Many thousands of not-very-small fishes, making this silvery wall of fishes. Check.
Barracuda. Check. He was big. As long as K is tall big. At some point, we had enough of staring contests and decided to flipper off. At some point, I decided to turn over and see. The barracuda was swimming our direction. After being spotted however, he seemed disinterested in lunching on Canadian, and decided to stop.
Stingray. Check.
Squid. Check.
Coral. Check.
Dumb Tourists. Check.
K had to visit a restroom, so we wandered back to the car; the banos ecologicos cost 5 pesos to use, but we had stashed our money in the car rather than leave it on the beach. 33 cents, and all you get is a hole in the ground? Lunch was fried fish sandwiches with chipotle mayo, and fresh squeezed lemonade.
We had dinner at the Palapa Hemingway, which was good but forgettable. The service was…well, let’s just say that it’s better to pay with credit cards than cash. The waiter assumed he was getting the full tip, and then didn’t bring back correct change, nor did he bring the bill back for us to look at.
Fortunately, I was still hungry. We went back to the ceviche place for margaritas and flambeed dessert.
Day 4:
Lazy day. We did some touristy stuff, bought some metal artwork. Breakfast was croissants and juice. There were three highlights:
We walked by Cheech’s store again tonight. “Hey, you want to come in? I got it all at good prices. Cubans, Pot,” and what I swear was “cocaine.” I asked K, and she thought he said the same thing, but couldn’t tell for certain. Of course, she was still squeaking over getting her picture taken with a monkey, so she’s not a reliable witness.
Dinner at El Fogazon. This is apparently where the locals eat once they’re done with their shifts in the touristy areas. The tomatillo salsa is … um, let’s just say that I know when I’m beaten. We had beef arranchero-style, with the best guacamole ever (sorry, Doc), and a white-bean soup. Our meals cost $10. Not apiece.
The Best Parade Ever. Did you know that we’re here during Carnival? It didn’t even register to me. So, there was this parade down 5th street, the main tourist drag. The Best Parade Ever was a disorganized spectacle, with stops and starts occurring seemingly at random. It included:
- Token Beauty Queen.
- Random beauty-queen wannabes wearing large (6 foot radius) halo-wing things. One of them had so much trouble with hers that some random costumed guy took hers and wore it.
- Random latino/latina dancers.
- The Mask. As in the Jim Carrey character.
- Beetlejuice. As in the Michael Keaton character.
- Toddlers throwing candy from the sunroof of a Toyota Tundra into the crowd.
- Random octogenarian brigade. Some members of this group were concentrating as much as they could on walking on the cobblestones in their pumps. Those who were sitting in the back of their pickup truck were concentrating on beaning people with candy. One of the guys had a wicked fastball, which caught one of the tourists in front of us in the face.
- Fat men dressed in drag, singing, “We don’t need no water, let the motherfucker burn!” I’m a child of the nineties, that song is love.
I promise, I am stone sober. I can’t even imagine what this would have been like had I befriended Cheech.
It's not that late here, and good thing. We haven't yet figured how to preserve the "fire + food" meme.
From a beach hotel in Mexico, good night and good luck.
- Barracudas
- Mosquitoes
- The Sun
- Pelicans
- Doorways
- Sea Turtles*
* We can only speculate; the female turtle was quite full of sea-grass by this point. But given K’s inability to escape from inanimate objects such as doorways, I believe that the sea turtle could totally have eaten her.
Day 1:
We arrived in Mexico. We rented a car, an hour-long experience, and drove to Playa del Carmen from the Cancun airport. Interestingly, the printed reservation slip for our hotel didn’t have the address on it. Therefore, we spent close to an hour navigating the streets of Playa del Carmen looking for parking. We learned about the “Alto” signs at intersections, which look similar to Stop signs, only if you do anything other than flash your brake lights, you will be subjected to a wall of honking horns. This applies regardless of how many pedestrians or stray dogs have just darted in front of your bumper. We also learned that “pedestrian zone” is taken with a bit of a grain of salt, enabling us to wedge our tiny car into a parallel spot right outside our hotel.
We’re staying at the Hotel Fusion. This has the advantage of being a beach club hotel right on the white sand beach of Playa, and the disadvantage of being in a 3rd world country. K: “Do you think this sign means you can’t flush the toilet paper?” Correct, unless the parasites in the water consider you food as well, in which case, I’m all for being an ugly American.
Food was discovered at La Parilla, a Mexican joint right in the center of town. The place was kitsch, with mariachis and all, but the food was good. In keeping with the idea of being entertained throughout dinner, K’s steak was flambéed at the table.
Day 2:
Breakfast: Omelette with the best black beans I’ve ever eaten and salsa, at the hotel restaurant. We sat at an open-air bar, facing the glassy Caribbean. Unfortunately, we also failed to apply sunscreen (“It’s just breakfast!”) – why bother postponing the inevitable transformation from Canadian to lobster?
After breakfast came the initial stages of getting K to properly use snorkel gear. This was not as easy as it sounded, partially due to some cognitive dissonance in the underwater stage. Water does not fill our newfangled fancy snorkels when they are submerged. However, this in no way means that inhaling will be rewarded with oxygen. Disaster averted, she was diving like a champ. Of course, we got yelled at to come back behind the buoy, because that’s where there’s stuff other than sand. You know, like dead coral and tropical fish…only jet skis and boats are allowed out there.
Once inside the buoys, K became braver and decided to start really diving under the surface. I was about 10 feet away, having come up for a breather. Right as K flippered down, a pelican swooped down out of the sky and skimmed the water by her flippers. We can only speculate on his bird-y motives, but I suspect that he was looking for a polite lunch. Discovering that his prey, although unsuspecting, was slightly larger than anticipated, the pelican took off before she managed to get to the surface.
Playa seemed like a decent place to learn, but not particularly brilliant snorkeling, and there were clearly hidden dangers. We had to come up with something else.
Like lunch. Our indecision was solved by a pushy Mexican who gave us the hard sell on his place. Ceviche, which is fish, tomatoes, cilantro, onion, avocado, and lime juice. K had sopa lima, which is lime and chicken soup, which left us somewhat disappointed. The margaritas were not disappointing at all, enough that both of us were actually feeling the tequila (+ sun + dehydration + light lunch); we were hustled into the shop next door, where Cheech tried to sell us Mexican knick-knacks. “I got good stuff, for my friends here…we got Cubans, we got pot…”
“Pot, and drugs?” K asked as we left the shop, not particularly interested in the 34th lime green sombrero we’d seen in 36 hours.
“I missed that part. But maybe he meant prescription drugs.” Like Xanax or Vicodin, or whatever those crazy kids are taking today.
Taking the hard sell approach worked well for lunch, so we applied the idea to dinner. Most of the way up 5th street, we got offered “traditional Mayan dishes.” K had a super-sweet Caribbean shrimp dish. In keeping with the food-must-be-entertainment meme, I had “pil pil shrimp”, apparently a Mayan dish despite the use of soy sauce. Note to self: must set things on fire when cooking at home, it makes everything taste better. PS – Use brandy, not 151.
Day 3:
We had breakfast at a place my mom recommended, called “100% Natural”. It’s a hippie joint, with a fruit-laden waterfall, and you sit shaded by big trees. The juice - phenomenal. The omelette – meh, although it was hard to compare entrees; there was a big void in my stomach which could only be filled by exceptional black beans, and the side here was a house salad with tomato vinaigrette. For breakfast?
Oddly, at 100% Natural, they had a little weightlifting icon by dishes that were high in protein and thus good for active people. Oatmeal had it, but omelettes, not so much. Weird.
The Internets had pointed us in the direction of Akumal, which is where sea turtles come to nest. Plus, there was living coral there. This seemed like a brilliant idea, so we piled our snorkel gear into the rental car and drove down the highway. Akumal is in the process of building their very own highway exit, but right now it’s just a badly-paved road that you take (after a U-turn). After parking, we jumped into the water. The bay is protected by a barrier reef, so even though the ocean was a bit choppy, there were no waves, and we swam out past the tourists and started poking around in the sea grass.
Huge sea turtle. Check.
Many thousands of not-very-small fishes, making this silvery wall of fishes. Check.
Barracuda. Check. He was big. As long as K is tall big. At some point, we had enough of staring contests and decided to flipper off. At some point, I decided to turn over and see. The barracuda was swimming our direction. After being spotted however, he seemed disinterested in lunching on Canadian, and decided to stop.
Stingray. Check.
Squid. Check.
Coral. Check.
Dumb Tourists. Check.
K had to visit a restroom, so we wandered back to the car; the banos ecologicos cost 5 pesos to use, but we had stashed our money in the car rather than leave it on the beach. 33 cents, and all you get is a hole in the ground? Lunch was fried fish sandwiches with chipotle mayo, and fresh squeezed lemonade.
We had dinner at the Palapa Hemingway, which was good but forgettable. The service was…well, let’s just say that it’s better to pay with credit cards than cash. The waiter assumed he was getting the full tip, and then didn’t bring back correct change, nor did he bring the bill back for us to look at.
Fortunately, I was still hungry. We went back to the ceviche place for margaritas and flambeed dessert.
Day 4:
Lazy day. We did some touristy stuff, bought some metal artwork. Breakfast was croissants and juice. There were three highlights:
We walked by Cheech’s store again tonight. “Hey, you want to come in? I got it all at good prices. Cubans, Pot,” and what I swear was “cocaine.” I asked K, and she thought he said the same thing, but couldn’t tell for certain. Of course, she was still squeaking over getting her picture taken with a monkey, so she’s not a reliable witness.
Dinner at El Fogazon. This is apparently where the locals eat once they’re done with their shifts in the touristy areas. The tomatillo salsa is … um, let’s just say that I know when I’m beaten. We had beef arranchero-style, with the best guacamole ever (sorry, Doc), and a white-bean soup. Our meals cost $10. Not apiece.
The Best Parade Ever. Did you know that we’re here during Carnival? It didn’t even register to me. So, there was this parade down 5th street, the main tourist drag. The Best Parade Ever was a disorganized spectacle, with stops and starts occurring seemingly at random. It included:
- Token Beauty Queen.
- Random beauty-queen wannabes wearing large (6 foot radius) halo-wing things. One of them had so much trouble with hers that some random costumed guy took hers and wore it.
- Random latino/latina dancers.
- The Mask. As in the Jim Carrey character.
- Beetlejuice. As in the Michael Keaton character.
- Toddlers throwing candy from the sunroof of a Toyota Tundra into the crowd.
- Random octogenarian brigade. Some members of this group were concentrating as much as they could on walking on the cobblestones in their pumps. Those who were sitting in the back of their pickup truck were concentrating on beaning people with candy. One of the guys had a wicked fastball, which caught one of the tourists in front of us in the face.
- Fat men dressed in drag, singing, “We don’t need no water, let the motherfucker burn!” I’m a child of the nineties, that song is love.
I promise, I am stone sober. I can’t even imagine what this would have been like had I befriended Cheech.
It's not that late here, and good thing. We haven't yet figured how to preserve the "fire + food" meme.
From a beach hotel in Mexico, good night and good luck.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Ring
The question you may be wondering is, "How does it feel?" A little like Frodo Baggins, but without the homosexual undertones.
Some small shreds of sunlight managed to peek through the incredibly dense rainclouds to inform us that it was no longer the middle of Thursday night, and thus, wedding day. Having secured a venue in front of the dogwood and rhododendrons at Lisa's parents' place, the hourly forecast forced us to abandon it for their living room. In the end, it was a fine choice, having a small group of family, friends, a toddler, and an exceptionally spoiled beagle around us.
The ceremony went well. The only stumbling block was in the charge, and I quote: "Happy marriages are not competitive and they don’t keep score." Apparently that's funny.
Unfortunately, the couple was too busy murdering the local rhododendrons to notice that they had left the marriage certificate at the apartment, so a minor detour was needed to get to the dinner place, a highly-recommended hotspot named Fenouil, where great wine, champagne, and phenomenal food were had by all.
I wish the rest of you could have been here, so we could have shared the day. We can, however, share a few pictures. Until August, it'll have to suffice.
Some small shreds of sunlight managed to peek through the incredibly dense rainclouds to inform us that it was no longer the middle of Thursday night, and thus, wedding day. Having secured a venue in front of the dogwood and rhododendrons at Lisa's parents' place, the hourly forecast forced us to abandon it for their living room. In the end, it was a fine choice, having a small group of family, friends, a toddler, and an exceptionally spoiled beagle around us.
The ceremony went well. The only stumbling block was in the charge, and I quote: "Happy marriages are not competitive and they don’t keep score." Apparently that's funny.
Unfortunately, the couple was too busy murdering the local rhododendrons to notice that they had left the marriage certificate at the apartment, so a minor detour was needed to get to the dinner place, a highly-recommended hotspot named Fenouil, where great wine, champagne, and phenomenal food were had by all.
I wish the rest of you could have been here, so we could have shared the day. We can, however, share a few pictures. Until August, it'll have to suffice.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Apparently, I misunderestimated the needs of my blog's demographic. This demographic is comprised of pretty female 18-35 Canadian sabre fencers.
Further polling data suggests that they like "popcorn" and "kitty pictures." Thus, in a blatant pander to my base, here is a kitty picture with popcorn.
Don't say I never did nothing for ya.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Vote or Die
For those of you who are USFA members, remember to vote!
I'd like to share a story about Tracy Hurley.
This is the one interaction I had with her, and it was at the 2003 NAC D in Saratoga Springs.
Courtney was fencing the Y14 women's foil semifinal match against Arielle Pensler. Every single action went a bit like this. Courtney would press and make a strong lunge. Arielle would break distance and begin a slow attack (we still called "Attack, No. Riposte." then.) Immediately, Courtney would redouble with a fleche into Arielle. Each time there were two lights. Each time, the call was the same.
With each call, Courtney got more and more agitated. I get that; good fencers don't like losing. However, with each touch, Mrs. Hurley also became more and more agitated, and more and more directed at me, at one point screaming, "THIS IS WHY WE FENCE EPEE, COURTNEY!!" (Way to encourage mastery and responsibility, mom!)
I briefly flirted with the idea of awarding a red card (old school, as I said), but figured that the offender's personality would probably be encouraged by the attention. After all, the bout wasn't going to last particularly long.
Upon the loss, tantrums ensued. I don't take that personally, it's part of the game. The Fencing Officials' Commission rep assured me that my calls were spot-on and some armchair quarterbacking was done on the type of cards that could have been thrown (red or black would have been acceptable).
As I walked away from the piste, I heard Mrs. Hurley remark to a cohort, "...and no student of Buckie's will ever lose a bout when Buckie's standing here."
So we've got interesting behavior problems, avoidance of responsibility, and paranoid accusations of partiality. This is the person you want controlling the direction of the USFA? No - it's Kalle Weekes, Mark Stasinos, Jerry Benson, Ro Solbavarro, Greg Dilworth, and Brad Baker.
I'd like to share a story about Tracy Hurley.
This is the one interaction I had with her, and it was at the 2003 NAC D in Saratoga Springs.
Courtney was fencing the Y14 women's foil semifinal match against Arielle Pensler. Every single action went a bit like this. Courtney would press and make a strong lunge. Arielle would break distance and begin a slow attack (we still called "Attack, No. Riposte." then.) Immediately, Courtney would redouble with a fleche into Arielle. Each time there were two lights. Each time, the call was the same.
With each call, Courtney got more and more agitated. I get that; good fencers don't like losing. However, with each touch, Mrs. Hurley also became more and more agitated, and more and more directed at me, at one point screaming, "THIS IS WHY WE FENCE EPEE, COURTNEY!!" (Way to encourage mastery and responsibility, mom!)
I briefly flirted with the idea of awarding a red card (old school, as I said), but figured that the offender's personality would probably be encouraged by the attention. After all, the bout wasn't going to last particularly long.
Upon the loss, tantrums ensued. I don't take that personally, it's part of the game. The Fencing Officials' Commission rep assured me that my calls were spot-on and some armchair quarterbacking was done on the type of cards that could have been thrown (red or black would have been acceptable).
As I walked away from the piste, I heard Mrs. Hurley remark to a cohort, "...and no student of Buckie's will ever lose a bout when Buckie's standing here."
So we've got interesting behavior problems, avoidance of responsibility, and paranoid accusations of partiality. This is the person you want controlling the direction of the USFA? No - it's Kalle Weekes, Mark Stasinos, Jerry Benson, Ro Solbavarro, Greg Dilworth, and Brad Baker.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Airborne Corpulence
The gentleman in Seat 31E on the April 20 8pm flight from ORD to PDX, should be paying for part of my seat. Here's how I see it:
I understand that airline travel is not supposed to be comfortable or luxurious. You pay airlines a few hundred dollars. For this number you get to deal with sub-human customer service representatives (with a few wonderful people sprinkled in...just to keep you hoping!), forced to stand in no fewer than three long lines, poked and prodded by TSA primates who seem able to miss handguns aplenty, but will sniff out every last four ounce bottle of shampoo. If you survive this, you get crammed like sardines into a flying tin germ trap. That makes sense.
But here's the problem; these seats have a maximum width. Unfortunately, some of the people who inhabit them do not. And lest you think I'm being harsh, Gentle Reader, we're not talking about folks who are "overweight", or "carrying a few dozen extra pounds", or even "obese." If an NFL lineman gave any advice to the gentleman in Row 31, it would be, "Dude, you need to lay off the double-thickburgers!"
Here's where we get into the unique properties of fat. You see, in copious amounts fat behaves like a liquid, spilling over the cusp of whatever is feebly attempting to contain it -- in this case, an armrest. And because one can't pull one's scapulae together for an entire cross-country flight, occasionally one's elbow relaxes and sinks ... into a sea of simple carbohydrates only barely covered by sweat-damp polo.
This, my friends, is not a healthy feeling.
As such, about 25% of my seat was uninhabitable. I feel that the gentleman in the middle should definitely pick up the tab.
I understand that airline travel is not supposed to be comfortable or luxurious. You pay airlines a few hundred dollars. For this number you get to deal with sub-human customer service representatives (with a few wonderful people sprinkled in...just to keep you hoping!), forced to stand in no fewer than three long lines, poked and prodded by TSA primates who seem able to miss handguns aplenty, but will sniff out every last four ounce bottle of shampoo. If you survive this, you get crammed like sardines into a flying tin germ trap. That makes sense.
But here's the problem; these seats have a maximum width. Unfortunately, some of the people who inhabit them do not. And lest you think I'm being harsh, Gentle Reader, we're not talking about folks who are "overweight", or "carrying a few dozen extra pounds", or even "obese." If an NFL lineman gave any advice to the gentleman in Row 31, it would be, "Dude, you need to lay off the double-thickburgers!"
Here's where we get into the unique properties of fat. You see, in copious amounts fat behaves like a liquid, spilling over the cusp of whatever is feebly attempting to contain it -- in this case, an armrest. And because one can't pull one's scapulae together for an entire cross-country flight, occasionally one's elbow relaxes and sinks ... into a sea of simple carbohydrates only barely covered by sweat-damp polo.
This, my friends, is not a healthy feeling.
As such, about 25% of my seat was uninhabitable. I feel that the gentleman in the middle should definitely pick up the tab.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
We passed Italy!
Thanks to superb team performances at Junior World Champs, we just passed Italy in the medal count! Congrats to the Women's Epeeists!!
Tomorrow's event will be tough; Italy is deep in both Women's Foil and Men's Epee, and they will likely pass us. The tableaux have us meeting them in the Gold medal match in ME, and the semis in WF.
Medal counts are silly. Italy is already ahead with 3 gold, 7 silver, 2 bronze compared to our 4 gold, 1 silver, 1 bronze, but the FIE site prioritizes gold. Thus, we win! Gold medal for Amy!
Tomorrow's event will be tough; Italy is deep in both Women's Foil and Men's Epee, and they will likely pass us. The tableaux have us meeting them in the Gold medal match in ME, and the semis in WF.
Medal counts are silly. Italy is already ahead with 3 gold, 7 silver, 2 bronze compared to our 4 gold, 1 silver, 1 bronze, but the FIE site prioritizes gold. Thus, we win! Gold medal for Amy!
I believe your formal complaint is lodged...
"Could you please write a memo..."
These are words I didn't think I'd ever hear after leaving the cubicle world.
This weekend was the National Championship Qualifier, being held at NWFC. Since I'm a good host, I drag my nocturnal self out of bed at 8am, and open up the club. Cadet Men's Sabre...no big deal, I've done this before. The fencers are fine, there's about the usual level of tempo questioning and the typical answers. Tournament runs smoothly, the fencers don't really want to be there, just need to get the number of qualifiers done.
And then, once I've moved on to a different event, there's suddenly an uproar. One of the parents of a non-qualifying fencer is "filing a formal complaint" against the Division. Why? Because apparently there are anomalies with the strip used to run the sabre tournament. This is un-expletive-believable.
First, I'm a referee. I'm good at it, clear, unbiased, friendly, and unlike many won't lazily parse actions if I believe the fencers are "beneath me." You paid your money, you deserve to be treated like everybody else.
Second, we've got a certified armorer in the house. If there's something that looks strange, I call L and get a caffeine break. What's not to love?
At no point during this whole tournament, or the events run on the previous day, did anything bizarre come up on this strip. Every time an athlete asked to test, the equipment performed properly. Even an elite athlete (but let's not be too kind here) is prone to thinking they hit when they didn't; the game is that fast. Of course, if this had become a concern during the actual running of the event, it should have been brought to our attention immediately, and we could have performed diagnostics, but why should I deviate from standard procedure if the circumstances are completely and utterly ordinary?
Ah, because it's Johnny Superstar Athlete, who's the proud son of Mrs. Entitled Bitch III.
Accountability is the first thing that we should teach athletes; if they are not accountable for their actions, how can they effectively control their environment? If their every mistake can be rationalized, how can they submit to a process of continuous improvement?
Parents are not protecting their child by letting them fail and then having a temper tantrum. In the case that the young Mr Athlete, Esq is in need of an advocate, they should do it immediately. If there is an injustice, you fight it immediately, not only after a losing outcome. I've asked fencers to refuse to fence because of a rule violation, and never lost a bout committee appeal.
So now, I'm writing a memo in which I talk about doing my job. So is L, who's done due diligence with her multimeter.
In short, I very much hope this woman files her complaint. The extraction process from where it's currently lodged will be quite painful.
These are words I didn't think I'd ever hear after leaving the cubicle world.
This weekend was the National Championship Qualifier, being held at NWFC. Since I'm a good host, I drag my nocturnal self out of bed at 8am, and open up the club. Cadet Men's Sabre...no big deal, I've done this before. The fencers are fine, there's about the usual level of tempo questioning and the typical answers. Tournament runs smoothly, the fencers don't really want to be there, just need to get the number of qualifiers done.
And then, once I've moved on to a different event, there's suddenly an uproar. One of the parents of a non-qualifying fencer is "filing a formal complaint" against the Division. Why? Because apparently there are anomalies with the strip used to run the sabre tournament. This is un-expletive-believable.
First, I'm a referee. I'm good at it, clear, unbiased, friendly, and unlike many won't lazily parse actions if I believe the fencers are "beneath me." You paid your money, you deserve to be treated like everybody else.
Second, we've got a certified armorer in the house. If there's something that looks strange, I call L and get a caffeine break. What's not to love?
At no point during this whole tournament, or the events run on the previous day, did anything bizarre come up on this strip. Every time an athlete asked to test, the equipment performed properly. Even an elite athlete (but let's not be too kind here) is prone to thinking they hit when they didn't; the game is that fast. Of course, if this had become a concern during the actual running of the event, it should have been brought to our attention immediately, and we could have performed diagnostics, but why should I deviate from standard procedure if the circumstances are completely and utterly ordinary?
Ah, because it's Johnny Superstar Athlete, who's the proud son of Mrs. Entitled Bitch III.
Accountability is the first thing that we should teach athletes; if they are not accountable for their actions, how can they effectively control their environment? If their every mistake can be rationalized, how can they submit to a process of continuous improvement?
Parents are not protecting their child by letting them fail and then having a temper tantrum. In the case that the young Mr Athlete, Esq is in need of an advocate, they should do it immediately. If there is an injustice, you fight it immediately, not only after a losing outcome. I've asked fencers to refuse to fence because of a rule violation, and never lost a bout committee appeal.
So now, I'm writing a memo in which I talk about doing my job. So is L, who's done due diligence with her multimeter.
In short, I very much hope this woman files her complaint. The extraction process from where it's currently lodged will be quite painful.
Monday, April 7, 2008
Early April
Good morning, east-coasters!
Life is settling down a bit, enough that I actually kicked back and watched a movie on the big screen desktop. The normalcy of a television will elude me until K insists on getting a Wii.
I'm not quite in a rhythm yet - we've been busy trying to change a bunch of stuff at the club, and as such, doing a bunch of minor construction projects. Marx time is similar to Jewish Standard Time, so have to adjust my schedules appropriately.
Everybody has discovered my schedule is malleable, and I keep finding new lessons penciled in on my calendar. Boredom might be the single outlet for spending money, so I'm appreciative of the extra work; it removes that opportunity cost, and since my salary is augmented by extra lessons, that's good. Plus, there is no shortage of events to referee on the weekends.
The center just got a 501c3, which means they're a non-profit. This is a good thing; it means that anything donated to the club is tax-deductible. I've got my wishlist...if anybody has any prosumer HD cameras or non-linear editing systems they're looking to get rid of, and really really want to support one of our national training centers, you can Google my phone number. We'll produce amazing training DVDs and send them to you.
Speaking of training, my legs feel like rubberized pain. A little background -- since there are only 10 Olympic medals for fencing, we have 6 individual events and 4 team events, rotating which two team weapons get screwed every Olympiad. This year, Men's Foil is one. The FIE is having a team World Championship and individual test event in Beijing, and Ariel was selected for the event. He leaves in a little over a week and is cramming, which means being in here and training every day, including weekends. Basically, if there are no other competitive fencers there, it means we're on the finals strip for 45 minutes, bashing away at each other. This may be the best way to get back into fighting shape, but it requires the emotional capacity to shrug off losing 10 hits in a row.
The new Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers album is merely excellent. One of those "if they were anybody else, this would be brilliant" efforts. 11 songs recorded in 8 days in Rocky Point, Mexico, and it's got a smooth groove that makes me want to sip tequila and chow down on a steak burrito. (Astute readers will note that this is common-enough-behavior and probably has nothing to do with the music.) That said, I miss the ironi-country of Honky Tonk Union.
Wedding planning feels somewhat behind, which I've been told is how you feel until it's over.
Loki's adjusted quite capably. He's enjoying having an apartment all to himself, chatting with his buddy (a male grey tiger who lives next door but is let out every day), and getting lots of attention whenever I'm home. He's a decent conversationalist, although after the bustle of the fencerhaus, it's a little weird to come home to a quiet place.
Delayed onset muscle soreness, you are my bane. Back to fish oil, vitamin i(buprofen), asanas, and bed.
Life is settling down a bit, enough that I actually kicked back and watched a movie on the big screen desktop. The normalcy of a television will elude me until K insists on getting a Wii.
I'm not quite in a rhythm yet - we've been busy trying to change a bunch of stuff at the club, and as such, doing a bunch of minor construction projects. Marx time is similar to Jewish Standard Time, so have to adjust my schedules appropriately.
Everybody has discovered my schedule is malleable, and I keep finding new lessons penciled in on my calendar. Boredom might be the single outlet for spending money, so I'm appreciative of the extra work; it removes that opportunity cost, and since my salary is augmented by extra lessons, that's good. Plus, there is no shortage of events to referee on the weekends.
The center just got a 501c3, which means they're a non-profit. This is a good thing; it means that anything donated to the club is tax-deductible. I've got my wishlist...if anybody has any prosumer HD cameras or non-linear editing systems they're looking to get rid of, and really really want to support one of our national training centers, you can Google my phone number. We'll produce amazing training DVDs and send them to you.
Speaking of training, my legs feel like rubberized pain. A little background -- since there are only 10 Olympic medals for fencing, we have 6 individual events and 4 team events, rotating which two team weapons get screwed every Olympiad. This year, Men's Foil is one. The FIE is having a team World Championship and individual test event in Beijing, and Ariel was selected for the event. He leaves in a little over a week and is cramming, which means being in here and training every day, including weekends. Basically, if there are no other competitive fencers there, it means we're on the finals strip for 45 minutes, bashing away at each other. This may be the best way to get back into fighting shape, but it requires the emotional capacity to shrug off losing 10 hits in a row.
The new Roger Clyne & the Peacemakers album is merely excellent. One of those "if they were anybody else, this would be brilliant" efforts. 11 songs recorded in 8 days in Rocky Point, Mexico, and it's got a smooth groove that makes me want to sip tequila and chow down on a steak burrito. (Astute readers will note that this is common-enough-behavior and probably has nothing to do with the music.) That said, I miss the ironi-country of Honky Tonk Union.
Wedding planning feels somewhat behind, which I've been told is how you feel until it's over.
Loki's adjusted quite capably. He's enjoying having an apartment all to himself, chatting with his buddy (a male grey tiger who lives next door but is let out every day), and getting lots of attention whenever I'm home. He's a decent conversationalist, although after the bustle of the fencerhaus, it's a little weird to come home to a quiet place.
Delayed onset muscle soreness, you are my bane. Back to fish oil, vitamin i(buprofen), asanas, and bed.
Friday, March 28, 2008
becoming less binary
One of the things I've found it hard to do is alter the difficulty of a fencing lesson; in a very controlled lesson, with set cues, it's far simpler. Currently, I find it's easier to give an extremely concentrated lesson (with beginners, everything is structured around getting repetitions of the correct motor habit) or a lesson to a highly-skilled athlete, where I might have a limited range of responses, but movement is generally antagonistic.
Student: Starts preparation w/ absence of blade, fast step. Emphasis on hitting the first action (although if parried, they should counter-riposte)
Coach options:
- Counterattack. Student must finish.
- False counterattack, Parry-riposte. Student should hit open line (either by disengage, cutover or holding absence until parry has opened line)
- False counterattack, Counterattack. Student should finish.
- Searching parry. Student should compound the attack by making a feint into the open line, and then a second change of line.
Factors influencing the difficulty of the action:
- Action Timing: Actually attempt to steal tempo with the counterattack vs reacting to the incoming attack.
- Action Speed: Self-explanatory.
- Distance at which action is initiated: Executed immediately with a single retreat is easiest. Take multiple retreats to make it harder. Use check steps and change of tempo to make it more difficult.
- Noise: Multiple false counterattacks or false parries.
Things to work on:
- If altering difficulty via speed, it has to be modulated throughout the action; an explosive false counterattack followed by a slow parry is unrealistic.
- Don't facilitate the hit; even if the student gets the correct response they might not be accelerating to hit, so make a second parry.
Student: Starts preparation w/ absence of blade, fast step. Emphasis on hitting the first action (although if parried, they should counter-riposte)
Coach options:
- Counterattack. Student must finish.
- False counterattack, Parry-riposte. Student should hit open line (either by disengage, cutover or holding absence until parry has opened line)
- False counterattack, Counterattack. Student should finish.
- Searching parry. Student should compound the attack by making a feint into the open line, and then a second change of line.
Factors influencing the difficulty of the action:
- Action Timing: Actually attempt to steal tempo with the counterattack vs reacting to the incoming attack.
- Action Speed: Self-explanatory.
- Distance at which action is initiated: Executed immediately with a single retreat is easiest. Take multiple retreats to make it harder. Use check steps and change of tempo to make it more difficult.
- Noise: Multiple false counterattacks or false parries.
Things to work on:
- If altering difficulty via speed, it has to be modulated throughout the action; an explosive false counterattack followed by a slow parry is unrealistic.
- Don't facilitate the hit; even if the student gets the correct response they might not be accelerating to hit, so make a second parry.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Too Long Between Posts
Yes, it's been too long between posts. Here's what's happened since the end of Feb.
I moved in. Naturally, the apartment was ready the day after Kathryn left, which was unfortunate. Still, there wasn't much heavy-lifting to be done, so everything got moved between the shipping container and the apartment.
Loki moved in last Friday night. The clerk at Delta Cargo looked at his screen and said, "Woo. There's a pit bull on that flight. Hopefully he's not too aggressive." Naturally, the flight was delayed, and around midnight, a crew member brought in a terrified little pit bull puppy, who couldn't have clocked in at over 10 pounds. 5 minutes later, the same crew member came in lugging a 20lb carrier, heaved it down on the counter, and said, "That's the biggest goddamn cat I've ever seen!"
He spent the first two days hiding under the bed, coming out only for some food. But he seems to have gotten comfortable. He's quite a happy kitty now.
Work is exactly what I want; I'm being challenged intellectually and physically. I'm sure I'll have more to talk about in the future, but suffice it to say that nothing seems more fun than going to the office.
I moved in. Naturally, the apartment was ready the day after Kathryn left, which was unfortunate. Still, there wasn't much heavy-lifting to be done, so everything got moved between the shipping container and the apartment.
Loki moved in last Friday night. The clerk at Delta Cargo looked at his screen and said, "Woo. There's a pit bull on that flight. Hopefully he's not too aggressive." Naturally, the flight was delayed, and around midnight, a crew member brought in a terrified little pit bull puppy, who couldn't have clocked in at over 10 pounds. 5 minutes later, the same crew member came in lugging a 20lb carrier, heaved it down on the counter, and said, "That's the biggest goddamn cat I've ever seen!"
He spent the first two days hiding under the bed, coming out only for some food. But he seems to have gotten comfortable. He's quite a happy kitty now.
Work is exactly what I want; I'm being challenged intellectually and physically. I'm sure I'll have more to talk about in the future, but suffice it to say that nothing seems more fun than going to the office.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Friday
Quick analogy, for you SAT whizzes: Starbucks is to Every Other City in America what ______ is to Beaverton.
The answer, of course, is ethnic grocers. No, really. They're on every corner. You expect the usual generic Asian markets, but here they've been broken down by country. ("Ooh, Korean!") The generic ones are mega-marts the size of your average big-box supermarket which carry such good-for-body-and-soul items such as sushi-grade fish.
Mediterranean. Halaal. Ethiopian. Kosher. I need a Mongolian grocer so I can find a good hot pot.
It's ironic -- Despite moving from the city to the suburbs, my ability to live a 100% walkable existence has increased dramatically. (Of course, I reserve the right to throw up my hands, say, "It's drizzling!" and drive the 150 yards between apartment and work, but somehow that seems doubtful.)
Nothing much happened today; coaching staff meeting over lunch, Kathryn got a sabre lesson, and we went to see Juno. Which fulfilled the high expectations we had for it.
The answer, of course, is ethnic grocers. No, really. They're on every corner. You expect the usual generic Asian markets, but here they've been broken down by country. ("Ooh, Korean!") The generic ones are mega-marts the size of your average big-box supermarket which carry such good-for-body-and-soul items such as sushi-grade fish.
Mediterranean. Halaal. Ethiopian. Kosher. I need a Mongolian grocer so I can find a good hot pot.
It's ironic -- Despite moving from the city to the suburbs, my ability to live a 100% walkable existence has increased dramatically. (Of course, I reserve the right to throw up my hands, say, "It's drizzling!" and drive the 150 yards between apartment and work, but somehow that seems doubtful.)
Nothing much happened today; coaching staff meeting over lunch, Kathryn got a sabre lesson, and we went to see Juno. Which fulfilled the high expectations we had for it.
Beaverton
First off, if you ask "How's Portland?", my response will be "60 degrees and sunny." You're welcome. An ex-co-worker who lives out here told me that she was amazed that spring comes 3 months earlier than in Rochester, and based on her n=2 years out here, this is normal. Nice.
Technically, my employment starts tomorrow, March 1st. Ri-ight. I've been in the fencing center all day Wed and all evening on Thu. I'm learning a bunch, and as thoughts get organized, they'll probably crop up here.
My phone/email was ringing off the hook from Previous Day Job; I'm doing consulting / emergency work for them, and they had a week's worth of emergencies that needed tending. Naturally, my laptop died. In a way that I can't quite diagnose. It may be a faulty hard drive, or it may be a fried processor, in which case Previous Computer Repair Place that Screwed Up a Fan Replacement should be paying for the privilege. Given that Previous Day Job shouldn't be forced to wait, I went out and bought a desktop.
I tentatively have an apartment; a 2BR / 2BA place about 150 yards from NWFC. It's a bit 70s-chic, but it's a ground-level corner apartment. The sliding door overlooks a little brook. Hopefully the background checks won't be an issue, but given the property manager's reaction ("Do you have any debt?" "No." "Like a car?" "I own my car." "How about credit cards?" "Pay them off every month." "Do you have any friends we can rent to?"), great success seems assured. Naturally, the apartment will be ready as soon as K leaves, so moving will be a solitary affair.
At some point, I realized that continuing the previous health insurance via COBRA wouldn't work, because the Preferred Care network doctors are all in New York. New insurance has a 90-day waiting period. I'd rather not be uninsured for 3 months, so I was scrambling to figure out what to do. Welcome to America, where every person can experience the joy of being their own health care administrator! (Ah, but unlike those Communists everywhere else, we have choice! As long as you choose somebody that's in-network, or pay out-of-pocket anyway.) Fortunately, Preferred Care seems to be taking care of business and is faxing me a new plan for perusal ... my doc calls them Deferred Care, but they've been pretty good.
It's off to lunch now! Stay in touch!
Technically, my employment starts tomorrow, March 1st. Ri-ight. I've been in the fencing center all day Wed and all evening on Thu. I'm learning a bunch, and as thoughts get organized, they'll probably crop up here.
My phone/email was ringing off the hook from Previous Day Job; I'm doing consulting / emergency work for them, and they had a week's worth of emergencies that needed tending. Naturally, my laptop died. In a way that I can't quite diagnose. It may be a faulty hard drive, or it may be a fried processor, in which case Previous Computer Repair Place that Screwed Up a Fan Replacement should be paying for the privilege. Given that Previous Day Job shouldn't be forced to wait, I went out and bought a desktop.
I tentatively have an apartment; a 2BR / 2BA place about 150 yards from NWFC. It's a bit 70s-chic, but it's a ground-level corner apartment. The sliding door overlooks a little brook. Hopefully the background checks won't be an issue, but given the property manager's reaction ("Do you have any debt?" "No." "Like a car?" "I own my car." "How about credit cards?" "Pay them off every month." "Do you have any friends we can rent to?"), great success seems assured. Naturally, the apartment will be ready as soon as K leaves, so moving will be a solitary affair.
At some point, I realized that continuing the previous health insurance via COBRA wouldn't work, because the Preferred Care network doctors are all in New York. New insurance has a 90-day waiting period. I'd rather not be uninsured for 3 months, so I was scrambling to figure out what to do. Welcome to America, where every person can experience the joy of being their own health care administrator! (Ah, but unlike those Communists everywhere else, we have choice! As long as you choose somebody that's in-network, or pay out-of-pocket anyway.) Fortunately, Preferred Care seems to be taking care of business and is faxing me a new plan for perusal ... my doc calls them Deferred Care, but they've been pretty good.
It's off to lunch now! Stay in touch!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)