I have never really been interested in participating in sports. I was in the usual activities in school gym classes and my parents enrolled me in community soccer in the summers, but I never was great at it and I rarely enjoyed being part of a team. In middle and high school I did like downhill skiing, but the one ski park there was on Prince Edward Island is pretty small and didn’t offer much of a challenge. At one point I tried fencing and really enjoyed it, but my parents made me choose between fencing and skiing. I choose to ski because it was closer to home and many of my friends were doing it as well. I had always regretted giving up fencing and thought about it often over the years; it was one of those sports that was so much fun for me.

I had my son, Jack, when I was 27 years old and was thrilled that I was able to be a stay-at-home mom; not many women are that fortunate. However, when Jack was just under two-years-old, I found myself overweight and lacking adult stimulation in my life. I began to search out classes or groups that I could join that would get me out of the house occasionally. In September of 2006, I joined the Calgary Fencing Club. I took a beginner’s class and instantly knew that this was the sport for me. However, I suffered because my extra weight and years of smoking made it incredibly challenging. I treated fencing as a fun thing to do once or twice a week without it really stimulating much change in my life, but soon I became frustrated with my lack of speed and endurance. At Christmas I made the decision to do something about it: I quit smoking, began regular exercise, and watched my diet more closely. Within 5 months, I had lost 30 lbs and felt better than ever. With my vast improvements in my life, I figured the next step was participating in the competitive side of fencing. I had never even considered competing, but the kids from my club asked me to come see them fence at a local competition and I couldn’t believe how much I wanted to be fencing with them. It looked like a blast and it gave me a goal to work toward within the sport.

During my first competition in the spring of 2007, I felt so excited and empowered, and I was sure that I would be winning medals in no time! The day I arrived, I was incredibly nervous and just wanted to get one darn point. During the poules (a round robin type of event where all bouts go to five points) I got my one point and a few more as well. I even won one of my bouts (the other girl was a beginner as well). I considered that a success, and was just so happy to be there. The next part of the competition is called direct elimination, where the bouts go to 15 points, and I was stunned to win my first one as well. I lost my second 15 point bout, but was happy to get three points against one of the best girls in the province.

As I began to compete in more tournaments, I realized that fencing is a young woman’s sport. I was at least a decade older than everyone I was in competition with–yikes! My other problem was that most of these girls had been fencing for a number of years, many beginning as early as 8 or 10 years old. Because of my age, I only qualify for one event, the Women’s Open, which is where the best girls fence or where the younger girls enter just for fun while waiting for other events more suitable for their own age group.

Many people have patted me on the back for attempting such a sport at my age and I do feel good about doing it, but after several competitions I cannot help but wonder if this is such a good idea. With the girls half my age improving more everyday (and getting taller), I find my goal in each tournament is to not come in last. As I drove home from Red Deer recently with my very first last place finish, I began to question my desire for the sport. I was so disappointed for not performing as well as I could have, and I began thinking the worst. Is it because I physically cannot keep up with these girls? Or have I programmed myself for failure because I know my competitors have such a great advantage?

One of my closest friends told me that nothing is stronger than the power of the mind. I highly respect her and know that she is right, but I find myself wondering if I need this constant failure in my life. I wonder how I can call myself competitive knowing that I will never win. We have all heard the phrase that winning isn’t everything, but to me it is something. Winning means that the time spent away from my family, the bruises and scarring that I receive from this sport, are truly worth it.

I know that I can stop competing at anytime, but I don’t feel I am ready to hang up my breeches just yet. I want to be able to prove to myself, as well as to my family and friends that age should not matter. If I truly believe it can be done, I should be able to do it. I intend to keep plugging away at it and hope that I can someday strive to win, not just to finish second last. Because winning isn’t the most important thing, right?

At least I still enjoy competing overall. I have joked around with the girls I fence against that I should get a geriatric point: for every decade I am older than my opponent, I should get a one point advantage. Strangely, no one agrees with me!

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