The Middle Ages (of a Goal)

Whenever I start a hobby or goal, I get to this horrid stage of the goal. These Middle Ages, are always marked by several realizations:

• Achieving the end goal requires much more effort/time than I hoped
  
• Many people can do it better, faster than I can

This is a dangerous time for my endeavors. The smallest obstacle becomes a convenient option to bail out from the goal. I have had a history of this pattern. When this happened as a child, my parents would say, "We told you that you couldn't ......(enter goal here)". I would then either completely give up or severely reduce my goal to a mediocre expectation.

So now, how to I beat this self-defeating behavior? First, I guess is to acknowledge the obstables- thus this entry.

More specifically: Getting a "reality check" fighting at The Northshield Tournament of Chivalry (January 6th, 2006).

I had missed our local Tuesdays fighting practice for two months prior due to a conflict. Focusing all my spare time on my Tuesday spanish class, I did not do a lick of exercise. Nonetheless, I packed up my gear and went to fight Northshield's Knights. I stalled and stalled getting on the field, then grabbed my sword and shield and was sent to fight Sir Jurgen von Baden.

Now aside from not being in armor and without a workout in two months, I stupidly didn't warm up either, as we were late to the event site. We fought slow work first, to warm me up. We sped up to normal speed, and I was winded after about a minute. I didn't land any blows where I wanted, though I did get a good leg shot. The shots were not powered enough, and I felt that Sir Jurgen had greatly lowered his speed/skill to meet my poor performance. I was honestly ashamed how poor I fought.

Melees followed later in the day, with around 50 fighters. The team of knights (8-12) fought against the remainder of us- divided into three groups. The three fighters/team leaders did the "I pick you" team method. So there I stood greatsword in hand, embarassingly waiting to be picked- until I was one of the last three. Ouch! That really hurt my ego.

My groups leader was Alaric, squire of our prince, Sir Lars Wolfsblut. As it often House Bloodguard's style, Alaric wanted be the strong/fast attack point against the knights. He commanded the rest of us to change straight on, while he alone flanked right. His second in command ordered me to stick with Alaric. As soon as I was within the furthest reach of the closest knight, I was dead.

Six more melees followed. No matter where I fought, I died immediately, never landing a single blow. Twice I died at the hand of the Prince, my backside striped with two purple bruises.

As I peeled out my sweaty kit I felt:

• I'm too old to be starting this
  
• I'm too out of shape/too fat to do this
  
• I'm too small to be effective
  
• I'm too weak to throw solid blows

Now, In order to counter these negative assumptions:

1. Fighters can start at any age- Master Price Casa d'Aqua started fighting in his mid-fifties.
   
2. There's plenty of 400+ lb., wheezing, knights.
   
3. Prince Semjaka of Calontir- need I say more?
   
4. I've been stronger, I can get strong again. I need to remember power comes from controlling the weapon, not from strength.

Upcoming entry, "So Whatcha Gonna Do?"