Staring at armor

Tonight I decided to go to an SCA fighter practice. I'd been once before, only to observe. I realized then that the loud noises would probably be amplified in the helmets and that I would undoubtedly get a headache every other time I tried to go. Still, the desire to return kept nagging me. Finally I gave in a couple of hours ago.

On the ride there I became consumed with the fear that they would throw me into some smelly loner armor that made it impossible to breathe, move, or see... but they didn't. I walked into the gym of the military building that our barony uses during the winter months (yes I said winter, it's 44 here.) The lights, the smells, the sounds, all washed over me, bringing up memories of elementary school basketball games. In some spaces the scent changed and I was brutally reminded of army recruits.

I braced myself for a worse smell that I knew would come if they tossed loner armor at me. The three men ambling about the gym all waved politely. One asked if I was going to fight, I said yes, he said something along the lines of "great" while nodding his head in a style somewhat reminiscent of my uncle. The men went back to adjusting straps, hitting themselves to see if pieces moved, and adding bits here and there (sometimes with ducktape.) Two of them began to circle one another, the third, the fighter's marshal asked if I would like to do some slow work.

"Sure... I'm not entirely certain what that is, but I'll try."
"Well, do you wanna learn heavy fighting?"
"Yes?"
"That's a good start, we'll try slow work." Then he picked up a stick that looked small in his hands, and handed it to me. The rattan had weight to it, but was not as heavy as a normal wood, though I knew its weight would secretly wear at me until I couldn't lift it if we went too long. Then he handed me a shield. All told I probably held it up for five to ten minutes... He called it a light shield. My left arm begs to differ. It's not so much that my arms hurt or feel particularly tired, I just have absolutely no motivation to lift them for any less than necessary tasks.

He taught me some basic moves. It was slow going. I had never been allowed to put power behind my blows, and now I was being encouraged to do so. I found that I was more afraid to hit this ridiculously imposing figure before me, than I was of him hitting me. I knew he wouldn't break, I knew he was in armor, but I saw no need to hit him just so I could learn. He started holding up a sword wherever I was aiming. That helped, but then, when I needed to string blows together I waited for his sword to move. Add to this that I had to think about every swing. Did I move my hips correctly, did my feet pivot too much or too little? I over think things. It helped when I remembered how I had to move in Karate. My shots came in better once I let my body remember what it already knew. Hit from the ground up.

It was a great night. I was actually tired and able to sleep. It was wonderful. I think I'll try again.

Random

It would be so incredibly easy for me to be one of those maniacal super villains. I have all of the back-story needed to turn evil. And I mean one of those justified-everyone-would-understand-why-I-did-it villains. The sad thing is, I want to be that. Villains are more interesting. Heroes are whiny, they rely on their friends, and once all is said and done they get all the credit for none of the work and I hate them. Except when they're The Doctor. The Doctor is the only hero I've ever wanted to win. So yeah, I either want to be a villain, or The Doctor.
The End.