Salle-itude by Nina Miller
The midday sun filters through blinds and dust motes as I walk into the empty fencing salle. The noise from the city streets melts into the creak of polished wood and the high- pitched hum of the overhead tube lights as they flicker to life. The infinite number of empty fencing strips reflects back at me in mirrored walls. The lingering smell of sweat and rubber, the taste of Windex in the air, makes me relax within this calm before the storm. This place, thirty minutes before it opens, is my sanctuary.
En garde!
I pass a row of masks on the wall. Their black mesh faces are silent, waiting to be chosen. I think of all the masks I have worn: daughter, tom-boy, Indian, American, woman, doctor, wife, mother. Here, I’m me, the fencer. The weight of that lone mask is far lighter and more forgiving.
I fall into the routine of an athlete. Stretching in front of the mirrored multitudes of me, I breathe in. I breathe out. I breathe in strength and fortitude and all that it means to be forty years old. I breathe out self-doubt and anxiety and the stresses bottled within. I breathe in confidence, and excitement, and anticipation. I breathe out guilt, and fear, and other people’s expectations.
Pret!
I choose a strip and move my body through the footwork that is my foundation. A row of advances, a row of retreats, and a reminder that my knees work, and that my muscles function. As I move through each motion, I feel my body uncoiling, the sinews and tendons loosening as the elixir of fresh blood and endorphins pumps through. Freedom exists in every lunge I take, every fleche I make. When I am still, when my mind is finally quiet, and my breaths become even, my heart rocks a rhythm that only I can hear.
I open my locker and remove my glove and epee. The bell guard has just enough dents to prove I’m no newbie, yet it’s still shiny enough to see my distorted smile. This particular blade is strong, a testament to my fortitude, with just enough malleability to be versatile, an extension of myself.
Allez!
I approach the tennis ball, hanging tantalizingly before me. Each hit from the tip of my blade sends it shooting back to me at varying speeds and in different directions, making it challenging. I envision my opponent’s hand, their wrist, their torso – all valid targets, moving in space. I think of my own flow, buoyant like waves, at times gentle like the sea and other times tumultuous like the ocean. Shadow fencing with a zen-like serenity, where, just like on the strip, in the heat of competition, the world around me ceases to exist, and it is just me, in my purest form, a fencer, fighting for each point, and no matter the score, I know I am already winning.
Touche!
Author's Note:
Focusing on my fortitude for national competitions is my preferred self-care. Training quiets the background noise of work-a-day worries and other stresses. Lifting weights, getting regular fencing lessons, and walking outdoors daily are how I stay mentally clear for the week’s challenges. It’s one of the few times my own needs take center stage, but if I really need to quiet all my senses, relax fully, and let my body heal, I turn to water. Whether it’s the ocean, sea, lake, or river, whether a hot tub, bathtub soak, or just 8oz of H2O, it revives me like nothing else.
Nina Miller is an Indian-American physician, epee fencer, and creative. Find her work in the Wigleaf Top 50, Sci-Fi Shorts, Bull, Micromance Magazine, Raw Lit, Black Hare Press and The Pride Roars. Find her @NinaMD1 or ninamiller.bsky.social. Read more at ninamillerwrites.com or https://substack.com/@ninamiller
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