Like many millennials on the cusp of Gen Z, my first encounter with fencing was with the 1998 film I Know What You Did Last Summer. If you haven’t seen the movie in a while, there’s an iconic scene in which twins Hallie and Annie (both played by Lindsay Lohan), who are separated as babies and end up at the same summer camp 11 years later, are reunited during a fencing match. The scene features some serious footwork, tricks (stuntman-style), swearing, and of course, the big twist when the masks come off and the twins come face to face. Of course, fencing with Maia Chamberlain of Team USA was nothing like it, but somehow it was even more amazing.
Late on a Thursday afternoon in June, I arrived at the Manhattan Fencing Center, where Chamberlain trains regularly. I was asked to dress comfortably, so I wore classic Hoka sneakers, leggings, and a tank top. When I arrived, I checked in with the receptionist, who quickly handed me a glass of water. “You’ll need this when you’re done,” she said with a mischievous smile.
At that moment, I realized I might be in a situation beyond my control, and I began to question whether my naturally unathletic body would be able to hold up throughout the lesson. It was too late to turn back, so I took a sip of water and waited for Chamberlain to arrive. Luckily, she eased some of my anxiety from the start, assuring me that we would start with the basics. But she reminded me that we would be focusing on sabre, one of the three fencing disciplines (the other two being épée and foil), and my anxiety began to creep up again.
Each fencing discipline has its own weapons and rules. “With the sabre, you can do slashing movements,” she told me during a locker-room conversation. “I love it because it’s very similar to the swordplay you see in the media. It’s much faster-paced and has really spectacular movements.” As she spoke, I couldn’t help but think, “Are you going to slash an Olympic athlete?” Then an even more terrifying thought occurred to me: an Olympic athlete… myself.
Despite this realization, I grew more and more comfortable as we both got changed – trousers, jackets, gloves and other layers of protective gear – and without hesitation, I followed her out onto the pistes or strip, also known as the arena. And we were about to begin.
What it’s like to fence as an Olympian
The lesson started with positioning my body and sword. We then learned about strikes and target areas. For sabre, this includes the body above the waist, arms, and head. We also did some drills to practice moving forward and parrying (blocking).
I quickly learned that fencing requires a lot of mental stamina; you have to constantly plan your moves and counterattacks while anticipating what your opponent will do next. “You’ve probably heard it all before, but it’s a very physical game of chess,” Chamberlain told me at the U.S. Fencing Team’s media day a few weeks before the lesson. But it wasn’t until I faced her face-to-face, sabre in hand, that I truly understood the value.
It was the mental agility of Chamberlain that drew her to the sport in the first place; each opponent “is like a different puzzle to solve,” she told PS in May. After all, I’m not a natural fencer, but I really enjoyed the challenge. After every reset, Chamberlain would encourage me to hit harder, or “try cutting my stomach next time.”
Chamberlain encouraged me to let go of the fear that was clearly holding me back from making the cut by telling me, “It’s better to be ‘strong and wrong’ or imperfect in your attack than to be afraid and make a half-hearted attempt,” a lesson she said she learned from her coach and one she continues to apply in her personal life.
As we walked back to the locker room, I felt pretty satisfied. I might not be an Olympic fencer anytime soon, but I felt incredibly rewarded for having pushed my brain and body to new limits.
I also felt an unexpected freedom. In my day-to-day life I often find myself suppressing my emotions and reactions for fear of reinforcing stereotypes or being misunderstood. But fencing gives me the right to attack with a confidence and aggression that is rarely afforded to women like me.
Ultimately, I was very grateful for this opportunity and for having a new outlet for expression. I may not win an Olympic medal, but I’m excited to see what the future holds for fencing.
Alexis Jones is PS’s Senior Health & Fitness Editor. Her passions and areas of expertise include women’s health and fitness, mental health, racial and ethnic disparities in health care, and chronic disease. Prior to joining PS, she was a senior editor at Health magazine. Her other work can be found in Women’s Health, Prevention, Marie Claire, and more.
