In any sport, and definitely in fencing, no athlete stands alone. Behind every bout, lost or failed, behind any competition, successful or not so much, behind every action, beautifully and timely executed or clumsy, lies a community of people whose support, guidance, and dedication help shape us into the fencers we become. And so, better later than never, I want to express my deepest gratitude to my fencing village.

To my parents:

Thank you for the countless early morning drives to practice, late night stays in the club, countless road trips to god forbidden venues that host fencing tournaments, withstanding my whining during airport layovers, for insisting time and again to eat fast food burger and asking for anything else but not hotel breakfast. Thank you for not getting crazy at me when I forgot my knickers at home and the only chance for me to compete after a few hours drive is for you to purchase a new pair, and I thank you even more for not killing me (even when I saw in your eyes you really wanted) when I forgot these new knickers at the venue and they were gone. Thank you for pretending to believe when I pretended to be sick and skipped the practice because we had a final round of the videogame with my friends. Thank you for not exploding when I miraculously healed when the rest of the family decided to go to the movies. Thank you for keeping quiet in the car on the way home from competition and not asking me what I think went wrong. Because if you did, god witness, I most probably would call to the Social Services for child abuse and I do need my parents! Your presence at competitions, no matter how annoying it is during my defeats, has always been my anchor, even when my face, voice and behavior express anything but. And after all, please know that there is nothing more than I value your unwavering belief in me.

To my siblings:

Thank you for accepting that somehow all family vacations had to be planned around my competition schedule, and that “just this one tournament” meant every other weekend. Thank you for pretending not to notice when I “borrowed” your favorite t-shirt because mine were all soaked with sweat in the laundry after practice. Thank you for not strangling me when I woke you up at 6 AM since the only place for me to look for a missing fencing sock before my dad and I needed to depart for a competition was your socks drawer. Please know that I feel bad when the parents during the dinner discuss my travel and airfare and you feel like you don’t exist – trust me, it sucks to wake up at 4pm to rush to the airport and you got a better deal to sleep in. Thank you for not completely disowning me when your friends came over just to find the living room stink from my fencing uniform that was hung to air on every chair. I appreciate you sitting through countless fencing videos parents forced you to watch, nodding as if you understood what I called as an “attack in preparation”, and for your pretended sympathy when I explained for the hundredth time why that ref’s call was totally wrong. Thank you for not yelling at me ‘Just shut up and fence better next time,’ because deep in the heart I know that what I should do and hearing it from you would risk ruining my day, week or even month. And even though you mock me endlessly for wearing what you call “fancy white pajamas,” I know you secretly brag about your fencing sibling to your friends – yes, I heard you, and yes, it means the world to me.

To my coaches:

Thank you for seeing potential in me even on days when all I wanted was to throw my weapon across the strip and go home, and especially thank you for looking away when I did throw my weapon. Thank you for your ability to balance between “you can do better than that” and “good job” – and yes, I know how hard it was not to facepalm when I kept making the same mistake for the bizillionth time. Thank you for recognizing these bad days when the world around me just blows in pieces, when all my friends have parties and hangout, when they all go out with their boy- or girlfriends and I must attend this damn practice. Thank you for not paying attention to my attitude in the first ten minutes of the private lesson so our healthy relationship could be preserved, because god’s witness, you really don’t want to know my troubles. Thank you for understanding that I have lazy days sometimes, when all I want is to lay down on the couch and think about how miserable my life is when everybody around me has fun and I need to go again to this damn competition. I appreciate you pretending not to notice when I was clearly tired at Sunday morning practice after prom night, though that extra conditioning you gave me showed you weren’t exactly thrilled. Thank you for not noticing when  sometimes I roll my eyes at your repeating jokes. Thank you for those times you pushed me beyond what I thought I could do, even when I was ready to quit – especially when I was ready to quit. I’m grateful for those moments when you knew exactly when to be tough and when to just listen and nod as I processed a devastating loss. Thank you for not giving up on me when I thought you should. And most importantly, thank you for understanding that sometimes “I’m fine” means “I’m really not fine” and knowing exactly when to pretend you believe me and when to call me out on it. Thank you for being that person in my life that later on I will come back to again and again exactly because you are there for me now.

To my clubmates:

Thank you for being there when I needed someone who truly gets it. Thank you for understanding that “I hate this sport” usually means “I had a terrible competition.” Thank you for offering to grab boba tea despite me being a complete a**hole in the last week – trust me, it was not because of you but because anyone but you! Thank you for not giving a damn, or at least pretending not to, when I refused to fence you in the last practice. Please know it’s not you I avoided but a whole left fencers guild as I had a short lived hatred for them after the last competition. Thank you for those group chats that kept buzzing during tournaments when some of us competed and others stayed home – your “you got this!” messages meant everything, even when I definitely didn’t “got this.” Thank you for sharing your snacks during those endless tournament days when all of sudden my mom urresponsibly decided to abandon her parental duty as “highschoolers should be able to take care of themselves!” and I was left without any, and for not judging me when I stress-ate all your protein bars before DE’s – you know well, that being the last promoted from the pools adds a bit of stress! I appreciate how we compete fiercely against each other one moment and then share french fries and gossip the next, and how we can laugh about that brutal 15-0 score (well, maybe not immediately, but eventually). Thank you for being my emergency armor crew when my body cord dies in a pool bout and I’m left without, even though we all know I should have at least two of them. And most importantly, thank you for being that special kind of friend who understands why I obsess over a single touch I lost three weeks ago, because you’re probably still thinking about one too. And please know, I wasn’t mad at you at all when you beat me in competition even when I didn’t talk to you for a week. Please know, it was the unfairness in life I was mad at, and you just happened to fence me in this ill-fated DE bout and got this rating instead of me. Still, I love you wholeheartedly.

To my opponents:

Thank you for helping me grow, even though neither of us was thinking about personal growth during our bout. Thank you for keeping your composure when I was missing a touch again and again and started to behave like, well, you know. Thank you for that time when you destroyed me in pools and then had the grace to not celebrate when we met again in DEs. Thank you for telling your friends when they you I’m your next opponent that pools and DEs are completely different beasts. Yes, I overheard this and it gave me hope in both the immediate outcome and bright future of the human race. This hope didn’t realized yet, of course, but it planted its seeds in my heart. I appreciate those of you who gave me a genuine “good bout” even when we both know that it was the ugliest bout in the history of fencing, except maybe when we met this one time before. Thank you to those who managed to keep fencing against me without rolling your eyes or sighing too loudly and without showing too much attitude, because you saved me from doing the same in response and later hating it. To those who beat me and made me cry in the bathroom – thank you for making me tougher, though I still think that last touch was unfairly awarded to you! To those I beat and made cry in the bathroom – I’m sorry, and thank you for coming back stronger next time to show me that my victory was probably just luck (well, you wish!) Thank you for not tagging me when you put on your Instagram reel your exceptional touch scored against “unnamed” fencer – god sees I don’t need the whole world to laugh at me. Thank you for teaching me that “See you in finals!” usually means we’ll both be watching finals from the spectator seats (if I even have a mood to stay till the end after my fencing sucked so much). And most importantly, thank you for showing me that the fiercest rivals on the strip can be the best friends off it. I really mean it!

To the referees:

Thank you for keeping your composure when I exploded after that call – the one where I was absolutely, completely, 100% sure it was my touch, even though watching the video later showed I might have been slightly mistaken. Thank you for not losing patience when I asked for additional explanation of your call and then proceeded to stare at you in complete disbelief as if you just told me the Earth is flat. I appreciate those of you who can deliver “No point!” with such authority that I don’t even dare to question it, even though inside I’m writing a doctoral dissertation about why you’re wrong. Thank you for pretending not to notice my eye-roll when you called “Attack from the right!” in what was CLEARLY a counter-attack and when my opponent so obviously scored off the strip that one should be blind not to see this. To those who gave me a yellow card for testing their patience – thank you for teaching me that sometimes silence is indeed golden, though I still maintain that my “Are you kidding me?!” was purely rhetorical. Thank you for not taking it personally when my coach had to physically turn me away before I could start my prepared speech about your wrong call. And most importantly, thank you for showing up tournament after tournament, despite me showing sometimes that every call against us is a personal attack on our honor, family, and future fencing career. To tell you the real truth, it’s not that I always think like that and have this attitude, it’s only when you make a wrong call!

To the armorers:

Thank you for not judging me too harshly when I brought you my weapon that “just stopped working” and you found it was held together with duct tape and prayers. Thank you for fixing my equipment thirty seconds before my pool when I knew about the problem for three weeks but decided that “it will somehow work itself out.” Thank you for pretending to believe me when I said “I have no idea how this happened” because in reality it wasn’t my fault indeed! Thank you for realizing that my parents already yapped for two hours about why I should check my weapons before competition and thank you for not mentioning this to them again. To those who managed to fix my body cord after I stepped on it for the fifth time this season – thank you for not giving me the lecture about proper equipment care. And most importantly, thank you for being there tournament after tournament, dealing with our equipment emergencies as if they were actual emergencies, because nothing drives my dad crazier than me getting a red card before a bout even starts. 

To my friends:

Thank you for pretending to understand what I do after five years of me mentioning “nationals” and “regionals”, RJCC and ROC and you still have no clue what’s the difference. Thank you for not giving up on inviting me to parties even though we all know I will either say “sorry, have a tournament tomorrow” or leave early because “morning practice, you know.” I appreciate you asking about my results even when you can’t tell if 3rd place in a B3-level tournament is better or worse than 12th place in an A4. Thank you for not unfollowing me when I send to our group chat with fencing memes that only I understand, and for your “Ha-Ha” reactions. As we both know that I don’t try to spam the group chat but genuinely believe you are as much interested in my fencing life as I’m. Thank you for still being my friend when I ghost everyone for weeks during competition season. To those few selected friends who sat through my lengthy explanations about why that ref was totally wrong – thank you for nodding at all the right moments and trying to conceal your yarning, as we both know a good reading of a fencing phrase is hard. And most importantly, thank you for not making me choose between “normal” teenage life and my fencing life, even when I make that choice myself again and again. Trust me, watching your Instagram stories from that awesome party, while I’m stuck in a hotel room across the elevator before competition, makes me question my life choices way more than you think!

To the fencing community:

Thank you for being my weekend family, my home away from home, and that special place where wearing white knickers and talking about flicks and fleches is perfectly normal. Thank you to all parents in the venue who always have an extra safety pin, hair tie, tape, screws and screwdriver, extra banana, or words of encouragement when needed. Thank you for creating this weird wonderful world where “Are you a foil parent or an epee mom?” is a perfectly normal conversation starter, and where everyone understands why someone is sobbing in the bathroom after losing 15-14. Thank you for being that place where a shy kid can find their tribe among other people who think spending weekends in a sweaty gym while wearing the three weeks unwashed and stinky fencing gear is totally cool (well, at least acceptable). Thank you for those tournament moments when everyone – competitors, parents, coaches, and maybe even referees – collectively holds their breath during a 14-14 bout, even if none of us knows either fencer. I appreciate how you make every new fencer feel welcome, even when they ask for the hundredth time what they should put on first – the knickers or the underarm. Thank you for creating this space where “I got my D!” is met with genuine excitement. And most importantly, thank you for being that unique community where your fiercest competitor can also be your best friend, where every tournament feels like a family reunion (even with the drama that comes in every other bout), and where “just one more year” of fencing somehow turns into a lifetime of passion.

Fencing is often seen as an individual sport, but the truth is that every touch scored, every medal won, and every lesson learned is the product of this incredible village. As I continue my journey in this sport, I carry with me the support, wisdom, and love of all these people who make my fencing life possible.

And for that, I’m incredibly grateful.