I live in hope that someday I'll be able to rehab my shoulder and fence again. This seems unlikely, as I both write and fence right-handed, and the choice right now is one or the other. But I'll have good health insurance this fall, and I am ambidextrous enough that fencing left-handed isn't out of the question. (I did it once, in a tournament, when I blew out my right knee mid-bout. It's possible.)
And every so often, I'll pick up my sword, and do footwork or bladework drills, just because I miss it. Like this morning. I finished the rewrite of Linger last night, and since that manuscript has oh, just a wee smidge of fencing in, working on it always makes me homesick for my sport. My brain is still on crazy-time, so it got me up before the humidity, and I went out to the front porch and fenced.
Let me first say, that if you have recently moved to an area, waving a sword around in front of your house is a really good way to meet all the neighbors.
When I finished, I realized I had a bit of an audience - some of the guys from the marina across the street were watching at the fence. I saluted, and turned to go in the house. Then heard: "Ma'am, that was fucking awesome."
It's a good way to start the day.