by sportswriter Dong Yixing

GUANGZHOU, Nov. 20 (Xinhua) -- A year after a swift exit from the 2024 Paris Olympics, Chinese fencer Yang Hengyu stood atop the podium at the National Games, a gold medal around her neck and a wave of hard-earned peace washing over her.

For Yang, the path to her maiden National Games individual title was paved not just with physical strain, but with a victory over the inner demons of self-doubt and anxiety that have long shadowed her career.

"I did not expect this result," Yang admitted after her 15-13 victory over Jiangsu teammate Fu Ying on Sunday. "Compared to the previous two National Games, I think I was much calmer this time."

This serenity was hard-won after a rollercoaster past few years. At Paris 2024, where she was the sole Chinese representative in the women's sabre individual event, her campaign ended in the round of 32 with a 15-9 defeat. The sting of that loss was familiar, but the context was different from her first Olympic experience in Tokyo in 2021.

"The last time, because the team went together, and it was my first time, I was more nervous," Yang had reflected before Paris. "But now it's the second time, and our team didn't qualify, so I will go by myself. I feel more relaxed, with no burdens. I think I will just need to do my best."

Doing her best has always been a complex battle for Yang, who describes herself as "contradictory." Her career is about managing not just the physical toll of a combat sport, but a relentless cycle of inner turmoil.

"I am the type of athlete who needs to train a lot to perform well," she admitted. A two-month break earlier in 2024 left her "a little lost," and subsequent competitions did not go as planned. Her mind, she said, is a constant whirlwind of analysis and self-critique.

"I really think a lot. Every day, I keep repeating, 'Why am I like this? Why didn't I perform well in the competition? Why did I perform well this time?'" she explained. "It's a bit of inner consumption."

This "inner consumption" was exacerbated by a body bearing the marks of her profession. She listed a catalog of ailments: worn cartilage in her knees, a recurring back issue, and wrist pain.

"These are all long-term strains," she said. "There's no way to cure it. As long as you train, it will always be there, it will always follow me."

"When you start warming up, the effect is quite significant. You have to go through a process from pain to slowly warming up, and then to a state where it's less painful," Yang added.

The low point came after the Tokyo Olympics, where she had a breakout personal performance by upsetting world No. 1 Olga Kharlan of Ukraine, a result she called "an unexpected surprise." The high, though, was short-lived.

"It actually gave me a lot of confidence," she said of the Tokyo win. "But then I came back and competed in the National Games, and it wasn't ideal, which instantly dampened my spirits. So my emotions are very complex, always fluctuating."

"So it's quite similar to my experiences these past few years, always up and down," she added.

The pressure to win once paralyzed her. "There was a period when I was especially afraid of losing, and I was extremely tense. You can't execute anything you do in normal training. It feels like your body is restrained, you can't even move. Then your opponent can very easily take you down."

Her coping mechanisms are as multifaceted as her personality. She finds solace in music, especially rock, and the catharsis of live concerts. "I get really excited at live shows. I feel much more relaxed afterward."

She also turns to what she calls "cynical motivational quotes" online that offer temporary relief. A significant shift came from an unexpected source: literature, particularly Shi Tiesheng's works.

Shi was a renowned Chinese essayist and novelist who, after being paralyzed at age 21 after an accident, produced profound works reflecting on life, suffering and human resilience from the confines of his wheelchair.

"I thought, someone who has already suffered so much can still write such beautiful words. I found it very inspiring. I thought, why should I be afraid? What comparison is there between me losing a match and what he went through?"

This perspective sparked a form of self-acceptance. "I told myself, don't be afraid to lose. If you're destined to lose, you might as well be brave and express what you want to express through your fencing. If you lose, you lose. After that, it actually got better."

"I started choosing to forgive myself," she said of her post-Olympics mindset that fueled her at the National Games. "It felt like I sealed away the memories of the Olympics. I still don't have the courage to rewatch the videos. It took about three months to recover."

Meanwhile, her focus shifted from results to process as she learned the most important thing in a major competition is the mindset.

"You can't focus too much on the outcome. Think about doing the process well, and then no matter the final result, you won't have regrets," said the 29-year-old.

Yang's journey to this point began not out of passion, but practicality. At age 10, her height caught the attention of a local track coach. After a brief tryout in the 100-meter dash, a perceptive shop owner suggested her physique had higher potential in a sport like fencing.

"I didn't even know what fencing was," Yang recalled. She tried it and was initially terrified. "I started with the epee and was always getting hit. I was scared to death."

It wasn't until she switched to sabre after moving to the provincial team in Nanjing that she found her footing, and more importantly, a taste of victory.

"It must have been when I started winning," she laughed, pinpointing the moment the sport became appealing. "When I first went, I was terrible, getting crushed by everyone. I almost fell apart, crying every day, calling my mom saying I wanted to go home."

Winning the Asian Junior Fencing Championships in 2014 was the turning point. "I thought, 'So I can do it too.' I felt I could keep trying, and I just kept going."

Now, with nearly two decades in the sport, fencing is more than a job for Yang as it changed the trajectory of her life. When asked if the love remains, her answer is honest and layered.

"I think there is love, but also responsibility. Because if you keep losing, it will wear down the impulse in your heart. But there is still responsibility. I want to bring out the best in myself."

Two months before her National Games triumph, she posted on social media: "Perhaps the charm of competitive sports lies in its cruelty, but I hope I always have the courage to dare to start the next challenge."

On the piste in Hong Kong, having conquered her own mind and body, Yang embodied that very courage. Enditem