Clad in a tunic and armed with a sword and shield in the fighting circle at the gladiator training grounds, I parry my opponent’s attack with a skull-crushing overhand smash. As he staggers backward, stunned, I raise my arms in triumph under the midday Roman sun. But the gasps of my fellow students quickly pull me out of the Colosseum, circa 100 AD, and into the present: I’d just walloped a septuagenarian former jingle singer (“The best part of waking up is Folgers in your cup!”) named Bob over the head with a rubber sword.

"As foot position largely determines your balance, where your sandals are is more important than where your sword is."

I’m at Gruppo Storico Romano’s compound on Via Appia Antica, one of ancient Rome’s most important thoroughfares, taking a program through the Rome Cavalieri, Waldorf Astoria Hotels & Resorts. This association of 180 history enthusiasts (akin to U.S. Civil War re-enactors) offers Rome’s first modern gladiator school. Open to the public, it trains 10,000 aspiring combatants a year, combining instruction on fighting techniques with descriptions of the life and times of the original warriors. In 2011, members of Gruppo Storico Romano expect to put on demonstrations from New York City to Beijing. And in April and October of each year, they battle the Gauls on their home turf at Circus Maximus.

Using replicas of gladiators’ weapons that Gruppo Storico Romano’s members made themselves, Piero Giusto, our friendly but assertive instructor, leads my four-person class through five basic attack motions: strike to the top of the head, the right side of the neck, the left leg, the left side of the neck and straight to the gut. As foot position largely determines your balance, where your sandals are is more important than where your sword is. “If you go to the ground, you die,” Giusto warns me in almost-perfect English. He then teaches us how to defend against all five moves: In general, block them with your sword.

"As he staggers backward, stunned, I raise my arms in triumph under the midday Roman sun."

We practice our moves, and I’m so confident in my new skills that I’ve already dubbed myself Zachimus. But when it comes time to spar, instinct takes over and I resort to my usual fighting strategy: flailing. After Bob bests me in our sparring, three hits to one (albeit a vicious one), I’m challenged to a duel in the arena by an instructor wielding a net and trident. “Attack!” Gusto commands, but I can’t even get close enough to my opponent to flail. Instead I focus on blocking the thrusts of the trident – or try to anyway. It takes just a minute or two, and I’m lion feed. While basic gladiator moves can be taught in a couple of hours, it apparently takes longer to learn courage.

But even in defeat, you’ll work up an appetite at gladiator training. Just two blocks south of the touristy Piazza del Popolo, Babette’s courtyard manages to attract mostly Italians to its lunchtime buffet. If you like octopus – and you should – Trattoria offers it as cold and hot appetizers. Order both. And at La Pergola, Rome’s only Michelin-three-starred restaurant, you’ll have a meal so delicious, the only way you’ll leave without finishing it is if you go out on your shield.

(Zach Everson is a freelance journalist and not much of a gladiator.)