#if we don’t have a repeat of them for another 22 race weekends I don’t know how I’ll cope

[cupidskissx]

There’s a whole “shall I compare thee to a summer’s day” poem in this photo 🥺🫠

Elle, you’re making me spiral! Look at them, it’s too much 😭

I was going to attempt a sonnet, but I’m not that patient or gifted, so please accept a poorly written, overtly sappy haiku:

The travelling circus begins

Through ups, downs and crashing out

All I’ll see is you

😭😍

[konohababy]

seven | kageyama t.

synopsis: a recap of the last seven years you spent with tobio kageyama  warnings: angst (??) word count: 3.4k notes: this has gone through so many rewrites it’s not even funny but here we are thanks for taking the time to read this if ya do ;)

̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.° ｡˚𓆛˚｡ °.𓆞 ·˙‧̍‧̍̊˙· 𓆝.°

24

Tobio Kageyama breaks your heart beneath a heat-stricken sky in the middle of September.

“Y/N,” He begins. Pauses. Turns the words over in his mouth before loosening his fingertips around yours and steeling his spine.

“I don’t think I love you anymore,” He says, and you don’t fail to miss how even his voice is.

It’s a confession. A truth. It’s a dust mottled secret that’s been festering beneath his ribs and the ending line of a love story that had never really been close to perfect. Yet, it doesn’t hurt like you thought it would.

There’s no tectonic force of agony or a foretold shatter of pain when he says it. You’ve been to the depths of Hell and back with Tobio Kageyama, have returned with strings of gold laced around your necks and glittering jewels slung across your bodies. You’ve chased after rainbows to the ends of the earth holding his hand, racing against the tick-tock of a ballroom clock, and you suppose that was only a matter of time before the hands were set to strike midnight. And a part of you had always known that it wasn’t going to be long until Kageyama realizes just how much faster he is without you either.

When you look up at him, there’s a petal-soft smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and a faint drumming of your heart as you nod.

“I know,” You whisper, and he finally lets go.

23

Kageyama’s signature is stark upon the dotted line.

Embellished with a flourishing heart at the end, it stains the paper in bleeding, dripping ink, marking the contract with a finality that he can’t quite erase now.

Standing in a room of flashing lights and congratulatory applause, Kageyama’s grinning wildly as his pulse catches in his chest, coming to the realization that this—it’s another step forward. It’s a pipe dream and a fantasy come true at the hands of his efforts. Two years from now he’ll be stepping off of a plane to play volleyball in Italy, and he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that fact.

There isn’t a hint of regret clouding his mind that afternoon, no hidden qualms about the possibility of having to leave you and his life behind in Japan. You’ve always been able to understand the parts of him he hides below the surface; so you’ll know how important this is to him, right? Yet when he leaves the office, his fingertips are awfully still, tucking his phone deep into the pockets of his slacks without a single thought to call your number. He’s not entirely sure why.

When he slides beneath the sheets with you later that night, face flushed red after celebrating out with his teammates, it’s your voice that has to cut through the heavy air.

“Italy, then?” You ask quietly, but it’s not as if you don’t already know the answer.

Kageyama turns to you, eyes settling on the outline of your figure as you lay beside him, hands resting upon your stomach and eyes glued to the ceiling. Even through the ink-spilled darkness of the room he finds that he can still make out the familiar shape of your face, lit beneath the silver sheen of moonlight. He likes to think that he’s memorized nearly every part of you by now, every shape, color, and contour, but for some reason, he can’t make out the expression on your face tonight. He doesn’t really know if he wants to. There’s a breath. 

“Ali Roma,” He replies. “Two years from now.”

Your teeth catch onto your bottom lip. “You didn’t say anything.”

He swallows.

“It wouldn’t have made a difference.”

22

Yachi falls onto the carpet of your living room floor, sighing into the comfort of the rug as she scans the picture frames littering the walls.

She hums to herself, musing. “How are you and Kageyama?”

You look over at her from your seat on the couch, eyes finding the gaze of your best friend’s as you take another sip from the wine glass in hand.

It’s a simple question, really. Easy, and impossible to get wrong, but at the sound of his name it’s as if you’re suddenly searching for all the right things to say.

You know she doesn’t mean anything by asking, she never does, but the fact is that nothing has been the same since that evening last year—when a simple question spiraled into a bruising punch, a third-degree burn blistering open beneath the heat of reality.

And reality is that you and Kageyama are no longer the lovestruck kids you were five years ago.

You no longer eat dinner at the same time anymore, already fast asleep in bed by the time he comes home from practice, walking in to a cold plate and an empty table. You don’t stress over planning out extravagant date nights and weekend trips out of town, afraid that doing so would only spin the hourglasses back into a repeat of the last year. You no longer entertain his sister’s questions about marriage, telling her that you’re “not quite there yet” despite having been together longer than most. He doesn’t tell you when he’s scheduled to go out of town, when he’s planning on coming home late, and you can never really find the time to watch his games on TV anymore.

Reality is that the bed suddenly feels too small to hold the both of you when he comes home, and that every kiss goodbye has begun to feel like the real thing.

Reality is how he manages to attend your university graduation, bringing you a brilliant bouquet of your favorite flowers only to whisper an apology against your lips when he has to leave early. It’s how you find that you no longer mind his absence anymore.

You know that the story is coming to an end, that the magic is fading, but being together is too familiar for either of you to let go. You’re both holding on to the frayed ends of something that used to be, whether it’s out of comfort, fear, or a fierce loyalty to the lovestruck teenagers you once were before. The walls of your apartment are decorated with bittersweet memories of silhouetted scenes and honey-sweet kisses, moments suspended in time that will forever be a reminder of just how much you once loved each other. It’s just that you’re not entirely sure if you’re ready to turn the page just yet.

Yachi reaches up to poke your cheek, drawing your mind back to the warmth of your apartment. You bite your lip, the glass in your hand already gone empty.

You sigh. “I don’t know anymore.”

It’s an acknowledgement of reality.

21

“When are you leaving?” You ask him one evening, leaning against the doorway of your bedroom.

Kageyama spares a quick glance up at you from where he’s kneeling on the floor, packing a large duffel bag in preparation for his upcoming game somewhere down south. 

He settles back onto his heels, calloused hands resting atop his lap as he shrugs. “Tomorrow.” 

A brow quirks up in surprise. “Tomorrow? I thought we were supposed to go out tomorrow?”

He looks back at you. A minute-long pause overtakes the room while he mulls over your words, turning them over and over in his head until he realizes the mistake, the shattered promise hanging in the air. His eyes close shut as a deflated “shit” leaves his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” He sighs, gazing back down to pull the zipper of his bag over the white and gold of his uniform. “I can’t.”

You nod silently, accepting his apology. It’s not as if you’ve ever been a stranger to his hectic life of pro-volleyball, fully understanding that if he has to leave then he has to—you’re not exactly standing in a position to complain. But you know that life has begun to speed up for him, pulling him along with a hurried pace, and in that time, he’s managed to miss your anniversary, your birthday dinner with your parents, and a promotion party that you had worked so damn hard to get. It’s been months since you’ve really been able to sit down and enjoy each other’s company like you used to, so for one night, you’d like him to take this break just for you; to pretend that you’re both 18 again and dancing beneath the neon lights of Tokyo with your hands intertwined and your pulses caught in your wrists—a confirmation that you’re still as in love as you were that one morning four years ago, standing in the middle of a snow-dusted Miyagi. So you bite your tongue, and try again.

“It’s fine,” You tuck a lip between your teeth. “Maybe we can do something tonight instead?”

Kageyama doesn’t answer right away, only meeting your words with a heavy silence as he rises onto his feet. It’s only then that you notice the gym clothes he’d purposefully left out on the bed.

Your heart stops. “Are you really?”

He sighs, taking a step forward, but it feels like more than that. It feels like betrayal, you think. A bruising force gripping at your insides as your nerves ripple with something close to heartbreak.

You’re drawn aback. “We haven’t been able to spend time together in months, and the one chance we have, you’re gonna choose to bail on me for volleyball practice?” 

He frowns. “It’s not a choice.”

“Yes it is,” There’s a scoff of disbelief. “It’s always a choice, and you always choose to leave. Is it that necessary to go tonight?”

“It’s an important game.”

“It’s always an important game!” Your voice raises, just shy of a shout. “You know you’re ready for it, you told me so this morning! So why can’t you just stay for once?”

“We can go on a date when I come back—”

“That’s not the point!” Your brows furrow, staring incredulously at him. “The point is that you aren’t around anymore. You don’t care about us. About me. How much shit have you missed out on this year alone? Our anniversary, my birthday, my promotion party at work, dinner with my parents, lunch with our friends—when was the last time you actually asked about my day or sat down and had breakfast with me, Kageyama? When was the last time it wasn’t all about you?”

You lick your lips, tasting the bitter amalgamation of salt and chapstick as his silence pulls out the tears. Your chest constricts. You’re not entirely sure how you’d missed it—how all the absences and all the “I’m sorry’s” were nothing more than a trail of breadcrumbs leading you to the edge of something more. 

And you don’t have time to regret anything you’re saying; not when there’s a world of anger and frustration forcing their way through your veins, unraveling the knots you had oh-so carefully tied up once before. But they’re only side effects of the bigger problem festering beneath your skin—the fear that he’s leaving you behind, and that he isn’t going to stop and wait for you to catch up.

“Look, I’m sorry this isn’t about you for once, Kageyama, but I’m going insane—”

Is it wrong to want to know that he still cares? 

“—it’s always about you and your stupid volleyball games and your stupid interviews and your endless meetings and oh my god—aren’t you amazing?”

Is it wrong to want to know that he still loves you?

“Look at you, Tobio Kageyama, the king of volleyball! I can’t—”

You can’t keep up.

In a house where every wall is covered with reminders of how successful he is, is it wrong to want to know that you and your efforts are as equally cherished?

You want to see him happy, you always have, but once upon a time you had told him you’d be with him every step of the way. So what do you do when he’s the one who takes the first step ahead without you? 

The words die in your stomach before they meet the backs of your teeth, swallowing them down your throat upon the realization that enough damage has been done. Your lips no longer taste of salt and chapstick, but of blood and smoke. You’re toying with the pages of a cautionary tale now.

But it’s one night. A heartbeat of a moment. And in the grand scheme of things, it means absolutely nothing, but at the same time, it’s everything more.

Kageyama’s hands are at his sides, fists clenched tight to where crescent shaped indents line the flesh of his palm. He watches you quietly, eyes trailing down the sight of you and your tear stained cheeks as a shaky breath falls from your mouth. He knows he can’t fix this. 

After all, he’s tired of being held back. He supposes you’re tired of chasing after him.

20

“I’m sorry,” Kageyama mutters, eyes dropping to the floor.

His face is uncertain beneath the yellow lamplight of the desk, mouth pulled taut as he mumbles out the third apology of the night. It’s not common for him to be this expressive—so it’s enough to tell you that this rift has been bruising his heart for awhile now.

You let out a breath, falling back into the warmth of your shared bed with a sigh. It almost feels like a hug, you think, with the scent of his cologne woven into the sheets and the comfort of the night sky brushing against your cheeks, his brand new trophies gleaming from where they sit upon your bedroom shelves.

There’s a roll of your eyes when you look at him. A comforting tone lacing with your words. “Stop apologizing, I already told you that it’s okay.”

Yet Kageyama doesn’t reply immediately, switching his gaze from whatever’s on the ground to the open window hanging beside him, blue eyes catching onto the fractured constellations splattered across the night sky. You follow his gaze, embracing the silver sheen before you pierce the silence, calling his name with a certain softness.

“Kageyama,” You say, and his gaze shifts to meet yours. “Tell me about your day.”

He only nods then, drawing in a breath as if to tug his thoughts back down to you, allowing the words to leave his tongue with a melting ease. He tells you all about his new teammates on the Schweiden Adlers, the new strategies they’d tried out at practice, the Spanish phrases he’d picked up from one of the older players, and the way he’s been subject to what was called “hazing.” And you watch as his expression settles into one of gleaming enthusiasm, the worry on his face dripping away beneath the pale grasp of moonlight. By the end of his stories, he’s smiling, lost in the absolute dream that is his life.

Every comma, every question mark pulls you closer to the edge of your seat, hanging onto his every word like they’re the beginning of a brand new arc. It’s hook, line and sinker when you look at him, realizing that his world is being seen with pure, unadulterated color, threading gold between his fingertips like the ends of a rainbow, and it’s enough to be just be a part of that story.

He finishes, looking over to meet your eyes. “How was your day?”

You grin, readying the words at the tip of your tongue. You’re ready to tell him about the internship you’d secured in the heart of Tokyo, expose your pride over passing your final exams, and relay the conversations you had with his older sister over lunch the day before. To tell him that you’ve missed him lately, that it’s hard not being able to see him everyday until—

“Kageyama!”

There’s a knock. His head snapping back to see a figure peeking through an unlocked door, silhouetted, but still there, nonetheless. Your heart falters.

“Hirugami’s been trying to call you; He wants to go over some things again before the game tomorrow.”

Kageyama turns back to the camera, watching you through the screen as an apologetic look drapes across his face.

“Sorry,” It’s the fourth apology of the night, and the same words you’ve been hearing on repeat since the first week he got signed months ago. He sighs. “I should go.”

He pulls his phone from where it’s propped up on the hotel desk, bringing your pixelated image along as he readies himself to leave the room. You hate how familiar the scene seems, the bitter feeling of déjà vu arising that you’ve been trying to get used to with his longer hours away from home. Forcibly, you smile; finding that it’s much more difficult to do so this time around.

Your voice drops into a soft whisper. “It’s okay.”

You should be happy for him.

He steps out into the hotel hallway, and by the time he offers you a small smile, the pad of his thumb is hovering over the red ‘end call’ button. He looks at you.

“Happy anniversary.”

You nod, hope fluttering in your chest that maybe, maybe, you won’t feel like this by the same time next year. You give him a small wave. “Happy anniversary.”

Kageyama doesn’t linger long enough to hear you say anything else before he hangs up, leaving you back in Tokyo beneath a haunting silence and a darkened room. Rolling onto your side, you toss your phone somewhere across the mattress, groaning defeatedly into the sheets with a slight shudder. You’re not entirely sure when the bed had become so cold.

19

You’re the first person he calls after leaving the office in Tokyo.

He’s a whirlwind of emotions, pride kicking up in the depths of his stomach as his fingertips reach for your contact name with a melting ease. It’s only a short ring that passes before your voice echoes through the receiver, all hushed and curious while the butterflies erupt beneath his ribs.

“I’m going to play on the Japan National Team,” He announces proudly, not immediately noticing the curious attention from others standing around him at the station.

He chooses not to care though. Chooses not to give a damn about the looks he’s getting regarding his volume because his dreams are finally, finally tangible. He listens happily as you let out a squeal of excitement, never mind the fact that you’re also in the middle of your university library during exam season.

“Holy shit!” You gasp, pulling a busy, gleaming smile onto your face. “That’s amazing! You’re amazing!”

There’s a moment of silence bleeds over then, but he’s quick to break it.

“Thank you,” Kageyama blurts, almost sheepishly. “For being here for me.”

Your face softens; warming in the rare exposure of vulnerability as your bottom lip catches between your teeth.

“I’ll always be here for you,” You breathe out. “Every step of the way. Just don’t forget me when you’re famous, okay, hotshot?”

“Of course not,” He grins to himself. “You’re coming to the top with me, you know.”

Your pulse drums louder in your stomach. “I know.”

There’s another pause until Kageyama breaks it once more, continuing to ride the high of a freshly signed contract. It’s another blurted sentiment.

“I love you.”

Your smile widens. “I know.”

“Say it back,” He grumbles, knowing that the words have always sounded better falling from your lips anyway.

So you do.

18

Tobio Kageyama tells you he loves you beneath a snow-kissed sky in the middle of December. 

In the pale light of morning when the world’s blanketed in white and the windows are frosted over with ice, he finally says the three words that have been clouding the depths of his mind for months.

“I love you,” He admits; doesn’t quite realize how unfamiliar they feel until they’re leaving the tip of his tongue. 

He pauses, suddenly unsure. “I think.”

You allow a small laugh to leave your lips then, an airy, melodic sound drifting along the silence of sunrise as your fingertips reach out to intertwine with his in the open space between you two. 

You know it’s not perfect. It’s awkward and it’s confusing, and it’s a bit far from the breathtaking confessions that the storybooks had always foretold, but you don’t mind. You know you don’t need a chorus of singing birds or the magic of a rabbit hole, the frayed ends of a rainbow or the tick-tock of a ballroom clock counting down to midnight.

The only thing you really need is this—the story of you and him, walking along some snow-dusted sidewalk in the middle of Miyagi with your hearts stitched onto your sleeves and your cheeks kissed red, and it’s the only thing you suppose you’ll ever need to read.

You offer him a small smile.

“I think I love you too,” You reply, and he holds onto you just a little bit tighter.

[blackcoffeeandblankpagess]

NOLA marathon recap!

-now that it’s over I know it all worked out but in retrospect new orleans was a horrible place to pick to run a marathon lol the race itself was great but it’s definitely a party city and especially because jared’s parents are here with us (and not running) it kinda felt like we were missing out on the full experience (for instance last night we were at a jazz club but had to leave early and didn’t get drinks, etc. but we still have 24 hours of fun!)

-I was STRESSIN about what to eat yesterday/this morning because I really did not practice that while training because I just wanted to live my life and not worry about eating a certain way for a long run every weekend (plus on a normal run its no biggie to stop to use the bathroom) so I was feeling very ahhhhh!!!! yesterday, again, also because jared’s parents were here and don’t understand my running related insanity like jared does lol

-so yesterday I ate: bagel w/ cc and strawberries, pineapple

-oyster/shrimp po boy (I mean we are in new orleans) with fries

-a glass of white wine, shared fancy brussel sprouts with the table, cacio e pepe pasta (which was basically like less creamy mac and cheese and I was worried might be a bad decision but oh well) and a couple bites of a dessert we all shared (only recording this for future marathon reference)

-generally I don’t eat before morning runs but when I have all the time in the world (aka over winter break) I like to eat breakfast, poop, and then run and that was always when I had my best runs, I felt conflicted over whether or not to get up early to eat before the race because even though technically I have eaten breakfast before runs I have never intentionally woken up early with the explicit goal of eating before a long run PLUS when I ate (5am) here it was 3am my (CA) time and I was v worried about not being able to poop and then having to run feeling bloated and bleh

-but I decided to eat oatmeal and I DID poop (aren’t you all glad to know?) and that was well and good

-I had been wavering between my race plan because half of me was like “find the 4 hour pacer and just run a little bit faster at the end and you will break four” since my nyc time was 4:12 and my main goal was to break 4 but THEN my ego jumped in (that’s always good!) and was like nah nah nah nah nah but I want to go FASTER. Honestly I had NO idea what pace I could maintain for 26.2. I have been running most of my runs VERY slowly (for me) at like 10-12min pace but then I also have runs where I’ve run 6-7-8 pace (although short distance) and felt good so I was like uh uh uh because I didn’t want to finish feeling like I had more in me but I DEFINITELY didn’t want to burn out SO I decided I would find the 3:50 pacer and run the first half with them and then reassess (also, I generally run a race pace about 30 seconds faster than my usual pace comfortably because adrenaline so even though I thought the 3:50 aka 8:46 pace might be a little bit pushing it I was like welp I can always pull back if it feels like too much in the beginning)

-anyway! got to the start, found the 3:50 pacer, decided I would glue myself to her hip forever.

-THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY: I don’t know how many of you have heard but last week in oklahoma a driver hit a group of runners from a highschool xc team while they were on a run and killed 2 of them and injured 4 others, I read that headline the other day and was like holy shit. THEN! In the starting corral I was next to this guy and he asked me if I had heard about that and I was like actually yes and HE IS A RUNNER ON THAT XC TEAM AND HE SAID HE WAS THERE TODAY TO RUN IN MEMORY OF HIS TEAMMATES WHO WERE KILLED and I was like holy shit you are incredible and that’s amazing and also I’m so sorry that that reason for being here exists in the first place but like WHAT! small world

-anyway! the pacer’s name was kim and she was from new orleans and we talked a bunch and kinda formed a little 3:50 squad and all got to know eachother and it was GREAT I 100% plan to run with a pacer in the future it was a game changer and I honestly believe I owe my race to it. It forced me to hold back in the beginning and hang on at the end and took all of the thinking and calculations out of it because I knew if I just hung onto her I would get there in time

-the first half of the race was nice and in the downtown area but the second half was ROUGH. It was along the lake and it was WINDY AS SHIT! And there were a bunch of bridges and even though the rest of the course was flat they were...tough. Around 18 I was like ok starting to enter the pain cave and then at 20 I was like ahhhhhh

-But I had mentally prepared myself for the mental battle of the race *see alexi pappas quote on hand* and I told myself to just stop thinking and keep moving forward, before the race even started I knew my biggest challenge in this race would be my brain, not my fitness level

-But then at 21 I started to think about dropping off the pace group because another 5 miles at that pace just seemed so. hard. But I hung on

-And then at 22 I was like ok no I need to walk for a sec my stomach did NOT feel good, so I stopped to walk on a WINDY FKING BRIDGE and then I started dry heaving into the wind but had basically nothing in my stomach I guess and I was like well this is bad but I feel validated in my need to walk for a sec!

-Miles 22-24 were just fucking hard. I had a super bad cramp and was in the pain cave and honestly walked a fair bit and the whole time I was like bitch we are not having an nyc repeat!

-I knew that I had run the first 22 miles fast enough that if I just kept. moving. I would finish under 4. Even though my sub 3:50 ship had sailed I was like YOU HAVE COME TOO FAR TO LET THIS GET AWAY FROM YOU.

-I SHUFFLED mile 25 but I was like if you can just run, even your slowest possible pace, you will make it.

-And then there was a HUGE BRIDGE HILL that I had forgotten about just past 25 and I was like holy shitTtTtTt

-But then I had .7 to go and I KNEW I was going to make it

-And the whole time I was just like “Danielle just keep fucking moving. Just get there under 4 hours. You can take 500 years off of running after this. You can get a fancy drink with dinner tonight. Just keep fucking moving.”

-And I did just that

-As I approached the finish I looked at the seconds on my watch because I honestly felt like I had NOTHING left to give so I was like ok how close am I to the next minute and I was at like 3.52:20 or something and I was like oh we HAVE this

And then it was over! And I am so happy with the result! And I found jared and his parents and it was the best I could have asked for and honestly, I respect the marathon so much more. I feel like after nyc because my pacing screwed me over I was like pft I can run a WAY faster marathon if I’m just smart! I just didn’t run that one intelligently! (which like yes true BUT) but today I was like fuck no marathons are just HARD. That’s the tea!

So! 3:52. 20 minute PR. Honestly not the best training cycle. Can’t wait to see what I’m capable of when I really give it my all.

[hystericalweenie]

Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Three: Little Things

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Since you guys seemed to like the text messages between Y/n and George, I decided to include a chunk of them, since there weren’t any in the last part. 

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! Digital penetration (fingering lolz)

12:36 am, George: I cannot stop thinking about you.

My stomach churned with butterflies, but I wouldn’t let him know.

12:38 am, Me: Creepy, much?

12:38 am, Me: Kiddingggg :P

12:40 am, George: Haha. Very funny. 

12:41 am, Me: Have you gone back to rehab to visit your friend?

12:43 am, George: Yes, Dean and I went yesterday after work. He’s not doing very well, but I know he’ll get better. Addiction is very scary.

12:44 am, Me: I can’t imagine. It must be hard seeing him so sick.

12:45 am, George: It is, but you’ve made all of this a lot easier for me to deal with. You make me forget about every single little flaw in life. 

12:47 am, Me: Then I guess I’m doing my job. 

12:48 am, George: You distract me too much sometimes, especially after last night. 

12:49 am, Me: Really? Huh, I wonder why, that’s weird.

12:51 am, George: *insert eye roll*

12:52 am, Me: It’s time to get emojis, old man.

12:53 am, George: Nah

12:53 am, George: Unless you want to show me how to install them this weekend?

12:55 am, Me: Sounds like a plan, grandpa

12:56 am, George: You must be into older guys then, huh?

12:58 am, Me: Yup, I have a bingo kink

12:59 am, George: Gross. 

12:59 am, George: I’m not thaaat old, I’m only 27.

I was twenty-four. Was that weird? Would he think that’s weird?

1:00 am, Me: When’s your birthday?

1:02 am, George: Next week, actually. March 13th.

1:03 am, Me: You doing anything to celebrate?

1:05 am, George: Eh, probably not. Dean and I might go to a bar or something, that’s what we’ve done in the past.

1:05 am, George: You’re welcome to come along if that’s the plan.

1:07 am, Me: I’d like that a lot, actually. I won’t get plastered this time, I promise.

1:08 am, George: Mhhhmmm.

1:08 am, George: It’s getting late, you should go to bed love

There it was, again. Love. I melted in my bed.

1:09 am, Me: You’re the one texting me!

1:10 am, George: You don’t haave to respond. 

1:12 am, Me: But I want to.

1:13 am, George: See, there’s the problem.

1:14 am, Me: Is it a problem?

1:16 am, George: Yes, because I’m making you lose sleep.

1:17 am, Me: I don’t mind.

1:18 am, George: You’re making this harder for me, Y/n.

1:20 am, Me: Fine. I’m going to sleep.

1:21 am, George: *insert me sticking my tongue out*

1:22 am, George: Good. Goodnight, love.

I woke up the next morning with dark rings underneath my eyes, but they were well worth it due to our conversation; I’d found out that George was twenty-seven years old and his birthday was on March thirteenth, making him turn twenty-eight the following week. I wondered if our slight age difference would make things weird, I hoped it wouldn’t. 

I went to work that morning with extra concealer on my face, and a sleek black pencil skirt with a dainty blouse. I rolled through New York traffic, waved at the receptionist once I’d arrived at the building, and made my way to the second floor with the not-so-speedy elevator. I welcomed my desk, waving at silently at Dean before stretching my hands and typing my results from the experiment. 

The CBD oil experiment had gone pretty well; I used it only temples after coming home from work with a headache and I’d definitely noticed a difference. I spent the entire morning rewriting everything over and over again, wanting to perfect my first article and impress the HBIC that Connie was. 

When lunch had rolled around, I decided to head to the small cafeteria to see what they had in store for me that afternoon, hoping it’d give me some energy to finish writing the article. I decided to go with my regular salad, picking out the toppings, as I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around noticing the presence of Faith, the small ginger haired girl I’d met on my first day. I smiled at her, before returning back to my salad. 

“I meant to tell you before, but your idea for your experiment is really good, I’m kind of shocked at how well your first pitch is, actually,” she admitted with a smile as she opened some cabinets, scavenging for food.

I blushed at her compliment, turning my face to look at her.

“Thanks, Faith, that means a lot coming from you,” I beamed at her. “Your article of your interview with that producer from The Bachelor was amazing!”

I saw her cheeks tint pink as she turned her body to me after finding a small bag of chips.

“Really? You couldn’t tell that I was nervous during the interview?” she asked worriedly, her thin, groomed eyebrows knitting together anxiously.

I shook my head. “Not at all! It was perfect.”

She chewed on her lip before smiling at me.

“Thanks, uhm, maybe we could work on something together sometime? After the article you’re working on right now, of course,” she suggested. 

I grinned at the girl.

“Of course!”

“Okay! I’ll see you around, Y/n.” She exited the room with a soft smile, and left me to finish my salad. 

I was glad to have finally made a girl friend, especially someone who could potentially help me with my writing. I finished my salad-making, returning to my desk and immediately conversing with Dean.

“So,” I began, shoveling the lettuce into my mouth. “Any new office drama we can talk about while we’re on lunch?” 

The people that usually sat beside us had gone off to some restaurant down the block from the office, leaving Dean and I by ourselves at the table.

“George heard two people goin’ at it in one of the conference rooms earlier,” Dean shared with a laugh, his blue eyes softening in humor.

Hearing him mention George made me wonder if George had told Dean about me. I brushed this thought off, knowing it’d result in unnecessary anxiety.

“Do people usually have sex in the office?” I asked, lowering my voice.

He shrugged.

“Sometimes, I guess, but George works on the third floor with the most empty offices, so he hears about it more than me, I’m sure.”

I shoveled more salad into my mouth, as I pondered what it’d be like having sex at the office. Having sex on one of the empty conference tables and risking someone coming in or hearing, or doing it on a desk after everyone’s gone, the building empty and the bright lights of New York lighting up the office through the windows; my legs were quivering at the memory of George’s tongue and imagining how he could fuck me at the office. It’d be so scandalous, so risky, but why did I like thinking about it?

“Y/n?”

I brought my head up to the brunette, observing his confused expression.

“What?” 

“I asked how the article’s going,” he repeated.

Shit, did I space out that bad?

“Oh, it’s going well,” I stammered. 

“Don’t be nervous about it, I’m sure Connie’s going to love it,” he reassured me, his expressions softening with concern.

I was not just spacing out due to anxiety from the article, but I led him to believe so because I was sure as hell not going to tell what I was really thinking about.

“You’re right,” I agreed.

I shoveled the last of the lettuce into my mouth, the fork lingering in my mouth as I thought of George’s lips; I missed the taste of him. 

I wondered where his office was; I wanted needed to see him. I needed to feel his lips against mine, I needed to feel his hands explore my body, I needed something to relieve the aching between my legs. 

“I’ll be back, I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I announced, grabbing my phone and quickly exiting the office. 

I scurried into the elevator, pressing the third floor button and opening my front camera on my phone to perfect my appearance. I ran my fingers through my hair, teasing my roots to make my locks look tousled and sexy. As the elevator stilled, the doors opened, and I headed down the hallway, hoping for a sign that had George’s name on it for navigation. There was an open room with tables of desks like my floor, but it was much smaller, revealing the small amount of people in the art department.

It led to a hallway with several rooms on each side, as I slowly walked down and turned my head to each door in hopes of seeing his name or his face somewhere. I was finally introduced to a wooden door with “George MacKay” written on it. My cheeks flushed, and I knocked on the door with my knuckles. I heard footsteps as my heart raced, his door swinging open and revealing his face. 

His hair was in perfect form, his locks styled effortlessly while he was dressed in a light blue button up and slacks, his blue shirt making his eyes look even lighter. His shirt fit his torso just right and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing the veins that trickled up his arms. I licked my lips at the sight of him, as he fisted my shirt and pulled me inside of his office, kicking his door closed.

“I have to say, this is the best surprise I’ve gotten in a while,” he muttered, his eyes looking me up and down. 

His hands wrapped around my waist, going to my lower back as his face inched towards mine. I felt his warm minty breath welcome me, already relieving my craving for him. I moved my nose to gently nudge his, before my lips attacked him. I couldn’t hold back anymore; George took away any self control I'd had in the past. 

My hands went to cup his face before snaking around his neck. I felt his hands travel down to my ass, squeezing it, causing me to moan into his lips. I pulled on his hair instinctively, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He began walking, making me walk backwards until my back hit the desk. I pulled away, as I sat myself on it without thinking, scrunching my skirt up to my waist so that my legs could open for him to stand in between them. He stood himself between my legs once I’d given him access, staring at me momentarily. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen as he stared intently at me.

“What do you want to do, Y/n?”

I chewed on my lip. There was no way in hell that George and I’s first time would be at my work. But, I needed a relief; the ache between my legs was too much, almost painful at this point. 

“Can you make me feel good?” I whimpered confidently, my fingers threading through his locks as we looked at each other.

His eyebrows furrowed and he nodded, his cheeks turning pink at my request. 

“How do you want me to make you feel good, love?” he asked, his hand coming up to cup my face. 

He slipped his thumb between my lips, surprising me. Without thinking, I swirled my tongue around his finger and gently sucked on it. His eye lids drooped as he watched me in awe, probably imagining my mouth on his cock. I opened my mouth as he removed his thumb and I looked at him innocently. 

“Your fingers, George. Please,” I begged.

Still gazing at me, he lowered his hand, pushing my panties to the side with his index finger. 

“Your wish is my command,” he whispered, the pad of his thumb running down straight to my clit.

My hips bucked at the action, and he attached his lips to mine to swallow all of my moans. He rubbed circles on the sensitive bud before running his finger through my folds. My fingers knitted themselves into his hair as he teased my entrance, driving me absolutely insane. His finger slid into me easily due to how wet I was, how wet he had made me. He pulled his lips away from me, using his free hand to insert a finger into my mouth. I sucked on it, as I tried not to let any moans escape my mouth while he attached his lips to my neck. His thumb began picking up its pace, his finger curling into me faster. I gently nibbled on his fingers as my stomach began to twist, my legs sticking straight outward and trembling. The delicious pleasure was building and building, and I wasn’t sure how long I could last. 

“You gonna cum, angel?” 

Angel.

I cried out against his finger with a closed mouth, hitting my climax as I came undone onto his fingers. My jaw went slack as I rode out my high, fingers threading themselves and pulling on his hair for dear life. My body spasmed against him, overwhelmed with pleasure. Once my legs finally relaxed, he slowly removed his fingers from my heat, and latched his digits into his mouth. He hummed, sucking me off of his fingers as I watched him in awe. He removed his fingers from his mouth, before grabbing some tissues off of his desk.

“I’m gonna clean you up, okay, love?” He informed me, looking at me for permission.

I nodded, watching as he got onto his knees and began gently wiping my pussy with the tissues. My breath hitched at the contact, sensitive after my climax. I watched him as he looked intently at my heat, concentrating, as he strategically cleaned where I’d been dripping. 

“I wish I could’ve cleaned you up with my mouth, love, I hope you know that,” he admitted, looking up at me. 

I whimpered, looking down at him as he gazed at me with innocent blue eyes.

He pressed his lips against each side of my inner thigh, before standing up and tossing the tissues into his trash can. He returned between my legs, moving his palms to cup each side of my face.

“Y/f/n Y/l/n, you’re going to be the death of me,” he confessed with a chuckle. 

“Rest in peace, George MacKay,” I joked. “Cause: Y/f/n Y/l/n being too sexy.”

“That's for damn sure,” he moved to peck my lips, his fingers pulling down the bunched up fabric of my skirt. I held onto his shoulders as I stood up, needing extra support for my weak legs. 

I flattened the skirt, adjusting my top as well. “How do I look?” I attempted to brush through my hair with my fingers.

“You look perfect,” he smiled, pecking my lips again. “I wish we could see each other after work this week, but I’m supposed to visit Andrew at the rehabilitation center with Dean until he starts improving.”

My eyebrows furrowed and I brought my hand to his bicep, ignoring how muscular it felt.

“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “You have to be there for your friends.”

He looked down at me, his expression softening as I watched him examine my features. 

“Thank you, Y/n,” he said softly, his eyes returning back to mine. “You’re one fucking amazing woman.” He grinned, crinkles appearing next to his eyes.

My cheeks flushed as I fought back the urge to melt straight into the floor; I felt like I could have passed out if I hadn’t forced myself to remain composed and on my two feet. 

“I’m not all that special,” I assured him. “I’d say I’m pretty much just an average millennial woman.”

He rolled his eyes. “But you’re not,” he argued. “You’re so fucking intelligent and determined, it truly baffles me. Most adults go into work, because they have to; you come into work everyday, prepared to blow everybody’s fucking minds, no matter what it takes.”

He brought his hand up to his face, the pad of his thumb stroking my bottom lip. “You have these little quirks, like, you chew on your bottom lip whenever you’re nervous or focusing on something.” He poked my cheek with his finger, causing me to smile. “You have these adorable little dimples.” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “You roll your eyes all the time, too, which could get you in trouble one of these days, love.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, not wanting to prove him right. I shook my head instead.

“You’re stubborn too,” he added, noticing my expression. “But, I think you’re the most kind and forgiving woman I’ve ever met; I don’t think I know someone who could forgive their roommate for the shit she’s done to you,” he admitted. “But you want to see the good in every person.”

My eyebrows furrowed at the accuracy of his observations.

“How do you know all of this?” I interrogated, my eyes squinting in suspicion.

He smiled softly. “I notice all of the little things about you, love. They’re hard to miss when I’m with you.”

I bit back my giddy smile. “I notice a lot of the little things about you, too, George.”

He stepped closer to me. “Like what?” he chided with a smirk.

I brought my fingers to the sides of his eyes–careful enough not to touch his bruised eye–mimicking his previous actions. “The crinkles by your eyes whenever you smile or laugh.” I moved my finger to his nose, gently running along the bridge of it. “The way your nostrils flare whenever you’re concentrated or confused.” I poked the small freckles that were sprinkled along his nose. “These adorable freckles.” I could see him blush under my touch. My fingers went up to trace his right eyebrow. “Your eyebrows furrow whenever you’re focused on something.” My fingers moved down to his arm, tracing the veins. “The way your veins travel from the backs of your hands to your forearms.”

My palm moved back up to his face, cupping his cheek as I stared into his blue piercing eyes that gazed back at me.

“You’re incredibly loyal, and as much as you may not want to admit it, you’re hardworking and you love your job.” I stroked the small freckles along his cheek with my thumb. “I notice all of the little things about you, too. They’re hard to miss whenever I’m with you,” I rephrased his words sincerely with a whisper. 

I watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, as he gulped and stared at me with an intense expression. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/n.”

[sumukhcomedy]

Why I Wanted to Leave My Interracial Relationship

I’ve been in an interracial relationship for 10 years. Well, not 10 straight years. We dated for 1 ½ years, split up, then got back together and have been together for 8 ½ years. So, in actuality, I’ve known this person for 14 years now. She’s white. What’s happening in our country as a response to police brutality and the numerous killings of Black people opens all wounds on a personal level for many of us as well. So, the true conversation that the country is beginning to have on race and its history of racism has only amplified issues of race within our relationship.

I love this woman. That love of course includes that she is like-minded and well-meaning. But she is white. Even though I am the child of an arranged marriage, I suppose the American ideals of love set in. We don’t know who we will end up loving and the more open-minded we are to the possibilities, the more likely we are to find that person that fits us. And, perhaps growing up predominantly in a white environment made me more inclined to end up with someone white. Or maybe its my own internal systemic issues with race and beauty. I’m not sure. But I’ve been in a relationship with a white woman for a decade now.

I knew what I was getting into on a general level in an interracial relationship. I knew that with any woman of another race that I dated. I understood the history of racism and interracial relationships that existed in this country. We weren’t that far off historically from this being illegal. We certainly weren’t that far off from, in the wrong place, me being made an example of for being with a white woman. I’m aware of my race every second of my life let alone when I’m with a white woman.

This posed tension for our relationship early on and even to this day. I did not feel like she felt this same concern and connection with history because she’s white. Sometimes it was frustrating because she would behave and act as if she had no awareness at all of this history. It speaks to her good nature and why I fell in love with her but it doesn’t speak to reality and my existence which is necessary to have with a partner. To her, she is a good white person and there would be no problems. But, particularly at a time in our lives when we were drinking, I’d express to her how some of her behavior when drinking was problematic. If the possibility that the wrong people would arrive or that cops were called, I, as the person of color, could be in deep trouble. I, as the brown man with the white woman, could be susceptible to all the systemic stereotypes ingrained in our culture. I would be the one punished for even entering into a relationship with the white maiden.

    Who knew love could develop from a shoulder strength contest at age 22?

Nothing cut more deep than when she had said to me in the past, “Sometimes I forget you’re Indian” or “Sometimes I forget you’re Brown.” This is the equivalent of saying that she did not see my race. This is a tough thing for a person of color let alone to hear from the person that I love. It’s nice that she lives in an innocent, idealistic world where my race does not matter, can be forgotten, and that I am just an equal to her. But that is a punch in the stomach for me as a person of color because it isn’t reality. Every day I’m very aware of my race. I’m aware of my race in our relationship. So, for her to say that, hurt me. It made me feel that my experience, my feelings, and who I am were being erased. That’s hard to hear from my partner, from the person I live with, from the person I’m closest to, from the person I love.

Our conversations on race were always trouble and left us worse off than better. She would describe me as “angry” and “attacking her.” Because of her upbringing, if someone raised her voice at her, she would take it personally. I was understanding of that psychologically for her, but it only frustrated me more because where was the care for my psychology and the effects on psychology that systemic racism had on me? I’m angry? I should be! Everyone should be angry when you understand my experience and I’m even angrier in understanding the experiences of Black and Brown people that have even less opportunities than I had and that have been hurt even further by this system.

My partner has issues with anxiety and so often the conversations would unravel and she would have deep anxiety over her “white guilt.” This is where my status as a loving partner and as a Brown man have to separate. I ended up just doing what I could as a partner to lessen her anxiety. But, of course, this would enrage the Brown man part of me even more. Why am I responsible for soothing your “white guilt”? Why am I not receiving any soothing in this relationship for the experiences I’ve had under my brown skin? Because I’m less prone to anxiety attacks? Hell, I should be getting more anxiety attacks than you because of the effects of the “white guilt” you’re experiencing! It was even more frustrating because I felt that I was always open to listening to her and her feelings particularly in being a woman that I could never understand as a man. How could she not do the same for me as a brown-skinned person?

There is nothing more absurd and maddening to me as a person of color than feeling you have to make a white person feel better about their place in systemic racism. And that was happening regularly with the person that I love. There were many moments that I felt that I should give up on this relationship and interracial relationships in general. Things would be so much easier on a racial level and being able to connect with someone on it if I was with an Indian-American woman who cared about those issues as well.

Recent debates on race between us, the death of Ahmaud Arbery, and then a conversation she had on Facebook with a Black friend led her to ordering books on race that were suggested to her. Part of me honestly rolled my eyes. I thought to myself, “Thank you for trying. I love you but we’ve been through this for 10 years.” I was convinced none of these books or none of her Facebook friends of color were going to somehow change how her mind worked if I, her partner of 10 years, wasn’t able to. I thought again to myself, “If you can’t handle me getting mad at you, trust me, your Facebook friends of color and these books will be much angrier!”

But then the country began its reaction to the death of George Floyd. I’ll admit that the first weekend I was particularly bitter and frustrated which is likely the way I’ve felt about race and meaningful change for years. I had a conversation on Facebook that amounted to nothing productive on the use of the word “thug.” I felt like everything would just repeat itself again. Anger over the death of another Black person at the hands of the police. Black Lives Matter gets said. The rest of the country does not step up or react enough. The system certainly doesn’t react or make change. Back to the next news story after a couple days and another Black life is forgotten and police brutality and systemic racism continues on.

As the week progressed, though, I began to see a change unlike what I had seen before. White people were becoming willing to stand up, speak out, and learn. They were ready finally to be open and uncomfortable about race, an issue that they had long avoided but need to be uncomfortable with because it is uncomfortable.

This amped up our own personal conversations and realizations. She had already expressed learning more about how to be better with race but what was happening in the country was allowing her to face it head-on. It was allowing me to face it head-on as well.

She began to understand that just because she is well-meaning and white does not mean that she is innocent. She began to understand systemic racism. She ultimately apologized to me. She accepted that she didn’t allow me to express my position. She didn’t allow me to feel emotions. By doing that, she only intensified my emotions. In whatever relationship you may have, if you don’t allow the other person the ability to express themselves and the ability to feel and listen and show compassion to them on any topic, then the relationship will suffer.

And, look, there is likely some apologizing that I’m going to have to do. Not necessarily to her specifically but to the general population and to Black and Brown people. I’ve already shifted my previous perspective on the word “privilege” (which I’ll likely write about in the future). I’ve seen that as vocal as I may have been, I also allowed my bitterness, frustration, and fear to lead me to be silent in many situations. So, this isn’t just an introspective time for white people. It’s an introspective time for all of us. Many of us have benefited in some way from systemic racism. But because I’ve also been on the downside of systemic racism, where I have certainly been seen as more Black than white in many situations, I can understand this to defend those not so high up in the system while also being critical of myself for my place in the system and what effect that has had on me.

Like so many relationships, there may always be underlying issues. Mine had one with race as it should have given who I am and that I was in an interracial relationship. Now for the first time I feel like we’re beginning to have the real discussion on race that I’ve wanted and many people of color have wanted. White people appear ready to finally feel uncomfortable, honest, and raw with their place in systemic racism. And, hey, if I can say that I’m even experiencing that with someone I’ve loved, live with, and been close to for well over a decade, imagine the possibilities for you with those you love in your life.

[hardlylo]

como la flor

synopsis: best friend’s dad! luke (also lawyer!luke) and montserrat are about to enter a world full of pain, tears, and happiness. inspired by the amazing series by @morningfears (pls do not expect this to be nearly as beautifully written as her series)

warnings: like one little word of swearing, age gap? (montserrat is aged 22 with luke 43/44)

author’s note: latina!protagonist because i feel this needs to be more of a thing. portrayed by cierra ramirez. please, puhlease provide feedback! i plan to make this a series unless it fails miserably then we’re just gonna forget this ever happened, capeche? i plan to make this like a telenovela: full of angst and drama that’s so ridiculous it’s good.

word count: 2,239

taglist: feel free to message to be added!

“Mr. Hemmings?” She whispered, gently rasping her knuckles over the hardwood door frame. She was met with the ocean blue eyes she dreamed of every night. “I’m all finished up, I’ll be heading out here in a few minutes. Just wanted to thank you again.” Her voice remained low, the tiredness seeping through her tone.

Montserrat Valdez had just finished up a grueling summer internship. It was a start in the right direction, putting to use what she paid thousands of dollars to learn, but it was no less than daunting. It was an amazing opportunity that practically fell in her lap. It was hard, exhausting, and she wasn’t sure if it was the case files or the gorgeous boss that made her have constant sleepless nights-but, she made it.

Luke glanced up from his paperwork, meeting the dark amber hues of the brunette. He had been so busy with his case that time had completely escaped him. He gave her a warm smile, slicking a loose piece of hair from his face. “Please, come in.” he gestured, pen in hand, to the leather chair in front of him.

Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor, the leather squeaking from her sudden presence. “If you’re busy I can go! It’s not like I won’t see you this weekend,” she chuckled, reminding him of the constant weekend plans she had with his daughter. “Besides, this looks important.”

“You worry too much,” he consoled, “I was just finishing up anyway.” With a flick of the folder the papers disappeared. He folded his hands on the desk top, “I wanted to see you before you left anyways, congratulate you on surviving your first two months of adulthood.”

Monte laughed with a blush, her eyes breaking the contact to sweep the floor. “Thank you, I appreciate it immensely.”

He gave her a soft wink, “That’s the fifth time you’ve said that. You’re quite welcome. And to congratulate you further I was hoping you’d let me buy you a drink.” Her interest peaked, her back straightening. “Unless that’s too awkward for you.”

“No!” she squeaked, “n-no. I would actually love to. I could definitely use a drink.” Her laugh was light, filling the room with a melodic sound. Luke felt a small flutter in his chest, but he quickly convinced himself he was just getting hungry.

“In that case, meet me at the house at six? It’s not like you don’t already know where I live.” He chuckled back, their moods bouncing off one another.

Montserrat stood, straightening out her pencil skirt, “will Lynnly be coming?” It wasn’t that she didn’t want the other girl to come, but there was a small hitch in her mind that desperately wished for alone time. Besides, she saw her nearly every other day of the week-being best friends and all. Or sisters, as they called themselves. They had been close ever since they both joined the same sorority in college. They stuck like glue for the next four years and found themselves as friends, sisters, and even neighbors.

The girls also found themselves at the older Hemmings house every weekend when they made their ventures home. Montserrat’s parents didn’t even live in the country, which made Luke welcome her with open arms-not wanting such a delicate soul to be left alone in the world. They also grew to be close, sharing little moments here and there. But nothing ever came to fruition. Not with Lynnly around every corner.

Maybe that’s why the internship had been so hard. Montserrat had finally had chances to be near him without a mediator. Yet, it never got better. They were either in a professional setting or joining his daughter on the couch for family night. It was a never ending cycle of missed chances and she wasn’t so sure she had anymore hope In her. Until today.

“I’ll throw the invite out, but I think she mentioned something along the lines of going out with Peter.” He shrugged, clearly not bothered if he missed the other’s presence.

Montserrat made her way back to the door way, her head looking back for a last look in the office. “See you at six, boss.”

 -

A hand reached for the doorbell in hesitation. It pulled back. It pushed forward again. It pulled back. Why was this so difficult? All she had to do was enter the same house she’d barged into plenty of times before. Yet, this was different. She felt that she had to be proper, respectful. Should she ring the doorbell? Knock? What if he was in the shower? He’d never hear her.

The door drew back with a creak, the sudden movement making the brunette jump back in surprise. “Were you just going to stand here all night or were you going to come in?” An arrogant smirk lay on his lips as he took in the girl before him. He’d never seen her so nervous-she was usually a go getter, someone with so much confidence she could easily make friends with just a hello.

Montserrat let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. Her heart was still pounding from the scare; or, maybe it was the fact that the only thing on him was a white towel, loosely bunched at his waist. “Um, I just-“ she fumbled, “I didn’t know if you’d want me to just barge in like that. I didn’t want to be rude.”

“Come on in,” he mused, making way for her to enter the house. “I would tell you to make yourself at home, but you practically live here anyways. I just need to freshen up and we can get going.”

She didn’t even realize she was staring until she heard his throat clear. “Y-yeah. I’ll just go…sit on the couch.”  Her voice was weak with nerves. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to multiply. ‘stop staring’ she repeated in her head, trying to regain some of her dignified composure.

Luke’s eyebrow raised in humorous curiosity. “Did you have some drinks before you came over?” he asked as he made his way up the stairwell. “You never could pregrame. Your pregaming is gaming. Always were the lightweight, Monte.”

Her eyes never left his silhouette until the closing door blocked her view. She placed a hand to her chest, trying to still her racing heart. She shuffled through the hallway, glancing at the pictures up on the wall. God-he had always been so good looking. It was a wonder to her that he wasn’t married, but you’d never find her complaining.

She plopped on the couch, crossing her golden toned legs. Her fingers absentmindedly played with the hem of her romper. She needed to snap out of this trance and quick. It was bad enough that Lynnly wasn’t around to be a mediator, now with the promise of alcohol looming in the air it was only a matter of time before Montserrat was word vomiting all over the place.

“Are you alright?” He questioned, appearing from the hall. Montserrat jumped again, a small squeak of surprise leaving her lips. How did he manage to keep sneaking up on her? You would think he’d be heavy footed enough to give her ears an incoming warning of footsteps.

His body plopped down next to hers, so close that he could smell her floral perfume. “I’m fine,” she lied, her knee gently knocking his. “I think I’m just tired, you know? It’s been a crazy two months.” What a load of crap.

“Look at me,” he softly demanded, dipping his head down to try to search her eyes for answers. He couldn’t understand what the sudden change in personality was. She was usually so warm and inviting to him. Now he seemed to be cast out like a puppy in the rain. Her pitiful eyes met his, giving no sign of her true feelings. “Did I do something?”

Montserrat practically flew off the couch, her legs immediately pacing in the large living room. “God, of course you didn’t!” A hand moved through her hair, trying to keep it from her reddening face. “I’m just-“ she let out an exasperated groan-“fuck!” He couldn’t help but watch her in amazement. He’d never witnessed her so flustered.

“I’m mad at myself,” she continued, seemingly talking to the air. “You know, for the last three years I’ve only ever looked at you as Lynnly’s dad. The guy who let me pass out in his guest bedroom when I drank too much getting over my ex. You were just my best friend’s dad. And then you give me this internship and suddenly I’m with you all the time. I get to know you so personally. I call you by your name, not just ‘Lynnly’s dad’, we were up late all those nights ordering takeout in your office, you even stood up for me when those clients were yelling at me. And here I am, feeling like I’m 15 years old because I have a crush on my friend’s dad. Who was also my boss. Yet I’m scared it’s not just a little school girl crush because it’s been progressing for months now. And then you go and ask me for drinks! Now here I am, trying to act like I didn’t just witness you half naked twenty minutes ago, but I can’t. So yeah, I guess I’m a little mad at you too for answering the door in a fucking towel.”

All the months of flirting, sending subtle ‘come get me’ signs, were finally boiling over. Everyone had noticed the care free, love induced banter that went between the two. A lot of people wrote it off as them just being close friends. Some could see through the facades, sensing the sexual tension. She always looked at him with sweet lovesick puppy eyes, and he always returned the sentiments. He would leave his hand on the small of her back a few seconds too long as he passed by her in the conference rooms, she’d let her head fall on his shoulder as they watched another boring movie Lynnly picked out. The tension had been building for too long. Montserrat had finally burst. She never knew how much her love struck tantrum would change her life.

There was silence. Dark, ear shattering silence. Luke didn’t know what to say. Had he noticed the girl getting flirtier? More open? Of course he had. But he was twice her age. He couldn’t just ask her out for dinner and drive her home afterwards. There were jobs and lives involved. He figured she’d grow out of it-meet someone else at the club, go on double dates with Lynnly and Peter, never to be seen in the Hemmings house again. But she was always there. No matter what happened he could always count on the spicy, kind hearted girl to show up on his door step.

Montserrat’s movements finally ceased. Her chest was heaving trying to catch her breath. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at him. “Ay dios mio,” she whined, her eyes beginning to well with tears. She had never felt more embarrassed. “I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”

Luke gently pushed himself off the couch. His hands cradled her cheeks, bringing her face to look at him. “You don’t want this.” He murmured, his forehead pressing to hers. “I’m not worth anything. I’m an old man to you. You are way too gorgeous, sweet, intelligent, too everything to even bother your pretty little head with thoughts about me. I’m completely undeserving.”

“Don’t tell me what I can and can’t want.” She softly nipped. He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, noticing her usual spark coming back. Her hands clasped onto his, “tell me you want this. That you’ve at least thought of it like I have.”

He contemplated his words carefully. He could easily lie to her, let her down gently. But their current position made it impossible for him to look her in the eyes and not tell her the truth. “Of course I’ve thought about it.” He spoke truthfully, “I never told you this, but that night you came over to help with the Brennings case, you had a little too much champagne, and fell asleep on my shoulder in the office, remember?” She nodded in remembrance as he spoke, “I carried you to bed that night. And I held you for a while after that because that’s all you wanted. You woke up long enough to ask me to hold you and I did. But I had to leave you before I fell asleep because I didn’t want Lynnly to get the wrong idea the next morning. Ever since then, all I’ve ever wanted to do was to hold you again without having to let go.”

Montserrat lifted herself on her tip toes, bringing her lips within mere centimeters of his. Her eyes flicked from his lips to his eyes, silently asking for permission. He gave her a nod before lightly pressing their lips together. Her hands fell to his chest, slightly gripping the tshirt material. There were no sparks. There were no fireworks. There were no feet popping up in the symbol of true love’s kiss. Instead there was a feeling of normalcy. Like this was how she was supposed to feel. This was comfortable, relaxing. It was as if they’d always known each other’s taste.

Luke reluctantly pulled away, taking in a deep breath. He gave her a smile, a genuine, deep smile. He hadn’t felt this way in years: excited, fresh, completed. There were still tons of fears in the back of his mind, but the blushed smile on her face blew them all away without a word.

“I think we’re going to have a lot of talking to do,” she mused, pressing her lips to his again for one quick peck.

He led them back to the couch, pulling her gently onto his lap. Her nose instantly nudged into his neck, breathing in the comforting sandalwood cologne. He brushed hair from her face, laying a hand to her hip to keep her close. “I have all the time in the world to talk about whatever’s on your pretty little mind.”

[getting-rid-of-anniex]

An (Un)Healthy Check up

This is me, probably about 6 / 7 years old...?...(looks like I’m busy burying a vampire I’ve just staked?)...what I would give to let that little girl know that she really is enough, and to never let the world get her down so much so that she questions herself.

Fast forward 31 years and I’m now on a quest to try and get back to being as much like that carefree child. The most stressful thing I had to think about then, was whether I would get some sweets at the weekend and if Barbie and Ken would like the salon I’d made for them out of toilet rolls and a load of old boxes.

The unfortunate thing about ‘LIFE’ is that - ‘LIFE HAPPENS’(!) and the person you become is built up of many moments and experiences. In my case, my moments and experiences ended up helping to construct someone lacking confidence and overflowing with anxiety. I started dieting from about the age of 15 (and since then the weight only went up!) Friendships became toxic and I ended up having to build myself a new peer group. I developed a pattern of using food and drink to both celebrate and commiserate. I overindulged on happy days, sad days, sunny days, rainy days; to plaster over a stressful situation, and gee myself up when I needed some dutch courage. My health took a battering, developing asthma, bad knees (at one point the doctor did say I had arthritis...later on rescinding this?!?), IBS and depression. I’ve gone through stages of going totally bonkers with exercise, from running every day, to not at all and just lying on the sofa eating crisps. I tried so many times to follow weight loss programs - if only I’d saved that money instead. After repeatedly falling off the wagon I’d restart another program with so much excitement, only for the hard work to start and the realisation that this wouldn’t be a walk in the park, to hit. I’d throw in the towel and unhappily stuff my face (self sabotage anyone?) My stomach was in a constant mess resulting in time off work (and increased time in the loo!). I tried gluten free, but again after a month or two of symptoms easing and feeling good I’d then decide it wasn’t as bad as originally thought and devour everything in sight, only to go shooting right back to the beginning. As well as feeling like crap because my stomach was in agony, I’d also be mentally berating myself for not being able to stick to anything AGAIN. Why didn’t I have the ability to stick to anything? Especially when all the things I was doing, I was doing in the hope of helping myself?

Appointment no.1

After realising finally just how much I was hurting myself, and how much I was struggling, and after crying on the shoulders of some very amazing friends and family (I really hope you guys know who you are) I decided to see the doctor. To help with my IBS, anxiety and stress (which was a bowlful of Catch-22 IBS related loveliness!!!) I was prescribed anti depressants. Whilst these helped initially, they didn’t touch my inner demons. Self destructive patterns were repeated and the only thing I learnt, was how better to hide things from others.

This must stop!

Back in 2018 my body finally had had enough. After feeling like utter shite for months on end, monitoring over the course of a few weeks how my heart would start racing (just sitting at my desk) and having increasing episodes of hot flushes, I knew I needed to get in contact with the doctor. This time I really wanted to do something...and I was scared. The ball got moving though earlier  than I’d planned.

Sitting at work my heart suddenly started to race. (There were no harsh words/emails, up-coming meetings/reviews, and I hadn’t eaten a heavy or spicy meal, there wasn’t anything in fact that could explain why this was happening). It felt as though I was having a panic attack (although never having had one, I couldn’t say for sure?). Luckily I was able to get an appointment with the doctor (another one) later that same day. I feel forever grateful to have been given an appointment with this particular doctor. For the first time ever I felt listened to, rather than just hurried along with the explanation for everything being the bog (pun intended) standard ‘gluten intolerance’. This went so much deeper. I was booked in for blood tests (and stool samples - yuck!)  to check for any intolerances (also checking for Crohn’s and Celiac disease)/vitamin deficiencies, given leaflets on the FODMAP diet (although I do feel like this isn’t the full answer for my stomach issues, it definitely helped to fully monitor what foods were triggering my IBS symptoms). We also had a bloody good talk. I didn’t feel like I was just another foot through the door and that the clock was being watched; I really could have hugged my Doc. I left feeling so positive (for most probably the first time in years). Even if we couldn’t rule everything out straight away (there would be a lot of trial and error in the up-coming months), it felt as though someone was on my side and wanted to help. Someone had finally just sat and listened (I’m not including friends and family in that comment - believe me, they definitely have done more than their share of hand holding and listening. This just meant so much, having someone from the health profession listen rather than assume.)

Blood test results

Well the results came in: B12 deficient and lacking folic acid. (I did have to have a further round of blood tests to rule out Pernicious Anemia, but this came back negative.) I also had to provide a ‘sample’, but the only embarrassing part about this was the idiot monkey behind the reception desk deciding that she needed to shout out across the waiting room that my little tube contained pooh (ground please swallow me up!!!)

Diet

B12 and folic acid were tackled with supplement vitamins and a controlled diet (at the time I was going through the FODMAP diet - which was so hard to navigate. So in the mean time I’ve knocked that on the head, but have tried to limit certain foods and just be more mindful about what I am putting into my body - for example I don’t eat apples as they really don’t like my stomach, I have to be careful how much beetroot/coffee/chickpeas, nuts and chocolate I have and I do try to limit bread/pasta. I was put on a list to speak to a dietician....I’m still waiting to see them!)

I have also rejoined WW online (but if being truthful, I’m still struggling with this. It’s still that bit too easy for me to not track all foods). It’s definitely a work in progress. The recipes are fantastic - I just need to be more honest with it if it’s going to work. One positive with this app though is that it has helped learning to track my weight only once a week (I used to have a day ritual of weighing myself).

I’ve cut right back on alcohol (to be another post soon, as this is a whole other story in itself). I’m already feeling the benefits, and some of them in unexpected ways - my skin has never felt/looked clearer (and from someone who is obsessed with studying the wrinkles on her forehead, this has been a fantastic bonus).

Fitness

I’ve downloaded some fitness apps to try and increase the amount of exercise I do (sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day does not help with general fitness!)

ZR5K: I’m currently doing a 5K training app (learning to run whilst escaping from Zombies - I’ve not used this app when it’s dark, I think it would unnerve me too much).

Race at your pace*: I’ve signed up for ‘Race at your pace’ (it was only £10 (medal only option)...and I get a medal at the end - as long as I complete my target of 25 miles run through out January). This has been a real motivator - I love the idea of getting a medal at the end of the month. This has also been mega easy to implement - I just track at the same time as escaping Zombies! *£10 for a medal - more if you want a Race at your pace top. **mile target is set by yourself and you can complete it by either running/walking or swimming for that particular month. MapMyRun: I currently use this as well, to track where I’m going and how long it’s taking me. It’s been a brilliant tool for monitoring average pace, and I’m hoping as the months role by to see this improving. Yoga: I’m also starting to implement some yoga into my daily routine too. I find that as well as it helping to stretch and loosen my muscles after a run (very slow shuffle), it also helps me to unwind and switch off.

Mindfulness

Breathe: I have downloaded a relaxation and meditation app. As with all the apps I’m currently using, I’ve gone for the free option so with this particular one, I don’t get the longer/more specific meditations, but there are still a great range to select from. They have been really helpful unwinding before bed. I just need to get into a better routine of using this daily.

Supportive networks

The hubby, friends and family have all been invaluable to me getting to where I am now. My husband is an amazing man (also a pain in the arse, but hey - I’ll forgive him that) and I absolutely cherish all he does in order to help me on my journey to being a better, happier human being! I cannot stress enough, how you need people around you who (may not have the answers but) will listen - without judgement. I feel so incredibly lucky to have the people around me who I know I can talk to, cry on and ask opinions of. I’ve been incredibly honest with my boss. Luckily he is someone who I know I can talk to and he’s been very understanding. After worrying about time off work due to sickness (stress/IBS/depression issues etc) I opened up completely about everything - food, health (mental and physical)....and I’ve even asked if I can set my health goals as part of my personal development target at work. (Being proactive about helping myself can surely only have a positive impact on my work/life balance. A happier/healthier worker will have a better attitude at work and (I’m hoping) a more productive output???)

Other ‘things’

I’ve also tried to absorb anything and everything that is supportive, positive that will help shore up my personal goals on my journey to self improvement.

I’ve downloaded healthy living podcasts, listened to audio books on being alcohol free and been reading ‘self help’ books - such as ‘The Happiness Equation’.

So this is me - minus the fringe and wondering if I should have curled my hair (see, I’m still a stress head). I’m not 100% healthy or happy but I’m trying my hardest to get there. I’ve got a lot of things to figure out but this time I’m willing to try. I may not be a little six year old happily sitting on the beach, but I’m determined to approach life with that same open and curious mindset...and vampires beware, I’ll still stake and bury you, no questions asked if you try to bite!

______________________________________

That’s all for now folks.

Along the way Annie X came on the scene. I’ll explain my relationship with her in the next ‘session’.

Thanks, be kind to each other and I’ll see you next time R (and Annie X) x

[motogpfanpage]

ROUND 13: SAN MARINO

As we are getting closer to the end of the season, it's at Misano, near Rossi's hometown that we were racing this weekend. A weekend where Ducati was favorite but the crowd had only eyes for The Doctor.

1) Dovi's moment of proud

Andrea Dovizioso took his 3rd win of the season a Misano. A very important win as Ducati won both italian GP this season and it’s also the first time they win 3 races back-to-back since the Stoner era.

Dovi knew his main rival would be his teammate. Somehow, if he wanted to win he first had to stop Jorge from running away "à la lorenzo" but the italian was confident he had the pace to rush at the front: "my strategy was to be on front and make my rythm because i knew i had a good pace but sometimes Jorge make a special race and Marc is always very strong".

Once the mid-race mark was checked it seemed Lorenzo was coming back on Dovizioso like a repeat of the previous races but Dovi had the race under control and pushed more just when he wanted: "i was trying to play with lap times to see and understand the competitors. i had the margin to go faster and take more risks under control".

As always though, the italian adaptated his pre-race strategy to what was happening live during the race "it's important that you have your strategy but at the end you have to make some part of it during the race".

As for the championship, Andrea is up to 2nd now in the standings but there's no illusion on their real chances to win it, it's Marquez's to lose "we are focus on that (getting ready for 2019) because Marc is ahead. If we do something important this year, good, but if we can't we have to be even more ready for next year".

And next year Dovizioso will have some help! Indeed, Lorenzo's replacement, Danilo Petrucci, know he's been signed, not to win, but to help Dovi win the next title. Think i’m joking ? Nope. It’s Marca which reported this very strange and awkward line said by Domenicalli himself (link of the article here) "Petrucci will make sure that Dovizioso has a whole lots of points by the end of the year". Now i do not know how Danilo feels about playing second field but i know i wouldn’t like it!

 2) Pen already well in hand

Marc Marquez might have arrived at Misano with a comfortable lead in the championship but that doesn't mean he is not willing to take some risks if a win is a stake. After a good fight with Lorenzo that left us on the edge of our seat and salivating for next season, the spaniard saw that Dovizioso was escaping, but there was nothing he could have done to prevent that from happening: "when i saw Dovi going away i tried to be behind Jorge, to attack him in the end but i was on the limit, i was pushing too much."

Knowing a mistake was likely to be made after his crash during the qualification session (where he gave us one hell of a show running back to a scooter, rushing back to his box and going back on track on his 2nd bike in less than 5 minutes), Marquez wasn't willing to let too many points escape him: "i was fighting against the bike, i was fast but riding against myself."

In the end Marquez vs Ducati went, once again to Ducati: "i tried to follow them, to be aggressive on the first laps but today Dovi was riding perfect. I was just following the ducatis, i wasn't able to overtook them. Jorge just made a mistake and went wide, that's how i was able to pass him".

In Marc Marquez fashion though, the spaniard had to try first before giving up and settling for points: "when you never give up sometimes you get something. This time we get 20 points."

Even if the spaniard hasn't won since the Sachsenring, he can still be pretty happy to extend his championship lead after the San Marino GP: "i arrived with 59 points at the front and we leave with 67 so we're happy".

  3) Lorenzo, Ganador, Campeon, Guerrero

Jorge Lorenzo was a man with a plan this weekend in Italy. Strong from a confidence build by a very good test at Misano for the ducati team earlier this summer, the spaniard was the clear favorite even before the action started on track.

His pole position on saturday, breaking the track’s record (a record he owned as he had set it previously on Yamaha), made that cristal clear for anybody else still doubting. Lorenzo wouldn’t be happy with anything else than a race win on sunday. Fate had other plans for him though.

The hot temperatures forced Lorenzo to race a combo of medium tires which he never felt at ease with: « i have to use the medium front and rear that normally i don’t like, especially the front. I didn’t have any grip on the side and not a food grip in the center of it ». Lorenzo stated he had to use way too much of the brakes than what he likes because of this bad feeling with the tires. 

The spaniard tried to escape though but that wasn’t going to work today. Starting from pole position, Lorenzo made another rocket start only him has the secret of and, with the soft, he believed it could have made the difference at least at start even though it woudn’t have last for the whole race distance: « with the softs i think i would have had something more on Dovi and Marc but with the mediums we were on the same pace ». 

Favorite before the race thanks to a superb test earlier, the spaniard lamented the tires weren’t working the same « the softs were very constant during the tests but this weekend after 5 laps it was destroyed ».

A wrong choice of tires leading to a crash while he was chasing Dovizioso for the win. Jorge Lorenzo could have settled for the 2nd place in the race. This would have pushed him into 2nd in the championship standings but if you ask him, 2nd isn’t ever enough. He had nothing to lose, Marquez being already gone in the title chase, so he went for it, win it or bin it style. 

Lorenzo is now 4th in the standings. With 6 races to go and 24 points between him and 2nd Dovizioso, the spaniard isn’t one to stop trying easily and one can be sure, he’ll give his everything to make sure to not only finish in front of teammate Dovizioso in the standings but also to win more races than him and, like the cherry on the top of cake, try to give Ducati the constructor’s championship. Is Domenicalli still certain it was the right choice to get rid of the spaniard ? I bet Honda are rubbing their hands...

4) 22 races

The streak of shame continues for Yamaha. It is now 22 races since they've last won one. As the situation doesn't look like it's going to be solves anytime soon, riders still try to understand what is going on into what was once the best team on the grid.

Maverick Vinales seemed to have found some of his old form back being in the top spots most of the practices but the race is always another story: "i felt very strong in FP4 but we had a big drop in feeling from saturday to sunday. It's been a year and a half that we are suffering during races and we still have to understand where we lose out"

The spaniard wants to keep focus on the positive though as for once he didn't messed up his race start: "after the start i was really happy because i thought now i can take the slipstream from the fast guys".

Even a few positive notes cannot keep Vinales from worrying about Aragon though: "it will also be difficult because it's very hot and slippery there but we have some adeas to try".

Valentino Rossi, on the other hand, was clearly more downcast from having to do a very anonymous race on his home turf. He was finally back to Misano (as written on his special helmet) after having to miss last year's San Marino GP due to an injury. A comeback yes, but not a party: “difficult race, a big shame to not be competitive in Misano. I expected to be stronger because in FP4 i was not too bad. But today was more difficult for me, Maverick and also Zarco."

The italian stating he was close to being one second slower on sunday than he was on saturday is frustrated by the fact the team still hasn't found any reason behind that drop of form: "maybe it's because of moto2 rubber but honestly we don't know".

Reflecting on his last seasons, Rossi gives a great insight into what could be one of the reason behind Yamaha's form these last few years: “in the last 3 seasons we start good, i make a lot of podiums in the first par of the season but during the second par we suffer more. it looks like Ducati and Honda are able to develop their bike in a better way. This is a problem Yamaha needs to understand why."

With Lorenzo's crash, Rossi still finds himself 3rd in the standings, a result which should cheer him up but the italian knows best: "we have to stay concentrated and give the maximum because in the championship miraculously i am 3rd and i don't understand how!"

If that's not throwing shades to yamaha, then i do not know what is...

  5) Dani's future

Between good and bad memories, Misano is a track where Dani Pedrosa used to be a favorite on race day.

This year though, what ended up being an overall good weekend for the spaniard resulted in nothing better than a 6th place. Something Pedrosa cannot be proud of: "Today 6th place was the best outcome, it's positive but not enough. We're far from where we want to be."

Still motivated to end his career on a good note, Pedrosa couldn’t keep up with his main opponents on sunday: "i wasn't able to get closer to Rins and Maverick. We need to work on the bike setup to get closer to the front group".

Regarding his future, even though a possible job as a Honda test rider and ambassador isn't out of question just yet (at least officially), rumor has it Dani is talking with KTM to become the new star of the testing team.

A good news for Dani even though we can't hide the fact that we would have love to see him race for the Austrian team. Something which won't happen as it's being said that Pedrosa, even though he would gladly take on the role of test rider, has no intention of doing wildcards next season.

Valencia then might very well be the last time we will see him race... Glad i have my ticket!

  6) honorable mentions

Another disappointing weekend for Johann Zarco who couldn't take more than a 10th place finish on sunday.

Pol Espargaro made his comeback to the race tracks after his horrible crash which forced him to skip multiple races. Even though it was nice to have him back, the spaniard couldn't bare the pain and had to stop mid-race.

Morbidelli's on a flying form since the announcement of his future as a Yamaha rider in the whole new SIC-Petronas team. After a great weekend he took 12th during the race.

Petrucci might be replacing Lorenzo next season, but so far, he's not showing any championship winner material with a very disappointing 11th place during the San marino GP.

Cal Crutchlow took a podium home! A great way to celebrate his new contract with LCR.

Alex Rins' 4th place comes as both a very impressive and huge improvement on the form he was showing latelly.

Syahrin started the season so well but is now turning into a disappointement. 19th is no where near what he should get.

[type-a-nomad]

ah, to be young.  Alternative Title: sometimes I’m a little crazy but only when there are no consequences whatsoever.

It’s March 23 and I don’t understand how the world is turning so fast that the days are just spinning by.  The thing that’s really drawing my attention to the days passing is that Tim is leaving very soon.  For me, he is kind of the person that sets the energy for this place.  He has been here longer than almost anyone and it shows.  He works as a kind of center for people.  A role model.  An example of the kind of person who volunteers at SAVE.  He was supposed to leave in a couple weeks, but things changed a bit and he decided to leave early to go visit friends in Germany on his way home.  It’s going to be a very sad goodbye, especially because the end of his stay here came as a bit of a surprise.   In terms of interesting things that have happened in the last few days, there haven't been that many.  We have had a lot of issues here with protests and riots in the townships that shut down our projects because it’s either too dangerous for us to be there or too dangerous to get the kids in and out.  It means I’ve had a lot of free time because project has been cancelled for two days already and could possibly be continued next week if the pattern of rioting continues.  Generally, what happens is there is a protest because of lack of resources and lack of understanding between the government and the people in the township.  Then, during the riots, people drink a lot.  The next day everyone is still drunk and the destruction continues.  The following day there are no protests, but the day after people start drinking again and the whole thing repeats itself.

One thing I’m very tired of here is drama and gossip. I’m in house 22 and it is getting so bad and generally stressful for me that I want to ask to be moved just so i don't have to think about that energy anymore.  The current issue has to do with Danni (again).  Basically, she was drunk on a beach and got in a fight with another drunk girl who went and told Robyn and Shannon that she feels threatened and now it’s a whole drama and Danni wants to leave the program and is a perpetually dangerous move.  She’s honestly a bully and it scares me to deal with her because she has no problem being mean to people.   Usually, bullies root their anger in their own insecurities and lash out at people because it makes them feel better about themselves.  Danni isn't this way.  She’s confident and sure of herself and doesn’t attack people for no reason, she just is amazingly aggressive if you push her buttons.  And, she has a lot of buttons.  She has very long toes, they’re easy to step on.  I’m scared of her, especially because a lot of my friends live in Dunbar and she has been obviously irritated and cold to me since I’ve been hanging out with her “group” less and less.  I have no problem standing up for other people’s rights and morals, but when it comes to person situations for me, I avoid confrontation at all costs.  Confrontation stresses me out and, even if the person in question doesn’t actually matter to me in any other situation, my brain has a real problem with thinking that people are upset with me.  I am tired of this feeling like middle school and I have an entire 3 weeks left, so I am just going to walk over to reception and say my problem and hopefully they transfer me (fingers crossed super hard). The people I actually like are at Dunbar anyways.  The only downside to Dunbar is that the wifi is horrible, but who cares.  I didn't come to Africa for good wifi.   Excluding that negative energy, I had a really really nice weekend.  I spent most of my time eating and dancing.  On Friday, I went to Big Bay and sat around on the beach with a smoothie with my friends.  The water was absolutely freezing and I loved it.  That night, we went out dancing and I had a fantastic time.  One thing I notice whenever I’m in public and music is playing is how obnoxiously bad pop music has become.  On one hand, there’s a brilliance to it.  People have found a formula that you can follow perfectly and get your song on the radio.  Further, they’re figured out that people don’t mind if all of your songs sound the same and only have about 20 repeating lyrics in them.  On the other hand, I have to listen to the shît these people are making and it drives me crazy.  The pop music industry rakes in millions of dollars a year.  There are actually talented artists that this money could be going to who give a shît about their composition and hooks and time signature and have actually done their research and turned on their brain before stepping up to a microphone.  In my eyes, it’s incredibly insulting that people listen to Selena Gomez or over people who make their own beats and have original thoughts that they then turn into music that actually sounds good and complex, even if you don’t understand the lyrics (e.g. Shoos Off, Kyle Bent, the Roots, Bleachers, Soccer Mommy, Mos Def, Samuel Larson, M.I.A, Abhi the Nomad, BROCKHAMPTON, just to name a few).  That being said, I can dance to anything that remotely resembles “music” if I really want to.  After we all got back, I sat with my friend Lucy in the kitchen drinking tea until 5am.  I felt like such a *youth*. We talked about life and why we came to South Africa.   I think I came here to travel and do good, but mainly to isolate myself from the familiar.  I wanted to see if I could find calm within myself and balance that with the ambition I already access easily.  It’s easy to feel calm and satisfied with where you are and stay there.  It’s hard to stay calm while still learning and improving.  That was the goal.  I think, with every day that passes, I get closer to realizing that goal.  I am becoming more sure of myself and my capabilities.  Further, my values are clarifying.  I am passionate about fighting for people who are in situations that make it very hard for them to have a voice.  That is to say, if you are poor African-American in Oakland, being an activist and arguing with people about causes like Black Lives Matter is most likely not the first on your list of priorities.  Safety and security are first.  If you feel like even law enforcement is a threat to you, why the hell would you have time to try and improve that situation— you’re just looking to survive it.  I think it’s too much to ask those people who are focusing on survival to try and make their general situation better on top of fighting their personal battle, whether emotional or physical, every day.  There are incredible people out there who are doing both, and that blows my mind.  Moreover, because I don’t have to go through a situation with that intensity, I think there is a certain responsibility that comes with, entirely by chance, being born into a situation as comfortable as mine.  That responsibility is to fight for and help those who were, entirely by chance, born into a less comfortable situation.   I will fight tooth and nail for those people.  I feel deeply that it’s my duty, because my own shît is generally taken care of.  I get to go to University and study something I love.  I feel comfortable calling 911 for help.  I get to marry somebody I love without worrying about the legal and social consequences.  I can kiss my boyfriend in public without others being offended and grossed out by my display of affection.  I don’t have to think about my race and how it affects my life.  I can open my fridge and choose something I want to eat from multiple options of food.   This brings me to another point: the privilege of diversity.  Until I started living alone, I didn't realize how luxurious variety is.  To have enough wiggle room in your life that you can do different things every weekend or night.  To have enough wiggle room in your bank account that you can buy two different kinds of bread and cereals at the supermarket without worrying about wasting food I can’t afford to.  When I live on my own, I eat the same thing for breakfast every day.  When I go back home to Berkeley, I get to choose whether I want granola or Honey Nut Cheerios, and that blows my mind.  When I go back home, Honey Nut Cheerios encapsulate luxury for me, and that’s not something I will ever fail to appreciate ever again.   On Saturday, I was functioning on 3 hours of sleep and my body went into full survival mode.  It was brilliant because I felt 100% fine, sort of how people who are about to die supposedly feel right after a car crash.  Like I had a pole shoved through my abdomen, but was walking around and saying that everything is peachy keen, because it felt that way.  I was invited by my new friends Leis and Tanya (both super cool girls who live at Dunbar, unfortunately Leis leaves at the end of the week) to go to the Old Biscuit Mill.  Because I felt totally fine, I pulled on some clothes and went.  I had the best steak sandwich of my entire life and it was fantastic.  Even though it was 11am and I had gotten no sleep, I still got my favorite watermelon mojito.  To justify this to myself I kept in mind that they put very little alcohol in it, it’s my favorite drink in the whole world, and it’s only sold on Saturdays (when the Mill is open) in Cape Town, South Africa.  Might as well capitalize on the opportunity.  After a few hours the other girls were super tired, even though I felt great, we decided it was time to go home.  Before we called the uber to go back, I asked if we could stop in this artsy jewelry shop that looked really cool.  When we were poking around in the store, we noticed they did piercings there.  I asked if I could get some new piercings, but the woman who was working at the register said she needed to get her boss to com in for that and that would take at least an hour and a half.  Now that I was in the piercing mindset, I turned to my friends and told them about a piercing studio in the city center that I had heard about.  For some reason, this really appealed to a group of absolutely exhausted 20-year-old women.  We got into the uber and went straight there.  

Today, was Sunday.  I hiked a mountain up to a cave on the other side of Table Mountain called Elephant’s Eye.  It overlooks the Cape Flats, which is gang land and the crime and murder rates are off of the charts.   It was absolutely gorgeous.  The walk up and down were a bit treacherous because it is way less popular than other tourist-y hiking spots, so it’s not as well groomed and the rocks have sand everywhere around them so everything is very slippery.  After the hike, I went into Muizenberg, which is like the cool surfer cousin in the family of the Cape Flats.  I had an amazing burger with lots of cheese on it, fries, and a chai latte.  After I had fully started my food coma, I took an uber home and started writing exactly what you’re reading now.  For dinner, I went over to Dunbar to get takeout with my friends because I’m super exhausted from the bad vibes in house 22.  It’s to the point where I genuinely don’t want Danni to be in the room when I get home.  

While I was hanging out at Dunbar, Tim turned to me and said “I have some bad news”.  Immediately I panicked, because the last time he had “bad news” he told me he was leaving over a month earlier than expected.  Also, whenever there is “bad news”, I get a feeling that I’m about to get in trouble.  I get kinda nervous and say “alright what’s up”, and then he has the NERVE to say “I’ll tell you later”.  I’m sorry EXCUSE ME?? Why the hell would you tell me that I don’t get to hear bad news NOW.  I was irritated to say the least.  I might do yoga, but patience still is not a particularly strong aspect of my personality.  When he finally tells me, it turns out he was messing with me the entire time.  The news was that he extended his flight and is now leaving on April 9th (my baby sister’s birthday!!!!).  This was the best thing that I had heard all day and I did a happy dance for several minutes.  Things are getting complex here, but I think that’s natural when you start living somewhere— the more you engage the more details and complicated things get.  I can handle it.

things I need to work on:

not eating so poorly ALL THE TIME.  I really need to teach myself that ramen and grilled cheese is not sufficient for breakfast and lunch. learn more kids’ names. plan a road trip get back to doing yoga every morning and just getting more exercise in general.

things i’ve been doing well:

enjoying life here going to the beach lots creating space in my mind. planning for university and this summer when I have time

- Q

[entirebodyexercise]

9 Proven Ways To Squander Your Training

Are these attitudes as well as actions causing you to fall brief of your goals?

At this factor, you might be smack-dab in the center of training for an autumn marathon, merely beginning cross-country or otherwise intending to place a good exclamation point on many people's favored racing period with a brand-new personal ideal of some sort. The adhering to attitudes and actions are several of the most common means individuals disappoint their objectives well before the races themselves-- in addition to approaches to fight them, must you stubbornly firmly insist on gaining the positive incentives of your labors.

1. Scale Back Your Objective After A Subpar Workout

If you are intending to run a 3:30 marathon, have regularly done mile repeats in the 7:00 array as well as a half marathon in under 1:40, and after that struggle to hit an 8:15 rate in your initial long marathon-pace run, you could aim for 3:45 rather ... or you could accept that subpar workouts happen to we all throughout even the most productive training pattern and placed it behind you until following time.

2. Treat Your GPS Tool As Infallible

If your GENERAL PRACTITIONERS enjoy suggests that you're running 4:50 rate or 7:10 rate and also it feels even more like 6:00 speed, curse on your own for your lack of ability to speed yourself and give up for the day ... or you can identify that even the very best GPS gadgets could be thrown by a variety of aspects, especially early in a run, and pass feel in these situations rather. Bunches of GPS fans race better with their gadgets at residence.

3. Set A Ceiling For Your Recovery-Run Pace

After providing lip cleaning to the idea that recovery rate is whatever it requires to feel better at the end as opposed to at the beginning, you come to be aggravated with how slowly you're relocating after a tough 22-miler the day prior to ... or you could stop playing reckless with the term "recuperation," leave the watch on the table, warmer up to the effort with an evasion jog and also coating with a smile on your face.

4. Remain A Stringent Slave To The Seven-Day Schedule Week

If you have a tempo run, a track session as well as a lengthy run scheduled in a week, and also weather, work or illness scuttle the planned series, pack all 3 initiatives right into the weekend to prove exactly how regimented you are ... or you could just wait up until you're physically and also otherwise all set to run hard once more, regardless of just what day it is.

5. Usage Race-Conversion Charts To Court Yourself As Harshly As You Can

Even though the numerous prominent online and offline one-distance-to-another conversion tables all disagree with each other, figure out a method whereby you obviously do not have either enough endurance or enough rate ... or you can utilize these devices as they are intended-- as rough standards to assist you structure, state, 10K exercises around when your background is that of a mile/two-mile expert. These are not graphes to convert one currency to an additional.

6. Don't Permit For Off-Days, As This Is Just Excuse-Mongering

If you don't carry out also in a race as your previous races and also workouts suggest that you could have, chalking this up to "one of those days" is simply exactly what losers do ... or you could recognize that you do a whole lot even more workouts compared to you do races, which many thanks to colds, bad weather and life's unforeseeable challenges, the opportunities of you feeling as fantastic in any type of provided race as you performed in your ideal exercise merely typically aren't that excellent. Try to gain from these without obsessing over them.

7. If You Have A Coach And Disagree With Something He Or She Says, Identify That The one in charge Is

If your trainer is older or faster compared to you or both, it's best to consider that she or he is likewise much a lot more skilled ... or you can bring points back to reality and identify that mentoring is never a one-way stream of phone, which you owe it to yourself to clear up any type of uncertainties or other problems before they become worse.

8. On The Starting Line Of Your Goal Race, Talk Yourself Into Just 'Running For Enjoyable'

Once you're on the line and also awash in anxious anxiety, you could browse and also keep in mind that a race is simply a party of being healthy and balanced sufficient to take pleasure in the encounter ... or you could advise on your own that screening yourself, your training savvy and your physical and psychological variety out there is enjoyable, as well, as well as recognize that such "approach-avoidant" psychological games are normal even in leading professional athletes. It's just a race, but make it a genuine race.

9. Unflinchingly Sight Your Outcomes As A Representation As Your Personal Worth

This is possibly the single most efficient method to liquify all satisfaction of running as an affordable task. If you "fall short" at running since you finish in a slower time compared to you may have if you hadn't alleviated off the gas pedal or gone out also hard, after that secretly telling yourself the lie that "If I cannot do this, I can not do anything" total up to torturing yourself in such a way that you would never torment one more jogger. Succinct as it sounds, there's as much value in the encounter of chasing a goal as there is in attaining it, and you do not need to be 70 and also batter before you figure this out.

****

[olympictickets]

Olympic Fencing: Marquee meet provides a valuable testing ground for Japanese fencers

They don’t have sufficient time to develop earlier the Tokyo Olympics. Nonetheless, Japanese fencers and their coaches are in no haste. At the FIE Fencing World Cup Tokyo encounter, the Japanese members did not meet their goals. None of them got past the Rotund of 32 in the men’s separate foil rivalry as Japan over fifth in the squad event. Nonetheless, they stayed positive, acknowledging they still have tons of work to do.

Olympic followers from all over the world are invited to book Olympic 2020 tickets from our online platforms for Olympic Tickets. Olympic Athletics followers can book Olympic Athletics Tickets from our ticketing marketplace exclusively on discounted prices.

“To be truthful, I was stung by my result yesterday Kyosuke Matsuyama supposed after the three-day tournament enfolded up at Minato-ku Game Center on Sunday.  Nonetheless, separate and team competitions are completely different animals. It’s important for you to get momentum in the squad competition. And we were able to take benefit of the support at our home nowadays. After all, I felt good as if I can forget yesterday’s presentation.”

There are three disciplines foil, epee, and saber, and eight nations in each will compete in the team events at the Olympic 2020. The contributing countries will be grittily founded on world rankings, which are founded on points earned in World Cup and Grand Prix rivalries, the world contest, and other international events. The qualifications will kick off in April and end in this year.

In order to secure an advertisement in the Olympic 2020, Japan will need to defeat South Korea. The host team fell to South Korea 45-36 in the round of eight at the Tokyo Olympic meet. Japan is currently ranked No. 6 in the punishment in the world, though South Korea is fourth. Japan now looks gaining to retaliating its loss to South Korea at June’s Asian finals to get a big boost in the Olympic 2020 qualification race.

“We were pointing for a medal, but a fifth-place finish is situated too bad, supposed the 22-year-old Matsuyama, who is considered Japan’s ace foil fencer. And toward the Olympic 2020 qualification season, we found some positive things.”

Developing the squad

Oleg Matseichuk, who has helped as a coach for the Tokyo Olympic foil team since 2003, repeated the media that the team consists of typically younger fencers.

“The home-based World Cup in Tokyo Olympic was very significant for us, the Ukrainian supposed. But we need more time and confidently we’ll be better.”

Matsuyama supposed that it would be a key for the young Japanese fencers, counting himself, to build sureness by execution well at the international events. He added that it is one of the major compensations for younger athletes like them that they can grow faster than older ones.

“We can recover, even throughout a match,” Matsuyama supposed. “Existence a young fencer, you often find odds to get better during a game, or even just one moment. That supposed, we have a bigger room to grow.”

Toshiya Saito, who received silver in the separate foil competition at the world championships two years ago, supposed: There’s nothing but positives in ourselves. We would like to keep the impetus to get in the Asian championships.

Raising the sport’s profile

Meanwhile, former Japanese great Yuki Ota warned that the nation’s fencers need to be additional serious about winning if they sincerely want to achieve the goal of earning medals at the Olympics 2020. Ota, who now serves as the Japan Fencing Federation president, supposed that the current Japanese athletes have “better techniques” than he had as a fencer but that the rivalries are not skill contests.

“It’s about who’s more modest,” supposed Ota, who collected a pair of Olympic medals, a silver in the men’s separate foil at 2008 Beijing Sports and a silver in the side foil event at the 2012 London Sports.

It’s around how much you want to win, the gluttony to win. I’ve been used to seeing clever players. I want them to become ones that can win. Last weekend, Ota was quite busy. He was not only absorbed on the athletes’ presentation, but also on how the event amused followers.

The 33-year-old has led labors to raise the admiration of the sport since he expected the post in 2017. For the World Cup Tokyo meet, Ota obvious there would be no admission fee for spectators and made the space around the strips obtainable for them as well so that they could enjoy the action up close.

In addition, event organizers providing an in-house announcing, allocating hand-held radios to admirers. Attending to the live broadcast aided give them a better chance to comprehend the game.

Those labors paid off, as showed by the present figures. Ota stated on his Twitter explanation that the combined presence at this year’s Tokyo Olympic meets augmented from 500 in 2016 and 1,600 in 2018 to 5,248 this year. But Ota, who became an International Fencing Federation vice president last month is not fully content with the status quo.

“We’d set our goalmouth to draw about 8,000, supposed Ota, who took a separate foil gold medal at the 2015 world championships in Moscow. We have not been able to reach as well as we would like to yet, so we have lots of things we have to reflect on.”

Ota is keen to offer followers something that they have not seen wherever else. At the national championships, the sport’s national leading body used Globe Tokyo, a theater, to create an amusing atmosphere. Ota revealed that the alliance would unveil another astonishment at the national championships advanced this year.

Olympic 2020 followers can get Olympic Tickets through our confidential online ticketing market place. OlympicTickets2020.com is the most reliable source to book Olympic Packages.

[behardonyourself]

My Ironman Training and Nutrition

As I have mentioned numerous times here on this blog and in my social media profiles, I am training for a full Ironman 140.6 in November, and I am doing so on a plant powered diet.  Recently, I have been asked quite a bit about what that entails and what does a typical day look like for me.  I am going to set up a full training log that’ll be easy to navigate, but here I am going to lay out my outline, strategy, and mindset.

First, a little background about me.  Like many, I have a family:  My elementary school teacher wife, coach, and therapist Lisa, my 14 year old son Peyton, and my 9 month old daughter Ava.  In June, it was only me and Lisa and our pets, Knox (coon dog that barks entirely too much) and Izzy (Juliana piglet that thinks he is a human).  Ava was born in July.  Of course, adding an infant to the mix drastically changes any family.  Peyton came to live with us full time in October.  So our empty nest became a full nest seemingly overnight.

Of course, I have the challenges that any parent has:  Get Kid A to Point B at Time C.  Make sure homework is done, kids are fed and bathed, the animals are walked, the house is taken care of, bills are paid, etc.

I also have a very rewarding, yet very demanding career.  I am in new homes sales here in the DFW.  My schedule is very demanding, requiring me to work 8 hour days a couple of days during the week, a 10-12 hour day on Thursday for training, and a minimum of 25-30 hours on the weekend, every weekend.  Similar to most retail jobs.  I am also involved in the mortgage and financing portion of the job, and assisting clients with becoming ready to buy a new home.  Even if I’m not at work, I’m typically doing something work-related.  I am typically REQUIRED to be at the office 55-60 hours per week and spend another 4-6 hours per week when I’m “off” meeting clients for loan applications, closings, or on the phone providing whatever service they need.

I give you my background NOT to have a pissing contest with people that do more or less than I do, but to make a simple point:  THIS IS LIFE.  On the surface, TIME is not easy to come by.  But training and reaching the goal of becoming an Ironman is a top priority to me, so I don’t look for time:  I make time.

Sometimes I wake up at 3:30am for a run or a ride on the Peloton or to hit the rower.  

Sometimes I get in a session at 6pm.  

8pm.  

10pm.  

It isn’t the perfect “routine” that so many people strive for - but it is what it takes for me to get what I need to do done.

A few questions that I probably should answer now.

First:  What the fuck IS an Ironman 140.6?

An Ironman 140.6 is a Triathlon that consists of a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride and a 26.2 mile run (a full marathon) which equals 140.6 miles.  They are completed in that order, consecutively, with little to no break in between.  Competitors have 17 hours to complete the race with cut-offs for each of the 3 events during the race.

What is a plant powered diet?

Plant powered is exactly what it sounds like.  In short, I don’t eat foods that come from animal products.  This includes all meat, seafood, and dairy.  Initially, I shifted to being plant powered because I just felt better.  I’ve never felt like I could perform optimally on a typical bodybuilder style diet, and the immediate improvements that I felt completely sold me on this lifestyle.  

In short, I eat what would be considered a “Vegan” diet.  I don’t like that label for a few reasons, but I’m not going to get into that here.  I do know that a lot of people think of vegans as scrawny, spindly types and I am obviously not that.  In fact, more and more pro athletes are shifting to this style of nutrition and are able to maintain (and even increase) lean body mass without issues.

Hell, I’m still a bad ass and have a lot more muscle than those guys chugging down protein shakes, slamming steaks and consuming 1g-1.5g of protein per pound of bodyweight.  I’m just able to run a lot further than they are...

But how do you get your protein?

The same way a motherfucking silverback gorilla gets his - by eating fucking plants!  Beans, seeds, nuts, veggies, grains - they provide more than enough readily absorbed and useful protein to provide us with what we need to fuel and recover.

What is your training program?

Unless you are planning to compete in an Ironman, my training should not matter to you.  I do a lot of shit.  Although I hadn’t done much in the previous 5 years, I had 20 plus years of training experience prior to that and thankfully, my body quickly remembered life before I became a fat ass.  Yes, I lost 60lbs in under 4 months.  But if you are untrained and looking to mimic what I did/do, you may fucking die or get seriously injured.

With that being said, my training is very specific.  To become a better runner, one must run.  To become a better swimmer, you gotta swim.  To become a better cyclist, you have to put the bike miles in.

In October, running 1/2 mile almost killed me.  I own a Peloton and had ridden it frequently (even fat and drinking every day), but I had never been on a good road bike.  I hadn’t swam a meaningful lap since Air Force Pararescue training in 1995.  Needless to say, I was starting from ground zero.  Hell, I was in the basement.

One important thing to realize is the actual breakdown of the Ironman.  The water is about 10%, the bike about 50%, and the run is about 40% of the race.  Now, we obviously need to focus on our weaknesses.  If I can’t swim 1/4 of a mile without drowning, nothing else matters.  So there is a minimal level of competence required.  But I do focus a lot on the bike, because a) I have a Peloton in my home and it allows me to get miles no matter the weather, my schedule, etc. and b) the bike is the lion-share of the race, c) cycling is low impact and tends to help me increase training volume without increasing injury risk while also facilitating recovery and d) I am actually not terrible in the water or as a runner.

My training typically runs about 15-25 hours per week.  Yes, that is a lot.  I view my training cycle as a two week breakdown vs one week, because that gives me a better picture for assessing where I am at and how I am doing.  I mix in a couple of “accessory” training days to focus on overall strength (resistance training), variety (I love the row machine), core, etc.  Here is a typical training breakdown for me.  

Know that I walk my dog nightly (1-2 miles) and sometimes do that weighted with 65-75lbs of weight.  My days off change every week, so I’m listing everything by Days 1-14.  Days 6-7 and 13-14 are weekends (since those never change) and days 4 and 11 are Thursdays, which also never change.  The other days may change depending on what time I have to work or get off, but my Thurs, Sat, Suns are fairly consistent.  These are days I’m typically up at 4am. 

Current Benchmarks: Last week I ran 20.2 miles right at a 10 min per mile clip.  I was fine and could’ve run 20 more miles, but my goal was 20.  

My swims are usually 1200-2000 yards.  I am not swimming until complete fatigue, just staying comfortable in the water and focusing on technique.  Once it warms up a bit, I will be swimming in open water at Lake Ray Roberts.

I feel that I am becoming a very good cyclist.  100 mile days don’t hurt me much.  

Day 1 Light Peloton (20-30 minutes, hr +-115) Long ride (Currently 40-50 miles)  Short run (1-2 miles) Intensity is low here (10 min mile) Yoga/Stretching (30-90 minutes)

Day 2 Moderate Peloton (40-60 minutes, hr +-140) Swim (1250-1500 yards) Resistance Training (full body) Optional short run Yoga/Stretching

Day 3 Light Peloton Long Run (8-20 miles, 10 min miles, hr < 140) Yoga Stretching

Day 4 Long Peloton 60 min+ (hr depending upon how I feel post-run) Yoga Stretch Optional swim

Day 5 Light Peloton Medium Ride (20-30 miles) Short run (6 min miles, 1-3 miles) Stretch/Yoga

Day 6 Medium Peloton ride (45-60) Resistance Training + Rower (20ish minutes) + Core work Optional Short run (10 min mile pace) or Hill runs Yoga/Stretch

Day 7 (Active Recovery Day) Medium Peloton Ride Yoga Stretch

Day 8 Light Peloton Bike ride (20-50 miles) Optional short run (inversely intense based on the ride - short ride, hard run, long ride, slow run) Stretch/Yoga

Day 9 Medium Peloton Resistance Training + rower Short Slow run Yoga/Stretch

Day 10 Light Peloton Long Run (8+ miles) Yoga/Stretch

Day 11 Long Peloton Short Slow run Yoga Stretch

Day 12 Swim Med-Long Cycle Yoga Stretch

Day 13-14 (repeat Days 6-7, may throw a moderate run in on Day 13 if I’m feeling it).

A couple of notes: -I do yoga and stretch every single day, a minimum of 30 minutes per day.  Sometimes my stretch sessions are over an hour.  Sometimes, I stretch 2-3 times per day.  Nothing affects my recovery more than my stretching - if I skimp, I feel it in my hips and legs.  

-90% of my showers are ice cold.  

-I sleep at least 7 hours per night

-I monitor and chart my resting heart rate, my sleeping heart rate, and my body temperature as an indicator of how well I am recovering.  (That is a lengthy post in itself).  

Once I start logging the actual training, the above schedule should make a bit more sense to you.  For those that think they could never do an Ironman, well, you can if you decide to.  It’s 100% between your ears and has little to do with the current condition your body is in.  

One bit of advice I’d give is to find something, pay for it, and start fucking training for it right now.  My initial catalyst was a simple 3.5 mile obstacle course race on June 22.  I didn’t want to die doing it, and I talked a bunch of friends into doing it with me, including my son Peyton.  Once I started training (not actually doing the races, simply fucking training for them) and seeing how I was progressing, I simply said “fuck it” and got the bug.  Just the fucking IDEA of doing something new changed my entire life’s trajectory.  That is all it took.  

Now my race schedule is: -June 22 - 3.5 mile OCR Texas Stadium, Arlington, TX -Aug 10 - 8.5 mile OCR Boston, MA -Oct 22 - 50k OCR (yeah, 50k motherfucker) Dallas, TX (this race will complete my Spartan Race Trifecta) -Nov 24 - Ironman Tempe, AZ

Is it smart to run a 50k a month out of Ironman?  Probably not.  I don’t know, and I don’t really give a shit.  I do know that when I put my credit card down for each of these events I was scared to fucking death and at that time I had no idea how in the fuck I’d ever be ready.  That was before I had remembered that I am not a pussy and I am one bad motherfucker, just like you are.  So stop being a pussy - it is holding you back more than you’ll know.

[fairylights101writes]

#22 (End of the world kiss) for GoshShira

Thank you for the ask!Read on AO3, the rest is below a read more.

Shirabu surveyed the court, eyes critical. The net was already set up, the ball carts were out, and the conditioning equipment and stations had already been arranged, courtesy of him and Kawanishi. The first years milled around, babbling excitedly, ready for another intense practice. People hung out overhead on the balconies and in the seats, ready to watch their practice - he could only hope the boys wouldn’t get distracted today. He wasn’t particularly in the mood for it. Not after practice the day before.

He glanced at the back row of the closest side of the court. The blood was gone, they’d cleaned it within minutes of Goshiki going down. But for some reason he still expect to look over and see Goshiki on his hands and knees, blood gushing from his nose, pained tears squeezing out. Where is he? He hadn’t heard that irritatingly familiar and chipper voice yet, and Goshiki was always the first to appear, often even beating Shirabu.

It was a race they had, between captain and ace, and he wasn’t sure when it had begun. When he had started to enjoy it. When Goshiki being late had started to make him feel weird, so accustomed to seeing that sunny smile waiting on him in the club room. He always showed up within five minutes of school letting out. Except now it was just a few minutes until practice, and yet he was nowhere to be seen.

Shirabu huffed and whirled around, found Kawanishi standing a meter away, carefully taping his fingers. “Taichi, where’s Tsutomu?”

The middle blocker glanced up and shrugged. “I dunno. Akakura said he wasn’t in class today.”

Shirabu glanced at the second year libero who stood by the benches, chatting with first years as he fiddled with his headband. “No texts?”

Kawanishi shook his head. Shirabu scowled and crossed his arms. Kawanishi sighed as he finished wrapping his fingers up and he tossed the tape to one of the first year middle blockers. “His parents picked him up last night, so they probably took him to the doctor and told him to rest. He did bleed a lot, and he could have a concussion.”

“Fine.”

Kawanishi stared at him for a long moment before he raised an eyebrow. “You’re snippy today.” Shirabu scowled at his teammate, stomach bubbling and twisting, but he didn’t say anything, just held Kawanishi’s eyes until his teammate sighed. “You get like this whenever Tsutomu is late without having mentioned something ahead of time. If you’ve got a thing for him just tell him.”

Heat flooded Shirabu’s cheeks as all thought flooded out, everything narrowed down to those words. If you’ve got a thing for him. Shirabu stomped his foot and sneered. “I don’t have a ‘thing’ for that lil’ bowl cut, got it?”

Kawanishi blinked at him and then shrugged. “Whatever. Ready to start practice?”

Shirabu gaped at him for a moment, and then he snapped his mouth shut and whirled around to face the court. “Let’s go,” he grumbled and jogged out.

The rest of the team joined him and they started up a jog around the gym. Chatter broke out within the first lap, talk of projects and assignments, of teams they’d be facing and moves they’d seen from the college games that had aired the night before. But one voice was missing, and it felt painfully quiet without those familiar tones in his ears as he worked his way around the gym until the entire team was covered in sweat.

They stretched out their bodies and launched themselves into conditioning. It wasn’t long before they filled the gym with the sound of thumping feet as they did wall taps, squatting down and exploding up, trying to extend their jump height more and more. They moved on from those to the ladders, agility training, and worked their way through a dozen drills on two sets, three reps each, until everyone was breathing harder, but they pushed on, and did side-to-side slides from one cone to another, all the way up and down the court.

By the third time up the court Shirabu’s thighs were on fire, and his lungs ached, begging for oxygen. He couldn’t hear his team cheering him on - they were a dim buzz in the back of his mind. His heart throbbed in his ears, his ragged breaths snatched his attention away. He tapped the line on the edge of the court and worked his way back down, bringing his feet together and sliding along. He staggered to a stop at the end and slowly rose from the crouch, legs almost numb from the exertion.

Someone nudged him over to the benches, where his other teammates stood drinking and regaining their breath, and he moved. He could barely hear anything beside the deafening rush of blood and throb of his heart, and yet it still felt too quiet. Silent without Goshiki’s loud voice and laughter breaking through the gym.

Shirabu snatched his water bottle up and downed half of it in one go, eyes closed tight. Shoes squeaked on the floor. A hand clapped his back. “Don’t pass out, Kenjirou.”

He opened his eyes and glared at Kawanishi, who only nodded at him before he grabbed his own water bottle. Neither of them said any more. He just drank more and caught his breath before the team launched themselves into the real part of practice, straight into sets and spikes. The position and motions were easy to fall into - a ball was bumped into the air, he would move into place, set the ball to whoever needed the ball.

But, despite the squeak of shoes, the thud of bodies as they returned to earth, the slap of balls against hands and the ground, and the cries of his teammates, it was still too quiet. There was no excited shriek of “Kenji!”, a call for a super straight spike. No exclamations of joy at every successful hit, which was typically followed with “Tsutomu, shut up and get back in line!” No, it was too quiet. And Shirabu didn't like that he detested it.

Shirabu paced along the edge of the court, nerves flickering in his body. Goshiki had been hit days ago - admittedly, he'd only missed one practice with the weekend and then Monday off for a holiday, but he hadn't been in his dorm room either. And he didn't know so because of Goshiki’s roommate, Akakura - technically. Akakura could've and would've sent a text to the team when Goshiki returned. Except he hadn't, and Shirabu had found himself in front of their dorm room every day, knocking and waiting impatiently, only for disappointment.

It was unusual to go a single day without that incessant chatter, absolutely unthinkable to go four. And perhaps that was what had brought about the revelation. Or maybe it had come about when Akakura had let him into the room on Saturday with a smile and promise of tea, and Shirabu had curled up in the plush comfort of Goshiki's beanbag chair, tucked into a cozy niche in their room. It had been all too easy to imagine his underclassman crunched up into that space, knees probably to his ears as he thumbed his way through a Jump magazine, a terrible habit Tendou had gotten him into.

No matter where or when though, the realization had snuck in the longer he went without a chipper, emoticon-filled message, or a dumb picture of a cute dog he’d seen, or anything. He did in fact have a thing for Goshiki. As baffling as the boy himself, but a thing nevertheless. Something that had made Kawanishi sigh in relief when Shirabu had mumbled it to the ceiling of their dorm. He'd thrown a wad of socks at his friend, but that hadn't meant much. Because Goshiki had still been absent from the picture.

And he still was.

Ten minutes after school, and yet he hadn't appeared in the club room, and he wasn't among the few already down in the gym. Shirabu scowled and crossed his arms tight across his chest. That asshole probably transferred without telling me. Jackass. Had to go catch the feelings for the dumb, oblivious bowl cut, didn't you?

He sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and glanced to the gym entrance. His heart stuttered and he stopped breathing altogether. Goshiki stood there, dressed warm in a thick jacket and a huge scarf that hid his face, as well as a huge hat. Not practice gear. The door slammed shut behind him and Shirabu jogged over, thoughts spinning through his head. Ask him how he is. If he’s clear to play. Don’t yell at him, he might have a concussion. Don’t be an asshole.

Goshiki had grown even taller since the year previous, but Shirabu found that he didn’t care so much for once that he had to crane his neck to look at the ace. “How are you? Feeling better? Cleared for practice? Are you heading to the club room after this?”

Goshiki’s eyes flickered. Slowly the ace reached up and tugged his scarf down. He had a medical mask covering his face - sick? “Kenjirou,” he said, voice oddly soft, “I’m sorry, but I can’t play volleyball anymore.”

Everything ground to a halt. His veins felt frozen, blood sluggish and cold inside. No beat of his heart. He stared at Goshiki, wide-eyed, thoughts short-circuited. The pieces slowly fell into place, the words came together. Everything lurched back into action: heart pounding through his skull; breathing, too loud, grating against his ears; the muted chatter of the team.

“Kenjirou?”

Shirabu’s hand shot out, curled around Goshiki’s wrist. He tugged the teen to the door and back outside. The cold ripped into Shirabu, biting into his exposed calves and arms, into his neck and face, but he pulled the door shut and pushed Goshiki back a step so he could see him. Shock. Confusion. Anger. “What?” he managed, and somehow it came out quietly, rather than the shriek that bubbled to come out.

Goshiki’s eyes fell, eyebrows scrunching together. His fingers came together, anxiously twisting together. His foot tapped at the ground. “I… can’t play. I’m sick.”

“Sick,” Shirabu repeated dumbly. Goshiki nodded. His head rose, and Shirabu jolted back. Tears filled his junior’s eyes, heartbreak and uncertainty pouring out. “My nose started bleeding again when I got home and wouldn’t stop, so… we went to the hospital. They did blood work, ‘n my white blood cells are r-really low, so they’re worried it’s c-can-cancer.”

Shirabu blinked. Nodded. Stared at Goshiki, blank as his brain frantically tried to restart, to refind words. Goshiki just wiped his eyes and continued, voice shaking. “They want me to take a break from playing until they finish running tests ‘n stuff, and then they’ll figure out if I can keep playing, but…”

A hiccup shook his shoulders, and Goshiki doubled over. Shirabu was by his side in an instant, arms wrapped tight around the second year as quiet sobs rocked him. His face found Shirabu’s neck, his gloved fingers grabbed desperately at Shirabu’s shirt. He didn’t say a word. Just stared at the wall beyond, hollow. His world just ended. Even if it wasn’t cancer, it was something, and that meant there would be tests. He’d be benched. Wouldn’t be able to play. All that hard work, ruined in an instant. I might never get to set to him again. Or even practice, let alone play on the same court if the diagnosis was bad, or if his parents wanted him to stop playing.

“Fuck…” he whispered.

Goshiki sniffled in his ear, squeezed his shirt tight before he leaned back, eyes red-rimmed, medical mask damp. “Kenjirou,” he whispered, “I just… I really want to tell you-”

“If you’re going to tell me you like me now of all fucking times, I will end you.”

Those gray eyes scrunched up. He didn’t need to see Goshiki’s mouth to know that he was smiling, even if it was weak. And that made everything ache. Shirabu’s hands rose, somehow steady, and he curled them into the lapels of Goshiki’s jacket. He barely had to tug, just rose onto his toes and met that stupid bowl cut halfway.

It was hard to find his lips beneath the mask, but they managed, and Shirabu didn’t give a damn. He just let his eyes fall shut as he clung tighter to Goshiki’s form and pressed closer, tried to breathe him in, memorize him. The way those long fingers felt as they tangled into his face. The warmth of the mask as Goshiki’s breaths pulled out. The smell that lingered beneath the antiseptic and hospital smells, warm and sweet and like home. His eyes burned, but Shirabu swallowed the tears down as he kissed Goshiki once, twice, a dozen times, desperate.

But all too soon he dropped back, though his hands remained on Goshiki. Moved up and found their way beneath that thick scarf. His skin was warm, and he could feel the soft thump of Goshiki’s heartbeat against his fingers.

Shirabu stepped back. Cleared his throat. “You should go inform the coach. Do you want to tell the team?” Goshiki nodded, sniffed, wiped at his eyes once more. “Go on in.”

“Okay.”

Goshiki tugged the door open and stepped into the warmth of the gym once more. Shirabu didn’t move. Just watched that door clang shut and gave it another second before he slumped down, shivers finally overtaking him. He was freezing, but he could barely feel it. Couldn’t really see. Goshiki’s words echoed in his head, relentless, unforgiving. A tear slipped out and Shirabu ground his palms into his eyes. Sucked down deep breaths. Rose and re-entered the gym, head held high and shoulders squared, as though he wasn’t about to shatter into a million pieces.

[from-my-hammock-blog]

Date #1

 It's a firm belief of mine that a weekend should never go wasted.  We grind relentlessly from Monday into Tuesday, from Tuesday through Wednesday, Past Thursday, and finally coming to a halt at 5:00 (respectively) on Friday evening.  After subjecting yourself to an unrelenting schedule of being a full time employee and student there is no greater tragedy you could bring upon yourself than forgetting to live at the end of the week.  You work hard, you study hard, you face the day to day responsibilities so that you can lead a productive life. Don’t you think you deserve a reward? I think you do, and I think I do as well!

    So let's go on a date. You and me! We have 52 weekends this year and it’s a matter of the highest importance that we don't waste a single one!  Each week, I’m going on a date with someone and I really hope it’s you! Male, female, canine, it doesn't matter! As long as we have fun and we make the week worth enduring!

Wanderlust

    It’s a case of perfect timing, with the new year just out of the gates and an old friend back from the lands of rain and coastal shores.  When you read through life with an open mind you’ll find how poetic it is.  Life is filled with stanzas and rhymes that blend together and are just begging to be read over.

   The snow outside Ben’s house is wet and sticks to the bottom of my shoes, the sun is just finished setting and night begins to envelop the town.  Normally, no one would think twice about me kicking in the door and marching straight to his room like I’ve lived there myself- in some cases I practically do- but tonight was different, it was supposed to be a date.  Hair slicked back, well dressed, third wheel Evan Meyers in tow, we ring the doorbell and cordially greet the family at the door.  We set off and after making a pit stop at the station for fuel and tea we can finally depart.

    But where are we going?

    That’s the point, we have no idea.  When it comes to getting lost no one was better at it than the three of us.  We explore, we discover, and we make history.  With my headlights pointed south we drive, speeding past white lines and housing developments, we argue and laugh about modern cinema and music.  Constantly teasing each other about our opinions and reminiscing of our old climbing adventures.  As we laugh a huge star appears on the horizon.  Made of artificial illumination it shines brilliantly in contrast to the black nothingness that threatens to swallow it at the slightest disruption in power.  A place reserved for kings.

       Good god!  How does anyone make it anywhere in this city? Boulder is a mess, with snow piled up in the middle of the road people begin to make their own lanes in frustration.  Parking is impossible and yet it apparently is not because hundreds of other people seemed to have found one just fine.  Every couple feet there’s another aspiring artist attempting to fight off hunger.  Such a mess, but it’s what makes the city so unique.

    Jogging down Pearl Street Mall we dip in from art stall to book store to pizza parlors in an attempt to stave off the cold.  Catch 22, Pesto Cheese, men's jewelry, closed tea houses and bathrooms with passcodes.  Christmas lights, though outdated, still light the streets up with holiday cheer.  The candy store begs us for our attention.  Fizzing with excitement we recklessly fill our bag with toffee until it threatens to overflow. Banana, Root Beer, Passion Fruit, S'mores, I stow three hot surprises to amp up the stakes. Relieved, rejuvenated and ready for the last leg of our adventure we race the elements back the car.  

    PICK A ROAD! ANY ROAD!

   Lost and unsure which path leads to adventure we turn onto Baseline.  Streetlights begin to fade away and darkness begins to surround us.  We pass houses and road construction but traffic has ceased to compete with us.  No cars to share the road with, just us and the faint sound of the stereo.  Further up the road the Flatiron mountains emerge suddenly and without warning from the night.  Faintly illuminated by the lights of the city, these giants loom over us in silent meditation.  Our car presses on; beginning the first of many curves up the long mountain road, the only noise is the sound of our soft indie music and the smacking of taffy from the back seat.

    Poetry.  Like a repeating stanza, the boulder star reveals itself to us three wanders yet again, this time it sits on the mountain directly right in front of us.  It quitly invites us to join with it in the heavens.  Leaving the car behind we hike through the snow and trees, struggling to gain traction we flail slip and fall.  FInally we grab the supports and gaze upon the hundreds of bulbs that light the night sky.  Thousands of people are all looking to this exact spot: Commuters, Citizens, Artists, Bicyclists, Snowmen, all of them are looking at us.  We look out at the expanding night and the veins of the city below.  Right now, we were kings.

   Ben Hawthorne is a remarkable man who proves time and time again that anything is possible when you want something.  You will never find a smarter or more curious person than the man who I am always thrilled to call my best friend.  Currently studying at George Fox University in Oregon he hopes to do something really complicated with computers (you’ll have to ask him to explain it i'm afraid, it goes right over my head).  He makes an effort to climb a thing every day and is fascinated by technology.  Very good date. I rate it 10/10.

[torentialtribute]

Formula One 2019 season preview – is this Lewis Hamilton’s toughest Mercedes title defence yet?

Lewis Hamilton will be looking at six of the best as he prepares to defend his drivers championship ahead of the new Formula One season.

The five-time world champion is again favorite to leave his rivals for dust over the 21-race campaign that starts at this weekend's Australian Grand Prix and ends at the Abu Dhabi desert in December

But there are stories all over the 10-team, 20-driver grid and ahead of another season Sportsmail's reporters look at the key questions.

     Lewis Hamilton won his fifth world championship at the Mexican Grand Prix in 2018

Will Hamilton facing his toughest fight yet at Mercedes to defend his title?

JONATHAN McEVOY: From outside the team, yes, but there will be no repeat of the internal battle with Nico Rosberg that needled him so much. Ferrari seem strong and Red Bull will develop well under design guru Adrian Newey’s hand. It should be a good fight.

JOE DOWNES: Yes, because for the first time his best may not be good enough. Ferrari have the quicker car again, but will have learned from last year's strategy and development blunders and appear more united under Mattia Binotto.

DAN RIPLEY: The last couple or seasons have seen Ferrari and the Mercedes front row monopoly, and now they may have the edge. Hamilton is in his toughest campaign since his first season at Mercedes but he will still be at the front.

     Lewis Hamilton and Mercedes appeared to be slightly off the pace of Ferrari in winter testing

MATTHEW SMITH: Every winter we suggest the rest of the field are catching up with Mercedes, and every season the German steamroller carries on regardless. Hamilton has his ruthless eye on history and, as much as the fan in me wants to see a tight title battle, championship No. 6 looks to be on the cards.

NATHAN SALT: I don't think so. While Ferrari have been smart in recruiting Charles Leclerc, he lacks experience competing at the front of the grid. Sebastian Vettel remains his biggest threat but errors appear to be creeping into German's drives if last season is anything to go by.

How under threat is Bottas at Mercedes given how much of a team player is he?

JM: Bottas should not be there now. He clearly failed last year. But he suits Lewis and makes for an easy life. Just allowing for that I think he needs to buck up if he is to survive the cut again.

JD: He insists he can beat Lewis. He can't. One-year rolling deal proves he's simply keeping the second seat warm and they're queuing up to take it. Esteban Ocon is first in line.

     Valtteri Bottles went the whole of the 2018 season without a win for title winners Mercedes

F1 2019 CALENDAR

Mar 17: Australia (Melbourne)

Mar 31: Bahrain (Sakhir)

Apr 14: China (Shanghai)

Apr 28: Azerbaijan (Baku)

May 12: Spain (Catalunya)

May 26: Monaco (Monte Carlo)

Jun 9: Canada (Montreal)

Jun 23: France (Paul Ricard)

Jun 30: Austria (Spielberg)

Jul 14: Great Britain (Silverstone)

Jul 28: Germany ( Hockenheim)

Aug 4: Hungary (Budapest)

Sep 1: Belgium (Spa)

Sep 8: Italy (Monza)

Sep 22: Singapore (Marina Bay)

Sep 29: Russia (Sochi)

Oct 13 : Japan (Suzuka)

Oct 27: Mexico (Mexico City)

Nov 3: United States (Texas)

Nov 17: Brazil (Sao Paulo)

Dec 1: Abu Dhabi (Yas Marina)

DR: Strangely I consider his role close to perfect. Quick enough to bag points but passive enough to never rock the boat and hurt Hamilton's season the way Nico Rosberg used to. Why would Mercedes risk losing that dynamic by drafting in Ocon for instance, who loves a squabble with a fellow driver (ask Perez or Verstappen)?

MS: Bottas is in an odd situation – he's in this race seat for what he brings to his team mate, rather than what he can provide as a driver in his own right. I feel Mercedes wants to bring Esteban Ocon into the No 2 seat next season, unless the Finn produces a marked improvement on last season.

NS: In short: not much. Hamilton must love having a "wingman" like Bottas with him at Mercedes. The Finn took issue with Toto Wolff's use of that in Hungary last season but it is true. Unlike predecessor Nico Rosberg, Hamilton can rest easy knowing Bottas will never put himself above the team. Bring back Nico.

How much of a 'plague could Charles Leclerc be to Sebastian Vettel's title challenge?

JM: Vettel has been given a public indication he is No 1. It remains to be seen how Leclerc operates in the more rarefied air of Ferrari – a different proposition from Sauber. I think Vettel, refreshed, will win the internal battle.

JD: This will determine the championship. Ferrari have their stall out early, insisting they will favor Vettel. The early races suit Ferrari and so, if Leclerc makes the better start, Binotto will have an almighty headache. The 21-year-old is a future world champion and subservience does not make a champion. Just ask Seb.

DR: I'm convinced he has brought in to replace Vettel and not Raikkonen, with the German instead of taking Kimi's No 2 spot in the long run. Not that Ferrari will admit that. To me, Ferrari lost faith with Vettel and his endless mistakes last term and have already made their move to start building the team around the Monegasque.

     Sebastian Vettel (left) has a new Ferrari team mate in Charles Leclerc (second right)

MS: I think this could be the story of the season. Leclerc was electrifying at times in a poor Sauber car last season. If he hits the ground running, I can't see how Ferrari can force him to play second fiddle to Vettel, especially if the German does not pick up from his 2018 slump. Don't rule out a Leclerc title bid.

NS: A real plague. You would be hard pressed to find an F1 fan who was not impressed why Leclerc's rookie season with Sauber. He regularly exceeded expectations in qualifying and with a far more competitive car at his disposal this season.

Will Max Verstappen finally have the machinery to launch a bid for the title?

JM : We'll soon find out. But from testing they look third-quickest. The Honda engine is three per cent down on the Mercedes. No.

JD: He's better placed without Ricciardo and Renault but, while Honda power should see them close the gap, boss Christian Horner admits reliability is a big unknown in the first year of their partnership. Like last year, expect the odd win and the odd blow up (from car and driver).

DR: Status quo I'm afraid for Max. Another great Red Bull chassis which just lacks the power unit punch behind it to trouble Mercedes and Ferrari on a regular basis. Still, it's good to see Honda looking like they've caught up a bit. F1 needs them to succeed.

     Max Verstappen may be restricted to another year of trying to pick up just a few race wins

MS: If engine suppliers Honda go from their embarrassment with McLaren to title winners at Red Bull, that would be among the greatest turnarounds in F1 history. Verstappen seems to finally have his attitude in the right place (the Ocon confrontation was the exception rather than the rule). He is ready but are Red Bull?

NS: Getting away on record last August pinpointing 2020 as his best chance of a maiden world title but he is not a character happy to watch his rivals coast to the world championship. He's managed to weed out some silly errors from his drives and I just hope he's provided with a competitive – and ultimately reliable – car.

What chance do McLaren have a five-year stage drought ending?

JM: McLaren may luck in a stage but that's their only chance, I fear. They will be better than last season but that's not saying much.

JD: Unless there's another crazy race in Baku, no chance. They're finally turning the corner, but just scoring points is tough given how tightly packed the midfield is.

DR: McLaren are heading in the right direction at long last but they look only capable of marginal gains this term. They could benefit from a Wacky Races type GP to land a stage but they should focus more on beating Renault for now.

     McLaren enjoyed a productive winter testing program but still lay behind the front teams

MS: Unless they've been holding back in testing, regular top-down 10 finishes are more likely to be the goal unless they get a lucky break in a one-off race. Lando Norris and Carlos Sainz are both quick, but making the top three is a huge ask.

NS: Mercedes, Ferrari and Red Bull possess such an advantage over their rivals it looks increasingly difficult for McLaren to bridge the gap after such a poor season. I expect a much-improved season but it is too soon for an end to the stage drought.

Which new Briton on the block is the best set for his rookie year?

JM : George Russell – a bit older and wiser than Lando Norris, perhaps.

JD: Norris has the best car and will score most points, but George Russell will emerge with most credit. So terrible is his Williams that, to a large extent, the pressure is off. Expect him to outperform teammate Robert Kubica.

DR: Norris could end up getting a beat by Sainz and still have the possibility of claiming a productive first year. For Russell, hey, has no measure. Beat Kubica, or even thrash him, and he's only seen off a severely hampered team mate. No-win situation really for George, and that's before we mention the mess Williams are in!

     Lando Norris (left) and George Russell make their F1 debuts after impressing in F2

MS: George Russell beat Lando Norris to the F2 title last year and is just as talented as the more heralded 18-year-old, perhaps because he is a more reserved character. However he may be down by being in a poor Williams. I'd be back Norris as the more likely at this stage.

NS: I just cannot bring myself to go on record and put Williams as the best in anything right now – apologies George Russell. The only way appears to be up for McLaren and Norris has shown his qualities in F2 – he's ready to make the step up.

Whose 'make or break' year is bigger at Renault – Ricciardo or Hulkenberg?

JM: Both are mid-tablers. Neither, for their commendable talents, is in demand by a top team. I think Ricciardo will see out his Renault contract and then walk away. He is building a property portfolio in America and that may grow into a preoccupation.

JD: Ricciardo. Must pounce whenever the big three teams fail and finish best of the rest – seventh – in drivers' standings to prove Renault's project is on track and his move from Red Bull was shrewd not stupid.

DR: This is it now for Hulkenberg. The chance to prove he can take on the big names in F1 – and maybe, just maybe land that overdue stage and finally catch the eye of a big team. Ricciardo has at least two years to get it right at Renault but time is running out for Nico.

     Nico Hulkenberg (left) and Daniel Ricciardo will battle each other as Renault team-mates

MS: Ricciardo. The risk the Australian has tasks is career defining. If he can drag Renault onto the stage then the deserves to be seen as one of the great drivers of the 21st century. If not, then he is set for obscurity.

NS: I am not convinced F1 fans are expecting much more from Hulkenberg. He's legally competent and has out-qualified both Jolyon Palmer and Carlos Sainz in his last two seasons. Ricciardo was in a conversation for a Ferrari or Mercedes spot at one time and he will be expected to carve himself out as the side's undisputed No. 1.

How does Kubica make a success of his comeback at a struggling Williams?

JM: Just being on the grid is a victory. What a fabulous recovery. Beating his Williams team-mate Russell would do.

JD: Needs a miracle, but that's his business. Beating Russell and a double-figure points haul would represent a stellar comeback season. Don't think he will do either.

DR: I just want Kubica to be competitive, and that means keeping Russell honest and bagging a few points over the season. I'm not expecting much given he has effectively driven one handed.

     Many Robert One fans will be hoping Robert Kubica can make a success of his comeback after a serious hand injury saw him drop out of the sport in 2011

MS: Growing up, Kubica was my favorite driver. I loved his attacking skill, his bravery, the underdog edge that came with driving for BMW rather than a more fashionable team. But the numbers don't lie – he is well off the pace. He needs time, reliability and consistency – and in a troubled team, I really fear this could turn into a nightmare.

NS: Much depends on the car he is provided with. Williams have bone dismal at best recently and have bone certainties to prop up the grid. Out performing rookie team mate George Russell wants to be the minimum he will expect of himself.

What are you tipping for a big surprise this season?

JM: I don't know what it will be but it may come this weekend in Melbourne. This place can throw up strange results.

JD: Alfa Romeo. Closer partnership with Ferrari, aggressive car design which looked quick through the corners in testing and the Kimi factor. A dangerous unknown quantity – how very Alfa.

     Veteran Kimi Raikkonen has joined Alfa Romeo for 2019 following five seasons with Ferrari

DR: It's been rubbish for far too many years now, but we are long overdue a decent Monaco Grand Prix. Whether it comes in the form of a sprinkling or rain of some tire-related shenanigans I don't know but it would certainly be a surprise wouldn't it?

MS: Leclerc will finish above Vettel in the overall drivers points, Raikkonen will earn at least one podium for Alfa Romeo, and Alexander Albon – effectively an emergency choice for Toro Rosso – will be in and around the top 10 on a regular basis.

NS: I will go with Pierre Gasly. This one could come back to bite me but I expect Red Bull to make a real go of it this year and Gasly showed enough in spells in the Toro Rosso last year to suggest he can rise to the challenge.

Where are the championships heading?

JM: Drivers title: Hamilton. Constructors: Ferrari.

JD: I'm sold. Vettel and Ferrari.

     Hamilton once again goes into the season as a favorite to win the world championship

DR: Hamilton to win the drivers crown in a final race Abu Dhabi showdown but Ferrari to pinch the constructors' title.

MS: Mercedes and Lewis Hamilton. Where else?

NS: Mercedes. Hamilton is still the man and if I was a betting man that is where my money would go. As a pairing I prefer the Ferrari pair – Bottas unselfishness infuriates me – but I fully expect Mercedes to be another double.

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Revel Marathon–Big Bear Race Results and Recap

Hello! I ran the Revel Big Bear Marathon this weekend! I did a bunch of Instagram Stories on it – make sure you’re following @RunEatRepeat on IG for the updates!!

I hadn’t run a full marathon in a long time so I was stressed and unsure of how it would go. I wanted to have fun. I wanted to run well and get in a strong long run / marathon / mental exercise situation. And I think I did okay with all of those. I still have a very far way to go if I want to run faster, but I feel a lot more confident now! I’m confident I’m capable of running better and accomplishing hard goals. Now I just need to get specific with what those goals are and a plan to go after them. But today… I’m relaxing, eating and recapping my race…

Revel Marathon Big Bear Race Results – Top 10 Highlights

1. My 1 friend and only running buddy Skinny Runner aka @BarlesHambone came all the way from the north west tip of the USA to come run with me!!*

2. Steve biked all the way from Pasadena to Big Bear to watch me finish!!**

3. I saw Elise on the bus, Pam before the race and a lot of followers on the course and at the Finish!!Thank you for saying Hi!!!***

4. Team RunEatRepeat rocked the race!! The half marathon and marathon runners ran fast and strong! (If you want a discount for Revel Hawaii – check out my Race Discounts page)****

5. I wanted to give up at mile 20… and I didn’t.

6. I made 2 bathroom stops during the race. And I wasn’t quick about it. 7. It wasn’t as cold as I thought it was going to be at the start. But we were prepared with throw away gear, ponchos, beanies and hot hands.

8. I wanted to give up at mile 22… and I did – – kinda… but kept moving forward.*****

I felt exhausted and wanted it to be over. I told SR I was done and didn’t care if I did a sub-4 hour marathon after all. I just wanted it to be over. She kept pushing me and encouraging me to suck it up and keep going. At the time I was made at her. We argued like an old married couple. But I kept my voice down (well, it was quiet for me at least). She kept on me trying different ways to motivate me…

  SR: ‘don’t you think everyone wants it to be over? that’s not just you…’ Me: (silent anger) // SR: ‘do it for the insta’ Me: NO. I don’t care, you know I don’t care about that. // SR: ‘we’re almost done…’ Me: I was done miles ago! I don’t want to do this. // SR: ‘make it a time you can be proud of’ Me: I’m proud of just doing this! I don’t care about my time. // SR: ‘c’mon! we can do this!!…’ (another runner hears her try to motivate me and chimes in… ) Me: (gives SR a look because I’m not happy that now strangers are bugging me when I clearly am not interested in being motivated and would like to call an uber or an ambulance) SR: ‘we have 20 more minutes. I think you can be uncomfortable for 20 more minutes…’ Me: (thinking bad words) puts in my headphones and starts to run

9. I FINISHED!! Finish time: 3:50:46! I just wanted a sub-4 hour. And I’m happy with this extra because I really never got in the zone. I felt kinda tired and crappy the whole time. I’m not sure if that’s because of the elevation, my fitness level, me still fighting off being sick or a combination of all of those. But the point is – I did it. I’m back. I can still run 26.2 miles. I’m not as out of marathon shape as I thought.

10. It was gorgeous!! It’s a great course! The views were amazing!

  We were so high that it looked like we were above the clouds at some points. And the sunrise views on the mountains – it was so so gorgeous!

We ran on a 2 lane road from Big Bear to Redlands – it’s not somewhere runners can run safely. So it was very special and I’m very grateful that we got to run here and see the mountains in a way most don’t get to enjoy! I really loved it!

It was a great race and I really miss running with SR so it was extra awesome. And now that I think about it… I don’t know if I would have done it if she didn’t come out to run the full! So again, she is nice and I hope she decides living off the grid in Gnome, AK is not that fun and moves back to run with me all the time.

Next post – I’ll talk about food! We ate a bunch of good stuff!! It probably wasn’t the best fuel but it was good!

  Oh – and make sure to follow me on Pinterest to find more race recaps & reviews, recipes, workouts and more!

I never talk about Pinterest and forget to mention it until someone contacts me from a Pin they saw and I think I should remind you to follow me there… so, um… that’s what I’m doing!

*Follow Run Eat Repeat’s Pinterest Boards Here*

  Notes from my list:

*SR doesn’t live in Alaska, she lives in Washington but I think it’s basically the same thing. I don’t know map-ology.

**Steve was there because he’s a running coach and several of this Soul Runners team members ran the race.

***I forgot why I put an asterisk on this number.

****Yes, I’m working on getting a team discount code for the other Revel Races. I do have one for Hawaii – check on the Race Discounts page.

*****Now that the race is over… I’m super grateful SR pushed me. At the time I was Done. I wasn’t going to quit but I just wanted to walk the last few miles. I felt like crap. But obviously I was able to push through it because I did. If she wasn’t there encouraging me to keep running – I would have walked a lot more! So, yeah she was right that I had more to give.

            Coming up: What I ate before the race… What I ate during the race… What I ate after the race! <- Let me know if you have any specific questions on this!

What’s your next race or fitness goal??

If you want to run a race before the end of this year – sign up for one of the Lexus Lace Up Races and use discount code RER10

Check out my Race Discounts page for #StripAtNight or #RnRLA discounts & more!!

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