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gingeralepdf · 4 years

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Walk On By - Part 1

shoutout to @harrylefleur for this^ amazing edit!! thanks again for letting me use it, it’s perfect!!

A/N: hello!! i’ve been slowly cooking up this 70s dealer!harry au (also known as shroomrry) fic ever since the first italy pics surfaced. i had a lot of fun writing this, so i hope you have fun reading it! another massive thank you to brailey @daydreamsofh for yelling about shroomrry with me since the very first rough draft. your encouragement and support means so much to me!! ily <3

****DISCLAIMER/WARNING: This fic includes scenes in which characters purchase and consume recreational drugs (psilocybin mushrooms) as well as purchase and consume alcohol. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, please do not feel pressured to read or interact with this fic. And do not consume if you are underage.****

You’re simply buying magic mushrooms from Harry. However, if you keep running into each other, is it going to stay that simple?

word count: ~5k

🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄✨🌈✨🍄🌈

**August 30th, 1977, Inglewood, California**

The evening sun beats down on you as soon as you step off the bus. You walk away from the door before reaching for the sunglasses hanging from the collar of your shirt and slip them onto your face before wiping the small beads of sweat from your brow.

“Stuffiest bus ride of my life.” Your roommate and partner in crime, Jenny, walks over to your side. She leans her head back and groans toward the sky, as if to broadcast her misery to anyone that will listen.

“Really? I thought it was a five star experience,” you reply flatly.

Jenny scoffs and looks at you in disgust before shoving your shoulder. “What bus were you on then?”

Your laughs quickly turn into blissful sighs of relief when a breeze picks up. A brief intermission from the heat and residual stickiness on your skin from the crowded bus ride.

“You’ve still got the tickets and the money, right?” Jenny asks.

“Yep.” You pat your purse. “You’ve still got that guy’s license plate number, right?”

Jenny reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper, “Yep.”

**********************************

The sign outside of the Forum looms over your heads as you enter the parking lot. The large black letters on the sign simply read ‘FLEETWOOD MAC. NIGHT TWO. SOLD OUT’. Even more gigantic is the Forum itself. You’ve been to a couple of shows at this venue before today, but you still can’t get over just how massive it is. It makes you feel so small even when you’re standing one hundred feet away from it.

Your mind begins to buzz with excitement and anticipation knowing that you’ll soon be inside seeing possibly one of the most in-demand shows of the year. It’s incredibly lucky that you were able to score these tickets anyway. Having a job at a radio station definitely has its perks.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by Jenny’s nudging elbow. She holds the paper that has the numbers and letters of a license plate number scrawled on it in front of both of you.

“He drives a blue Pontiac Tempest. He said he was gonna try to park in the third row,” she says.

Both of you look at the paper for a minute, trying to commit the number to memory before setting out to comb the parking lot in search of this mystery man.

With all the other people milling around and gathering in the line outside of the venue, you wonder how many of these people are on a similar mission as you and your friend.

You turn to Jenny, “Do you know what this Harry guy looks like?”

“Uh,” Jenny draws out before pulling her gaze from the line of cars beside her. “My cousin Kathryn said he’s white,” she begins listing things off on her fingers, “has brown hair, has a lot of tattoos, and he’s British,” she looks at you and wiggles her eyebrows.

Jenny laughs when you roll your eyes, “Oh my god I know he’s British. You’ve been going on and on about how he sounded on the phone.” You walk a few more paces before asking, “How does she know him again?”

“They work together at the record store. You probably would have already met him if you weren’t so pretentious about where you buy your records.”

You switch from scanning over license plates to squinting at Jenny, “I’m not pretentious, the owner of that place is just an asshole.”

“You say that about nearly every record store owner.”

“Only the ones that are fifty year old men who constantly degrade female customers’ music tastes.”

Jenny sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. Most of them are assholes.”

“Hey, maybe with your business degree you can be the first record store owner that’s not an asshole.”

She smiles at you and taps her temple with her index finger. “That’s not a bad idea.” Her eyes flit over your shoulder. She stops abruptly and grabs your arm, “Oh-- hey, I think that’s him right there.”

You turn to follow her gaze. Immediately you spot the blue car. You both take another look at the note in Jenny’s hand. Sure enough, the license plate on the car in front of you is a perfect match.

So this is Harry. He has his head down and his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration just beneath the frames of his yellow sunglasses. There’s a pencil behind his right ear and his left elbow is resting on the door frame, sticking out of his rolled down window, while his fingers are mindlessly fiddling with his neat mustache. On that same arm, you see scattered tattoos that begin at his wrist and run all the way up into the sleeve of his green and white striped t-shirt. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting of this man, but you can’t help but be struck by how handsome he is. The low hanging sun is casting golden light through his back window, shining through the ends of his brown tousled hair.

The pressure of a hand on your back pushing you forward causes you to whip around.

“Could you go talk to him?” Jenny asks softly.

You give her a ‘what are you talking about?’ look, “You’ve already spoken to him on the phone, Jen, he doesn’t know me.”

“I mentioned you,” she pleads. “Ugh I know I talked to him on the phone but now that I see him in person I’m too nervous.”

You take another look at Harry and look back to Jenny. “Okay, come on.”

As you get closer to his car with Jenny trailing behind you, you begin to hear the music blasting from his radio. Hearing the chorus of “Dancing Queen” somehow makes this situation a touch less intimidating.

You take your sunglasses off your face and hang them from the collar of your shirt. You clear your throat once you feel like you’re close enough, hoping this would catch his attention. When he doesn’t move, you open your mouth only to realize that you have no idea what you want to say.

“Um,” you hesitantly mumble to yourself as you reach up and knock on the top frame of his window.

He slightly jumps and pulls his arm into the car in response. He mutters a ‘fucks sake’ before quickly turning his head to you, his eyebrows now creased in aggravation.

You jerk your hand back to your side. You’re not sure if it’s the pressure of having to do the talking or his intense stare, but you suddenly can't seem to string a full sentence together.

“Hi. Sorry. I, er--, we... um. We were supposed to--”

Harry looks past you to glance at Jenny and his face softens. He reaches over to turn the radio down before pointing his finger between the two of you, “Kathryn’s friends?”

“Yes,” you sigh in relief.

He nods, brushes a few stray hairs from his forehead and tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “Yeah, come on in.”

Hearing his soft British accent is a lot more endearing than Jenny’s annoying impressions of what he sounded like on the phone.

Jenny follows you around to the passenger side door and you pull on the handle.

When it doesn’t open, you reach through the window for the lock. You freeze when Harry’s hand meets yours. You lower your head slightly to look through the window and see him leaned over, still staring at your hands that are both grabbing the lever. He looks up at you and slightly shakes his head.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as he pulls his hand away and reaches to lean the passenger seat forward.

You open the door and gesture for Jenny to climb in first. After you get in and close the door behind you, you plop down in the back seat next to Jenny, who’s sitting behind Harry. You do your best to hold back a hiss when the heat from the light blue leather seats burns through your trousers and the back of your thin t-shirt.

The car smells fresh and is very tidy aside from a few crushed gum packages on the floorboard. Two little tree air fresheners hang from his rearview mirror, swaying in the slight breeze. You peep down to his dashboard and smile.

“I like your stickers,” you blurt out, pointing to the smiley face sticker and the strawberry sticker above the volume and tuning dials on his radio. Mostly, you’re trying to make amends for startling him a second ago, but you’re also trying to dispel some of your nerves that are still fluttering around in your stomach. The mental image of him peeling stickers from a sheet and putting them on there himself seems to be helping a little bit.

“Thanks.” He cracks a smile over his shoulder. You catch a glimpse of a dimple indenting his cheek. You visibly relax your shoulders upon seeing a change in his demeanor. “Would you mind reminding me of your names?” He asks, taking a glance at his rearview mirror.

You both introduce yourselves.

“So it was you that I spoke with on the phone last week?” he asks, turning in his seat and looking at Jenny.

“Yeah, that was me,” she grins.

“Right,” he huffs. “So I know what you’re both really here for but,” he trails off as he reaches into his lap and holds up a folded newspaper, displaying the daily crossword puzzle. “Are either of you any good at these?” He shakes his head, “I’ve got like... three left and it’s driving me crazy.”

Jenny hums as she takes the paper from Harry’s hand and holds it up between you. Coincidentally, Jenny happens to be very good at these puzzles, often taking this same section out of the paper every day.

She puts her finger up to the page and begins counting the boxes in one of the columns. “Fourteen down is ‘questionnaire’.”

As you skim over the page, you catch an error that could be hanging him up. “And seven across is misspelled. ‘Memento’ should start with M- E- instead of M- O-.”

Both of you look back up at Harry and Jenny hands the paper back.

In the same motion he takes the paper from Jenny and takes the pencil from behind his ear. He sets the paper on his center console and brings his bottom lip between his teeth as he erases and fills in the boxes on the puzzle.

You and Jenny exchange a private laugh. If anyone had asked the both of you to predict how this interaction was going to go, this would not be part of it.

“Well. Thanks. It probably would have taken me forever to get those.” He tosses the paper and pencil on the floorboard in front of the passenger seat and uses his finger to push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Now, do you have cash with you?”

The shift in his tone catches you off guard, the friendly lilt in his voice being replaced by one more quiet and flat.

Jenny looks over at you.

“Oh yeah, sorry.” You pull four ten dollar bills from your purse and hand them to Harry.

He fans them out before folding them twice and putting them in his pocket. He opens his console. There’s some shuffling before he closes it again and carefully passes you two small envelopes. “Should be one gram in each of those.”

You lean forward in an attempt to shield your actions from people who may be passing by. Carefully, you break the tape seals across the front of the envelopes with your thumb and take a peek inside. Satisfied with the amount of shriveled mushrooms you see, you reseal the envelopes and stuff them into your purse.

“You’ve both taken these before, right?” Harry asks.

“Yeah, a few times before this,” Jenny says.

“Nice. So you know they usually take about half an hour to start working and you’re probably in for about four to six hours of effects and all that?”

“Yeah,” you and Jenny say in unison.

“Okay, I just-- I always want to make sure, you know?” Harry scratches his chin and looks to the side in thought. “Did you drive here?”

You shake your head. “No, we took the bus. And Alice, our friend, is gonna pick us up after the concert.”

He nods, “Okay, good.” He lowers his voice. “The last thing I’ll say is I’ve seen quite a few cops around so… if I were you I’d duck into a bathroom or something to take those.” He slightly raises his hands, “But obviously all of that’s up to the both of you so…” he trails off and shrugs. “Ultimately I hope you both have fun.” He looks at you with a sincerity that puts you at ease. It makes you feel a lot better that he seems to genuinely care about both of you being safe and having an enjoyable experience. You can’t say the same for other dealers you’ve come in contact with.

“We’ll just see what happens I guess,” you shrug back.

“I think we should head in now.” Jenny says, craning her head past Harry to look at the line of people. She pats the back of his seat. “Thanks so much, we really appreciate it.”

“Sure, was great to meet you both.”

“Was good to meet you. Are you going to the show as well?” you ask while reaching forward for the door handle.

He instantly perks up. “I am. Managed to get a ticket. It’s in the nosebleeds but…”

“I had nosebleeds when Queen was here a few months ago and it was still a fantastic show,” you reassure him. You climb out and hold the door for Jenny. “I’m sure you’ll have a great time. Take care!”

You close the door and wave goodbye.

You and Jenny link arms as you’re walking toward the venue, and extra spring in your steps after jumping that hurdle.

She whispers, “I told you he was British.”

“Jen.” You roll your eyes and elbow her side.

You look over at your friend who’s now covering her mouth with her hand, poorly concealing her laughter. You steal a glance over your shoulder. The last thing you see before you turn back around is Harry staring directly back at you.

**********************************

Jenny walks in front of you, weaving through the groups of people as you both search for a water fountain to wash the earthy taste of the mushrooms from your mouths.

You both join the line behind the fountain closest to the main entrance. When Jenny leans down to take a drink, you spot a familiar green and white striped shirt amongst the crowd of people streaming in. Harry is strolling by, heading toward the arena entrance.

He glances in your direction and does a double take. He instantly grins and raises his eyebrows at you, giving you a thumbs up before mouthing ‘have fun’ and disappearing around the corner.

Your cheeks warm and your stomach flutters.

After you’ve had a drink from the fountain, you and Jenny make your way into the expansive arena and join the crowd of people in general admission.

About half way through the opening act, just as you’re about to ask Jenny if she feels anything happening yet, you see her looking at you fervently and everything around you starts to feel dream-like. The spotlights on the stage begin to look like halos, making it impossible for you to turn away. You start to feel as if the music you’re hearing is coming from your own body. The drum beat bursting through your chest and every note from the guitars coming from the tips of your fingers and the ends of your hair.

The euphoria of being surrounded by love and joy takes over you, making you laugh and dance and sing until the music comes to an end.

**********************************

You’re sitting on the sidewalk outside of the Forum, legs crossed in front of you with your elbows resting on your knees and your head resting in your hands. The concrete has finally cooled off after the heat of the day. You’re hunched over, currently transfixed by a trail of ants marching along the smooth surface in front of you.

“It’s like you can hear all their little footsteps,” you say, your eyes open wide in awe.

Jenny, who’s sitting across from you in a similar position, giggles in response to your observation before gasping. “I hear them too.”

Both of you snort and break out into unrestrained laughter. It’s never felt so good to have the sound of laughter ringing through your ears.

After a moment, you start to hear the sound of something else. It sounds like your name is being called, but it’s not coming from Jenny. You hear your name again, closer now. It sounds as if it’s echoing from the enormous wall of the Forum right next to you. Your eyebrows pull together in confusion and curiosity as you slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder.

You’re immediately filled with excitement upon seeing the friendly face walking toward you.

“Harry!” you exclaim, waving wildly.

A smile spreads across his face and you swear little sparkles appear next to his dimples.

You can’t take your eyes off of him as he makes his way over to stand next to you and Jenny. You have to crane your head back to see his face from your position on the ground.

“Hey, you alright?” he eyes both of you curiously.

You simply nod in response.

“What are you guys still doing here?”

Jenny sighs as if this is the twentieth time he’s asked, “We’re waiting for Alice.”

“Well,” he trails off while scratching the back of his head, “you probably don’t know this, but the concert ended about two hours ago.”

For whatever reason, this sends you and Jenny into a fit of howling laughter.

Jenny suddenly stops and looks at you wide eyed. “Hey, lets just take the bus home.”

You gasp and grab Jenny’s shoulder, marveling at her great idea. “The bus! Let's take the bus!”

You rise up to your knees with a newfound surge of energy and Jenny follows.

“No no no no no,” Harry surges forward and presses one of his hands on your shoulder and the other on Jenny’s, urging both of you to sit down.

He sinks to the ground along with you, propping himself on one knee. “Do you have Alice’s number with you? I can try giving her a call?”

It takes you a minute to realize that he’s speaking to you. “Yeah I have my address book in my purse--,” you look down to your side and freeze at the sight of the zipper on your bag. Your stomach drops. You definitely do not want to put your hands anywhere near the jagged edges of the zipper that are suddenly taking on the shape of menacing teeth.

You barely hear Harry let out a breathy laugh. You look up to him and he points to your bag. “Need some help?”

“I….. uh…..” You’re not completely sure what to focus on or how to put your thoughts into words.

Before you can ask for help, he slowly reaches out and takes your bag between his fingers, bringing it away from its resting place on your hip. “S’ this alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.”

He slowly unzips the bag and you grimace at the unsettling noise. Once it’s been opened all the way, he slightly tilts it toward you and asks, “Can I look inside? Or do you wanna do it?”

You flinch away and shake your head profusely, raising your hand up as a barrier between you and the bag. “No, you do it.”

He looks down, reaches his hand into your purse and starts carefully poking through it.

Your shoulders relax as you turn your focus to his hair. It seems to be much curlier and fluffier than before. It looks… inviting, like a soft blanket that you want to curl up into. It seems to have its own gravitational pull. You lean forward, bury your nose in it and take a deep breath in. The smell of apples and some cologne you don’t recognize and the scent of his sweat swirl together in an exhilarating way.

Harry slowly lifts his head up and eyes you suspiciously over the frames of his sunglasses that have slid down the bridge of his nose. Now that you’re sitting here eye to eye with him, you notice every single detail of his face that you hadn’t been privy to before. Every eyelash, the crease between his eyebrows and the way one of them is slightly raised. The deep set dimple in his cheek due to the smirk pulling up on one side of his mouth. The thin green irises of his eyes.

The more you look into them, the bigger they get, and the more you’re able to see your own reflection in his pupils. You tilt your head and smile as they keep growing in size. Just as they're getting to a comical level, making him look more like a cartoon character, you notice a blush creep onto his cheeks.

He folds his lips into his mouth, blinks rapidly, and shakes his head before returning to his search through your purse.

Harry finally pulls out your yellow leather address book. The white daisies printed on the cover seem to dance and twirl in place when he holds the book up and opens it.

Your purse is returned to its previous position on your hip before he looks at you again. He points his thumb over his shoulder at the payphone a few feet from you. “I’m gonna go call Alice. You guys just stay right here, alright?”

When he starts to get up to his feet, you blurt out, “I have dimes you can use.”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he waves you off, “That’s alright, I’ve got some.”

You watch as he walks over to the payphone. You watch as he digs into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a handful of coins in his palm. He inserts a dime into the coin slot and cradles the phone between his shoulder and ear. You watch his every move until the stripes on his shirt begin to ripple as if they’re made of water. This plus the flickering light above the phone becomes too much for you to handle.

You lay on your back with your hands folded across your stomach and begin to take in the stars in the sky, which are somehow less overwhelming than a simple striped t-shirt.

You’re not sure how long you stay like this. You feel like you’re so close to the stars in the night sky that you could reach out to touch one, or maybe even cradle one in your hands to feel its warmth. The sound of Jenny sitting next to you humming some tune you don’t quite recognize only adds to the peacefulness you’re feeling.

A bright light suddenly overwhelms your vision and you look over to your left to see a pair of headlights coming toward you. You hoist yourself up from the ground and bring your arm up to shield your eyes from the blinding light.

The car screeches to a halt at the curb. The first thing you see after the driver’s side door opens is a head of curly hair that can only belong to your friend Alice.

“Holy shit you guys. I’m so so so sorry.” She rushes over to where you and Jenny are sitting. Only half of the words she’s saying are even registering in your mind. “I ended up falling asleep and then there was a car wreck on the freeway and traffic was backed up for miles and-” She stops in her tracks once she’s standing in front of you and snorts out a laugh. “Oh my god you guys are so fucking high.”

Her laughter is interrupted by Harry. “Are you Alice?”

“Yeah, who are you?” she replies with a slight edge to her voice.

“Sorry. I-- I’m Harry. I... uh… I gave them the…”

“Oh you’re Harry. Well. Thanks so much for sticking around with them but I can take it from here.” She shakes hands with Harry before extending a hand to Jenny, helping her stand up and walking her to the car.

Meanwhile, you slowly make your way to your feet and walk over to Harry. He grunts when you clumsily wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“Thank you Harry. You’re a very nice person,” you mumble into the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re… You’re welcome.” The vibration of his chest when he chuckles travels all the way down to your toes. You also pick up the thrumming of his heart beating wildly against your ear. His hand lightly rubs your back.

You soon hear Alice’s voice behind you saying your name. The feeling of her lightly tugging on your t-shirt coaxes you away from Harry and into her arms.

Before you know it, you’re settled into the backseat of Alice’s car next to Jenny and Alice is shifting to drive.

As you slowly pull away from the curb, you steal a glance over your shoulder to see Harry standing on the curb. He has one hand on his hip and the other is scratching his jaw as he watches your car move away. His figure is getting smaller and smaller as you leave the venue. Just before you turn the corner, you see him step over to the payphone again.

**September 1st, 1977, Los Angeles, California**

You take a long sip of your coffee as you carefully place the needle on your record player. After a few seconds of rustling and popping, the first kickdrums of The Five Stairsteps’ “O-o-h Child” fill your living room, followed by a chorus of trumpets.

Jenny left for work early in the morning and you have a day off, so you’re relishing in the freedom of having the house to yourself.

You walk through the doorway into the kitchen where your fried egg is sizzling on the stove. With your free hand, you take a plate from the cabinet and set it on the counter before grabbing a spatula, turning the burner off, and carefully lifting the egg out of the pan onto your plate. You pluck the piece of toast from your toaster and turn to set your plate on the table along with your coffee mug. The only thing missing is the newspaper, which is most likely still sitting at the end of your driveway from the morning delivery.

You pad through the hallway to the front door, turn the lock, and swing it open. As soon as the early fall air hits you, however, you come to a halt and let out a shocked gasp.

An equally startled Harry is standing on your front doorstep with one hand behind his back and the other hovering over your doorbell. All of your systems stall for a moment, as if you’re trying to connect whatever dots you can to make this scene make sense in your brain. You can feel heat quickly spreading all over your face each second you both stand there in silence, which you both break at the same time.

“What are you--?”

“Sorry I--”

You press your lips together and wait for him to continue.

“I’m sorry. I, um,” he clears his throat before dropping his hand by his side, “I should have called ahead of time.”

“What-- uh,” you stop to rephrase your question since What are you doing here? sounds a little more blunt than you’re wanting to be. “What brings you here?”

“I just thought I would stop by on my way to work.” He pulls his hand from behind his back, revealing the yellow and white cover of your address book in his hand. “Wanted to return this to you.”

He must have picked up on your confusion as you take the book from his hand and run your thumb over the cover.

“I’m sorry. I accidentally left it on top of the payphone after the concert. Didn’t realize until you had already driven off. But your address and everything is written in the front so… thankfully it wasn’t hard to figure out how to get it back to you.” He gestures to the book before jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Oh,” you draw out as the realization dawns on you. In the process of debriefing your trip with Jenny and Alice, you thought that Harry had given your address book back to you, concluding that it must have been somewhere in your house. You figured it would turn up someplace unexpected, and technically you turned out to be right. You laugh to yourself, “I thought I lost it somewhere in my house or something. I-- Thank you.”

You spare a glance at him for long enough to catch the tight grin on his face, causing his dimples to indent on his cheeks.

As you’re taking in his loose fitting white shirt and ripped jeans, you’re quickly becoming aware of the fact that you’re only dressed in cotton shorts and your old UCLA t-shirt you had slept in. If this whole interaction had been timed better you at least could have run to your bedroom to throw on pants or a sweater before answering the door. You reflexively cross your arms in front of you.

“So you had a good time, I hope?” Harry’s question interrupts your thoughts.

“Oh, yeah. Alice just brought me and Jenny back here and we sat around listening to music and talking. Then we pretty much spent all day yesterday sleeping so.” You shrug.

“Did your bag give you any more trouble?” he squints, pausing around the word ‘bag’ and giving you a sly smirk.

You scoff and shift your weight to lean against the doorframe. “No, it did not,” you mutter defensively toward the ground.

He breathes a laugh through his nose and you urge yourself to steer the subject of conversation slightly away from the specifics of your high state the other night.

“Also, thanks so much for staying there with us. I mean, who knows what we could have gotten into.”

“Oh, it was no problem. I’ve done some pretty stupid stuff while on shrooms, even when I’m supervised so…” he trails off into a chuckle.

You smile at his confession, somehow you can’t imagine this level-headed man doing anything stupid.

He continues. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” After a brief pause he adds, “You and Jenny.”

Your eyes snap up after he corrects himself.

He looks down at your doormat, scratching his chin. His cheeks tinge a light shade of pink.

“Well thank you. And thank you for coming to return this,” you say through a deep sigh, raising the book in your hand.

“Of course.” He looks over his shoulder at his car parked on the curb before turning back to you. “Well, I better get going. Was good to see you.” He nods before turning toward the street.

“Yeah, see you around.”

“Take care!” he calls over his shoulder, throwing a peace sign in the air.

Once he’s walked away, you retreat into your hallway and close the door. Your house is now quiet since the record you were playing has reached its end. There’s nothing to mask the sound of your heart beating out of your chest. You stare at the door for a moment, replaying the conversation in your head.

“See you around?” you mock yourself. “Where are you going to see him around?” You rest your forehead against the door and let out a deep sigh that gradually turns into a groan.

Harry’s car rumbles to a start outside. You don’t want to release the tension in your shoulders until you’re certain he’s driven away.

A thump on the other side of the door makes you jolt back. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion when you look through the peephole and see Harry climbing into his car and shutting the door.

You reach down to the door knob and open the door halfway, barely poking your head out. You can’t seem to find the source of the noise until you look down and see the newspaper rolled up in a rubber band sitting on your welcome mat.

You glance back at Harry just in time for him to flash a smile, give you a wave, and take off down the street.

*************************************************

thank you so much for reading!!

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-> PART TWO <-

#my writing #drugs tw #shroomrry #harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles reader insert

500 notes · View notes

sometimesitrytowritethings · 4 years

Text

Mountain Man: Part 3

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: Swearing, Mourning, Nudity

Summary: You never thought you’d love again. Then Arthur Morgan came into town. Fate continuously has you meeting each other in odd ways, and a troubled past is something you are both familiar with. Perhaps that’s what will make this time different.

-----

The smell of soap filled the air on the porch of the boarding house, the same as it did every other Thursday. Work didn’t start until the late afternoon, so you took the extra time in the morning to do some chores around the boarding house. It wasn’t the most entertaining of times, but it netted you a good ten dollars off of your monthly rent, and you recently had been able to convince Ben to work on his reading as you washed.

This week, there was notably more to wash, with an additional border at the house. Mary seemed nice enough, if a little arrogant, and had offered to pay you an additional five dollars to wash her laundry alongside yours. Given that it looked like she hadn’t worked with her hands a day in her life, and not expecting much to wash after the woman’s short stay, you’d agreed.

However, you were surprised to note that, over the course of less than one week, Mary had managed to need five chemises, three skirts, and four blouses washed. At first, you had balked at the large pile of laundry, who goes through so much in one week? Seemingly having missed your surprised face, Mary had thanked you before heading back inside, mentioning something about coffee and a book.

Honestly, you would have been furious with her if you hadn’t taken the time to look at the clothes. The majority of them were mostly clean, the shirts slightly scented with sweat, and the skirts and chemises had a light ring of dirt on the hem. All of these clothes could have easily been worn weeks or even months longer before they even needed to be considered for washing. This left you more amused than it did irritated - if she wanted to pay you to essentially dip her clothes in soapy water while you were doing the rest of the wash anyway, you would certainly take the extra money.

You hummed quietly, lightly scrubbing the dirt from the hem of one of her skirts, as Ben practiced reading to you from an “Otis Miller” storybook that he had been slowly working his way through. He would slowly sound out each word, as you had taught him, and occasionally ask for help with larger, unfamiliar words.

He had read through an entire 5 pages by the time Mary had come outside to join you. She held two steaming cups of coffee in her hands and her book under her arm, as she sat in the worn rocking chair. She placed one cup at her side and held the other out for you. “I’ve made it fresh, I thought you might like some,” she mentioned with a smile. “And to thank you for helping me out with my laundry.”

You smiled back and stood, wiping your wet hands on your skit. Was it still considered being helpful if you were only doing it because she paid you? You supposed it didn’t really matter. “I’m glad to help out, Mary,” you reached for the cup, holding it and enjoying the warmth on your hands, “thank you for the coffee.” There was a small stool next to where Ben sat, which you took, ruffling his hair and giving him a kiss on the top of his head as you sat next to him.

Having seen you take a break from work, Ben looked up from his book. “Mama, can I go play?” He had been hard at work for about an hour - he deserved a break.

You nodded, and he immediately darted out towards the long grass in the yard, where a cat was sleeping lazily in the sun. Upon hearing Bens footsteps, the poor animal stood up and dashed to his left. The cat was fast, but your son was determined - he dashed after her. You laughed lightly and sipped your coffee, keeping an eye on the boy. “Have you been enjoying your stay so far?” you asked, not exactly comfortable with the silence.

Mary was also watching Ben with a small smile on her face. “As much as possible. It’s a…” she paused, evidently searching for the right word, “charming little town, and I do wish I were here under better circumstances.” The diplomatic answer. Valentine was a dirty, smelly old town and everyone who lived there knew it. The nickname “Mudtown” had stuck for a reason.

“I’m sorry if this is too forward of me, but if you don’t mind me asking,” you started, fiddling with the warm coffee cup in your hands and turning your gaze to her. The steam from your cup was rising in the cool morning air, and the warmth seeped into your chilled fingers nicely. “What brings you to Valentine? Most of the time we only get tradesmen and livestock around here. It’s not usually the kind of place for a high-society lady like yourself.”

Mary seemed only slightly taken aback by your question. She must have been asked the same thing nearly every day since her arrival - everyone knew this was not a town for tourists. If she wanted to have a taste of the outdoors, she was much better off in Strawberry, which you had heard was recently marketing itself as a mountain resort. “Oh! Well, I suppose you’ll find out eventually, but I would appreciate it if you don’t spread the word around,” she looked off into the distance as she spoke, as if she was too embarrassed to look into your eyes.

“Of course.”

She sighed before continuing, her breath blowing the steam from her coffee away from her. “My brother, little Jamie, he’s run off and,” she paused and she chewed lightly on her bottom lip, “and joined the Chelonians. I’ve heard he’s been seen around here and was hoping to convince him to come home.”

“The Chelonians?” you had recognised the name from the papers, but had never really paid attention to the group. Supposedly they were camped nearby, in the mountains, but you didn’t know much else. They had never bothered to come into town that you know of, and most people rarely had time or interest in venturing so far away, so no one you knew had actually seen them in person.

“Oh yes, it’s some ridiculous new religion of some sort that worships turtles in the mountains, from what I understand,” she explained, waving a hand in front of her face to emphasize how indifferent she felt about the group. “I have to say, it’s all terribly confusing and I don’t see why he was so taken with it.”

“Oh, I… I’m very sorry,” you responded, more out of politeness than anything. If he ran away, why was Mary sent to get him, of all people? What about the rest of the family? Mary seemed determined, but you hadn’t actually seen her do anything to look for her brother. Was there no one better suited for the job? “Did he say anything to you before he left? About why he was joining?”

She sighed and stood from the rocking chair to pace over to the porch railing, leaving the chair rocking lightly in her wake. She leaned on the rail and gazed further into the horizon. “Oh, he blames my father for it, of course,” she explained in exasperation, again waving her hand in front of her as if to brush away the very notion. “The man can be overbearing, yes, but I know he only wants what’s best for us. I just hope Jamie will see that soon.”

“I’m... sure he will,” you honestly didn’t know what else to say in the situation. Mary looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties, so was Jamie not also an adult? Was he not allowed to make his own decisions? To live his own life? If that was the case, you honestly wouldn’t blame him for running away.

Before you could let the silence become awkward, Mary continued, “If not, well, I’ve seen some old acquaintances around town. My childhood love, before Barry, used to run with a rather rough crowd of outlaws and... degenerates, so I suppose I may be able to ask them for help if it comes to it.” Seemingly eager to change the subject, she turned to face you, leaning against the porch railing and holding her coffee in both hands. “In the meantime, may I ask you something as well? If it’s not too personal?”

You paused before answering and glanced at Ben. He was still chasing the poor cat around the yard. “Sure, I suppose. If it’s not too personal…” You leaned against the wall, took the last sip of coffee in your cup and looked at her, awaiting her question.

Mary had also glanced back to Ben before continuing, leaning slightly in your direction. “Your husband? Ben's father, I mean. If I can ask, where is he?” she asked, quietly, in case Ben should not hear.

That was a surprising relief. Yes, you missed Andrew, and yes it still hurt to think about losing him, but you never would hide what happened or how much you had loved him. “Oh. He…he passed shortly after Ben was born. It was a bad flu that took a turn for the worse all of a sudden. We got some medicine, thought he was getting better and then… and then he was gone. Overnight,” you revealed, unable to look in her eyes as you spoke. The pity that always overcame people when you spoke about Andrew was sometimes too much to bear. You swallowed and took a deep breath, burying the lump that inevitably formed in your throat each time you had to retell the story.

Mary quickly moved from the railing and sat back in her chair, reaching for your hand. “Oh my, I am so sorry! That must have been awful,” she replied. You allowed her to grasp your free hand, still refusing to look into her eyes.

You had heard the same rehearsed response hundreds of times - from friends, family, neighbors. Everyone had been curious at first, after his passing. People you had barely known came by, more out of curiosity than care, and had quickly offered you their well-wishes before digging for the gossip. They almost always left feeling disappointed and guilty. This type of death, suddenly from a common illness, was not uncommon in this area, and left very little to be gossiped about.

You cleared your throat and turned your focus toward Ben, wanting something to distract you from the conversation that you had had so many times before. “It was. It still is, actually, but... I think you get used to carrying it with you after a while,” you explained, a bittersweet smile gracing your features. Outside in the yard, Ben had finally caught the cat and had wrestled it into his lap. Sensing the futility of trying to escape, it had given in and was now purring as he stroked its fur and whispered to it. “But… he gave me almost five amazing years, and he gave me Ben, and I… I honestly couldn’t ask for more.”

If you had looked, you would have seen Mary sporting the same bittersweet, longing smile that you wore. “Ben is a wonderful boy, I’m sure your husband would be proud,” she responded, her voice quieter and sadder than most peoples’ usually are at this point in the conversation.

“Thank you, I think so too.”

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, both of your coffee cups emptied, and the bubbles from the washbasin having slowly receded into the grimy water. The birds chirped in the crisp spring air and a few clouds drifted by overhead. A light breeze came in from the West, making your skirts sway lightly as you sat on the porch. It was nice, peaceful.

After a few minutes of contented silence, Mary spoke, “My husband also passed away a few years ago. Pneumonia,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. “Even before that I lost my first love, but in a very different way. And now I may have gone and lost Jamie too. It’s… it’s never easy, and I wish no one had to suffer like that.”

“No one deserves to,” you agreed solemnly, surprised by your companion’s revelation. It was strange to have something in common with Mary Linton, but you wouldn’t complain. It was nice to have someone who understood.

Once again, silence overtook the two of you, as you sat on the porch and lost yourselves in memories. The peaceful morning bled slowly into the early afternoon, the birdsongs fading away, the sun shining high in the sky. Ben had long since lost track of the cat and was laying on his back in the grass, making pictures out of clouds. After a while, Mary opened up her book and began to read silently, rocking back and forth in the chair, and you returned to the laundry.

Only a few hours later, you stood in clean clothes in the back of Saint’s Hotel, getting a necessary breath of fresh air and listening closely for any new customers. In the last hour, you had already cleaned the upstairs rooms, readying any empty ones for new patrons. Unfortunately, this task also included cleaning the room of Mr. Presley in 2A, which the other women refused to touch unless specifically told to do so. After a thorough scrubbing and airing out, you had managed to get most of the stink from the room for the time being, but you dreaded the day he left. Room 2A may never again be suited for a new patron once the poor man moves out.

You stood, taking in deep breaths of the fresh country air, until you heard the front door of the hotel open and close. A few words were exchanged between your boss and a new patron, before your name was called. “Please fill a hot bath! Our customer will be in his room until it’s ready.”

With a sigh, you heaved yourself off the stack of logs you had been leaning against and went to fetch a pail of water from the well. The water was ice cold from the mountain runoff, and would surely take some time to heat, so you went ahead and started the coals in the bath room as soon as you were back inside.

After a half an hour of trudging back and forth with pails of water - one of your least favorite parts of the job - you called to your boss to tell him the bath was ready. A pair of freshly laundered towels and a bar of soap on a chair in the room finished the job, and you headed outside to take a quick break.

As was custom, you were to listen for the patron to enter the bath room, wait about 5 minutes for them to undress, and then knock on the door and offer your services.

Valentine, being a livestock and trade town, rarely had families or women passing through for baths, so rest assured you were usually invited by the lonely men in without hesitation. By and large, the men were respectful, if a little flirtatious, and never tried anything uncouth. Of course, occasionally men would come in drunk, or were just plain bastards sober, and that would lead you to deny your devices and call for your boss to toss them out. Thankfully, your boss never batted an eye when you brought him in to sort things out - possibly out of respect for his long-standing employees, but more likely because there was no other hotel in town and he already had their money. Regardless, you were grateful that he looked after you, even if his motivations may have been somewhat questionable.

You heard the bath room door squeak as it shut and began your countdown, digging out any dirt from under your nails just in case you were needed. After about five minutes had passed, you squared your shoulders and knocked lightly on the door. “Need any help in there?”

Immediately, the response came, and the voice was unexpectedly familiar. “Shoa, why not?”

You tried your best to hide the surprised smile on your face, and pushed the door slowly open. The room was dimmed, curtains closed and lit by only a few candles, and smelled strongly of soap and lavender. Even through the dim light and the fog from the hot bathwater, you recognized the handsome face of the man who sat, naked, in the tub before you. “Well hello again, Mountain Man,” you said with a smirk, rolling up your sleeves.

At first, he seemed shocked, but quickly let out one of those loud barks of a laugh as he had done at your previous meetings. “Ha! I just can’t seem to shake you, can I?”

With a friendly smile, you moved to sit on the stool next to the tub. “Seems so,” you responded, reaching into the soapy water to wet your hands. A slight nervous lump formed in your throat as you looked him over. Each time you saw him, he’d somehow become more and more handsome. Granted, the first time, you were exhausted and were in a dimly lit saloon, the second time he was covered in mud, and now… now he was stark naked and dripping wet in a bathtub, directly in front of you.

Your perception may have been slightly biased.

Arthur cleared his throat, making you jump. Had you been staring? “Didn’t know you worked here,” he teased, looking you directly in the eye. He really had to stop doing that. “May have to stop by more often.” He tore his eyes away from yours and then drew them obviously up and down your body as he spoke, stopping momentarily on your cleavage, which was peeking out through the top of your blouse.

A blush crept to your face, and you were immediately thankful that the room was not well-lit. He could stop by every day for free if he kept looking at you like that. Of course, you couldn’t say that out loud, your boss would kill you. Instead, you chuckled and said, “Please do, I can use the extra cash.”

Not missing a beat, Arthur responded with a smirk, “Thought you was expensive?”

Cute. You let out a small chuckle and reached for the bar of soap at the edge of the tub. “Too expensive, I suppose. Or maybe I’m just too choosy,” you managed with a wink, before turning him away from you so you could wash the top of his head. Finally, those eyes weren’t on you and you could actually think again.

He groaned lightly as you massaged soap into his hair. “So that’s why you've been runnin’ off on me?”

That earned him an earnest laugh. “Running off? Oh, please! You’re easily one of the better men that’s come through this town in a long time,” you told him, lightly smacking the top of his head before moving down to his shoulders. His muscular, broad, tanned, perfect shoulders. “Especially that Tommy…” you continued, having heard about his fight with the man after you had left the bar the other night.

“I guess you heard about that?” he chucked awkwardly, tilting his head back slightly to look up at you.

Another laugh. He was obviously not from a small town, otherwise he would know exactly how fast gossip can travel. Not to mention that Tommy was completely black and blue, and ranting about some drunken bastard the next time you had seen him in town. “‘Course I heard! Maybe 100 people live in this town and half of them were in the Saloon the other night,” you chided, still massaging his shoulders. “You can’t keep a secret for long around here, Mountain Man.”

He laughed again, that barking laugh that started in his belly and made him throw his head back with a smile. You liked it. “Obviously,” he grinned up at you for a second before turning away. “Though, if I’m one of the best ‘round here, I’d hate to see the other bastards that pass through.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused. Was that a joke? Sure, he seemed a bit rough around the edges, but no more than the other men who usually passed through here. And you wouldn’t even begin to start on how much more attractive he was than the rest of them.

Regardless, you decided to try your best to change the subject, it seems to have been a bit of a sore spot for some reason. “It’s not all that many, to be honest,” you told him, moving to wash his left arm. The muscles lightly twitched under your touch, and you couldn’t help relishing the feel of his skin under your fingers. “Occasionally we get some groups of men from out in New Austin or near Strawberry looking for work, I guess that’s where you’re coming from?”

He cleared his throat. “Shoa,” he confirmed, still looking away from you. “We was workin’ at a factory ‘n it was shut down. Lookin’ for something new now. Didn’t wanna come this far east, but there ain’t many options anymore.”

You nodded in understanding. Plenty of factories up north had recently shut down, or replaced their workers with newfangled machines. “I hear that Cornwall Tar is hiring,” you mentioned, only half joking. Cornwall was a notoriously awful boss, who underpaid and overworked his employees as much as possible, but a job was a job. “If you’re willing to work for below average and ungodly hours.”

Another loud, barking laugh. You were growing rather fond of it. “Low pay and high hours I can handle,” he responded, finally turning his head to look at you again, “just not for Cornwall.”

“Got a history?” you joked, not at all expecting a serious answer. Everyone knew about Cornwall’s awful business. No one actually wanted to work for him, even without a history.

“Somethin’ like that,” came Arthur’s mumbled response, surprising you. So he actually did know Cornwall? Maybe the man had owned the factory Arthur used to work at? “In the meantime we’re gettin by with the occasional bounty and whatever other labor we can find.”

“We? You and your two friends from the saloon, right?” you asked, dipping your hands in the water to gather more suds. Just a few inches closer and you would be able to feel his chest. Somehow, you managed to resist the urge, and proceeded to wash his calf, which honestly may have been just as nice.

“Yeah, there are a few more of us around too,” he explained, shifting position in the tub and causing the water to splash about slightly. He leaned his head against the back rim and groaned as you massaged his aching muscles. “They’re my… co-workers.Though really they’re almost family at this point.”

“You didn’t part ways when the factory shut down?” It was an innocent enough question. You’ve had groups of laid-off workers come through before, though usually by the time they had hit Valentine the group was at about a quarter its original size. People found other jobs along the way. People got sick. People just left. That’s how it went.

“Nah, we’ve been workin together too long to give up on each other now. Loyalty’s always been important to us. Course, we lost a few along the way, but that’s the way it is I s’pose,” he continued. It was interesting to say the least. You had seen about twenty or so new faces in the past week, all coming from the direction of Emerald Ranch. If that were his group, that would be a surprising amount of people who’ve stayed together.

Suddenly, something Mary had mentioned that morning came back to you: she had seen some acquaintances of her ex-love around town. It couldn’t possibly be the same group of people, that would mean that Arthur rode with a bad crowd, as she had described. You glanced him up and down again. He had his head leaned back, eyes closed, and hair dripping on the wooden floor below. At that moment he looked serene, peaceful. Definitely not the kind of man who ran with a gang of outlaws and degenerates, as she had described.

After a few more moments of silence, Arthur opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, contemplative. “‘n what keeps a woman like you in Valentine? Seems like somewhere else might have more to offer,” he finally asked.

You chuckled, having been asking the same question yourself since Andrew had died. “Oh most definitely,” was your response. “But this is where my husband grew up and where my son was born. I’ve been here long enough that Ben and I know everyone in town and, well, it’s been hard to leave. Been thinkin about it for a while, but I can’t bear to part with it. As dirty and backwards as this place may be.”

This seemed to peak his interest. He sat up straighter in the tub and brought his leg back in to soak. “Your husband, right. That the boah’s pa?” he asked, looking at you and lifting his other arm out of the water - your cue to move to the other side of the tub.

You feigned offense at his question, but didn’t blame him. It’s not like Andrew was around to introduce himself. “Of course! What kind of woman do you take me for, Mountain Man?” you teased, flicking a few droplets of the cooling water into his face.

As a reflex, one of his large hands came up to shield his face from your attack. “Hey!” he shouted through a laugh. “Now, that’s not what I meant! I just seen you at the cemetery after your boah said you was going to visit his pa. Didn’t want to assume.” His laughter had died down by the end of the sentence as he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye.

You looked at your feet, having dragged the stool to the other side of the bath and sat down. Under normal circumstances, you would let the conversation die there. No need to continue, no need for explanations. But, for some reason, with Arthur, a man who is essentially a stranger, you wanted to let him know. “Oh. Well, yeah, that was his pa,” you began, reaching into the water and gathering some of the remaining suds to begin washing his other arm. “He passed a few years ago. He got pretty sick for a week or so, and then right when we thought he was getting better he was just… gone. All of a sudden. It…” you took a breath to steady yourself before you continued. “It was right after Ben was born, actually. Poor kid doesn’t even remember him.”

Arthur cleared his throat and looked away from you. “I’m real sorry. Shouldn’ve brought it up.”

You wish he hadn’t. You wish he could have just stayed flirty and playful. You wish he hadn’t unintentionally brought your mood down. It wasn’t his fault, but you still wished it hadn’t happened. “It’s fine,” you told him, quietly. “You didn’t know.”

You didn’t know how to continue. There was no way you could think of to cut through the awkward silence that followed. So, you finished up his bath with practiced efficiency, no longer taking the time to inwardly fawn over his muscled arms and calves. It only took a few more minutes until you had finished up - a lot sooner than you would have preferred under other circumstances. “Well, that should do it then,” you said quietly, clearing your throat and wiping your wet hands on your skirt. “You’re squeaky clean, Mountain Man.”

He coughed out a short, “Thanks,” as you stood to leave the room.

As soon as the door creaked shut, you practically ran out the back door, desperately in need of fresh air. You heaved yourself up to sit on top of the small stack of logs at the back of the house, wishing you had a drink as tears formed in the corners of your eyes. It was strange, really, talking about Andrew with him. You had talked with people about your late husband hundreds of times, and it always made you sad, but this time was different. It made you feel so overwhelmed and, somehow, raw. Talking to Arthur, a man you hardly knew, about your husband, confirming that Andrew was gone, it seemed wrong and you couldn’t pinpoint why.

Maybe you were just tired? Maybe it was because, between Arthur and Mary, you had talked about him more today than usual? Maybe you could see yourself beginning to move on, and you felt guilty?

After a good amount of time had passed, when you were certain Arthur had left the bath and gone up to his room, you re-entered the hotel and made your way back into the bath room to clean up. Even after nearly a half an hour, the scent of soap and lavender hung thick in the air. You quickly opened the curtains and the windows to air out the humid room and let in the afternoon sunlight.

As soon as the light filtered in the room, highlighting the wisps of steam still hanging about, you noticed a folded piece of paper sitting on the stool by the tub. Gingerly, you picked it up and ran your fingers over the handwritten letters on the front. Your name. Upon unfolding it, ten dollars fell to the floor, and you saw a drawing of a small daisy in the upper right hand corner of the paper.

Below the daisy was a note, beginning with your name.

I’m real sorry about bringing up your husband. I know losing someone you love never really goes away, and I can see that talking about him hurt. Can’t really make up for that, but I hope a nice dinner from the saloon today for you and the boy will help out just a little.

Thank you for the best cleaning I’ve had in years. I hope we can really meet for a drink sometime.

Yours, Arthur

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #f!reader #arthur morgan x f!reader

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welcometophu · 3 years

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Not Your Guardian Angel: Chapter 12

Marked Book 3: Not Your Guardian Angel

Chapter 12

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Pels looks up The Dog Shack on Saturday morning, trying to find something about them online. She learns that they’re in Unity (which she knew) and she finds the phone number to call, but while there are plenty of reviews online, she can’t find a menu or a way to order.

So she presses the numbers and makes the call.

“Hello, this is The Dog Shack. How many dogs would you like and what name should the order be under?” a voice sings out cheerfully.

“Just how many and what name?” Pels asks. “There aren’t any options?”

“Ah, you’re a first timer.” She can hear the deep breath that the speaker takes before blurting out, “Our dogs are all mini dogs on a white-bread bun, which are made fresh three days a week. Each dog comes with cheese, meat sauce, and pickled onion, with optional ketchup and mustard. We don’t have any vegetarian options, and the cheese is a shredded Vermont sharp because our owner doesn’t like New York sharps and thinks cheese sauce is a copout unless it’s made fresh and we don’t have time for that. The wait time will be about fifteen minutes for us to prep your order, and we take cash, credit, or school dining dollars at the counter when you come to pick up. Your order will be packed in foil first, then a biodegradable cardboard carton which we hope you recycle. Each dog costs only $1.50, and you can get ten for $12.”

“Oh.” Pels has no idea how filling a mini dog could be, and at that price they seem like they must be small. “I’ll take… four? And do you have fries or anything?”

“Do you want your fries topped the same as your dogs?”

“Sure. Can I get ketchup on the side for both?” Pels has no idea what she’s doing, but it sounds good anyway, and in the end it sounds like maybe she’s getting breakfast and lunch both for under $10 total, which is a good thing.

Fifteen minutes later she’s waiting in line at the small shack, and ten minutes after that she’s already finding a spot in the stands to sit while teams from four different colleges warm up on the track below. She opens the first cardboard container and takes out a piping hot mini dog and takes a careful bite, meat sauce and cheese dripping back into the container below.

She burns the roof of her mouth, but she thinks it might be worth it, because it really does taste so damned good.

“Isn’t that your friend’s friend’s girlfriend?” Dad murmurs, nudging her shoulder to get her attention.

Where…? Oh. There, standing at the lowest level right below where Pels sits, looking up at her. Cass has her hair in a high ponytail and is wearing a denim jacket with embroidered flowers along the shoulders, her hands shoved into the pockets. She doesn’t seem ashamed to be caught staring.

Pels lifts one hand, then gestures to the seat Dad occupies since to Cass it should look empty.

Cass’s body language is a clear huff of “well, fine” before she climbs the stands and cautiously takes the seat next to Pels. “You’re Nate’s friend,” Cass says.

“One of them,” Pels agrees. She gets the feeling that Nate knows everyone but doesn’t have a lot of friends, which seems almost as sad as knowing no one and having few friends. Maybe even more sad. “And you’re Dax’s girlfriend.”

Cass makes a small noise and pointedly looks down at the track, where Nate and Dax are stretching side by side, talking.

“Not much of a talker, is she?” Dad says.

Pels takes another bite of hot dog. If she’s not talking, she might as well eat.

Two dogs disappear for breakfast, and by the time the first races are starting she’s working on the fries. She burps and is pretty sure she’ll be tasting cheesy meat sauce for the next several hours; thankfully it’s a good kind of taste.

“Hey there.” Shane slides onto the bench on her other side, Jess just beyond him. His cane clatters against the metal, and his hand brushes against Pels’s knee as he reaches for it to set it back within reach. “Did we miss anything?”

“It’s a track meet,” Cass says sharply. “We’ll be sitting around and waiting all day for five minutes of running that will be over before we blink.”

“If that’s how you feel about it, we can just text you when the race is coming up and you can go do something else if you’d rather,” Pels responds before she thinks about it.

Cass closes her mouth, lips pursed tightly.

Jess leans across Shane. “I told Shane that you’d been watching practices, and that you were going to cheer Nate on today. So we thought we’d come lend our voices.”

Cass huffs. “I know why I’ve been watching practice. What’s your reason? You know Nate’s not—”

“It’s peaceful.” Pels cuts her off before she can get into a full rant. “And why are you so angry about it? Nate’s my friend. It’s nice up here, and it isn’t crowded when they’re practicing. I like coming up here to sit in the sun and work.”

Shane leans in close on her other side, his knee and hip pressed against her. “Ignore her. She’s always cranky. Don’t let her drag you into whatever’s got up her ass.”

“I can hear you,” Cass snaps.

“Then try being nice,” Shane counters. “Or go sit somewhere else.”

It’s different from watching practice. When more people wedge into the bench, Jess moves to sit in front of Shane instead, leaning forward as she cups her hands around her mouth and calls out to cheer on a runner that Pels doesn’t recognize.

“Hey.” Shane nudges her again, his hand covering hers where it rests on her knee. “Is this okay?”

Um.

The loudspeaker goes off, but Pels doesn’t process the words, all too aware of Shane’s hand on hers, and the way his fingers dip to thread between hers.

“Nate and Dax are heading to line up.” Shane points as Jess calls out both names loudly. Nate waves back at them, while Dax just looks up, brow furrowed.

Pels waves back with her free hand because it seems like the right thing to do. Her other hand is too warm, and her stomach is doing little flip-flops like maybe the dogs and fries were a bad idea. She still has half of them left for later, sitting on the floor by her feet. Maybe she’ll offer them to someone else, if her stomach doesn’t improve. She can’t decide if this is bad or not.

“This one is the 1500,” Jess says. “It’s short for a long distance runner. I think they’ll be doing a 5k today, too. I don’t know if this meet has a 10k; those are a little more boring to watch, since it’s basically a half hour of running around the track. They’re usually the last event of the day, while everyone else is cleaning up.”

“Dax said he’s running the 1500 and 5k today,” Cass says tightly. “The 5k is mid-afternoon.”

Shane squeezes Pels’s hand. “They’re going to kill it,” he says.

Her hand is warm. Not overheated, not on fire, just comfortably warm. And her stomach is settling, slowly, although it still feels like butterflies might have taken root. Or maybe bees. Yes, bees, buzzing around but also building a honeycomb sweetness that spreads through her limbs.

Who knew holding hands could feel so… nice.

The loudspeaker burbles again, and the runners resolve into a single line across the track. Nate stands next to Dax, tall and lanky, bouncing on his toes as he shakes his arms. Most of the runners look like Nate—thin and rangy, some shorter than others. Dax has a heavier build, with a longer torso and shorter legs. He looks out of place on the field, both in build and in the way he stands quietly with no outward energy.

A sharp noise sounds, and the runners all crouch in position, and with a popping sound, they’re off.

They crowd together, and for a moment it’s hard to figure out who’s who. Pels sees a mass of jerseys and tries to pick out the white with gold and purple trim that are Nate and Dax. She holds her breath as they go down the long, straight length, and as they enter the first curve she realizes that they’ve moved from across the track into a small pack in the two inner lanes. She finally finds Dax in the middle of the pack, his curls just long enough to bounce with every step. Nate is second from the front, edging away from the pack, just behind the frontrunner dressed in red and blue.

For the first time, Pels notices Nate’s running shoes, which are a vivid gold, shining with every step, matching the stripes on his jersey.

“Go Nate! Go Dax!” Jess screams, her hands cupped around her mouth like a megaphone.

Pels realizes she’s gripping Shane tightly as the first minute passes and the first lap completes. She glances at him, and he only smiles and squeezes her fingers gently as if to say that it’s fine. She holds on tight and turns her attention back to the race.

The runner in red and blue keeps inching away from the pack, but Nate keeps up with him, staying just a step behind, so close that Pels is afraid they could trip over each other. She can see the way the runner at the lead glances back as if to see if Nate’s still there, and he always is. They move away from the main pack, and Dax moves up, sliding into the third position at the head of the middle group. Two of the runners are falling behind, the pack leaving them as they keep running through the second and third laps.

As the final lap begins, the pack has stretched out, and the results look clear cut. The runner in red and blue picks up the pace again, his face flushed, and Pels imagines she can see the stridor of his breath.

From behind, Dax puts on a burst of speed, moving into the second lane as he approaches Nate. But Nate must hear him coming, because he speeds up as well, passing the runner who was in first before Dax can. They both go flying by him as if he’s standing still, and Nate crosses the finish line just ahead of Dax. They fall on each other on the other side, holding each other up and patting each other’s backs as the crowd screams.

Cass exhales roughly.

“That’s our boys!” Jess shouts, her voice hoarse from yelling. “Go PHU!”

That was possibly the most intense three and a half minutes of Pels’s life. As the adrenalin fades, she realizes she’s still anchored with Shane’s hand around hers, and the liquid honey in her gut has warmed her all the way up to her eyeballs. She’s light-headed; as she slowly disengages and stands, she wavers until Dad props her upright.

Shane grabs his cane, bracing himself to rise as well. He reaches one hand for her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Of course. I’m just going to—” Pels is blocked in with Shane on one side and Cass on the other. She stands carefully so she doesn’t step on the food she has resting at her feet, and she can’t go down because Jess is in front of them.

No one is sitting directly behind them, and Pels carefully climbs up to the next row in the stands. “I’m going to go pee,” she says bluntly, and heads for the stairs. She thinks there’s conversation behind her, but she doesn’t stick around to find out what it might be.

They’re sitting in her usual spot for watching practice, on the opposite side of the track from the building. She makes her way around the perimeter, and by the time she gets inside she’s breathing more evenly. “What even was that?” she grumbles.

“Were you flustered by holding hands, or by the race?” Dad grins when she glares at him. “Holding hands, then. That’s called attraction, Pels. Which you feel for Shane. Your soulmate.”

“I don’t like it.” It’s a lie, of course. That warm honey sensation was nice, just confusing. And overwhelming. Maybe she does like it, but she hates it at the same time, like something’s just slipped out of her control again.

Being on her own she can control. When it’s just her—well, and Dad—she knows what to expect. This is throwing in all kinds of variables and turning her life from simple addition into calculus. And unlike some people who are math majors, she really doesn’t enjoy calculus.

She pushes open the door of the bathroom and waits for a turn at the sink so she can wash her face and push at her hair as if she can do anything about the curls. She fingercombs them, taking them from windswept to just slightly messy, and pats everything back in place.

“Here.”

Cass stands to her left, a hair tie dangling from one fingertip. When Pels just looks at her, Cass pushes her hand closer. “Take it,” she orders. “Do something about that mop or when the wind kicks up again you’re going to lose an eye from it blowing all over. Or someone else will.” As soon as Pels cautiously takes the hair tie, Cass stands with her hands on her hips, head tilted as she looks her over critically. “Your hair is such an odd length. Do you style it?”

“It doesn’t really hold a style, so I just pick a length and run with it, and try to remember to keep it from getting too long. I’m lucky it doesn’t frizz.” It’s more like ringlets as long as she remembers to keep it from going wild. Many ringlets. Shorter ones for bangs and gradually longer down the side of her face. She can just barely pull it back into a ponytail, but it does keep the bulk of it away from her face, which isn’t a bad thing. “Thanks.”

“Hmph.” Cass tugs the scrunchy out of her own hair, running her fingers through it before braiding it quickly and tying it again. “You need all the help you can get.”

“Rude,” Dad says.

“You don’t need to take it out on me,” Pels tells her. The bathroom is less crowded now, so Pels turns to lean against the sink next to Cass, figuring if someone needs it, they’ll tell her to move. “I get it. You’re cranky.”

Cass pulls lip gloss out of her bag and leans closer to the mirror, pursing her lips before carefully putting it on. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know what you think about me—”

“You don’t like Dax doing track.”

Cass straightens quickly, hand falling as she looks at Pels. No, not looking—staring. Pels feels as if Cass is trying to look through her and see her squishy guts on the inside. Pels crosses her arms and glares back.

“I’m right,” Pels says.

“So what if you are?” Cass counters.

“You could talk about it.” Pels shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, I already know you’re angry, so it’s not like you’ll lose any points if you bitch about it. And you’ve already got acting like a complete bitch nailed so far, so.” She shrugs again. “Just go for it already.”

“I just don’t understand why he has to take up another sport,” Cass mutters under her breath. She puts away the lip gloss and pulls out mascara, touching up her lashes. “He’s so busy with football in the fall, and with everything going on—” She cuts off. “I just thought that maybe we’d get a break this spring. That we could spend more time together. And now he’s got practice every afternoon and he’s spending extra time working with Nate, and he hasn’t got any time left for me.”

“So you’re jealous,” Pels says quietly.

“You do understand human emotion,” Dad observes.

It’s always easier to see something from the outside, especially something like this. Besides. Being angry because something’s out of her control is a feeling that Pels is intimately familiar with, and it’s not difficult to recognize it in Cass.

“Dax is really good at it,” Pels says slowly. “I mean, he and Nate took first and second in that race and made it look easy. When they started passing that guy, he couldn’t keep up. There was nothing anyone else could do, and it looked like if he’d tried, Dax and Nate would’ve passed him anyway. Aren’t you proud of your boyfriend?”

“Hmph.” Cass tucks her mascara away and leans on the edge of the sink, looking down.

Pels isn’t sure if sad is better than angry.

“I thought you were all tiny, sharp angles.” Cass’s voice is sharp, but muted. “Where’s this sympathy coming from?”

“Oh, I suck at people, and yes, I know what it’s like to be angry all the time. Which means you are a person I suck a little less at getting because you might not be small, but you try to keep a barbed wire fence around yourself,” Pels shoots back. She smirks because Cass’s scowl means she’s got it right. “Besides. I like Nate. He’s not trying to steal your boyfriend. I don’t think he could if he tried. I mean. Would any guy who doesn’t love you to the moon and back put up with your shit?”

Dad laughs loud enough that Pels winces. “Now who’s being rude?” He sounds proud of her for it.

Cass huffs. “Whatever. I need a coffee. Come on.”

Somehow Pels ends up with a coffee in each hand while Cass carries two as well. When they make their way back to the bleachers, Cass shoves one of her cups towards Jess. “Here,” she says, before dropping a small bag of sugar, cream, and stirrers on the bench next to her.

Pels gives one of hers to Shane, then opens her cup enough to inhale. It’s a small cup, which isn’t nearly enough caffeine in her opinion, but it is warm on her hands. She cradles it, enjoying the warmth more than the taste for the moment.

Shane adds cream to his coffee, while Jess adds both sugar and cream. As Shane sits back, he leans closer to Pels, and she leans into his warmth before she thinks better of it. Shane shifts his coffee to the hand further from Pels, then lifts his arm.

“He’s offering to keep you warm,” Dad points out.

“Oh,” Pels exhales. She slides the few millimeters closer to Shane, his warmth heavy against her side as he drops his arm over her shoulder and somehow tucks her even closer.

It’s not awful.

It might even be good.

Jess is screaming at someone in purple and gold that Pels doesn’t recognize, standing up and punching the air when they finish the race in second place. Pels keeps close to Shane to avoid being touched, relaxing as Jess settles down again.

Jess somehow seems to know more people on the track team than any of them, and she keeps up a running commentary through the afternoon. She even manages to pull Cass into conversation, begrudging as it seems. Pels uses the time to just watch them all, and eventually eat the remains of her hot dogs and fries, which are still somehow good when cold.

By the time the final race comes up, and Nate and Dax line up for the 5k, Pels can almost ignore the fact that her butt is cold and a little numb from sitting too long. She knows there’s only fifteen minutes more to watch, and around the track most of the teams are already cleaning and packing gear.

As they start, there are more than twenty runners on the track, spread out across, bunching up as they all try and make it to the inner lane. Somehow Nate and Dax are in the middle of the pack. Pels clenches her hands together tightly to see them there, walled in by bodies all around them. But both Dax and Nate seem relaxed, running easily through the first lap.

It’s not an exciting race for most of it. There comes a point about halfway through where some of the pack fall behind, maybe a half dozen racers trailing the rest. Another lap, and a few more fall away, until only a handful remain in a tight group at the head.

One of the racers makes his move with three laps to go, pulling away and putting several paces between himself and the pack. Nate moves up as well, taking the space between him and the pack, and Pels can see the plan clearly after the earlier race. When the final lap begins, Nate starts pushing around the outside, forcing the runner in first to speed up. Dax comes out of the pack, stride lengthening just enough to keep him close to the frontrunners along with one other racer. By halfway through the lap, it’s obvious that unless someone else makes a move now, these four are vying for the top spots.

When they hit the straightaway, Dax somehow seems to go into overdrive, head down just a little as he pushes past both Nate and the other runner. Nate glances at him, and joins him, loping a half step behind him, leaving the others in the dust even as he’s losing ground when Dax somehow sprints through the final run. Dax slows after he crosses the line, and Nate catches up, and together they walk around the ring, Nate’s arm slung across Dax’s shoulder.

Pels joins her friends in jumping up and screaming, because that seems to be the right thing to do.

Cass grabs her phone and fires off a text. “Come on. They’ll meet us at Teas Please, because no one ever seems to have anywhere else to go.”

Dad bumps into Pels, and she stumbles forward, hands reaching out. For a moment she’s afraid she’s either going to fall into Jess or over the bench and crack her head open on the one below, then Shane’s arms wrap around her, pulling her back against him.

“You okay?” he murmurs, breath warm against her ear.

Pels’s cheeks heat up. “Yeah. I’m fine,” she says.

Jess bites her lip and turns away. There’s an uncomfortable twist in Pels’s gut, like she knows she’s done something wrong and it wasn’t even her fault.

“Sometimes I’m a klutz,” she says, which isn’t the whole truth, but isn’t a lie either. Cass wasn’t there for the guardian angel reveal, and Pels isn’t sure she’s ready to be that out to the school about her Talent yet. “Thanks for the save.”

“If I hadn’t, Jess would’ve,” Shane says. He grabs his cane, and Pels thinks he’s favoring his leg as he inches down the row to the stairs.

“And that’s my fault,” she mutters. “Good job, pushing people around until they get hurt.”

“If you’d just—”

“Stay out of it,” she hisses under her breath, cutting Dad off. “Don’t try to help.”

“Whatever it is you’re talking about, rest assured that I wasn’t trying to help,” Cass says idly. “But you’re in my way, so just keep moving and we can get out of here.” She gives Pels a little nudge.

They make it out of the bleachers without further mishap. The teams have somehow already managed to leave the field, and Cass is half focused on her phone and half on walking, giving small reports on the status of Nate and Dax as they move along. They have to cross campus entirely to get to Teas Please, and Nate and Dax manage to catch up with them before they do so.

Dax picks Cass up and kisses her, one hand in her hair and one on her ass as Cass wraps her legs around him to hold on. Pels can’t figure out how Cass could possibly be insecure in that relationship.

Nate, on the other hand, wears his heart on his sleeve when he watches the way Dax greets Cass. Despite the smile he pastes on as they walk into Teas Please, Pels can see that he’s still wistful.

God, when she actually looks, apparently she can see people being emotional. She blames this entirely on Dad. She can barely handle her own emotions; she really doesn’t want to have to deal with everyone else’s as well.

Speaking of… Pels twists and looks behind herself. Where the hell did Dad even go? Is she actually being let out on her own?

“I don’t have your table.” Serina looks up as soon as they enter, her brow furrowed. There are bags under her eyes, and she pauses long enough to yawn before she grabs a stack of menus. “How many—” She counts under her breath, then nods quickly. “Okay. Six. I’m sorry, I can’t get the booth, but we can pull a couple tables together in the front. It’s like everyone who was at your meet came in here all at once, and there’s a group from UAlbany at the big back table, and I just—”

“It’s okay.” Nate lays a hand on Serina’s shoulder and she just stops dead, shoulders slumping like a string’s been cut. “Hey,” he says softly. “Have you been sleeping?”

She shrugs one shoulder. “Sometimes. Maybe. Mostly. I don’t know. It’s weird. Everything’s weird, y’know? I’m just kind of tired and over everything, and it’s a bit much, and I just need Carolyn to come back and then everything will be okay. I think I failed a test this week.”

Everyone’s still missing. It’s been a week, and there’s been no sign of Nikita.

And Pels just somehow… forgot.

Not entirely. She’s seen Rory seeming lost without Alaric around, and Kit looking much the same. But it slips from her mind in the times between, not affecting her the same way it affects them.

She feels bad about that.

“They’ll be back,” Nate says firmly. “I’m sure of it. Carolyn would never leave you and Kit behind.”

“Besides,” Dax says. “Orson’s not settled. I can still feel his unfinished business.” He taps the side of his head. “Which means Alaric has to come back, or I’ll kill him myself, then yell at his ghost.”

“Honestly,” Cass mutters. “Can’t we have one meal without drama?”

“Hey.” Shane catches Pels’s hand. “Can we talk for a minute? Before we go in?”

They’re already in, crowded into the space around the podium at the front of the restaurant. But Pels nods and lets Shane tug her back outside, as the others go on to claim space inside Teas Please.

“I forgot,” she says with a low sigh. “Nikita’s missing, and I forgot.”

“Are you worried?” Shane asks, and when she nods, he keeps going, “then it’s fine. It’s like grieving. It doesn’t happen all the time, and you have to keep living your life, too. She’ll be back. They’ll be back.” He drops her hand and takes a step back, leaning on his cane. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

Pels glances to her right and left. Dad’s still suspiciously missing, and she doesn’t know why. Being on her own is unusual. “Okay,” she says slowly.

“You went out with Jess.” Shane leans back, letting the front wall of the restaurant take his weight. “And I’d like you to go out with me. Just us. On a date.”

“I feel like you guys are trying to woo me,” Pels grumbles. “Like you set up some kind of a plan to tag team to tame the wild thing—” She cuts off as his expression twists into something rueful. “You did. You totally did.”

“Maybe a little,” Shane admits. “Still. What do you think? I just—I feel like we should give this a chance.”

This.

She doesn’t look down at her wrist, but she knows the ink is there.

Dad’s nowhere around, but she can still hear his voice saying, “He’s right. Just give it a chance,” or maybe, “going out with Jess didn’t kill you, did it?”

It’s funny how he impacts her life without even being present.

She sighs heavily, crossing her arms. “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” she repeats. “Okay. Yes. Fine. We’ll go on a date. That is not a group thing like this. You can even hold my hand since obviously touching you is not destroying my soul any more than it already has.”

“We don’t want to destroy your soul,” Shane says quietly. He carefully stands again, balanced with one hand on his cane and the other held out to Pels. She slips her hand in his and matches his pace as they walk in.

They may not want to destroy her soul, but they could. It’d be so easy, and Pels is so used to it. Every time she gets used to something it’s snatched away.

And this time Dad isn’t even here telling her that maybe it’s okay, that maybe this time everything will turn out just fine.

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graemeruns · 6 years

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Multiple update time: Reigate half, Sittingbourne 10 and Abingdon marathon

Oh dear, it’s been 3 months since I last wrote anything on here about my running, so now’s the time to get up to speed with what has been going on.

After the Caterham half (detailed here) I looked at the goal races I had lined up and drew up a training plan. I actually only had two races booked in my calendar: the Reigate half marathon in mid September, and the Abingdon marathon five weeks later. So I decided to loosely follow the marathon training plan I used for my first ever marathon in Brighton in 2014, with Abingdon as the eventual finale and Reigate as one of the marathon tune-up runs. I always find training difficult in the warm summer months and during the school holidays, but this plan was doable because it shouldn’t mean excessive mileage (the greatest week being 55 miles, but most weeks between 40-50 miles). It also only meant five running days per week, so two days to fully rest and recover and not create any further injuries. I was hoping that training when it was warm would mean that the cool autumn races would be much easier too!

I had entered the Reigate Half in 2017 at the ‘early bird’ price and it had always been my main aim this year once recovered from my injury; it had been useful to have a long term goal to focus on when I started back running in April. After my Caterham half disappointment my training needed to focus on building up the Sunday long runs (all after a fast paced Saturday parkrun) and also ensuring I tried to get one tempo or interval session in during the week. I was also determined to listen to my body, so if I felt too tired for one of the sessions, I would change it to something else, but make sure that I still got the miles under my belt. By the time the Reigate half came round on 16th September, I had managed 5 runs between 16 - 20 miles, and felt a lot more prepared than when I ran Caterham 2 months previously.

This was my first time running the Reigate half. The organisation was superb, and the communication, event village, baggage tent and parking was faultless. The course itself was all on closed roads, and I’d been warned it was quite hilly. In fact there were only really two hills - in the first mile and the last mile - but everything else was all slightly undulating; I never felt like I was on the flat at any point. My race plan was to go out at 4min/km (6:25/mile), and see how long I could keep that up. In the end I managed that pace for the first 8 miles, then started to slow, crossing the finish in 1:26:34. My whole run, however, had been slightly hampered by the hill in the first mile: going up it had been slow, so I had rocketed down it and that had made both my hamstrings sore, like a minor strain, which remained for the rest of the race. It probably didn’t slow me down much, but it certainly wasn’t nice to run with. Nevertheless, I was content with my time, and finished 1st in the V50 age category, which was an added bonus despite there being no age category prizes. You can view my race on Strava here.

After Reigate there were now five weeks until the Abingdon marathon. In the next two weeks my long runs consisted of a 16 miler with 12 miles at around marathon pace (4:13/km or 6:46/mile), and a 20 miler. The following week I decided to do a final tune-up race and entered the Sittingbourne Striders 10 mile road race. I had run this race in 2015 in a time of 64:30; you can read about that encounter here, which explains the course in detail. This year I was hoping to run a bit quicker and something in the 63 minute range. The weather was cool and conditions very good apart from a fairly stiff breeze in places, and this came to the fore midway through the race at the highest point of the circuit. I ran well, and, more importantly, enjoyed the race; I enjoy few races these days as I’m usually thinking of pace, splits and times rather than the event itself. The fact that I didn’t hit my goal time, but finished in 64:22 (which was a small PB) didn’t really bother me. Oh, and I was third too, and received a £10 Sweatshop voucher and a trophy for my troubles.

You can view my efforts on Strava here.

Now there were two weeks left before Abingdon, so I tried to do a mini taper, but failed really because I had put myself down for the Surrey League Cross Country the following Saturday, and ended up with a 41 mile week. So in the end it was more like a 1 week taper, with a half-hearted attempt at carb loading two days before the race. I examined the training I’d done over the past 17 weeks, and the mileage worked out at an average of 43 miles/week. Compared to 2015, when I finished the London marathon in a time of 3 hrs 06 minutes on an average 52 miles/week, and 2016 when I finished in 2 hrs and 58 minutes on an average of 57 miles/week, the training was certainly on the light side. Saying that, I’d got some good long runs in, and was sure that the warm weather training would be beneficial now the temperature had dropped. I was also weighing in at the lightest I had been for some time, which could only help. Realistically, I didn’t think I could get under 3 hours again, but thought I could be close, so my plan was to run the first 13.1 mile in 90 minutes and see how it went from there.

5:10am on Sunday and I’m up before my alarm goes off. I’d sorted out everything the night before, but it still took me the best part of an hour to eat and get ready, so soon after 6am I was in the car and away. I hadn’t been looking forward to the drive much, and it took me about 1 hour 45 minutes, taking it easy as it was dark and also foggy in places, with the outside temperature about 8 degrees - perfect running conditions though! Parking was in a local school, for which there were plenty of spaces, and the event all took place at the local sports arena, so everything (toilets, baggage, snacks and coffee, and space to warm up) were all close to hand. I spotted the local scouts were selling flapjacks for 50p, so bought some to add to my pre-race banana as I was already feeling peckish from my breakfast 2 hours previously. I stayed dressed until 15 minutes before the start, did one lap of the track just to get the legs moving, and settled in waiting for the starter.

Abingdon marathon is a marathon for serious marathon runners. You won’t find many charity fun-runners here. The only real reason to run it is because it is flat and fast, and the race was packed with lean racers who were certainly not new to this game, looking for that elusive PB that perhaps they had missed at the hottest London marathon earlier in the year. It was 18 months since I last raced the distance, and I was quite nervous whether I’d be able to complete it on the limited training I had done. When the hooter went, there was the usual excited racing off by some runners who forgot that it wasn’t a 5k, but I soon fell into my own pace and let these runners gradually come back to me.

The route heads out to the east at first to Radley, onto a footpath through Radley lakes (covered in low mist) then back to the west, twisting through the narrow streets of Abingdon town, where we were greeted with some generous support. The route then headed south out of Abingdon, along the River Thames, until it turned sharply to the west again, just before 10k, for the first of two loops through the local villages, each loop approximately 14k. It then headed back towards Abingdon town again, through western part of the town before turning back to the finish at the athletics track.

My memory of races is usually vague, but there were some parts that stuck in my mind:

There was the heavily panting runner who was taking up the whole path through Radley lakes by running in the middle (it was easily two-abreast if you ran to the side). That slowed me down a bit, and I genuinely worried that he could safely run 10k let alone a marathon.

There were the three runners who drafted behind me for many miles, using me as a slight windbreak against the breeze. I didn’t get annoyed because I was running my own race, but it would have been nice for them to have taken turns at the front. I dropped them both later in the race.

There was the point after about 5 miles when I said to myself “Why am I doing this? It all feels quite hard, and I could just stop and go home early”. That was a strange emotion so early on, and I think I was focusing too much on the remaining distance. I calmed down by telling myself it was just a long training run.

There was the lady runner who caught me somewhere around the 18 mile mark, and it urged me to concentrate on my pace, which must have been slowly dropping. I ran with her for a few miles before she gradually pulled away and finally finished a minute in front of me.

I remember the joy at seeing the 20 mile marker, and knowing it was only 10k to go. If I could keep my pace up I would finish in a respectable time. Although I was starting to struggle to turn the legs over, it was only in the last 5k that my pace really started to slow.

As you run through Abingdon town with only 3k to go, you have to negotiate a twisty underpass, and climbing up the short steep far side was torture!

Finishing on the athletics track with a fast 300m sprint where I overtook a few people, including the triathlon legend Annie Emmerson. It was a great conclusion to the race.

So how was my race overall (which you can view on Strava here)? Well, I passed half-way in just over 90 minutes, and proceeded to lose another 3 minutes over the second half. My 10k splits were 42:28, 43:05, 43:43 and 44:34, so no big collapse, just a gradual slowing, although I did get my pace back on track for the final 2.2k which I completed in 9:33. My finish time was 3:03:23, which is my second fastest marathon time, albeit 5 minutes slower than my PB. I placed 152 out of the 744 finished, of which the first 124 ran sub 3 hours. Now that is a quality field of marathon runners!

Would I recommend it? Absolutely - the results speak for themselves! The race has a capacity for 1200 and does sell out, so enter early. It usually opens in mid February and is full within 6 weeks. I got a medal and a t-shirt for my £43, as well as some very sore legs for a few days, followed by a nasty head cold as my immune system wasn’t up for keeping anything at bay!

Next race is the Brighton 10k in 3 weeks. I’ve not run a 10k this year yet due to my long time absence with injury, so it will be interesting to see if I can remember how to pace myself over that shorter distance. I’d like to aim for 38 minutes but I need to shift this cold first and get some speedwork in to see if I have any hope of that. Whatever the outcome, it’s great to be back running well again.

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bfgplanner · 6 years

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I think it’s been a couple weeks since I’ve dropped by with an update, and as usual, a lot has happened! When I last checked in, I was feeling a bit down about my pace. Losing my speed has been the most frustrating aspect of my recovery- it had been YEARS since I did a run (of any distance!) at a 10+ minute pace. Yet, there I was, finishing each of my runs between a 10 and 10:30 pace. The good news, I suppose, is that at least I was consistent, I was running my long runs at the same pace I was running my shorter 5 milers! The problem is that I don’t have much time before New York, and my goal is to get the endurance I need in order to finish the full distance. So, I just don’t have time for speed work, and I'm really timid about doing hill repeats because I’m not sure if my knee is ready for these. Therefore, I just got stuck at an easy slower pace.

About 2 weeks ago, though, I got really tired of running so slowly. Having so many speedy friends on Strava and Garmin Connect really put a spotlight on how much my speed differed from that of my teammates and friends. Something had to give. I deleted all of my speed and distance records from my Garmin, and decided I needed to start fresh. I started pushing myself more, mostly on my mid-distance runs. I would run the first 2 miles easily, and then start pushing my pace for each remaining mile, always ensuring my last mile was my fastest. Slowly but surely, my speed increased, and on every run I was getting a new 5k or 10k record. Then, finally, I got a mile under a 9 minute pace. I felt a bit silly feeling so proud of this accomplishment, especially since my pre-surgery MARATHON pace was under 9 minutes. That’s right, I used to be able to run 26 miles under a 9 minute pace, but it took me a year and a half of recovery to get just ONE mile in at this pace. Since then, I’ve been pushing myself more, and am happy to be edging closer to a 9 minute average for my short and mid-distance runs.

Another issue I’ve been dealing with lately is finding the right shoe. For the past 3 years, I’ve mostly run with Nike Pegasuses (Pegusii?). I think I’ve gone through 5 pairs! Unfortunately, though, I think my days of minimal-support running shoes are over. A few weeks ago, during Hoboken’s annual street festival, our local Fleet Feet had a really great sale on shoes. It gave me the opportunity to buy a few different types at (really) discounted pricing, so I didn’t feel so bad if they didn’t work out. One of the pairs I got was was a pair of Hoka Bondis. They took zero time to break in (my first run in them was dream-like!) and I was certain I had found my forever-shoe. That is, until it came time for a long run. As soon as I got about 7 miles in, I literally wanted to rip the shoes off and go barefoot. My hypothesis is that the heel drop is so severe, that it puts ALL of your weight on the balls of your feet. This isn’t so bad for about an hour, but anything after that becomes just unbearable. Maybe this works for for some people, but it doesn’t match my normal strike pattern and it’s downright painful and unnatural for me.

We went upstate this weekend, and I had hoped to get in 18 miles for my long run (I was really looking forward to trying a new trail I had found!), and I was on track to do so, but by mile 12 in the Hokas, the balls of my feet and toes were in incredible pain. I kept having to stop and shift all of my weight to my heels to provide some relief. I was only able to finish 15 (after which I took off my shoes and walked in just my socks to where I had parked the car). This unfortunate incident aside, the path itself was gorgeous- see the photo above! It’s called the Mohawk Hike and Bike trail, and it follows the Mohawk river for 35 miles through the woods. The leaves have started changing in this area, and of course the weather upstate this time of year is perfect. I haven’t been running hills at all, so the 500+’ elevation gain provided a fun challenge (and reminded me how undertrained I am for the NYC bridges I’ll soon have to conquer!)

Luckily, I also picked up a pair of Asic GT’s as well, and as of today, I’m trying desperately to break those in before NY (which is in less than 3 WEEKS!!).

And lastly, the first photo is from a wedding we attended last weekend for one of my closest Hoboken friends, who is part of the running team I joined when moving here. When I joined the team, it was because I wanted to become faster and have some camaraderie and competition at local races, I didn’t realize that I would also gain such close friends. It’s been 5 years (last month!) since I moved here, and over the course of those years, we’ve run hundreds of races together and even celebrated the weddings of four of us (the fifth, and final, wedding is coming up in November of next year).

I guess where I’m going with this, is that I don’t fully understand when people say that running (or any sport) is simply a hobby. Will I ever be an elite runner? No way. Will I ever do an Iron Man? Probably not, but I also used to say I would never do a marathon, so I’m not closing that door for good. Maybe a post-baby goal? I just think that anything that makes you excited to get out of bed at 5am every morning, keeps your heart, muscles, bones, lungs, and brain healthy, AND gives you friends you will probably be close to for a lifetime, is something more special than a hobby. I think it’s more of a lifestyle. In the age of being constantly connected to our smartphones, there are only so many activities you can do that completely disconnect you. Having a three hour get-together with friends where the only thing anyone is paying attention to is the conversation = is incredibly rare these days, but that’s just what a weekend long run provides. You don’t even have to be running with anyone to enjoy this luxury, I look forward to my morning solo runs because the last thing on my mind is work emails, texts and any sort of social media. I just get lost in my thoughts and am able to escape for an hour. I think that for most runners, it becomes natural to have this break from being connected, and is also why we start to go crazy if we don’t get our daily disconnect time!

Anyways, I guess the countdown to NY has begun, and with it, FORTUNATELY, cooler weather is finally here. My favorite season in my favorite city, and soon to be running my favorite race :)

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devonrunning · 6 years

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Jack & Jill Marathon Training Week 12: Step Back & Relax

Note: Week 12 was June 11-17. I did not run the marathon due to an injury suffered in week 15 of training, but I want to post these training recaps I had written for posterity. Once I catch up, I'll share all about my injury and what's next. In the meantime, you can get up to speed on Instagram @dev.on.running.

After running nearly 56 miles last week, it felt good to have a step-back week where I only ran about 40. My easy runs felt nice, and my two speedy runs went really, really well. I hate to say that my confidence keeps increasing week by week because I feel like that's asking for something bad to happen (Ed. note: guess I saw it coming!!!), but it's the truth.

I've been so in the groove of marathon training these past three months, so focused on the current week's training and nothing else, that I haven't really thought about what I would do after the marathon. Of course, if I'm lucky enough to qualify and register for Boston, I'll have to start training for that sometime in December. But what would I do until then?

For one thing, I'd like to run some shorter races and update my 5K and 10K PRs. They're from years and years ago—a whole other life, it feels like—and I'd like to see what I can do with my post-marathon fitness level.

I'd also like to refocus on strength training and possibly complete another 12-week round of Kayla Itsines' Bikini Body Guide. I've written a long post about my great experience with it last summer; I just need to fine-tune a couple of parts and add photos to it! I'll share it soon. I've never felt stronger in my life than I did after completing the program, and I'd like to get some of that feeling back. Plus, strength training can only improve my running, so if I can strike a good balance after this marathon, I'll be in great shape to tackle whichever big goal comes next.

MONDAY: 4-mile easy run at 9:42 average pace.

Evie has been asking to run with me, so I happily loaded her up in the stroller for a suuuuper easy post-20-mile run. We chatted, sang "Old MacDonald" and stopped at a playground about three miles in for some playtime. I hadn't run with Evie in a while, and it's much nicer now that she's a little bit older and not constantly taking off her shoes, throwing her water bottle on the ground, etc.!

TUESDAY: 6.2-mile easy run at 9:09 average pace.

WEDNESDAY: 5-mile easy run at 9:03 average pace.

Stephanie and I ran under some pretty dark, threatening clouds, but luckily managed to finish with only a few raindrops on our heads! The skies opened up not long after; love it when we manage to outrun the storm. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, I'm sure.

THURSDAY: 8 x 800m speed intervals (7.5 miles total) at 8:36 average pace.

I was all fired up over a landscaping snafu, so this workout went really well! I don't get angry very often, but when I do, I guess I should run intervals. ☺

Targeting 3:30, I ran 3:27, 3:26, 3:23, 3:28, 3:27, 3:33, 3:28 and 3:28. The one time I didn't hit 3:30 was when I spaced out and accidentally veered off my intended path. I doubled back once I realized my mistake, but it cost me a few seconds to turn around. No matter! I’m sure I could have hit 3:30 or below if it weren't for that mistake, and that's what counts.

This was the first time I actually hit the goal time for (almost) all of my intervals! Usually I hover in the mid to high 3:30s, hitting 3:30 or below just a few times. One big difference this time was that I ran on a straight path through a park vs. my usual round loop around a different park. I switched because my usual park is now host to a lot of summertime activities that make it very crowded and not ideal for running fast. I don't know if the straight vs. circular path was what made all the difference—I'm sure my angry energy helped, too—but I'll take it!

FRIDAY: Rest.

SATURDAY: 6-mile marathon goal pace run at 7:54 average pace.

I spent the late morning/early afternoon with girlfriends sipping champagne, eating brunch and catching up, so I wasn't sure how this run would go. It was also hot (low 80s, I think?), and high temps tend to throw me off my game.

Seeking as much shade as possible, I chose a tree-lined out-and-back route that went uphill near the midway point. It was a bit challenging to hold close to 8:00 pace, but not too bad. When I turned around to head back, I realized my next mile was essentially the last mile of the marathon. I tried to run what I thought felt like an 8:00/mile effort; thanks to the downhill, it turned out to be 7:35. Here's hoping I can summon that sort of speed when I'm running it as mile 26 rather than mile 4!

For the last mile, which was relatively flat (14 feet of elevation loss), I again tried to run 8:00 pace and hit 8:00 on the nose. It felt good to know what my goal pace feels like!

SUNDAY: 12-mile long run at 9:19 average pace.

12 miles seems like nothing compared to last week's 21, but it felt long since I ran it alone and was just counting down every mile until I could be done. There's a lot to be said for running with friends. Listening to podcasts helps pass the time, but not as much as actually interacting with other people! This run was slow, steady and uneventful—nothing exciting, but the perfect end to a rejuvenating step-back week.

Total weekly mileage: 40.7

Follow along in real time on Instagram @dev.on.running.

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kellexplainsitall · 3 years

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Oof. It's been a minute. Instead of chronological updates, I am doing categories.

Running:

Week of June 21-28

Monday - 9 easy

Tuesday - 9 whatever with Alison

Wednesday - 10 @ 7:44 pace

Thursday - 70 spin

Friday- 9 easy with Rebuck

Saturday -13 @ 7:58

Sunday -5 easy solo + 5 easy with Mom, Tom and Tim

It was a good week of running! It was a glorious 50 degrees for Wednesday's run and that pace felt so smooth and easy. I mean, that's essentially my marathon pace and I ran 10 miles averaging it with no stops and felt so controlled and fine. Give me the colder weather! Saturday's run was so hot and humid, I felt like death the entire time. You win some, you lose some. I had my first boardwalk run Sunday and it was very nice! My brother and I jumped directly into the ocean after two of our runs and it was MAGICAL. 10/10 would recommend.

Week of June 28-July 4

Monday - 10 @ 7:56 (progression)

Tuesday - 5 easy + 5 easy with Mom

Wednesday - 5 @ 7:27 (progression) + 5 easy with Mom and Tom

Thursday - 75 spin

Friday - 9 whatever miles with Allison and Rebuck

Saturday -13 @ 8:09 pace

Sunday 5-mile w/p, 5K race and 1 mile c/d

I had won this race the past 3 years, but you never know who is going to show up, especially in a year when not all races are back. It's a tough course, I hadn't ever broken 21 on it. My goal was a sub-7 last mile, as it is a hard uphill and a sub-21 finish. As the gun went off, three females shot out in front of me. The first mile is a screaming downhill (I ran 6:15) and found myself in second. The next mile is an out-and-back up and then back down a hill. I caught the first place female (a young girl) around 1.5 and clocked a 6:32. As I was congratulating myself, I turned up the last hill and saw a woman out of the corner of my eye and she looked like she was running strong. I was running as hard as I could but she just had more than me. She passed me with less than a quarter mile to do and I had nothing left to fight. I was disappointed to have lost the win, BUT I was super happy to have achieved my goals - sub-7 last mile (6:55) and a sub-21 (20:53 official, 20:29 watch). I wish I could find a flat, fast course to try out a sub-20!

Boston is less than 14 weeks away, so it's time to start increasing my long runs. I can't believe how quickly it is sneaking up.

Beach:

We got to the beach around 6 p.m. on Saturday. My parents, brother and his fiancée were there already, and we all ate pizza. My mom and I walked down to the beach just to see it, but then I went to bed around 8:30, I was beat from a long day.

We took Keegan to the beach in the morning and he LOVED it. We weren't sure how he would do in the water, but he was happy as could be, splashing around. He didn't even mind when he got a mouthful of water. He also didn't care when he was COVERED in sand. He just laughed.

After a morning at the beach and some lunch, Keegan went down for his nap and then my dad, Tim and I walked really far accidentally (like a mile in the heat) to go to a park with him. Luckily, the park was really cool and appreciated by all ages.

On Monday, my dad, Tim and Tom went golfing and my mom and Maureen went to Home Goods. I was putzing around at the house with Keegan when I went out on the deck to get the laundry. We got locked out on the second floor deck for 45 minutes! I had no phone, so I couldn't call anyone. We just had to sit and wait. Thank goodness I had brought Keegan out with me. Thankfully, my grandma and uncle finally arrived and let us in. Phew. After Keegan's nap, we went down to the beach for afternoon fun.

On Tuesday, my brother, Maureen, Tim ,Keegan and I walked down to the boardwalk. It's about a mile and a half walk before you hit any kind of retail, and it was hot! Keegan and I split an italian ice, while they got coffees/smoothies. It hit the spot and it was nice to walk around on the boardwalk.

We went to the beach in the afternoon, where my sister and BIL met us for the afternoon. Keegan loved having extra attention and we spent the evening on the roof deck.

Wednesday was our last full day, so we went to the beach in the morning, just the three of us. It wasn't very busy and there were a few gullies to play in, so Keegan was in heaven. An hour was the perfect amount of time for us.

After his nap, we headed to the boardwalk to do the rides. We rode two with him and he LOVED THEM. He was having such a great time, what a joy to watch him.

We let him try custard after, but he wasn't super into it! Oh well, maybe next year. We decided to leave early on Thursday, as Keegan had been waking up around 6 anyway, so we were on the road by 6:30 and home by 9:30.

Rest of the weekend:

It was a whirlwind of a day with laundry, grocery shopping and exercise, but I got it done. It felt like a true four-day weekend after that! We went to the pool on Sunday (empty) and Monday (PACKED) and did a lot of water activities.

I did a lot of yardwork and reading.

I have to say, I am far, far from the thinnest I have been. But this is the best I have ever felt about my body. I just feel strong, ya know? I don't feel confident about my stomach, but I feel like I can pick things up and run strong up hills. I am really glad I have stuck to strength through the pandemic, and am hopeful I can keep it up, even with a return to the office part-time next week. EEk.

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travelswithzsubes · 5 years

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2:57:19

I kind of can’t believe I’m sitting here writing this race report.

The very idea of it felt like a pipe dream for so many years. I actually can’t really remember the exact moment when I decided I wanted to run a sub-3 hour marathon. Was it in 2009, when I decided, lying comfortably on a Seaman Street bed in New Brunswick, that my first marathon would be in Pittsburgh? (Spoiler alert: No.) Was it in 2011, when I really tried to qualify for Boston for the first time? (No - I was just trying to run below a 3:10:59 in Wilmington that day so I could make the minimum Boston qualifying time.) Was it in 2012? (Kind of - my first half of the Ocean Drive Marathon was sub 1:30. But, looking back, that first half was a little bit too good to be true, and I faded hard to my 3:03 with an asterisk.) The first real time I tried to go sub-3 was 2015, in Philly, when I had a real shot at it with a 1:27 first half, and then my legs died and I had nothing. I also had nothing in 2017 in Boston. So - another try, at age 33, without really knowing if my body was capable of doing such a thing.

I actually started training for this marathon back in April, when, during a normal 10 mile run, I felt positively like a doughball. I could barely crack a 7 minute pace during the run. Enough. Enough! Time to train for real.

And so I went on a diet and started attacking my workouts. I went to Crossfit. I began running 4-5 days a week - because of injury, that had been unheard of during my buildups in 2012, 2015, 2017. I linked up with RVRR buddies to do speed workouts on the track basically once a week. I did a few summer series 5Ks. I started feeling faster on the track, and I did an unmeasurable number of double digit runs in what felt like triple digit heat. (An endless supply of hot runs during training.) Most crucially - I avoided any major injury. My knee always gives me little problems here and there, and I had some foot concerns throughout, but unlike other years I didn’t develop some kind of exotic and fun new injury from this training. And once I did my 22 mile training run at a 7:23 per mile pace, I knew I at least had a shot at my goal.

Running the incredibly hot Newport Half in Jersey City, four weeks before the marathon. My 1:25:51 was solid, but it wasn’t fast enough to make me feel fully confident.

Yes, I had a small bout of mysterious stomach muscle discomfort when I pushed during my track workouts and during other runs, and that freaked me out a little bit, but I came to terms with the fact that there wasn’t much I could do about it. “Just know it’s going to hurt and accept it,” Matt said. And it was true.

October 13, and I showed up in Schenectady with that mentality. There’s nothing like a small race, the Mohawk Hudson Marathon, mostly along bike paths and the eponymous rivers (and through duly named towns like Watervliet and Colonie and Cohoes), with everyone congregated and shivering in a small parking lot as the mist rises off the dewy grass, to get you fired up. I stripped off my pants and hoodie, dutifully handed my bag drop to the volunteers, and waited for the gun to go off.

***

I had just bought a GPS watch for this race, and it was equal parts distracting and helpful. Knowing that I was running about a 6:35 pace from the start of the race was incredibly helpful, yes. But it also meant that I was checking my watch incessantly throughout the first mile, and, therefore, during the whole race. It definitely took some joy out of the running and unquestionably took me out of the moment.

But whatever. I wasn’t in this race to have a Zen kind of experience. I really only had one mission - to run a sub-3 time, really no matter what it took. And so I checked my watch at the expense of being a bit more in touch with my body (and certainly at the expense of looking at the fall colors all around me and observing the Mohawk River floating lazily to my left).

The beginning of the race felt fine. It wasn’t hard for me to start with a 6:37 mile. It didn’t even feel that fast at that point, and it’s all lost in a sea of adrenaline then anyways. My goal was to run 6:45s for the first half (to reach the 13.1 mile mark in about 1:28) and then try to stay consistent enough through the end to run a 2:59 or whatever it was. Even so, 6:37 felt OK. The stomach thing did seem to act up briefly, which was a little disconcerting. But it faded away early on, and even though pushing felt hard, it didn’t have a major say in how I performed throughout the race.

I saw a nice pack of 7 runners in front of me around Mile 2, and I put in a little burst of speed. It was a small race, and running with a little group to break the wind for me would be kind of nice, I figured. I kind of stuck with them. The next few miles: 6:31, 6:26, 6:22. Suffice it to say I was feeling good, and maybe a little too good. There was a bunch of downhill, and I’m pretty sure I hit a 6:00 pace at some point in there, which affected those paces for sure.

That’s when I caught a conversation between a couple of the guys I was running with. “We’re trying to hit the halfway point at 1:25,” one said to another. So - too fast for me! It wasn’t easy to do, but I immediately dropped back. I’ve made the mistake to stay with - or even pass - a group like that in previous marathons. You feel so good, and nothing can go wrong at that point, but it’ll never get you very far. At that point I basically decided to focus on running relatively comfortable, consistent miles. We were solidly on the bike path at that point, where we’d stay for the next 13 miles or so. Even though the path is relatively uninspiring, and doesn’t have a ton of crowd support, it’s beautiful, and it really lets you get into a legitimate rhythm. Plus the cheering at the water stops wasn’t bad. I tried to take Alexi Pappas’s advice: “When it hurts, just smile.” It actually kind of weirdly works.

6:41, 6:39, 6:40. Except for one outlier mile at 6:33, every mile up until 13 was between 6:39 and 6:44. That was pretty much what I was going for. I looked at my watch all the while and just tried to let myself settle. I’d call it defensive running. I was being conservative, running slower than I was capable of, just really trying to set the internal pace metronome and trying to stick right to it.

But I started to get scared around Mile 9. That was where I felt myself needing to put in a little more effort to maintain that pace. Oh, I thought. I have a very long way to go. If I can barely maintain it here…

…just get to Mile 13, I told my unsettled mind. Just get there, and then the race really begins. Then you can really start doing damage; then you can really see what you’re made of today.

But you can’t get to the real part of the race without the mise en place of those first 13 miles. And so they mess with your mind. They’re fake, a mirage before the stage play, but they stand in front of you like obstacles.

The last one was the hardest. Mile 13 had a little uphill, then a steep downhill, then a couple more uphills. I overcompensated on them a bit and found myself running a 6 minute pace. Up a hill. My legs didn’t feel great doing it. Easy, I thought. You’re going too fast.

Thankfully the half marathon mark beckoned, not too far ahead. I hit it in about 1:26:30 - well ahead of my goal. I had plenty of time in the bank now to make things happen, which was good, because I could tell I was weakening. Miles 13-18 are tough. They’re so far from the end, but so deep into the race. Try to just keep up that same pace, I thought. Just keep turning them over and here we go.

And I actually felt like I hit a second wind. Mile 14 was a little scary. At that point, you just know the wall is coming at some point, and you hope you don’t hit it too soon. I felt the death sneer of it all creep its fingers up my neck. But it wasn’t there yet, and even though it took more effort, I turned over a 6:41. Others started to catch up to me, and so then I tried to mostly keep their pace. I actually started to somehow feel strong. 6:39. 6:34 for Mile 16. I knew, for the second half, that I just had to average somewhere between 6:52 and 7 minute miles to achieve my goal. Every mile I ran faster than that I was putting time in the bank. Just keep putting doing that, I thought. Who knows how much longer you can go.

And yet, somehow, I actually felt fast.

I ate a GU at Mile 16. I immediately got a stomach cramp. I haven’t gotten one of those in a long time. GU is usually fine to me - thankfully, somehow, the cramp teetered on the edge before fading away. Maybe the thumb jammed into my insides actually worked.

And then I was at Mile 17 - where you get off the trail and on to the streets. At this point the haze started to kick in.

Life can be dark, and it’s especially grim at Mile 17 of a marathon. Your soul starts to struggle. Is this all there is? Black, joyless, never ending strides forward? Nothing in your body really wants to keep going; everything wants to be still. It’s a deep, desolate place. You feel like a baby; you want to cry every second. Here, running is an emotional experience much more than a physical one.

And yet you keep running. You have to.

There was a rail crossing at mile 17.5 in Cohoes on road that is open to trains. No matter, there was no train. I ran downhill afterward, feeling the small adrenaline rush from the lack of train traffic that would have derailed my Boston time. You take anything you can get at that moment. The crowd started to pick up at this point, and I just tried now to keep moving straight and try to keep turning over the same pace. Just. Keep. Running. The. Same. Pace. You’re okay. Sweetheart. Keep running at the same speed. Over. And. Over.

It mostly worked!

I got to Mile 20 feeling rough, but I passed it at about 2:12:30. That meant I could run the rest of the pace at close to 8 minute miles and still make 3 hours. At that point I wasn’t even close to that. I knew I had a real shot now.

And yet you never know. The last six miles…the wheels can just fall off.

So, again. Defensive running. Just try to keep up a solid pace, nothing fancy. Run your race. It’s OK to slow down to 7 minute miles now. That is more than OK. The crowd was nearby, cheering, but people simply look like apparitions at this point, scarecrows that you just have to pass on your way to the finish line.

When I started running Mile 22 and saw that I was hovering around a 7 minute pace, putting more than enough time in the bank, I actually briefly teared up. It was so close. And yet. NOT NOW! I thought. Anything can happen. NOT YET!

On cue, my left calf cramped up briefly. Is this how it ends? I thought. With me cramping on the side of the road, unable to run another step?

No. It wasn’t. Thankfully, I got on the last section of the path around Mile 22 and just…at this point, I was simply gutting it out. I didn’t have much left. I so badly wanted to stop. And yet…four more miles. That’s not nothing. Just maintain, I thought. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts now. Just maintain, and the glory will come.

Here and there my leg continued to cramp. Any one spasm could end me. It was terrifying. I ate another GU. Maintain, maintain, maintain.

Mile 23: 7:04. One more mile, I thought. Just one more mile, and you’ll have tons of time in the bank.

Mile 24: 7:08.

I now had about 20 minutes to run 2.2 miles. How many times have I done that in my life? So very many.

And yet.

Just NOW one more mile, I thought. If you get to 1.2 miles left, and you have more than 10 minutes to do that, there’s almost no way you’ll fail, unless the cramps get you.

I saw a bridge over the Hudson up ahead. Don’t look at your watch till you get there, I told myself. There’s a water stop there. Your legs are jelly; you can barely run. Just maintain.

I got to the bridge. I looked at my watch.

I was holding a 7:11 pace.

And when I got to Mile 25, with 13 minutes left to run 1.2 miles, I knew it was basically sealed.

I was too cracked out and dazed and tired to be in a celebratory mood. Just, please, someone, anyone, let it end. I knew I didn’t have to run fast, but I still tried to keep it up. I really couldn’t anymore, though. Maybe it’s because I knew I had it, but the thought of crushing a final mile in 6:30 seemed impossible. Someone passed me. “You’ve been pulling me for 10 miles,” he told me. I tried to stay with him. He wasn’t even running fast. I couldn’t.

And so the crowd numbers increased as I wound my way along the path to the finish line. A half mile to go. This was actually happening.

In the end I barely remember the finish line. My brain was fried, overfed on self-control and the metronomic pace of a 6:41 mile. It wasn’t some glorious Eliud Kipchoge-esque finish. But as I saw the finishing banner come into view, I smiled wide. (You can see this in the race photos.) I felt nothing more than a broad, deep sense of satisfaction. My smile that you can see in the photos reflects that.

Me on the right, with the weight off my shoulders

I guess I finished at some point. My watch read 2:57:19.

And I stood just past the chalk, holding the gate, trying to soak it all in, trying to understand what it means for a goal of 10 years to be finally realized.

The immensity of it is impossible to understand at that point. But as I stood there, I felt deep exhaustion. That much was unmistakable. But with deep exhaustion comes a deep sense of peace. I could rest now, bask in the literal and metaphorical 60 degree warm sun that shone above us. And I could drive home two hours later, high on chocolate milk and Ruffles potato chips, screaming uncontrollably with joy as I blazed down the highway, knowing that this was it. This was actually it.

***

I’m planning on running Boston in 2021. I know I’ll get in at this point. It feels amazing. It’s an incredible race and I’m so happy to be going back.

I’ll always have a special place in my heart for that strip of bike path along the Hudson River where the race ended. I’m a sub-three hour marathoner now, no matter what. It’s mine, and I’m going to hold on to it like a grateful child.

I’m writing this a few days later. The run already feels like a long time ago. I can mostly walk normally again. Life moves on, and I’m already looking at half marathons I can do in November to capitalized on my in-shape status. I’ll run the Turkey Chase 10K on Thanksgiving Day. Work is heating up; the Jewish holidays are in full swing. It’s easy for all this to be in the rearview mirror.

But I’m trying to hold on to this as tightly as I can. For a brief time, as I sat on a grassy hill after the race, soaking in the adulation that comes with congratulatory text messages, on a perfect fall day, there was absolutely nothing more that I needed from my life. It’s rare that you get perfect moments. A moment where nothing is wrong, and you can’t imagine anything being wrong, and there’s nothing more the day demands of you.

If nothing else, having that made it all worth it.

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phatjosh180 · 5 years

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RACE RECAP: Deseret News 10K

Oh, Pioneer Day! I used to kind of hate the holiday. Well, okay, hate is the wrong way of saying it — I love the reason why we celebrate the day — I just never thought we really needed TWO Fourth of Julys in the same month. This is completely derailing my race recap, but I don’t care — this is my blog. I just wish we came up with something a bit more original in celebrating Pioneer Day instead of copy and pasting the Fourth. Keep the fireworks, ditch the parade (all parades really) and give us better food than hot dogs and homemade potato salad.

Anyways, I seriously digress. Hopefully you’re still with me here?

Yet, with all those strong feelings about Pioneer Day that I have and do hold — it’s grown on me — especially since becoming a runner. It’s become somewhat of a tradition to run on Pioneer Day — whether it’s been the Deseret News or Handcart Days races. Sure, sure, sure you can use the (valid) argument that people run 5Ks all the time on the Fourth of July, but that’s not my jam — since that’d mean I’d be missing my neighborhood chuck wagon breakfast. Sense my illogical hypocrisy?

I ran my first marathon on Pioneer Day back in 2012 — and I’ve loved keeping the tradition of running on holiday intact. I’ve only missed running the holiday in 2014 and that was because I went camping. I thought about doing a run on Pioneer Day to keep the streak alive, but I wasn’t quite yet confident in my trail running at the time. No, not so much the running part, but where we were camping had a lot of deer and moose.

Most years I’ve always done a half marathon when I’ve run on Pioneer Day, mainly to work toward my 180 race goal. So this year — a year after reaching my 180 race goal — I decided to shake things up a bit and register for the 10K instead. And, I am sure glad I did. The shorter distances have been a godsend for me.

View this post on Instagram

Long story short — my ancestors walked 2,092km across the Great Plains 172 years ago so I could run the streets of Salt Lake City today for a race medal and a bruised half banana.

A post shared by Josher (@josherwalla) on Jul 24, 2019 at 8:17am PDT

After battling injuries and back issues for the first part of the year — I got myself into a good rhythm that I was hoping to build into solid marathon training. But, then in June that got derailed as I came down with bronchitis and walking pneumonia. I didn’t run for almost four weeks. I couldn’t breathe, let alone run. It was bad.

I know that I repeating myself from past posts, but the time off killed me. I decided to kill the marathon training and just go out and run. Forget about goal races, etc. I just needed to go out and run, have some fun and just don’t die. Pretty solid goals when you get down to it.

So coming back into consistent running just a couple weeks ago it’s been a tad bit of a struggle. Getting my legs back to strength has been the toughest part. It doesn’t help that it’s also the hottest time of the year either. Heat zaps everything from my legs. So it’s been a struggle both physically and mentally — to say the least.

A couple weeks ago — my first race back — the Farmington Days 10K I finished in 1:41 minutes. I was dead last. And, if it wasn’t for a chuck wagon breakfast of bacon and sausage I would have died there. It was hard on me — between the comeback legs and heat.

So going into this race — I wasn’t exactly sure what to shoot for on the clock. I knew I didn’t want to hit 1:41 again. I was fairly confident I wouldn’t considering I had a couple weeks of training on the legs — PLUS — the course had a wonderful 60 feet of downhill. So with all of that in mind I just decided to give it my best and push myself just a TAD beyond comfort.

But, really, I had no game plan. I just wanted to get out there and run.

View this post on Instagram

I need to find myself a woman that’ll greet me like Bumble did at the finish line this morning.

A post shared by Josher (@josherwalla) on Jul 24, 2019 at 1:41pm PDT

Since I talked Amanda into running the 10K as well. We started out together. She doesn’t run/walk as well and I decided to keep up as long as I could. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep up for the whole race, but I wanted to keep up for at least a couple of miles. Which I did.

Amanda, Brandy and I kept up with each for about the first 2-3 miles … ish. I say -ish, because I lost Amanda around 7 Eleven on 1300 East when I had this moment of temptation. It was hot and I could have sure used either a Slurpee or Diet Coke at that moment. But, I forgot my money — so it was a moot point — and I kept running.

My legs were feeling pretty heavy by mile three and our first aid station. I knew I would hit this wall, so I slowed down my pace just a tad and focused on tweaking my run/walk sets a bit. It helped, especially as we ran along South Temple and I could feel the slightest of uphill.

Once I got on 200 East and the parade route I got a second wind from the crowd. It was a bit thinner of a crowd compared to when I run the longer distances — just because not everyone is there — but, it was fun to hear my name shouted out a few times along the way. After getting a slap on the butt from Rachel — who was doing the half marathon — I made the turn onto 800 South toward Liberty Park and the finish line. I glanced at my watch and noticed I was pretty closed to a sub-1:20 — nearly a 20 minute drop from my Farmington Days 10K. This gave me a third wind.

As I glanced ran into the finishers chute I glanced at the clock and noticed I was just over 1:20. That didn’t disappoint me at all — that was still nearly a 20 minute improvement! And, as I made my way across the finishing line I saw the Salt Lake Bee’s mascot Bumble and just made a beeline (ha!) toward him for a hug! A Deseret News photographer was there and actually snapped a picture of the moment (it’s the picture above).

View this post on Instagram

I can do this because I’m Greek.

A post shared by Josher (@josherwalla) on Jul 24, 2019 at 7:42pm PDT

I was very happy with my finishing time. Yet, I still was fighting off disappointment. Which is a weird feeling. I did well, I improved, but it almost didn’t feel like it counted because I should have been in a better situation where I could have gone faster. Luckily I didn’t have much time to entertain that thinking as Shonda, Anita, Lizz, Andrew, Amanda, Brandy, etc., etc., etc., etc. diverted my attention.

One of my favorite things to do after the Deseret News races is to just sit down and park myself under the shade in the park watching all the runners come in. This year I even made a new friend Spencer, who’s a part of the AIIA team. After about an hour I finally started the long way back to my car via the shuttles.

All in all — I feel good about the race, considering the circumstances. Was it my fastest? Heavens no. But, it was a great effort and I felt some gained ground I hope to build on. Which I am sure I will.

My next race is the Revel Launch Team 10K this upcoming Saturday down Emigration Canyon. That should be a fun fast one. I’m not exactly sure what to expect from that one, but I would love to beat my sub 1:20. I have a couple training runs planned this week so it should be out of the realm of possibility.

But, I’m not going to worry about all of that — I’ll just put the work in and let the run come to me. That’s really the only thing I can do, no?

My Next Five Races

Revel Launch Team 10K; August 3

Elephant Rock Trail Run; August 10

Mt. Nebo Half; August 24

Revel Big Cottonwood Half Marathon; September 14

The Haunted Half: SLC; October 19

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Trails & Pavement (@trailsandpavement) on Aug 7, 2018 at 10:12pm PDT

RACE RECAP: Deseret News 10K was originally published on Life In The Slow Lane.

#running #salt lake city

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roobierubyroobieruby · 7 years

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The Game is On (Part 3)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (AU)

Word Count: 1,903

Warnings: cuteness, fluffy, jealousy over Steve not being your boyfriend? one or two swears (sorry Cap)

Summary: You and Steve have been together for six years, happily living life in your Brooklyn apartment. On the night of your six-year anniversary, you come home to find a folded note on the table with your name written in Steve’s scripted handwriting. Inside? Instructions to your own personal treasure hunt to find your surprise - and Steve - at the end, and you have 20 minutes to start! The game is on…

A/N: this is the third part to @bionic-buckyb‘s 5K writing challenge!! Sorry it takes so long to get these parts out! Also I apologize if this part isn’t very good - I’m writing this sick in bed (yay...)

** = flashback scene

[Part 1] [Part 2]

You pulled your phone out during your walk, careful to make sure you didn’t run into other people on the street or miss any turns, as you shot off a quick text to Steve.

- How did you manage to get the theatre owner in on your little game?

- A man has his ways dollface, so where are you off to now?

- Didn’t you design this thing so shouldn’t you know?

- Hey I’m just keeping track and making sure you’re headed in the right direction is all

- If you must know then, I’m heading to our diner where we get milkshakes every week for date night

- Maybe I’ve made this treasure hunt too easy...

- NO! I just know us well! Plus wouldn’t you rather I find you faster so you’re not stuck waiting for me for hours wherever you are?

- I’d wait for you forever if I had to doll, you’re worth it. Enjoy the milkshake and let me know when you’re on your way to the next stop. I love you xo

- I love you too xo

Shoving your phone into your coat pocket, you picked up your pace as you rounded the final corners. Date night was always an exciting time, but seeing the diner tonight, knowing what was waiting for you inside to bring you another step closer to Steve, made you feel like you were on your very first date all over again. As soon as you entered, the little bell alerting the waitresses to you, Sarah came bouncing over with a take-away cup in hand.

“Hey (Y/N), wow you look amazing! Steve left this and this for you,” she handed you the cup and pulled a note from her apron, “and just so you know, all of us girls think you two are beyond adorable. This is just too much!” She squealed, handing you the note as she bounced away.

You laughed to yourself, taking a sip of the cup and realizing he’d ordered you your favourite flavoured milkshake for you to take on the hunt. You held up the cup in thanks to the girls behind the counter as you departed out the door, wanting to be away from their prying eyes as you opened up the slip of paper.

You sat across from a nervous Steve in your favourite corner booth of your diner. The two of you had been coming here once a week for date night for three years now - three years tonight since it was your anniversary.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to do anything special tonight, work has been crazy and-”

“Steve, it’s ok,” you reached across the table and grabbed his hand, hoping to ease some of his nerves, “I don’t need fancy things, I just need you. I’m happy, and if you’re happy too then we are all good.” You smiled, rubbing small circles over his thumb as his leg slowly stopped bouncing under the table.

“Of course I’m happy, I’ve never been happier! I just want to make you feel as special as what you are to me is all, I want you to feel like a queen.”

You leaned forward over the table, pulling his hand closer to you so he’d follow. You pressed a light kiss on his lips before another on the tip of his nose, “as long as I’ve got my king, then I’m a queen.”

You sat back down as he pulled your hand up to his lips, pressing a light kiss on your knuckles, “shouldn’t kings and queens live in the same castle though?”

“Well yeah, historically they do but maybe we live separately so as to rule our kingdom more efficiently?” You smirked at him as he laughed, that light sound bouncing off the booth as he shook his head, staring at the table.

“Maybe I don’t want to be efficient. Maybe I want to wake up and go to sleep with my queen right beside me, where I can hold her and kiss her and love her whenever I want to. Maybe I want my queen to live with me in my castle so I can cherish her and love her as much as she should be loved.”

His blue eyes peered up at you from under his long lashes, his leg bouncing under the table again as he nervously ran his fingers across the palm of your hand, tracing lines in your skin.

“Wait, is Steve Rogers asking me to move in with him? King Rogers wants moi to move into his castle?” Your heart quickened in your chest as you pressed your hand to it, trying to calm your heart and stop the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“King Rogers would like that very much, if Queen (Y/L/N) would have me.”

You almost jumped across the table at him, grabbing the back of his head as you crushed your lips against his.

“Queen (Y/L/N) would be stupid to say no to you, so a million times yes!” You said between kisses, feeling his hands frame the sides of your face as you pulled away.

“I love you so much (Y/N), and I will spend every day I can showing you that.”

“You are too good to me Steve, and I just hope I can make you as happy as you make me. I love you too.”

As you sat back into the booth, intertwining your hands with his, Sarah - your favourite waitress - brought over your usual milkshakes. You thanked her earnestly, sharing in the joy of your news before she jumped for joy and told you the milkshakes were on the house before running to tell the other girls behind the counter. You both shook your head, taking in long sips of your drinks before you put your head on the table and groaned,

“Oh no, what about Bucky?!”

“What about Bucky?”

“He’s going to hate me for this!”

Steve laughed at you, causing you to bolt upright and glare at him, “Bucky won’t hate you, he knows you make me happy and that’s the end of it. Why would he hate you?

“Because your bachelor pad won’t a bachelor pad anymore.” You chewed on your bottom lip, beginning to think of the lists of things you’ll have to do to begin moving.

“So? I haven’t considered my place a bachelor pad since I met you. And Bucky and I will still have our game nights together, at either our place or his, same way you and Nat will still have your girls nights at yours or ours. We will make it work, we always do.”

With that, he pressed feather light kiss to each your hands as you let out a small giggle.

“What was that giggle for?”

“You called it our place...”

“Yeah I did my queen, it’s our place.”

Clue #4: My best friend you are, only one of two, go see the other one, because he has the next note for you.

Well this one was easy. Time for you to go and pay a visit to Bucky.

(Steve’s POV)

The anxiety was kicking in. It had been for weeks now, but you were getting closer. Only two more stops before you got to him and it was go time. Texting you was simultaneously the one thing that could calm him down, and yet it only made him more nervous as he found out how close you were getting.

- Hey doll, how’s the milkshake?

- The best every single time, and I’m honestly amazed at how many people are in on this!

- Sarah was more than willing to help, she thought it was “goals” or something

- Well this note was easier than the last, practically spelled out that Bucky has my next note

- Have you left to see him yet?

-Yeah I’m about 10 minutes away

SHIT. Panic flooded through Steve has he ran to your bedroom door and flung it open, yelling down the hall to the lounge space.

“BUCKY! GET YOUR ASS TO YOUR PLACE NOW! SHE’S ONLY TEN MINUTES AWAY!” He shouted through the apartment as Bucky stuck his head around the hallway,

“She’s WHAT?!”

“You gotta go now, she’s going to be at yours soon! Don’t forget the note!”

Bucky raced out of the apartment you two shared as he yelled back to Steve, “the things I do for you punk!” before he leapt down the stairs and bounded out onto the street, racing you to his apartment.

- Babe, everything ok?

- Yeah, sorry doll, just got distracted is all. Let me know when you leave Bucky’s xo

- Don’t worry, I will xo

That was too close. Steve walked back through the hallway to the lounge and dining space and threw his phone onto the couch, collapsing into its cushions. He rubbed his hands up his face and through his hair, trying to calm himself down, as he looked around your apartment.

‘Bucky didn’t do a half bad job’, he thought to himself as he stared at the photos of the two of you - each one hanging on a string from the roof as candles littered the tables and benches, casting an orange glow.

“She’s going to love it you know, you could’ve just woken up one morning and shown her the ring and she would’ve loved it. I guarantee she’s going to say yes.”

Nat stood resting against the hallway arch, staring at Steve looking frazzled on the couch.

“I hope so, there’s no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“She feels the same, don’t worry, once you see her I’m sure the nerves will just float away.”

Nat moved to sit on the couch next to Steve, patting his hand.

“You got the camera all sorted?”

“Yep, I’m ready to pretend I’m a spy and become invisible. She won’t even know I’m here and I’ll get the whole thing. I promise.”

Not only did he want you to feel special, he wanted you to have photos of this moment, so he could show you just how beautiful you were without even trying.

“Thanks Nat, for everything.”

“Don’t mention it Cap, I love her and she loves you and anyone who can treat her as wonderfully as you do is good in my books.”

“I told you not to call me Cap,” he chuckled, moving to lean forward and get up from the couch.

“Hey, blame (Y/N). Ever since she told me the story of how everyone at work calls you Captain because you always take charge, I figured it would only be fitting to remind you of that fact whenever I possibly can.”

With a smirk, she patted his arm as she moved back through to the kitchen to continue cooking dinner.

“I could’ve at least cooked the dinner!” He shouted down the hall.

“No! You are asking this woman to marry you, your brain needs to be on that job 110% so I will not have you ruining this dinner. Plus you need to keep checking in on where she’s at so we know to get ready. You’re the captain here, remember!”

He chuckled to himself as he checked his coat pocket for the millionth time, pulling out the soft velvet box and opening it to stare at the ring inside.

TAG LIST:

@bewithme-forevermore @palaiasaurus64

#kaits5kauchallenge #steve rogers #steve x reader #reader insert #marvel #Avengers #alternate universe #captain america #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers au

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zrtranscripts · 7 years

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5K Trainer: Week 6, Workout 3

MAGGIE DOANE: Hey, Runner Five, good to see you! I don't know if you knew at the time it was me, but I was the runner whose life you saved a couple of weeks ago. My leg got cut open as we were crawling through broken piping to escape some zoms, and well... let's walk.

Listen, I know that if you hadn't helped us out, I'd be dead. Lost a lot of blood, but the wound's healing clean, and I feel ready to run again.

MAXINE MYERS: Runner Six, is that you out there with Runner Five? You're in no shape to -

MAGGIE DOANE: I need to test myself, Maxine.

MAXINE MYERS: You're still held together with stitches, you know.

MAGGIE DOANE: I know. I do know. I owe you both everything. But no one at Abel gets a free ride. We're going to... listen, we're pretty clear to the east, right?

MAXINE MYERS: Right. But no one's getting a free ride, here, Maggie. You've done your share, and you -

MAGGIE DOANE: And Cortez Hospital's not so far away.

MAXINE MYERS: Maggie, I know you think you're one of your indestructible video game characters, but let me tell you, you're too valuable to the township for us to let you risk yourself like this.

MAGGIE DOANE: There's no risk! We're just taking a quiet jog down to Cortez and back. Just to get enough supplies to cover what you used in treating me, plus a little extra to make it worth our while?

MAXINE MYERS: I'm advising you not to do this, Runner Six.

MAGGIE DOANE: We'll be fine.

MAXINE MYERS: Okay, it's time for Runner Five to do that 10-minute free-form run. How's your leg holding up, Maggie?

MAGGIE DOANE: I'm doing just fine, Maxine. Come on, Five, let's go. You set the pace. I'm sure I'll keep up.

MAXINE MYERS: Great! Keep up a good pace. Three minutes done. You're looking good, Maggie.

MAGGIE DOANE: What did I tell you?

MAXINE MYERS: Five minutes. Still going strong.

MAXINE MYERS: Just three minutes to go. You're inside of that hospital, now.

MAGGIE DOANE: Walk in the park, Doc.

MAXINE MYERS: Just one more minute.

MAXINE MYERS: Great! That's 10 minutes. You're looking great out there.

MAGGIE DOANE: Feels good to get some air into my lungs.

MAXINE MYERS: Just take a few minutes to recover. Runner Five, it's time for your 10 half squats now. Get going.

MAXINE MYERS: Okay, good! Take a short break now, Runner Five, and then you'll do 10 more half squats.

MAGGIE DOANE: Looks like we've got company at the hospital.

MAXINE MYERS: Not zoms! [sighs] I can't see any on the scanner. Maggie, if there are zoms, you have to get the hell out of there!

MAGGIE DOANE: Nah. Just saw someone run in there. Probably someone from New Canton going for supplies. No problem. There's plenty for everyone.

MAXINE MYERS: That's great, Runner Five. Last set of half squats now. Go!

MAXINE MYERS: Okay, that's good, Runner Five! Now we're going to take five minutes of fast walking. That should just about bring you to the hospital.

BECCA: Hello? Hello, Abel Township runners!

MAGGIE DOANE: Huh? Is that the same woman you met on your trip to get craft supplies with Runner Four? Same long brown hair, no New Canton jersey?

BECCA: Hi! Glad to see you! Hope your knitting's going well.

MAGGIE DOANE: Are you here for med supplies?

BECCA: Same as everyone. Always good to have some CALPOL in case the baby gets sick. I try not to take more than we can use, though. Hey, listen. I was talking to some of the guys at Bert Airfield. I know that Abel's been trying to make contact with them, but they don't trust Rofflenet. They say the encryption's not good enough.

But you know, Ed's friendly with a couple of those guys, and they say that someone new's turned up lately, and Ed was sure he'd heard she was from Abel. Anyway, I made him write down her name for me. Here it is, just in case it helps you guys. If you have a friend at Bert now, maybe you can make contact.

MAGGIE DOANE: Hey, thanks. Let's go in and get those supplies now, Runner Five.

BECCA: Abel Township runners! Abel Township, there are zoms, coming from the west. I've got to – I have to run. I've got a baby, I can't wait. I'm sorry, I can't, but – but get out of there!

MAXINE MYERS: Runner Five, Runner Six, that's confirmed. Four zoms, not shamblers. They're not running, but they must be fast zoms, and they're a-coming. Run!

MAXINE MYERS: Good. You're getting away from them. You've been going for two minutes. Run!

MAXINE MYERS: Four minutes. If you can keep going at that pace, you'll be fine.

MAGGIE DOANE: Uh...

MAXINE MYERS: What is it?

MAGGIE DOANE: I think I'm bleeding. My stitches, I think I'm...

MAXINE MYERS: Just keep going. There's a couple of fences for you to climb, which should slow them down a bit.

MAXINE MYERS: Just one more minute until you're past those fences. Keep going!

MAGGIE DOANE: Ugh. I need to stop, just for a couple of minutes. Just... you stretch. We've got enough distance between us, it'll be fine.

MAGGIE DOANE: Okay, I should be ready to go again in a few of seconds. It's okay, it's going to be okay.

MAXINE MYERS: They're coming. Run!

MAXINE MYERS: You've been going for two minutes. Six, how are you holding up?

MAGGIE DOANE: I think I'm – damn it, I've bled through my trousers. I'm – yeah, it's fine! I can keep going.

MAXINE MYERS: That's four minutes. Runner Six, are you okay?

MAGGIE DOANE: I'm all right. I'm bleeding, but it's not severe. I'll be okay.

MAGGIE DOANE: Ugh. I think I'm going to have to – keep going, but I'll need to stop again in a minute.

MAGGIE DOANE: Ooh. Just, can we just stop now? Just for two minutes, just so I can - ugh. I shouldn't have looked at my leg.

MAXINE MYERS: You're going to be okay, Runner Six. Stop there. Runner Five can stretch out.

MAXINE MYERS: They're coming up close. You need to run again very soon.

MAXINE MYERS: They're right behind you. Come on, final push! Should be just seven more minutes until you're home. You can do it together. Run!

MAXINE MYERS: You're both looking good. You're pulling ahead of the zoms. You've been running for two minutes.

MAXINE MYERS: You've been going for four minutes. You're losing them!

MAXINE MYERS: You'll be back in just one minute. Raise the gates. Raise the gates! [gate siren, gates raising]

[gate siren, gates raising]

MAXINE MYERS: [sighs] Thank the lord you're both back safely. Stretch out, recover. Runner Six, that was one of the most stupid things I have ever, ever -!

MAGGIE DOANE: I know, okay. I know. But look, we did get some important intel.

MAXINE MYERS: I'm getting you straight to hospital, Runner Six, to take a look at those stitches. And Runner Five, you've done well out there today. Take a day off, and we'll see you again for the start of next week's training.

#zombies run #zr5k #zr5k week 6 #week 6 workout 3 #zr transcript

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evolutiosportsphysioblog · 5 years

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When motivation = meltdown

In the lead up to summer, the fitness industry is flooding us with 8 week challenges, 2 week unlimited deals, and other varying incentives to get us back in shape.

Being motivated to get in shape is great! So what’s the issue?

My story;

This story is set 2 years ago. It’s late October with Melbourne heating up and a pollen count high enough to make the flowers sneeze.

I don’t know about you guys, but for me getting back into a pair of shorts is a sure way to shock me into bumping up my training for summer.

So I download a new running app on my phone which means I can log the times and distances as I up my running. The best part, there are weekly goals set by the app with the potential to win prizes if I tick them off each week.

What could go wrong?!

I’m certainly no pro but I usually clock around 5-7km pretty comfortably, a couple times a week depending on my other training and how I’m feeling.

Now I’m keen to up the k’s, and my fitness. I’m also pumped to test out my new app and start filling up my running log!

Week 1:

This week my running app is offering the chance to win a brand new pair of runners if I clock 5km!! Easy!

I do 2x5km runs in the first week recording it on my app and I’m loving it!

Week 2:

This weeks’ challenge is a total of 12km which can be split over multiple days and multiple runs. The prize; a chance to win one of 100 fitness watches! I do my two runs again;

1st run = 5km on Monday

2nd run = 6km Wednesday. I’m feeling pretty done after the 6k, but walk an extra 1k at the end so I can hit my target…. 6 + 1 = 7km (+5k = 12) made it!!

Week 3:

This weeks’ challenge; 2 runs 5km or more, plus 1 run 8km or more. The prize; an adventure trip for two to Bali!

It’s a super busy week at work and I know I’ll only have time to run on Thursday, and the weekend. I decide to split it with the 8km out of the way on Thursday, then the two shorter runs on Saturday and Sunday.

I feel strong on the Thursday and manage the 8km comfortably but I’m embarrassingly hungover on Saturday and can’t bring myself to run. That leaves just Sunday. If I run the whole 10k on Sunday pausing the app halfway I can count it as two runs and still make my goal, genius!

At the 7km mark I’m pretty beat but drop down to a lazy jog for the last 3km. My right knee is a little sore at 9km but one last k is still manageable.

Can you see what’s happening?

As the weeks go on the challenges continue to increase in number and or length of runs, and I continue to push myself.

The drive to make challenges has started to take over to the point that I’m rescheduling plans, or parking unnecessarily far away just to get in those extra k’s in.

Blinded to all warning signs, it doesn't take long for me to push myself to the point of developing a super angry knee joint.

Yet all could have been avoided if I remembered to listen to my body rather than zoning in on the numbers and obsessing over meeting the weekly challenges for prizes that I never won.

How do we avoid overdoing it?

Now I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be driven or goal focused. Challenges like these, or the 8 week challenges etc that we all hear about are fantastic motivators. But remember that at the end of the day our aim is to improve our health and fitness, not blindly push ourselves to the point of injury.

Key points to remember:

1. Listen to your body

We all know it’s normal to push through some pain when we’re smashing a workout, and often for a few days after the workout. What we need to watch out for is stronger pain that interferes with our exercises, or lingers for days following, interfering with our daily function. If you have any concerns or something is starting to feel out of the ordinary or not settling then the best bet is to get checked by your physio asap.

2. Pacing

When starting or increasing any exercise, make sure that you build slowly. This applies not only to the number of sessions per week, but also the length of sessions and the intensity of sessions.

3. Variety

Mixing up your style of workout or muscle groups targeted, can mean you can keep your number of workouts up, with less risk of overloading. For example working on legs one day, and back the next, or doing a long run one session, but shorter hill sprints the next.

3. Allow for recovery

Getting enough sleep, along with eating a healthy diet and drinking plenty of water, are all essential to recover from activity and prepare us for our next workout. The summer holiday period is often filled with boozey Christmas parties and other regular events that can further deplete our energy. Remember to be kind to your body and take time for extra recovery as needed.

I hope this blog helps you to avoid making the same mistakes that I made; if you need one of the best physio’s in Australia here at Evolutio, give us a tinkle via [email protected]

We’re located at 11/3 Bromham Place, Richmond 3121

happy exercising!!

Kristina or as we like to call her, Kris Kringle is our newest recruit here at Evolutio, flown in directly from Europe on the new Dreamliner. She’s been travelling and chasing winter snow seasons like the fellas off Hot Tub Time Machine since graduating Physio in 2012 and has worked at ski resorts as a physio in Japan and Austria in addition to the infamous Mt Hotham.

She now works at Evolutio on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays, if you’re ever in need of a physio here in Richmond. Swing in and see her. Just make sure you bring sweet goods and sausage rolls as bribes.

You can book in with her here

#running #trail running #physio #physio melbourne #sports physio #richmond sports physio #richmond physio #strength & conditioning #injury prevention

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1310miles · 5 years

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Thirty One

Just days before the Baltimore Marathon, I was considering not doing it. We had such a busy fall season. I was exhausted from my volunteer work, previous marathon in Wyoming, and all the activities my family was part of. My head hurt thinking about coordinating and preparing my parents to take over for me and manage the lives of my over-scheduled kids while Brett and I traveled to Maryland.

On the other hand, taking a little vacation with Brett seemed like a good break and I had paid for everything already. Plus, I would be visiting my cousin and her family, and my aunt and uncle, so that was important.

Whereas most marathons are on Sundays, Baltimore’s race was scheduled for Saturday. Brett and I arrived on Friday and did the typically quick and uninspired expo visit to get my materials and then we relaxed in our hotel for the rest of the day.

Leading up to the race I had been so busy that I hadn’t put a lot of thought into my strategy or plan for the run. The hill profile was daunting: a long ascent over the first five miles, then back down for five, flat for eight, and then another gradual ascent for six. It’s very hard to anticipate how bad I will feel after a five mile hill, and equally difficult to know the toll a five mile descent will take. Also, a major long hill after mile 18 is very dubious. I could either feel great and storm up it or it could be so bad that it kills me.

In the morning I got up and put on my gear. I also drew the hill profile on my arm like I did in Seattle. Brett and I worked out his plan for spectating, and although it would be easy because he would be solo, we didn’t have a rental car, so transportation could be a challenge. He briefly woke up to tell me good luck, and in the dark hours of the morning I headed to the race. I had been warned that although it was only a mile to the starting line, Baltimore isn’t very safe, so I took a taxi. The poor driver had no idea that there was a marathon that day, so I felt bad telling him how messed up traffic was going to be for the next eight hours.

The starting line was outside of Camden Yards. I wanted the driver to get me as close as possible, but I was getting nervous seeing lots of runners going the opposite direction from where I thought we were supposed to go. I finally told him just to pull over, and I got out and asked where a group of people were headed. They looked at me like an idiot and said “the starting line of course.” I was very confused and concerned, but then a nice person said, “They are going to the 5k. You might be looking for the marathon start, which is around the corner by Camden Yards.” Thank you!

I was there pretty early, and not a lot of runners had gathered yet. The ballpark was open in one area for the use of the bathrooms, which was a welcome change from portapotties. Interesting to see inside the famous stadium too. The sun started to come up and after the announcements and anthem, we lined up and the race began.

To get out of the downtown area, we encountered our first hill. Then we headed straight for a long stretch up to the furthest west point of the course. Along this road I saw the neighborhoods that The Wire was based on. They must have filmed them on location because it looked just as it had on tv.

At mile three we turned into the zoo. The path got more narrow and went downhill a bit. This area was very scary for the wheelchair athletes who were trying to wind their way among the runners. Without space and with too much momentum, they were dangerously close of crashing. It was very unfortunate that many runners were wearing headphones and couldn’t hear the LOUD shouting of all the rest of us telling them to get over or to make room. It was very frustrating and could have been a terrible accident many times over.

Down in the zoo, we had a great group of spectators. A few zookeepers had escorted animals onto the course for us to see. Two penguins stood watching us, as well as a bunny, badger and kookaburra. It was so cute, but all I kept thinking was that those animals must think humans are crazy.

Out of the zoo and we begin the downhill segment of the race. It was a steep downhill, steep enough for me to really gain some speed. I had also run the first five miles fast, keeping a pace around 8:30 minute miles, so with the downhills I really started making my time look amazing. I was feeling great, and was starting to think this would be my day to possibly get a personal record. The weather was perfect- mild temperatures and the sun behind clouds. I had to keep in mind however, that the end was going to have a long hill and I would need to save some energy for that.

Again I had broken the race mentally into three segments of 8 miles. Around the end of the first segment, I saw Brett for the first time. Then we ran a little south of the city, around the harbor, and doubled back. As my loyal readers know, I like doubling back so I can watch the other runners. I was still feeling great and was pretty far ahead of the 3:45 pace group, which had me on pace to get my Boston marathon qualifying time. I came around back toward our hotel and saw Brett again at mile 13. At this point I told him that I was running too fast and would be slowing down soon. Also, I told him to have a shirt and hat ready for my change at the next spot I would be seeing him at mile 18.

I did start to slow down, both intentionally and because the end segment of the hills was upon me. They were really brutal, mostly because of the trauma of already running 16 miles and from the up and down hills in the beginning. Weeks before while I was volunteering at the Chicago marathon, I saw a few runners with cramps in their legs that prevented them from finishing the race, and I know some runners that this has happened to as well. I’ve always thought “no way that would happen to me, I would be able to finish any race.” But this time I was starting to worry. My hamstrings did start cramping and I had a moment of doubt. At that point I slowed my speed and I started accepting Gatorade at every aid station in hopes of replenishing whatever I could.

Mile 18 came and went and no Brett. I wasn’t completely heartbroken, as I would have been in other races when the kids were with him. And I wasn’t worried about him because I could tell that this race had traffic in Baltimore completely destroyed. There were back ups at every intersection I passed, and I saw a line of cars that went about two miles along one of the major streets. Also, one driver was laying on his horn for so long that I didn’t hear him stop, I only ran far enough away that I couldn’t hear the horn anymore.

The only issue with not seeing Brett was that I couldn’t change my shirt and hat. I will say the temperature had started to rise and the sun had come out. I wasn’t miserable but I would have benefited from the fresh outfit.

Around mile 20 we got to the northeast point of the course and we ran around a small lake. This was a good moment for me because I could see where I was starting and where I would be finishing for this mile. I realize now that at the end of the marathon, one of the biggest challenges is just not being able to conceptualize the distance. You lose perspective because six miles doesn’t seem like much compared to how much you’ve already run, but it is a lot. You expect the miles to go along faster, but they don’t. They are the same length as any other mile. By actually seeing the entire mile laid out in front of me, it made it much easier to get through.

But as soon as that was over, we were hit with another steep hill. This time I just had to walk it. I was exhausted and having a hard time making progress on the flat parts of the course. These end hills were just insulting.

By mile 23 and 24 excitement was building on the course. There was a lot of spectator support throughout the whole race, but these last few miles were very enthusiastically attended. The neighborhoods were really nice and it made the time go faster. I really get a lot of inspiration during the end of the race when people tell me I can do it or that they are impressed. I know they are strangers and they say it to everyone, but when you make eye contact with a spectator and they tell you something encouraging, it really can improve your outlook.

Running along at this point I also had a moment when I realized I was going to be done with 31 marathons! It really hit me that it’s such a huge accomplishment and that I’m getting so close to my goal.

Brett did find me again on the course, just when I thought I probably wouldn’t see him until the end. Turns out that he did have traffic problems with his cab and he literally missed me by one minute at the last stop. At this point, I didn’t see the benefit of changing clothes. I was trying like heck to get to the finish line by 4:00 and I didn’t want to waste any time.

Again, those last two miles are not easy. You think you can just gut it out but time stands still. I wanted to get in at four hours, and it hurt, but I did speed up as best as I could. A nice downhill into the city was also very helpful. I crossed the finish line and was so very pleased to be done, regardless of my time. In the end, my time was excellent as well, so that made for an amazing race day. I was so very happy that I decided to do the race and of course that I also got to see my Maryland family.

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runningseason · 6 years

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Negative is Positive!

We’ve all done it. The gun goes off, the adrenaline takes over and before we know it, we went out too fast in a race. We approach mile 1 about 20 seconds too fast. No big deal, right?! Now we have 20 seconds in the “bank”. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the Bank of Running doesn’t exist! Depending on how long your race is, this could be a very detrimental mistake made by both beginner and experienced runners alike.

Coincidentally, this error is a hard one to break away from. It’s very easy to get “caught up in the moment” and run too fast in the early part of a race. “But I feel good,” you may tell yourself. “This could be my day for a big PR.” While this can be true, you are most likely setting yourself up for slower splits later on in the race.

Don’t get me wrong, you can still PR with positive splits, but speaking from experience, it feels so much better (both physically and mentally) when you have a strong last mile and are passing people instead of barely holding on and getting passed.

Running a negative split takes a lot of practice and patience.

Let’s start first with practice. When I run workouts, I go in with a plan. My coach prescribes a pace and it is my job to run that pace for a certain amount of time and/or reps with a finite amount of recovery in between. Just like in races, it is easy to go out too fast on the first rep. This is why it is very important to be conscience of your pace and make adjustments as needed. My general rule of thumb is that if I feel I can do the entire workout at a slightly faster pace, then I better be able to keep the pace I start at and not slow down as a workout progresses. Many times, I will run my last few reps a bit faster than I started to practice negative splitting.

Patience is the hardest part of running a negative split. Patience should be practiced during workouts, but the true test is always during a race. You need to fight that feeling in the beginning of a race that tells you that you can do anything; embrace that feeling later in the race. I have found my Garmin to be very helpful at keeping me controlled early on in a race. I’ve been told in the past to ditch the watch and run on feel, but my problem is that I feel so good in the beginning of the race, that if I don’t have my Garmin to tell me my pace, then I will go out too fast. There is nothing harder than watching people you know you are faster than go out in front of you. This is where you need to be the most patient. If you are truly faster than the person, then you will catch up.

Last night was the men’s and women’s open USATF-NJ 5k championship. My goal going in was top 5 and sub-17:46 (which would be a PR). The time goal was most important and I figured the place would come with the time. I knew there was going to be some tough competition, but I had to be patient. My coach and I devised a pace plan for the race earlier in the week: 5:49-5:45-5:35-kick. Mother Nature decided to throw in an added obstacle—heat and humidity. The temperature was approaching 90 degrees when I arrived at the race. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to drop down to negative splits based on the conditions, but I decided I would at least go out smart and see what this 36-year-old body was capable of. The gun went off and it took everything I had to keep my pace controlled. I caught myself in the beginning and immediately slowed myself down. A few friends saw what I was doing and tried to stay close as I am known to “go out smart.” The first mile I was constantly being passed. I knew many of the people and I wonder what they were thinking when they passed me. Did they know I had a plan to run negative splits, or did they think that the heat was too much for me?

I hit mile 1 in 5:45. Although I knew this was a few seconds faster than planned, I knew that this was a good starting point. The previous week, I made the mistake of going out in 5:37 and paid for it dearly in miles 2 and 3. As soon as I hit that mile mark, I increased my effort. Mile 2 had some uphill, so I knew I would need to push harder to maintain the same pace. It was during mile 2 that I started catching up with some of the people who passed me in the beginning and I was not going any faster. Mile 2 of a 5k can be the hardest mile because it is your maintenance mile. It’s the mile in which you want to either maintain your speed from the previous mile, or gradually increase your speed. If you went out too fast in your first mile, you probably already started slowing down before you reached the 1st mile marker, which sets you up for a much slower pace at the start of mile 2. I gave a lot of effort in my second mile of this race. I stayed focused on the task at hand. When I approached the mile marker, my Garmin clicked off another 5:45.

With 1.1 miles left in the race, it was time to turn it on. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I had worked my way up to the 7th female position. The last mile of this course is downhill. It’s nothing substantial, but you can use it to your advantage if you run smart in the beginning of the race. It took me years of running this course before I realized the last mile was downhill. I typically ran too fast in the first mile and was on a slow death march until I reached the track finish. This year I had a plan and I was sticking to it! I started picking up the pace. I was hovering around 5:40 pace. I pushed harder to get in the high 5:30 range. I started passing a lot of people, mostly men. I saw a woman that I didn’t know in a cluster of men from my old team. I pushed hard to catch up and then I kept pushing forward to pass them. There was another woman that I passed on the downhill as well. All of a sudden, it was time to make the final right turn before the left onto the track to finish. I could see my teammate Alex getting closer. She was the only woman in sight.

***A few days before the race when I was discussing my plan with her, I told her that I hope to see her in the 3rd mile. Alex and I run very differently, but our 5k times are similar; she is a beast in the longer races.***

I made that right turn and it felt like forever before we were able to make the left turn onto the track. The road approaching the track is the slightest bit uphill, so you really need to push here. Finally, I made the final left turn and my feet felt soft rubber underneath. With about 2 tenths of a mile to go, I kicked my pace up to a new gear. I was approaching the 3 mile mark. Just a curve and a straight away until the finish line. Mile 3 clicked off at 5:37. I was fast approaching Alex, so I made a move. I passed her on the curve. At this point I was giving it everything I had. Alex responded and picked up the pace. I could not go any faster, so I watched her cross the finish line 2 seconds before me. I was so proud of her for taking it to that next level. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t have the competition. She is not only a teammate and a friend, but we both pushed each other to new PRs! My pace was sub-5 minute for my final kick—a new Strava course record for the track portion of this race. I ended up accomplishing both of my goals by running a 17:42 and placing 5th female!

Knowing I ran smart and gave it everything I had to progress my pace to the point of not being able to go any faster is such a positive feeling. If you haven’t tried it yet, I encourage you to try running negative—you will have nothing but positive results!

#negativesplits running lagerrun matosmagic nuunlife runamerica njracingproject leoniatrackclub 5k kfg3 pr usatfnj usatf

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