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tobi-momo · 3 years

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The Third Set

PAIRING: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

GENRE: Romance | Pining | Fluff | A lil crack (kinda)

WARNINGS: not proofread | a lil ooc and soft at the end (pls dont get mad at me 😭😭)

WORD COUNT: 1k+

A/N: hihihi ok so this idea literally came to me while reading another fic (i cant remember it now im super sorry) and it wouldnt leave my head so i couldnt NOT write it yk? pls keep in mind that it gets rlly soft at the end and really out of character😭 i just hc that does affectionate things during an adrenaline rush, like he's too hyped to care ab what going on around him he just wants to see you, and so this is basically where that came from kasjkhasd- also this is not meant to be spicy at all whatsoever (although some remarks from the others are made that way when you read) its supposed to be romantic and lighthearted, so pls dont think its that sexual😭 also thank you @awmahleebkg my wife for giving me the confidence to post this i love you baby <333

Watching Kei play was one of your favorite things to do. Sure, that might sound a little sad, but watching him and his team working together on the court was something that you wouldn't miss the world for. Until an away game came along, it taking place somewhere farther than they usually are, and since you weren't a part of the team, you couldn't take the school bus with them. So, you took the city bus. He might have told you not to, he might have told you to wait at your house for him to return and tell you about it, but you couldn't help it. This was an important game, and you needed to be there and support him.

He was nervous, although someone who didn't know as well as you wouldn't be able to tell, you were always able to see right through him. Always able to tell when he was nervous or scared, even intimidated. He found it annoying, that you were always there for him, confused as to why you dedicated your time for him, but years after your first meeting he realized that he would do the same for you. You didn't know that his heartbeat the same way for you as it did for him, and he sure as hell didn't know that the reason you stuck by him all these years was to feel that exact heartbeat next to yours.

[3:37 P.M.]

Kei <3: Stay home, y/n

Y/n: but it's an important game! i want to cheer you on!

Kei <3: I'll tell you what happens after I get home if you really want me to. But stop whining at me it's annoying.

Y/n: 😠😠 let. me. go.

Kei <3: No.

Y/n: i hate you so much

Kei <3: Sure you do

You wouldn't listen to him, of course. Why would you? You get your bag ready to leave, filling it with snacks and water bottles to help the team out.

By the time you snuck in, it was half-way past the second set. Tensions were high and sweat was dripping off their jaws while they gain each point. You made sure to stay a little quieter, not wanting Kei's attention to be drifted away from the game, especially since you weren't supposed to be there. By the time they won that set, they were tied with the other team. One more set left, things are getting really heated.

The score remained close to each other throughout the game, Karasuno being two points away from a win with their opponent three points behind them. Watching Kei as he looks at the floor with frustrated eyes, obviously mad at himself for not doing better. He frowns, taking a sip of water so no one sees it. You can see a slight tint of fear in his eyes- he was scared of losing the set. Although all you've seen were blocks of perfection, even a couple spikes that hit the court floor aggressively, points going towards Karasuno once more, he thought he wasn't doing good enough. You knew he was amazing, everyone in the room knew it too, so why didn't he?

He jogs back on the court after a timeout from the other team, getting into a serve/receive position, waiting for the ball to come over the net. The server on the other team hit the ball over, sending it straight to Nishinoya, who receives the ball perfectly, passing it to Kageyama. Backing up into the set, Hinata runs behind Kageyama, surprising the blockers on the other side of the net when Hinata smacks the floating ball down with his might. Instead of the ball hitting the floor, the left-back position receives the ball at the seam, shanking it towards the audience.

Another point.

The crowd goes wild and the air tightens as the scoreboard raises. You bounce on the bleachers and stomp your feet in excitement, knowing that this match would be over soon.

Kei exhales sharply at the whistle, relief, and nervousness seeping out of him. He can do it, he thought. Only one more point. When the ball passes him to the other side of the court, quickly moves to the right side of the net, jumping and completely regretting his decision once the ball hits the floor. He watches the ball trail off in shock, the whistle suddenly getting too loud for him. He grits his teeth in defeat, thinking that it would be over for them. His head faces the ground, his hands are balled up in fists. That's when you decide to take initiative.

Inhaling a harsh breath, you stand up putting your hands on each side of your face before yelling out to him.

"TSUKISHIMA KEI!!!"

His head whips from the floor, his eyes widening once they find yours in the big crowd. You stand out- to him at least.

"DON'T GIVE UP!!! YOU GOT THIS!! LET'S GO!!"

His pupils dilate at your figure cheering him on, suddenly wishing he hadn't told you to stay home. He didn't know you were there, or how you get here in the first place, but he was glad you came. He wanted you there. His shocked expression turned into a smirk of confidence before he turns back around and goes to his position. The whistle blows once more, telling the server that they can go. He refocuses on the court, watching the ball and everyone near it, analyzing everyone's movements and predicting where the ball is going to go. The big spiker on the other team runs towards the net with his approach, swinging his arms back, ready to slam the ball down as Kei quickly beats him to it, jumping and raising his arms on top of the net in defense.

The ball smacks the floor of the court.

Kei's eyes glow when his feet touch the ground again.

They won.

He tries his best to catch his breath, heaving once his teammates trample him on the ground. You scream in victory, jumping up and down, sprinting down the bleachers to the team, them welcoming you with tight hugs and cries of joy. Electricity coursed through Kei's veins, adrenaline making his sight clearer, his hearing less muffled and his breathing a lot clearer.

You see Kei on the other side of the court, getting up and steadying himself on his feet once you two lock eyes. You run towards him with a fast pace, him reciprocating as his legs speed up toward you. You jump on him, clinging to him as much as you could when wrapping your legs around him, digging your head in his shoulder. His hand immediately grab the back of your thighs for support, helping your body balance on his while you tug on his neck.

You praise him, telling him how proud you were of him picking himself up and being the best, telling him how amazing his blocks and spikes were, how amazing he was. You could hear his breathless laughs of joy, a genuine smile painting his face when you subconsciously pepper his face in firm pecks from your lips, showering him in sweet affection for his win.

"YOU DID SO AMAZING KEI!! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!! THAT WAS SO COOL!! YOU SHOULDA SEEN YOURSELF OUT THERE! OH MY GOD THAT WAS- THAT WAS PERFECT!! I KNOW YOU WERE DOUBTING YOURSELF A LITTLE BIT BUT YOU WERE AMAZING THE WHOLE TIME I MEAN-"

Your words muffle when his lips crash onto your- a rough, exciting kiss that has you moaning in his mouth from surprise and desperation from wanting this for the longest time. Your hands slide up from his neck to his cheeks, palming them and pulling him closer while your lips disconnect and reconnect rapidly, not being able to get enough of each other. His hands subtly, but firmly squeeze your thighs while you tilt your head, giving him the chance to kiss you deeper. The amount of emotion going through your bodies, desperation, love, excitement, impatience, relief, mixing with the adrenaline in your system's causing your worlds to finally collide and mix.

"What are they doing?"

"I don't know but I feel like I'm interrupting something"

"I think they're the ones interrupting"

"Just let them have this one, guys"

"They are literally about to do it on the court how am I not supposed to feel uncomfortable, Suga-san?"

"Aw, these lovebirds are finally getting together, I knew it would happen"

"Liar, you bet they wouldn't!"

"Tanaka-san! You weren't supposed to say anything!"

You couldn't hear any of the banter in the background, your only focus was him, and his only focus was you. And all the team could do was watch.

pls i know this was rlly ooc im super sorry

taglist: @combat-wombatus @hitosushi @toosharkinternet @alpha3113 @flattykawadoorusmilkbread @solar3lunar @zerohawks @katsuhera

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kaunis-sielu · 5 years

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Dr. Jones: 11

You and Steve talk again after the invasion of New York is over. You visit him every time that you’re in DC, which ends up being quite a bit over the next few years. People were impressed by how you’d found him and how quickly and you’ve been hired often by SHIELD.

Steve is almost in contact with you everyday since the attack on New York City and considering it’s been nearly two years since you’d found him that’s quite the feat. He’s still picking up on the lingo and technology and seems to be adjusting okay. Whenever you’re in DC, like you are now, you usually head over to his apartment to hang out. If he was a normal guy and not the best man you’d met, besides your grandpa of course, you’d think he was into you. Monty insisted that he was but you couldn’t tell so you’d never made a move but that might be changing. He’d sent you a text about how excited he was to see you and how he’d really missed you this last month while you’d been away. You were on a mission for some missing paintings and it had taken a bit longer to find one of them than you’d hoped.

You’re on your way to Steve’s one evening in the early spring. It’s a nice night out, and you’re excited to tell Steve about your latest adventure. You make it to his building when several rounds of gunfire ring out, you duck down and run toward Steve’s building when you see someone sprinting at inhuman speeds across an adjoining roof. You would think it was Steve except a moment later someone crashes through a window and launches his shield at the retreating figure. You sprint to Steve’s building and up two flights of stairs. His door has been busted open and some of his old music is playing. You plunge your hand into your bag for your pepper spray as you cautiously make your way down the hallway. When you get next to his doorway you press your back to the wall and take a slow breath. You peek around the corner, and are greeted by a gun in your face.

“Who are you?” A woman’s cold voice sneers.

“I’m Dr. Indiana Jones. I’m Steve’s friend.” You tell her with your hands up by your head.

“You’re a Doctor?”

“Academic but I’m pretty proficient in first aid.”

“I have a medical team coming but anything you can do to help would be great.” She says lowering her gun. It’s then you take her in, she’s blonde, pretty and wearing scrubs.

“You’re wearing scrubs.”

“It’s for my cover. Captain Rogers wasn’t supposed to know I was here.” You follow her into his apartment and gasp.

“Fury.”

“You know him too?”

“He’s hired me.” You tell her dropping to your knees, blood is oozing from his side and he’s not moving. “No dying allowed Nick.” You tell him digging your first aid kit from your bag. It’s small but it’s got what you need. “What happened?”

“He got shot.” She snarks from the door and you huff.

“How?” You ask as you work on Fury’s wounds.

“That’s classified.” Her voice is tight so you don’t ask any more questions. You work on stopping Fury’s bleeding and you’ve got two of his wounds covered but they’re already bleeding through the gauze.

“I lost him! I fucking lost him!” Steve’s voice is amped up, and upset. He hasn’t realized you’re here yet. “Fury?”

“Doing what we can.” The woman says and you bite back a scoff. As far as you’re aware she’s more interested in flirting with Steve than helping to deal with Fury.

“We? Indy?”

“Hi. You have anything I can use to help stop the blood?”

“Yea.” He disappears into his bathroom and comes back with several towels.

“Rip them into strips for me?” He doesn’t answer but the sound of the fabric ripping is enough. “This isn’t going to be fun for any of us. We need these to go around his torso so we can tie it off.”

“Better to have a little pain now than for Fury to die.” Steve says grimly, he seems shaken, something you’ll ask him about when his neighbor is gone.

With Steve’s help you get the towels wrapped around Fury’s torso. It feels like hours but you know it can’t be because you’ve only wrapped and tied two strips when actual professionals come in and take over. The woman goes with Fury to the hospital, Steve assures a dark haired man in a tactical outfit that the two of you will follow as soon as possible. He texts someone as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink, another team of agents is already patching the wall and cleaning the floor. Steve is still tense, but again you don’t want to talk to him with other people around.

“What hospital is he at?”

“Mercy.”

“How far?”

“Maybe six blocks.”

“Wanna walk?” Steve’s eyes meet yours and he nods, you can see the relief in his eyes. You take his hand and pull him out of his apartment, he comes willingly.

It’s not until you’re out on the sidewalk that you speak.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“He was fast as me and could throw my shield just as hard. He caught it with one hand and when he threw it back it hit me so hard I slid backwards. Then he just vanished.”

“Is that why you’re so tense?”

“Part of it. Indy, he shot Fury by watching my body language. He could see me through the window, didn’t shoot me but used my line of sight to know where to shoot.”

“So this isn’t the first time he’s done this.”

“Not a chance. We shouldn’t have walked.” His grip on your hand tightens and he moves closer to you.

“He could’ve ki-“ you swallow thickly, “he could’ve shot you and he didn’t.”

“Sorry Indy.”

“For what?”

“Putting you in danger.”

“Hey, if I wanted a danger free life I wouldn’t have the job I do. Besides, I can take care of myself so don’t worry about me.”

“I’m going to.”

“If you need a place to stay tonight you can crash at my place.” You offer, it’s not like he hasn’t done it before during one of your many movie nights. Someone had to get him caught up on the movies of the last few decades and you were more than happy to be the one to do so.

“I feel like it’s going to be all hands on deck until we find out who this shooter is and why he’s after Fury.”

“Do you want me to come to the hospital and wait with you?” Steve nods so you do, you finally get to meet Natasha Romanoff and Maria Hill is there too. The four of you watch and wait and hope until they call it. Pronouncing Nick Fury dead, the grief on Natasha’s face nearly breaks your heart.

Tag list:

@sbluehi @memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @achishisha @patzammit @abschaffer2 @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thinkwritexpress-official @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @silverkitten547 @im-just-another-monster @badassbeckettswan @megan-queen-of-dragons @mywinterwolf @iamverity @scuzmunkie @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique

#dr jones story #indiana jones granddaughter reader #imagine indiana jones au #dr indiana jones #imagine steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #imagine #indiana jones avengers crossover #avengers indiana jones crossover #indiana jones #nick fury #sharon carter #the winter soldier #natasha romanoff

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goodguidanceptc · 6 years

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Louisville IM Race Report October 14, 2018

Welcome coaches, training buddies, close friends and masochists/insomniacs. As with prior race reports, be warned that this post contains STRONG LANGUAGE. Here goes:

Abstract:

Read the Athlete Guide. Always. Miserable cold and wet conditions. Water temp warmer than air temp, wetsuit legal. Absurd Swim (shortened due to aggressive current); T1 was all about gear choices; Adequate Bike under demanding conditions; T2 was also all about gear choices; Tough Run. Two key takeaways: 1) Read the Athlete Guide; 2) I haven't quite properly calibrated in-race fueling.

Total race time result = 10:18*

* Under grossly dis-humane weather conditions and my own flubs, that is a good result...with which I am completely unsatisfied. A no-surprise, well-managed bike and a somewhat uneven run (matched stand-alone marathon result). Feel free to stop reading now.

Pre-Race (aka: “the Dumbening”)

I cannot emphasize strongly enough: no matter how many races you’ve done, how confident you may be in knowing the procedures, the timing, the places, etc... read and re-read the Athlete Guide.

So although I cannot provide details, just know that I--through my own dumbness--was told to acquire my timing chip in T1 after an official manually noted my swim start time, while standing on the dock to jump into the Ohio River. Clearly communicated in multiple places: check-in closes at 5pm Friday.

Brief rewind: woke up, standard pre-race breakfast, uneventful gear check and load bottles onto bike, walked over to Swim in. Shoulda found an IM staffer then, but didn’t think. Just didn't think it through; too cold and pre-race- process oriented. Got a little tunnel vision to get to the front of the self-seeded “1-1:10″ swim line.

Announcer: The current is so strong, some of the pros were struggling to get up river. Swim shortened to .9 mile, in other words an Olympic distance. Race delayed.

Some squats to stay warm, chat up some folks in line, never once thought to go get my chip before passing though that big black arch.

Swim (:18 min or 1:18/100 pace)

I swear to you by all the barge traffic and catfish whiskers in the Ohio River, there is no way I was in that river for 18 minutes. More on this in T1. Feet first into the river, sight that first buoy and...

Ever look through a kaleidoscope? Or imagine a Disney version of puke from a flying whale? The view from my goggles was:

[Kayaks + swim caps + buoys]

(river current exceeding posted speed limits)

flying Disney whale puke (as I imagine it rendered)

Just utter chaos. I aimed for the big wall, hit the metal steps and out. To quote one of my training partners, “My hair barely got wet.”

T1 (9:20)

Up the steps and skipped the peelers. Rationale: stay as warm as possible as long as possible. Jogged to changing tent, quickly passed the clumping “under 1 hour” swimmers, grabbed a chair near the exit.

Decision time on what to wear and how much skin to cover for the bike. I went with 100% coverage. Socks, thermal legs, long sleeves, gloves, balaclava. Plastic bag under the jersey and five of those little hand warmers hunters use (squeeze and shake for 6+ hours warming) in my back jersey pockets.

Out to bike rack, unhook and... it’s find-my-chip time. Found an IM staffer who radioed multiple people before finally sending me past the Bike Out arch to where the chip folks were.

I. Stood. There. Forrr -- evv -- errr.

Trying to alleviate my own frustration and anxiety, I literally put my head in my hands and made Hulk sounds.

Now, even in my adrenalized and hyper-performance-oriented state, I remember that I brought this shit on myself. So any expectation of special treatment, expedited problem-solving or what I call the lack of a “hop to!” by IM staffers simply cannot be criticized. This crapola? All. On. Me.

Furthermore, I'm grateful. (Check prior race reports, if you must. OR just trust me when I say that...) I thank all the volunteers and cops and EMTs and Traffic Management and general staff within earshot. No matter what speed I’m biking or running. Seriously. I’m all about appreciation.

All that said, Swim and T1 times are clearly inaccurate. Although IM staff noted the time of day I jumped into the water, another IM staffer wrote my time on a clipboard when they activated my chip and yet another other IM staff told me they’d estimate my T1 time. But I didn’t know precisely where to go in T1. So I lingered.

[So again: read the Athlete Guide.]

And if you are ever in that situation--which I guaran-frikkin-tee you I will NEVER be--I recommend you DO NOT stop to ask questions. Continue until you happen upon the chip folks. Worst case: you miss them and back track... the biking equivalent of going back to get dropped nutrition.

Bike (5:43)

While I definitely did not feel myself relax heading down River Road, I did feel a certain familiar comfort. I’d ridden this course a few times so even in the cold, wet wind, I was pretty confident I could manage the bike.

In the spirit of gratitude, whether passing or getting passed, I try to say something positive (looking good, go git some, stay strong).

Even on a hilly course, I ended up pacing with a few others. I try to be sensitive to any ‘gamesmanship’ (I’m not trying to get in your head competitively) but I'm definitely chatty. And the cold and wet just invited comment, even if only to distract from the misery.

Stick out and first loop was uneventful other than the number of people shivering on the sides of the route. Second loop had more than a few cars on course that seemed patient and considerate (relatively, IMO) but still required careful negotiations.

A FEW FIRSTS FOR ME

BLINDING ANGER. I admit I might have been “kicking the cat” but I’ve never experienced this on course.

On the back side of the loop, in the narrow stretch of blacktop through the small neighborhood just after the long descent out of La Grange, there’s short, steep descent with a well-marked/painted “BUMP” before a short, steep uphill. I’m a technically strong and confident cyclist so getting through here on the first loop was a piece of cake. Second time though, there was a hefty pack of windbreakers weaving(!) across the entire width of the road. Despite shouting “on your left” repeatedly and loudly, I had to brake. On an uphill. Dropped my chain. Nearly fell. Unclipped. All in the tiny 8ish yards of that short ascent.

What did I do? Stood there trying to get my chain back on and swearing profusely that dickhead bucket-listers with fucking no fucking business fucking leaving their fucking strip-mall periodontist practices should fucking learn to handle their goddamn bikes.

As I passed them on the descent towards the hay-bale bullseye, I gently advised them about blocking, race etiquette and having some goddamn self-awareness. In my defense, I averaged very nearly 20mph that day. And when I accidentally felt somebody too close as they passed, I always apologized. In retrospect, I’m sorry I was that guy right then.

PROFOUND SOLITUDE Stay with me as I get a little bing-bongy here... At the split to repeat the loop or return on the stick, most folks (the fat part of the bell curve) go left for their second loop. I was returning on the stick.

Suddenly I was not saying or hearing “on your left” or listening for the difference between aero wheels or a passing car.

I was alone. Like the guy in that Robert Frost poem. Miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep. And the mental chatter started. Cold. Grey. Wet. Stupid. Wasteful. What ego on you, chump. Clips from Moby Dick, Chapter 96. Burning ship, drove on to some vengeful deed. Gloom. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. ee cummings A Leaf Falls.

[Stop wasting your time with this race report. Go read some actual writers.]

Even my mantras had abandoned me. I may have started singing or rapping something from my training playlist to shut down the negative chatter. And that’s about when I realized how well I was managing this bike leg. I think that’s called a paradox.

DON’T BLOW IT NOW Somewhere along one of the last ascents, I realized that I’d dressed properly! Coach Robbie’s advice for plastic grocery bag was spot on. Sure the toes and fingers were cold, but functional. Ears and neck felt okay and core temp was a non-issue. I wondered if I’d taken enough calories (thought: probably) but come on! I’d handled some real shitball conditions pretty well.

T2 (8:49)

Pulled off everything soaking wet except kit shorts. Replaced with dry thermal long-sleeve top, dry hat, dry gloves. Run belt, bottle, dry socks, shoes. Go.

While neither T1 or T2 were very fast, I really didn’t linger in the warmth. I remember thinking, “Take two deep breaths, make this decision and move it.” In other words, time was spent actually changing clothes.

BTW, Transition volunteers? True Guardian Bros. Can’t thank em enough.

Run (3:58 aka: avg 9:03/mi)

Two MAJOR joyous moments within the first mile:

1) As we’d pre-planned, my unbelievably awesome wife told me I was 18 minutes behind a podium slot. She told me later that I barked, “FUCK!” Regardless, I steal a kiss every race. Better than a GU and just as sweet. [Yes she reads these. Wink!]

2) Coincidentally, she was standing a few feet from Coach Robbie (C26), who I recognized but accidentally called Mike (his podcast co-host who I knew was on course). I think I shook his hand? Or maybe just shouted a happy shout?

So those two intercepts helped make the first 25% of the run all good. I kept turning down the pace because, as Coach Robbie has said, “your legs are lying to you.”

Then all that good ju-ju abandoned me like buoys on the Ohio River on the backside of the first loop.

I’d dropped my Infinit before finishing the entire first 24oz bottle. Why not stop and get it? I got no good rational answer. Ditched hat and gloves and actually rolled up my sleeves. My legs and shoes were soaked. (Walk-peeing wasn’t doing me any favors.)

I felt better once I had another bottle from my Special Needs bag, but by then I’d already burned my biscuits (another C26 gem) so I was well below my planned and expected 8:40/mile pace.

I may have even cried a little. Apologies to extremely helpful volunteer who graciously ignored a grown-ass man losing his shit. I KNOW i was talking to myself, “It’s all in your head. Move it.” and other more terrible words.

The last 25% in-bound was an exercise in utter stubbornness. Coke Gatorade Coke Gatorade Coke Gatorade and tons of verbal self-flagellation to keep going. I sincerely believe I passed two guys in my AG out of pure self-loathing.

The Fourth Street Live finish lived up to the hype. There’s photographic evidence that I actually smiled as I crossed and nearly collapsed (again, super kudos to the volunteers). I was wheeled straight to medical, shivering and borderline shock-ey. Broth, blankets, checked vitals (core temp too low). As planned, Susan brought me multiple layers of dry clothes. Changed. Got my mental shit together after finding out I’d finished 16th. Gold star to Al V., the med tent massage therapist. Another Guardian Bro. Limped home.

OVERALL RACE GRADE: PASS

As with prior races, IM-LOU yielded incremental improvements in all racing phases. As I said at the top, this was a good result, with which I am completely unsatisfied.

Am I one of the guys at the pointy end of the bell curve? Clearly yes.

Did I KQ? Unequivocal NO. Not even close.

There is clearly opportunity for additional incremental improvements to all five aspects of my racing:

Swim pace was an anomaly. 3x/wk in the lap pool could be improved by 2x/wk in endless pool.

Bike power was lost due to shitass Garmin tech. But from what I remember, I was mostly high Z2 with relatively few power spikes given the course and conditions. I definitely managed the bike with patience and smarts.

Run suffered due to fueling strategy that is just not... quite...perfected. And again, deplorable conditions.

Fuel strategy. I over corrected from IM-AZ (early run GI problems). Calories, liquids (no solids) and delivery method feels right. Timing around T2 needs tweaking.

Transitions were what they were. MY dumbassery in T1 was offset by my smart gear decisions.

See you in New Zealand in March, 2019!

WITH GRATITUDE FOR...

I’m very grateful to my lovely wife Susan and my wonderful kids, Peter and Veronica for their support. Susan, you are my salvation.

I’m grateful to have the expert professionals Coach Klebacha and Coach Sharone and the entire Well-Fit staff and athletes who generously share their wisdom.

I’m grateful to my inspiring and impressive training partners, including but not limited to the TriFam, the Well-Fit Elite Team (too many bad-asses to list but special GOLD STARS to LIZ and LAURA) and other triathlete rockstars like Nic, Dana, Andrew, John, James, Tony, and all the Pauls and Mikes.

I’m very grateful to anybody willing to excuse my terrible smell, deplorable language and barbaric sounds during training.

Maximum gratitude to Well-Fit, FFC, UIC, Whitney Young, Get-A-Grip, Live Grit, Fleet Feet, the Lakeshore path, Louisville Landsharks.

I’m grateful for Crushing Iron (C26), Matt Fitzgerald, Joe Friel, Training Peaks, Scott brand bikes, Apple, Ironman.

Thank you to all the on-course maniacs cheering and making signs and wearing all sorts of crazy outfits to show love and support. For strangers exercising.

Special thanks and appreciation to Bernie Mc for the most amazing on course support. Extra special Top Marks to Bernie!

I’m grateful that I’m able to race triathlons. Thanks for reading.

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