Looks like the Tough Guy, the godfather of obstacle course racing, really is gone forever - combination of Mr Mouse's health problems and you can't maintain a permanent giant wooden obstacle course on two years of no entry fees.

It is insane and delightful to me that the roots of this batshit sport are in a horse sanctuary just outside Wolverhampton. I've done it four times, once each of the January, April, July and October versions. It was gloriously amateurish. The obstacles had names of dubious taste. We signed a disclaimer saying if it killed us it was "my own bloody fault for coming".

My main memories of the Tough Guy are absolute terror, punctuated by the quasi-mystical experiences you get when adrenaline and endorphins are two hells of some drugs. At one point alone in the woodland running section I became convinced I'd been taken by the Fair Folk and a hundred years and a day had passed in the real world - but then I saw the aid station and calmed down a bit. Everything about it was confusing and scary. I made an account in a mud-running forum purely to ask what the hell the instructions meant, only to be told they would never make any sense and I just needed to turn up at 10am and hope for the best. Excuse me I have agoraphobia and OCD, that is not how I roll. That aspect was legit more terrifying than, say, discovering you're not actually that keen on heights when you're out on the ropes at the top of the Behemoth and regretting the life choices that took you to this point (four times). Or the really cold water. Or their enthusiasm for electric obstacles. Or the combined electric and cold water obstacles, like Viagra Falls.

Somehow it went straight through the OTT masculinity of other OCRs and out the other side. Nobody shouted at you or made you do burpees. The course is difficult enough and everyone's having a hard time; no need to make it worse. There was the Ghost Squad, topless pyromaniac drumming Vikings in face paint who ran the warm up and occasionally popped up out of nowhere to assist and/or startle you. There was Mr Mouse in his kilt and moustache like a goddamn celebrity. There was a major gender imbalance. But it somehow didn't feel as macho as some others. It actually felt like we were all in this insanity together.

rugged maniac OCR 2023

i had the amazing opportunity to join one of my friends for an obstacle course race/mud run for the first time this past weekend! i’ve never run in a race of any kind really, so this was exciting as both a race and an obstacle course! the course was a 5k running course filled with like, 20-30 obstacles including climbing over walls/ladders/fences of many kinds, huge slides, rope net climbing, crawling under barbed wire through mud pits, and so much more.

i stayed with my friends the whole time and i didn’t really train, so we walked a good chunk of it. there were tons of hills, sandy trails, forest paths, and other terrain that made running even harder anyway. safe to say i definitely wasn’t running for time, just for fun!

it was so incredibly fun to push my body and just let myself have fun and go crazy. it was like an adult playground on steroids!! the endorphin rush was incredible and even a few days later i still feel so excited and proud just talking about it. i am 100% doing this again, and would recommend to anyone else who’s thinking about it!

Throwback Thursday to my first Spartan Race Stadion. This was actually my fastest time for the Sprint. The monkey bars wasn’t hard. You just have to remember not to fall or 30 Burpees. @spartanrace Thanks for the memories.

About this weekend...

...it happened again!

Did my first ever obstacle course run today! Was super nervous but it was a lot of fun, and I only had to skip 3 obstacles. Very grateful for my team (husb+colleagues) who helped me on a few obstacles, and a bunch of colleagues who cheered us on during the whole race and brought snacks for afterwards. Knees are bruised and had to take a long nap to recover, but overall 9/10 would do again ✨

Spartan Race Tri-State New Jersey 2024

Spartan Race Sprint 2024 (All Obstacles)

¡Prepárate para la Medieval Extreme Race de Xeraco!⚔️🛡️ Una carrera de obstáculos medieval única en su género. ⚔️🛡️¡Inscríbete ya y vive una experiencia inolvidable!

https://hijosdespartan.com/eventos

#MedievalExtremeRace #Xeraco #Valencia #CarreraDeObstáculos #Medieval #HIJOSdeSPARTAN

Friday the 13th Spartan Savings! we currently have a great deal and a way to get you to save on your 2023 Spartan Season pass and Trifecta Pass! Use the link on BIO and follow the slide directions Use code SAPSP for $100 off a Season Pass Use code SAPTP for $50 off a Trifecta Pass Let me know if you need any assistance #spartanambassador #spartanrace @spartan @spartan.brand.ambassadors #ocr #saving #races #fitness #fun #friends #spartan https://www.instagram.com/p/CnYs_Kkr184/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

Mini Event Saturday

2 mile run: ran 11:38 pace

30 min AMRAP: 5 renegade man makers, 10 bear crawls, 10 box jumps

2 mile run: ran 11:59 pace

30 min AMRAP: 5 sandbag get ups, rope climb, 30 step ups

2 mile run: ran 11:20 pace

I kept it shorter today (I had one more 30 min AMRAP to do) but still crushed the workout. I ran all 6 miles, which was a huge boost (the 2 mile interval repeats I had earlier this week did not go well) As a whole, today’s workout went better than I expected, after having a whole week off program during vacation (and a few cheat days lol)

I have 2 more weeks of workouts before race day(s) and one will be a taper week. So my current mindset going forward is that I’m not going to get any stronger/faster/resilient than I am currently and that’s okay. These next two weeks are not to feel pressured to do better, but to maintain my current level of fitness, and raise my confidence in my abilities to do these tasks each day (and in turn, do well in the OCR races). It’s getting close and I’m stoaked!

The Lost Pearl Part 14

Syverson x reader

TW: non, Sy trying

Masterlist (can find all parts there)

(Pictures, You and Rosamund, the blue flowers Sy got you, Your dress, You and Ethos dancing, The books, all pics found on Pinteres, credit to owners)

Syverson realized as soon as he was back in Warhorse that Ocre was right and he had to have a better plan than just flowers. He went straight to his office walking up and down. He felt like he was walking a hole into the ground when his eyes caught something on one of his shelves. Of Course! How had he not seen it before, it was quite literally in front of him. He walked over to the shelve brushing his fingertips against the fragile binding of the book. He immediately turned around and walked out towards the storage. He was a man on a mission, blood was pumping his heart was racing in the most pleasant adrenaline-inducing way. His face was set, determined to achieve what he not only wanted but needed. 

He walked down the cold stone steps towards the cellar of Warhorse. He pushed open one door. His great uncle had stored the possession of his wife. She loved beautiful dresses and to the surprise of the people of the oral tradition, she was an avid reader. 

He searched trunk after trunk pulling out old smelly clothing, hoping that some books were still well enough to use. To his annoyance, the books were in the last trunk he could find. He was starting to sweat despite the cold underground. He pushed the trunk open looking inside, there were three stacks of books in there. He pulled them out and looked through them sadly most of them were destroyed due to the cold and wetness in the room. He brushed some dust off the ones that were still good. It was about five. Not much but it had to be enough. He had no idea what to do if it was not. 

He walked to his office as fast as he could. He needed more light to inspect them more. He instructed Gisla to put the flowers in water. He was just about to pass the Parlor when he stopped turning back to look at the door. He knew you and Cella were outside so he opened the door and took a look inside. This Parlor was usually given to the women of the household. In this case, it was still Cellas but once she was gone it would go to Rosamund but mostly it would be empty as Rosamund was not necessarily fond of the room. He turned about the room. A plan was forming in his head. It was spacious with a couch, table and chairs, fireplace, and space to host people. The walls were primarily bare but one with a tapestry hanging from it. He smiled to himself, yes this would work, he thought. A lightness settled in his chest that he had not felt since the fight between you. He spotted a trunk in the corner of the room, he went over and looked inside. He had to chuckle, the trunk was filled up to the hill with books. He shook his head at that. 

He moved on to his studies, it was getting dark and he did not have a lot of time to put his plan in motion. He looked at the books closely. Wondering if some of the rough edges could be preserved. He had no idea how to do it. Maybe some of the craftsmen could, although they had never restored a book they do work with leather and should be able to fix it. But there was no time for it now. The longer he waited the more he felt the cold shadow of indifference between you. So he left the book behind in his studies and walked outside. He went down into the town, walking along, past the many wood houses on the gravel path. He was searching the shops looking for the crafting woman. He spotted her sitting on a chair outside, a knife in hand and her long greying hair in a braid. She was fiddling with a piece of wood. “I apologize for my interruption crafting woman, Chae-Won.” The woman looked up, her eyes were dark, almost as dark as the ends of her still black hair. She had high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. “Captain.” She nodded in greeting. She got up pulling up another chair. “Some tea?”

Before he could answer she was off. Back rounded from long years being bent over wood, crafting, and building. While she got some tea he sat down looking at the piece of wood she had been working on. For him, the lines did not make a lot of sense but her carving seemed steadfast and confident. She came back out of her hut. He stood taking the cups from her and offered her his arm, helping her sit. She smiled, holding onto his arm. “What bring you here my Captain.” Straight to the point. She took a sip from the steaming water and he followed suit before answering. “I have some books up at the castle they are damaged. I was wondering if you know how to craft new leather bindings for them.” She thought about it for a moment. “I spent some time at the borderlands, there we had occasion to craft new leather armor for soldiers passing through. I will try. I cannot imagine it would be much more complicated than that.” Syverson sight in relief. “I also wondered if you could come up to Warhorse tomorrow and look at the Parlor. I would like to put up some shelves for books.” She hid her smile behind the teacup. “I will be there tomorrow after breakfast.” Syverson nodded drinking from his tea. “Is there any specific wood your lady has in mind?” Syverson started to cough, the tea running down the wrong pipe. “I am sorry?” “The Lady you are building the shelves for, her people like lighter wood than ours. I might have to search for a while to get some wood like that.” Syverson was adjusting himself in his seat. “Why do you think it is for her?” “Do not act bashful with me. I have no interest in your love life Captain. But I do care for my crafting.” Syverson looked at her, she had that twinkle in her eye that told him he had said more with his bashfulness than he had if he would have been straight with her. “I am not sure.” Syverson had not thought of the different kinds of woods and tastes. “It will do good to have more information by tomorrow. I will bring some suggestions with me.” He drank the rest of the tea. Thanked Chae-won and went up to the castle again. As usual, he had not thought things through. He would have to talk to you before he did anything. He wanted to do it now, rather than later. 

He walked to his study. The flowers were on his desk, in a beautifully painted vase. He had not seen this vase before but he did not care as long as everything looked beautiful he had no care. He took a couple of books and took out one of the green ribbons he usually bound his cloak with. It had fallen off his cloak and now it came in handy. He wrapped it around the books tying it with a bow. He looked at it satisfied. Taking one deep breath he walked with the flowers and book in hand to your room. He knocked at your door, with his foot. Just when he knocked he realized she should have put on a nicer shirt and combed his beard. He was so wild and unkempt in contrast to your people. He realized with embarrassment that he had mud on his shoes. Oh, I hope I do not have any on my face, he thought. 

Suddenly the door opened, there you were. Your hair tied back, a lovely light sea-green gown on. He had not been so close to you for a long time and he had to resist closing his eyes when the flowery smell of you wafted towards him. My, did you always smell this good? He could feel his heart speed up. He opened his mouth and closed it again. “My Captain.” You bowed slightly. He cleared him through. “Princess.” With this, he thrust the flowers into your hands. You were taken aback but stepped aside to let him in. 

Syverson stood in front of you, in your room. You had no idea what he was doing here. Confused and a bit shocked. He looked slightly uncomfortable and had not said more than one word. You let him have his space, waiting for him to speak. He looked around your room and when he finally looked at you again his cheeks were on fire. You thought him blushing was an endearing feature of a leader. “I apologize for interrupting you before dinner.” He wrung his hands. “I-, these are for you.” He pointed to the flowers in your hands. “Thank you.” You smiled unsure where he was going with this. You looked down at the flowers in your hands, setting them on your table. It was the same blue flowers he had plucked once when you were in the garden after saving Rosamund. They looked like blue little stars. “Would you like me to call for some wine?” “No.” The silence became uncomfortable but finally, after he rubbed over his head Syverson began to speak. You had sat down and he followed suit. “I wanted to talk about what happened. Well, not necessarily talk. But apologize. I am sorry for all the things I have said.” He went silent waiting for something. You remembered his words clearly, the pain opening like a wound in your heart. You nodded avoiding his eyes. “I let my anger get the better of me. I want you to know, nay I need you to know that I was not angry at you.” Your eyes looked at him questioningly. “I was angry at myself.” He leaned back into the chair, looking into the fire. “I hated that I was not able to feed my people and that someone from the Southern people did.” He looked at you apologetically. You nodded in understanding. “It was not my intention to make you feel this way. I just wanted to help,” you said. “I know.” He leaned forward his hand closer to yours as if he wanted to grab it but stopped himself. “And I never thanked you for it. You have done so much for my people, my family, and me. You did not deserve my treatment of you. I hope that, in time, you can forgive me.” You smiled slightly at him, not your full smile but it was a start and it made breathing easier. “I do have to apologize too. I should have told you that I was writing a letter to my father. And although it was just a letter, it was my intention for him to send food. I am sorry.” This time he did reach for your hand, giving it a small squeeze. His hand was warm and rough. You wanted to close your eyes and savor the warmth against your cold skin. “I would not do anything to intentionally hurt you, Cella or Rosamund,” you added. “I know that. I am sorry I hurt you.” He said softly, his eyes not leaving yours. He still held your hand. “Thank you for the flowers,” you whispered.

He abruptly rightened himself, clearing his throat. “I have something else for you.” He handed you a small stack of books. This time you could not suppress your full smile. Immediately you reached for it. “It is not much, but my great aunt liked to read. I am not sure how good they are, and they are a bit damaged,” he rambled on, rubbing the back of his head. He had this bashful look about him again and his cheeks were rosy underneath his beard. You wondered, not for the first time, how it felt. “It don’t matter.” You pressed them against your chest. “I hope you do not mind but I have someone come in tomorrow to look at them to see if they could be restored. She is a talented carver, her name is Chae-Won.” “That is very sweet but I don’t think it is necessary.” You hastily added. “Not that I do not believe that she is not talented but I think they are perfect as they are.” Syverson’s chest felt tight as if there was not enough air in the room, your lips had a soft smile, looking soft and more inviting than water after a battle. Your eyes had lost some of the coolness, you looked like you again. “Indeed perfect,” he whispered. One of his hands was reaching for yours again, softly stroking his thumb on the back of your hand. “I wanted to discuss another thing. The Parlor has some bare walls and I saw that your brother has brought you some books. I was thinking about putting up some shelves so you could display them and have a room for reading. If you do not wish we can also do it in your room.” You stopped his caress of your hand, grabbing it hard. “I would love to. I am keeping them in my trunks right now and it does not do them justice. They are so beautiful they should be displayed.” He had never seen you as open as when you talked about books. Maybe he should pick up one for himself and see what the fuss is about. He always preferred spoken stories but he should be open to new things. Although looking at the shine in your eyes he thought you should be in stories. “Chae-won will come with some options for wood tomorrow. You can choose whichever you want. And anything else you might want or need Just say the word.” You nodded. “Thank you.” With one hand you were still holding his hand and with the other, you were clutching the books against you. Throughout your talk, you both scootched closer and closer to each other. You could finally smell him again, the herbs, woods, horses, he smelled like freedom and strangely enough something like home. You were completely ensnared by the smell and were slowly leaning closer. 

“Y/N it is time for dinner soon-” Gisla came in but stopped abruptly when she saw Syverson in your room. You swiftly scootched back from him. As if you were a child caught with the hand in the cookie jar. “Thank you Gisla. I do need a wash-up before.” Syverson stood, clearing his head. “I shall leave you to it then.” Before he left, however, he picked up your hand pressing a small kiss on it. “I will see you there, Princess.” You felt your heart stop for a second and your breath halted. You could do naught but nod in agreement. Your hand felt light and tingly. He gave you one small smile and left. Gisla was looking at the ground trying to hide her smile. You still stood rooted to the spot. She left you to you and pulled out a gown. “I will bring you some water for washing.” She walked to the door. “I will put in some of your oils so you will smell extra good tonight.” She smirked at you, before leaving with a chuckle. You wanted to be outraged at her but you did not have the heart. As you did not mind putting in some scented oil. You walked over to your bed. Sitting down and unwrapping the books. You looked at them closely. There was a book about tales from the old world, a book about herbs and flowers, and some other stories. The last one caught your eye, it was a book about language and different regional accents. You opened it, to your surprise and delight there was a chapter about the woodland people. This one you would read first. Gisla came in and you began getting ready for dinner. 

You walked to the hall you felt like you were far too overdressed, your gown was different shades of blue and lilac. Layered over another flowing with every step. Gisla had insisted on it. She had also added a small necklace with a white shining stone and pearls for your hair, instead of the net. 

You walked into the hall passing tables of already eating and drinking people. Everyone was in a merry spirit and you let it infest you. You felt so much lighter, and you were more than hungry. You smiled at Cella who joined you, walking towards the high table. You laced your arm with hers. She shot you a confused look. But you did not see as Syverson was sitting at the high table watching you walk towards him. You smiled at him. 

You pulled the chair out for Cella and she sat down as you had instructed her. You nodded in approval. Your brother stood wanting to pull your chair out but before he could Syverson stepped in front of him reaching the chair before him. “I might as well practice my manners too.” You laughed lightly. “I fear I have to agree Captain. This must be the first time you ever pulled out my chair for me. Very poor form indeed.” You smirked, sitting down. You could feel the deep rumble of his chuckle go through you making you shiver. Ethos and Cella looked at you both with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. Syverson and you paid them no mind. He sat down next to Ethos again but throughout the dinner, he sent you small smiles. 

Rosamund had come over to you and Cella and Syverson watched as you picked her up settling her on your lap. It tugged at his heart. When you first walked in he had thought that you were the most beautiful woman but seeing how you took care of little Rosamund, he had to go back on his statement. Now you were the most beautiful woman. He was glad that you were his friend again. And he hoped in time you would make your opinion known again. He would not admit it but he was dependent on it. You were smart and had much more knowledge about political matters than he had. Yet, there was one thing he had to do. Something did not sit right with him and he wanted to address it. But for now, he would enjoy the evening and the companions of his people, friends, and families. 

Once the ale was flowing freely, and the tables were cleaned he waved a servant over. He asked them to bring out some of the sweets they had baked this morning. It was the first time they had the resources to actually bake some sugar bread. It was soft sweet dough with some fruit in it. The servants promptly brought some. Before the people could dig in Syverson stood up. The hall went quiet. 

“My friends, my family. Before we eat sugar bread I would like to tell you a story. A story about someone extraordinary whose heart is brave and kind. For so long darkness, despair and suffering have plagued the people of the north, the people of the borderlands, and the people of the south. I have to admit I also was gripped by it. I was surrounded by paper, darkness settling over me, taking me with it more and more. Yet, one morning, when the morning light was still soft and the air still fresh from the night, I awoke. Awoke to something, something that could be so insignificant. A note. Made with a simple tool of a writing feather and ink. It was written, in soft curves and elegant flow, on my paper. It was so small I nearly missed it. If it were not for the light, I would have. All darkness that I carried in my heart felt like it left my heart, infused into the ink, and turned into hope.” 

The people were listening to every word and so did you, following the lines of his lips. You had a weird feeling in your chest between an ache and a flutter. “I never knew how strong words could be, how they could chase the darkness away and make you realize that no matter the hardship, light is always there you just have to look for it.” He turned to you, his eyes were so soft and blue. “Which reminds me of a story of a bear, his fell was disheveled, trotting slowly through a dark and cold forest, hardly any light, no food for him. This is when he came to a river and with his thick brown fur, he trotted towards it. An ache in his side made him slow, but he was stubborn. I will fight, I will protect, I will provide.” Syverson boomed in a deep voice. It caught your attention more, his face had changed displaying pain but determination.

“So the bear went into the water, he pawed, clawed, and roared. The coldness pulled him deeper into the water, his strength leaving him, his thick fur pulling him down. I cannot give up,” Syverson roared in that deep voice again. “I cannot give up,” He said a bit more desperately. “He dragged himself through the water still pawing, clawing, roaring. Trying to catch fish. He did not see the silver feathered owl landing on the rock just off the side of the river. Its eyes were watchful. And with just one look it had figured out that the bear was about to drown.” Syverson looked at you again, his voice had turned soft almost reminiscent. “Slowly the owl rightened itself, extending its wings suddenly it looked double his side, strong, powerful. It soared high into the sky, letting the wind do all the work, using the ability to oversee the river from high up. It observed the bear for a second more and flew a bit further. Suddenly it swooped down, disrupting the surface of the water. Once it soared up again it had a fish in its claws. It let out a hoot, catching the attention of the bear. The bear had thought he had never seen such elegance and beauty. Yet, he roared out in anger, trying to claw at the owl. How dare it mocks him, did it not see that he was trying to catch a fish too? Before the bear could claw at the owl again it let go of the fish and it landed. To the bear's surprise. Right in his mouth.”

Rosamund giggled at that and you joined in. “Stubborn bear,” you whispered to her. Syverson had heard it. “Yes, a stubborn bear he was.” He grinned at you.

“But not for long. Once his stomach was filled with the fish he realized that the owl was not mocking him. It was trying to help him. So it dragged itself out of the water and laid down. The owl swooped down, landing next to the bear, burring its head underneath the bear's snout, its face in the fur. The bear lifted his paw and covered the owl more. Soon the sun would be high and shining and the owl was seeking a dark spot to sleep. The thick fur of the bear provided the perfect spot. They slept, one day and one night, and one day again. The bear was healing, and the owl was resting. Once they awoke the bear found that the pain in his side was gone and to his happiness, the owl was still there. It blinked slowly, with its observing eyes, shaking its shining silver feathers. It looked at the bear once before soaring up into the sky again. The bear road out, but this time not in anger but in desperation. The owl had become his companion and he wished for it to stay. But the owl was not moving far, it crashed down into the water again catching a fish once more. This time it had caught a big and a small one and together they ate at the side of the river. The bear dangling its feet into the river and the owl sitting crossed-legged. Looking up into the sky the bear did not mind the darkness, as if it were not for it he would not see the beautiful stary night.” Syverson finished off.

He grabbed the first sugar bread and walked down to the table. He stopped right in front of you. Cella quickly took Rosamund from you. You did not even notice your focus on Syverson. “And as the bear was hopeful again. So was I. On that day the sun had risen shining a light on the note on my paper.” You knew exactly what he was talking about. Your heart was beating so fast but you could not look away from him his words and eyes capturing. “A note that helped my people and opened my heart. For the strong woman who wrote it my people and I owe much to. As she was the one that made the trade that provided my people with food possible. Princess Y/N Commander of the Pearl, daughter of the moon, and from now on, a sister of the Woodland people the Owl of the South, strong and smart.” He bowed to you. “You will always have a home here.”

He handed you the sugar bread. Your hand was shaking. And your voice failed you. You knew that the first bite of a meal was reserved for the leader. And you knew how significant it was that he was granting you the first bite. You stood up shaking, you broke the sugar bread in two putting the other piece into his hand. Without looking at the people, that had gasped at the Captain's gesture, you bit into the bread. The sweetness almost overwhelmed your senses. But you were not sure if the tingling came from the sugar rush or from the look on Syverson’s face. The people were cheering your name. “Hail Princess Y/N Commander, Daughter of the Moon, Sister of our kin, Owl of the South.” After you took a bite Syverson followed suit. Smiling that even now you would share what you had. He did not tear his eyes from yours as you had done. Yet, he hummed at the taste of sugar in his mouth. The people erupted in cheers, digging into their own bread, and some started to play on fiddles. Rosamund pulled you on your skirt dragging you away from Syverson and to the people who started dancing. You both spun around. You were laughing, twirling, and spinning faster and faster. You had not done this since before the war. You danced song after song, finally you were so out of breath that you hugged her to you and went off to drink some wine. She was far younger than you and had much more stamina. But it gave you great joy seeing her big smile. You took your rest at the side, talking with some people. A hand landed on your back making you flinch but when you turned around your brother Ethos was standing there. “Common sister.” He took your hand leading you to the dance floor. You started to dance one of the more traditional southern ones. Ethos was holding up his hands in front of his body, chest high. You followed suit, your hands were not touching. Once the music set in he took a step forward and you took one back, it was a chase. It was to symbolize the push and pull of the water. It got quicker and quicker. Stepping forth and back, without touching. The footwork was simple back forth, side step, side step. But the hand movement was intricate. Showing the difference in waves. Sometimes you both would lift your arms high, slowly dropping them down in a cross-movement towards your chest. You both had not realized that the music had started to mimic your movements. The people around you stopped dancing watching you. Your gown was flowing as if it was water. Once the final notes played you went into your original position but this time your hands touched. Your brother had a small smile on his face. You two had not danced like this for so long. He leaned towards you kissing your forehead. “I am proud of you sister, my commander, my high Princess,” he whispered. Then he walked off into the crowd. The people around you started to dance again as you teared up at your brother’s acknowledgment of your accomplishments.

Chapter 15

Taglist:

@tumblnewby @irishprincess89 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @amberangel112 @sofiebstar @omgkatinka @enchantedbytomandhenry @snowbellexx @daddys-littlewhitegirl @pjkimrn @zealoushound, @lunedelorientelorient​, @tragicphoenix13​, @alexa-fangirl-forever​, @vhjlucky13​ @bourbonwithice

By: Leigh Ann O’Neill and William E. Trachman

Published: Feb 4, 2024

Seventy years after the Supreme Court struck down racial segregation in education, it’s somehow making a comeback.

This year marks the 70th anniversary of the landmark Supreme Court case of Brown v. Board of Education. For the past 70 years, race discrimination in public schools has been illegal and unconstitutional. In some cases, even the National Guard has been called out to enforce the law.

But in Evanston, Ill., it’s still a pre-Brown world. As reported elsewhere last year, Evanston Township High School offered racially segregated classes such as AP calculus for Hispanic students only, and English classes for only black students. It did that purportedly in the name of shrinking the achievement gap between Caucasian and non-Caucasian students. Yes, it’s hard to believe, but the doctrine of separate-but-equal still lives on, even today.

What was the school district’s defense to such obviously illegal division of students by race? Just that no one is forced to take such classes, so they are optional, and therefore not discriminatory. But that logic doesn’t fly.

First, it’s obvious that Evanston is engaged in brazen racial segregation. If Hispanic students take the math class designed specifically for Hispanic students, that means that non-Hispanic students will generally take math classes without any Hispanic students. The same is true for English classes that are only for black students. So much for diversity and inclusion!

Second, the rationale behind the classes sounds a lot like the arguments made by segregationists of days past, who contended that Jim Crow was actually good for black Americans. As Evanston’s superintendent, Marcus Campbell, stated: The classes give non-white students “a different, more familiar setting to kids who feel really anxious about being in an AP class.” You could be forgiven for mistaking this statement for something that segregationist Arkansas governor Orval Faubus might have said to defend racial separation.

Evanston isn’t just violating the Constitution. In 1964, Congress also passed a statute that deprives schools of federal funds if they discriminate based on race. That statute — called Title VI — gives the Department of Education and its Office for Civil Rights the authority to investigate public schools engaged in race discrimination and to force them to come into compliance with the law, under the threat of losing all federal funding.

Let there be no doubt: The text of Title VI doesn’t distinguish between “mandatory” and “optional” school programs. There is no exception to the bar on race discrimination for schools that merely encourage and facilitate racial segregation. And that’s obviously true. No one thinks that public schools could host “optional” racially segregated proms, homecoming events, back-to-school nights, or sports teams. The classroom is no different.

The Biden administration recently reminded us that a host of school programs can violate Title VI if the school fails to allow all students to participate equally. In guidance published after the Supreme Court struck down Harvard’s affirmative-action program, the Department of Education wrote:

A decision to restrict membership or participation in activities and spaces based on race . . . would raise significant concerns and trigger strict scrutiny under Title VI. In determining whether an opportunity to participate is open to all students, OCR may consider, for example, whether advertisements or other communications would lead a reasonable student, or a parent or guardian, to understand that all students are welcome to participate.

Yet Evanston remains undeterred, apparently. While the district has dropped the word “restricted” from the class descriptions in question, it nevertheless continues to encourage students to segregate themselves. An English II class is now described as one that “will emphasize examples that some individuals in the Black community identify as shared experiences.”

But if you thought that means that Caucasian students are welcome now, you’d be wrong. In an August 2023 interview, Superintendent Campbell explained that “if push came to shove,” and “there’s nothing else that works and that kid is white,” then the district would reluctantly let a Caucasian student enroll in a math class for another racial group. But how do you imagine that lands on the ears of a “reasonable student” who is wondering whether he or she is genuinely welcome to participate?

It’s time for systemic change. The Office for Civil Rights should be launching an investigation into Evanston. But unfortunately, it seems that politics have persuaded the powers that be to look the other way, even when it comes to Evanston’s previous blatant violations of Title VI.

Yet now is the time to course-correct. Anything other than a full investigation into Evanston is a complete abdication of the Department of Education’s legal responsibility to stomp out federal funding going to support racial discrimination. With classrooms once again being literally racially segregated, it’s never been more clear that the Department of Education isn’t doing enough to crack down on race discrimination in K–12 schools.

As Chief Justice Roberts wrote in his opinion striking down affirmative action once and for all, “eliminating race discrimination means eliminating all of it.” And in Evanston, Ill., they have 70 years of progress to start catching up to.

Leigh Ann O’Neill is the managing director of Legal Advocacy at FAIR, the Foundation Against Intolerance and Racism. William E. Trachman is a former deputy assistant secretary in the Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights. He is the general counsel of Mountain States Legal Foundation.

[ Via: https://archive.md/Rm4rV ]

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Apparently, the lesson that "segregation is bad" didn't sink in the first time.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. -- George Santayana

Throwback Thursday! This was the year I decided to go for my Trifecta. This was also the year I blew out my knee while attempting to jump the 8’ wall. @spartan thanks for all the memories.

📸 Lynsay McEven on facebook

Fan pic di oggi 05/03/2023

What a weekend!!!!! Nuts yesterday great race lots of fun and got to see so many people I adore (including Tom Hardy) and then OCR awards last night.

Brilliant to see Karen McQuarrie pick up 3rd in the women’s series

So proud to see British Obstacle Sports recognised for all of the amazing work that everyone does to support our amazing sport

Was awesome to see Dave Peters and James Burton pick up awards for the junior British champs, that event is the future for our kids and so proud to play even a small part in it.

Fit Body Farm Freestylers OCR and Hyrox won best facility ….. for all of 5 seconds until we realised in a truly Oscar re-enacting moment that we were in fact amazing runner up to the mighty Nuclear. But what an achievement. Well done Gavin Hogarth proud as punch to train with you and in my eyes you have THE best facility hands down. Bring on Tartan Warrior UK

And if that wasn’t enough our little volunteer led Scottish OCR community managed to come runner up in community of the year!!!!!!

And then …… I somehow managed to bag myself OCR Volunteer of the Year AND OCR personality of the year !!!!!!

I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone that voted I am beyond grateful. There are so many people that were deserving, so much so I didn’t think I stood a chance, being up against some proper legends that I love dearly. I came into this sport to have some fun never did I imagine I would fall so hard for it (sometimes literally!!!! )

Well done Alan Moore and Ian Kay for a really fun night. 🥳🥳🥳

#TomHardy #obstaclemudrunner #havoc #thebikers #v3

Race Review – Spartan Race Charlotte 2024

Access Denied

January 29, 2023

By: Dawn_of_the_silver_age

Have you ever wondered why some things are digitized while others are not?

Not me, until I was annoyed when I wanted to access a resource only to find out that it was only available in a museum or a library far, far away.

Recently, I read an article that made me think about who does and does not have access to resources. Kamposiori, Warwick and Mohanty explained the stages of the research process, the difficulties that researchers encounter when digitizing resources like art and texts, what can be done to solve them. The author's style was very scientific and thorough and identified the following issues:

Lack of access to materials in private or smaller public collections as many remain undigitized

Access to locations (cost, language, accessibility, reliability of information, and availability to the public)

I have thought quite a bit about access as I am a Disabled student. I have found it a challenge to access textbooks and other resources, forcing me to adapt my learning and research processes.

Digitization on its own does not give full access to Disabled people. For digitization to be accessible, we must think beyond what is needed for neurotypical people and centre Disabled folk. Often what is stylistically pleasing to the eye makes it less accessible to Disabled folk.

Changing fonts are a straightforward way to give meaningful access. When creating texts, we need to think about improving access.

It’s much easier to read San-Serif fonts like Arial and Calibri.

Instead of fancy fonts.

When sharing images, we need to provide image descriptions and Alt Text. Digital resources must be available with OCR, font size options, colour overlays, audio recordings or text-to-speech. OCR stands for Optical Character Recognition, allowing screen readers to read the text. In Online Disabled community forums, you can easily see that the lack of OCR is a significant issue because of the volume of discussion. I rely on OCR to use my text-to-speech software, and blind students need OCR to access texts using text-to-speech or use a braille interface. Rarely are the needs of Disabled people even considered when we create digital sources. Texts must be digitized using formats that Disabled folk can access.

Digitizing text and artifacts gives everyone with internet — access. Imagine a world where everyone with the internet could access all texts and artifacts, even rare ones! When you think about it, access to sources democratizes learning. Access to the internet is another issue!

The cost and physical accessibility of visiting collections mean that some folk will never have access. Rarely do non-disabled people consider wheelchair accessibility, that stairs prevent access to artifacts and texts, signs without braille and large print and a lack of audio guides deny people entry. This needs to change.

There has been a lot of talk about intersectionalities lately. Let’s be clear, accessibility is not only about Disabled folk. It's also about race. Watching the documentary, The Recorder: Marion Stokes, I found myself as a white settler questioning who is left out of data-finding stories and that the process of searching, collecting, writing, collaborating and researching in the digital sphere (chaining, browsing, verifying) means that marginalized people, their way of knowing and how they experience the world are excluded. There is a whole database of Black women in physics and astronomy whose research and methods are rarely taught. We need to digitize and welcome everyone by providing access for everyone so we can all develop, analyse, reflect, evaluate, learn and communicate with one another.

It’s 2023, and it’s time to consider real inclusion. It’s time to showcase those who have been excluded. We need to see the brilliance of Black women in the arts, and Disabled people in the sciences. We need to digitize databases, artifacts and texts so that everyone can access them, learn and analyze them, be part of the dialogue and contribute to research.