#I’m a patient bitch I once stood in line for 3 hours in the rain to get into a club and was having a merry time

[eighteenoheight]

Chances are we’re probably going to see re5 remake before or if we ever see a code Veronica remake. And honestly that’s dumb to me. Chronologically, thematically, logically, anything else that comes to mind later. It didn’t make a lot of sense to remake 4 first either but we got what we got. Code Veronica was released 24 years ago, most younger players probably never played it because it’s old and not a numbered title. Yet it’s a very important game in the series.

And if we think about this properly, there was clearly some stuff going down to prime players for the remakes. We got remasters of 0 and 1 in 2015/16 which were bundled into the origins collection, then we got the RE2 remake in 2019. Clearly there’s been an effort to keep new fans in the loop. Again, Code Veronica is important for the precious precious lore. The game that reveals Wesker is actually alive after getting his flat ass handed to him by a tyrant. The big bad in the fifth game??? Also establishing the intense rivalry between Wesker and Chris? The losing battle that results in Chris deciding to bulk up for a future fight? Plus the sciencey stuff with the T-Veronicas virus that leads into 6? Lest we forget the sweet reunion of two siblings. That’s the good shit right there.

This point is more for the next flop multiplayer title, but bear with me. A Code Veronica remake is the opportunity to give us Chris as he was in 1998. We’ve only seen him in the RE Engine as a 48 year old and as an imposter. REverse had most the core characters in their 98 incarnations, then old man Chris. It was kind of odd to look at. I’m a little shocked at this point that the poster boy of Resident Evil hasn’t been shown in his “prime” with the new graphics. Also confused why the return of Albert main villain Wesker was relegated to a few cutscenes in a DLC campaign and mercenaries. Bitches who are new to the series and maybe don’t have the time or interest to investigate the full lore of the franchise may have been shook seeing him again when last they saw he was dead, and even if they saw him dead again in RE5 they might be like ummm how did he survive the first time what happened? Why is he just chilling in RE4 now?

Fans have been begging for a CV remake, and I hope to God it’s coming. Either the next announced game, after 9 or even Revelations 3/another spinoff title. If we don’t and then 5 remake is announced then I’d sincerely doubt we’ll ever see it come to happen. Staying positive because I can’t imagine why Capcom would want to throw that opportunity away. They wouldn’t need to write a full story, the groundwork is already there.

[geminimoonbeamx]

Oh, Baby: Chapter Two

A/N: So I was so excited about the reaction and feedback I got on the first chapter, I hope you guys enjoy this one too!

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: None really- brief mentions of smut and of course cursing like a mf

Summary: After a drunken night, Y/N finds herself having to face the biggest decision of her life; is she ready for motherhood? And a better question, is Bucky Barnes, her long time friend and womanizer extraordinaire, ready for fatherhood? They’ll just have to go along for the ride and find out together. A Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Reader Story  

Chapter 2/6: And a Cherry On Top

Once you decide that you want this baby- that you’re keeping, things become alot clearer in your mind.

All those lists you made? The bullet pointed steps, numbered processes that you need to accomplish zero in, your brain finally able to sort them, at least a little bit. More then you’d been able to last night, or even this morning.

You’re keeping this baby, it’s cemented in your stubborn brain now and even though that brings a whole new round of terror, it becomes a front and center though. A focal point, so to say.

And when you’re focused- you’ve been told you can be a little ruthless.

“Look, Dr. Cho, I like you so far, I really do,  but I’m going to be blunt here: I’ve read some horror stories about plus size pregnancies, and how miserable it is to have a doctor who is fatphobic- so I just want to check base and make sure that you’re...okay with having me as a patient, and will treat me with the same respect that I plan to treat you with” 

She doesn't look shocked and you don't know whether that's just her training or if her face always has that sage quality to it, but you can't really read it.

“I really admire you bringing up your concerns, and I can assure you that they’re very presidented, but that’s not something you’re going to have to worry about with me if you choose to continue on with me as your practitioner for this pregnancy.

I’ve been an OB for the last fifteen years and have worked with lots of very different women: big and small and everything in between and that doesn't matter to me. What matters is that we find a plan that works for you and your little one and keeps you both healthy as we get you to term. Does that sound okay to you?”

You chuckle, delightedly shocked at her words. At how straight forward and sincere she had been. At the support you could feel from her and how relieving that felt to know that your doctor was going to be on your side, for you, with you.

Being overweight, you’d had prejudice thrown at you left and right thought your life, sadly also by medical professionals, and to know she wasn't going to do that to you?

“Yeah” You nod, with a grateful smile “That sounds more than okay”

The appointment goes smoothly for the next hour and a half or so after that. You’re happy you’d Googled like crazy and had come prepared with a small list of key medical facts: any allergies, past surgeries talks of mental health and medications. She gives you a pelvic exam/Pap  and its uncomfortable as they always are, even with her gentle, nimble fingers. Legs in stirrups, biting at the inside of your cheek.

The magic happens when she lays you down and slathers your tummy with a jelly like substance and your heart goes fluttery against your chest as she uses a little wand, probes and moves it gently against the jelly. Looking, searching…

Thump,

Thump,

Thump,

Found.

On the screen of the ultrasound machine that she’d pulled up. Dr. Cho had warned you that it was very early, and that there was a good chance that she wouldn't be able to find much of anything at this point and yet there it was.

A tiny little blur in the blob like painting of your insides that we’re up for display on the US machine. A heart beat, the sound it made would be imprinted in your mind forever.

“There’s your baby, it’s about the size of a cherry right now and I has no really defined shape, but as you can hear, it has a very strong heart beat”

Like in movies, you thought you’d cry, and yeah, maybe your close, but really it lights a fire in you. Sets your heart ablaze and makes you feel lightheaded.

There’s your baby, and it’s real. So real. With a little heart inside you, beating along with your own…

You leave the office with two copies of the ultrasound pictures, one for you to keep, and one to give to Bucky.

Now you only had to tell him.

Later that night, as you and Wanda lounge on your living room couch, you text him, clutching a furry pillow in your lap.

You need to get this done and over with, you have to tell him.

Hey, long time no talk. You think we could get together for lunch sometime this week?

----------

Bucky finds himself sitting at a corner table, it’s half past three and you’re still not there yet. You we’re supposed to be meeting him for a late lunch...ten minutes ago? Fuck, why were you always late?

It drove him crazy, was on that long list of things about you that made his eyes cross with annoyance. On that list was also the fact that he could never guess what you we’re going to do- which yeah, that one still stood, too.

When you’d texted him, asking him to meet you for lunch last Friday, Bucky had gaped at his phone for a few minutes. Hadn't you spent the last couple months avoiding him like the plague? He couldn't help himself, though, and had only given you a tiny bit of shit before agreeing to meet you that next Wednesday at you guys’ favorite spot.

And so here he sat, at HandCraft, waiting for you. Trying not too feel excited, hopeful. That usual feeling that settled in his gut whenever you we’re around(even with just the promise of your presence) had been thrown into effect.

He orders himself a Corona, extra lime, but considers something stronger to quell the weird nerves, and orders you a Long Island Peach Tea. 

He knew your obsession with everything peach, so when he saw it he couldn't help but order it for you.

He’s a couple drinks into his beer when you walk in. Bucky could zero in on you in a crowd of hundreds, a skill he’d developed pretty quick after meeting you. His weird 20/20 Y/N radar doesn't fail him and his eyes snap to you as you walk in, and he waves you over. You boop through the crowd, and Bucky knows he has a stupid little smile on his face as he watches.

You’re cute, always. It’s infuriating, and intoxicating and damn, will he ever get over this shit? It’s been eight years for fucks sake.  

It’d been rainy and humid in the city this May, and the beige long sleeved, off the shoulder top and high waisted ripped jeans you wear are breezy enough. You always dressed nice, most always put together and he’d always taken the time to appreciate your style, the way you hed yourself and adorned your curvy body.

The big bun that sits atop your head is messy and has started to frizz from the time you’d spent in the sprinkling rain, your loose baby hairs wispy and starting to curl as you sit down in the chair on the opposite him.

“Hi” You greet, shifting in the chair. You’re awkward around him now, and it sucks. It really does.

He thinks about that night in early March, and he cant bring himself to regret it, and he tries to ignore the twinge from how apparently you seem to.

“Hey there- I ordered some drinks so I didn’t die or dehydration while I was waiting for you”

You can’t help but giggle- you and Bucky’s dry humors had always lined up. It was a part of the reason why the two of you had always got on so well, the two of you were always throwing off hand, rude to anyone else, jokes at each other.

“It’s three, you’re going to need to check that alcoholism or yours someday” you rebuff and he shrugs, taking another swig if his beer with a cheeky smile-

“It’s five o’clock somewhere...and it’s actually 3:30, which makes you- he checks his watch playfully, asshole, fifteen minutes late”

“I had a meeting with my boss. Give me a fucking break” You snipe back, and yeah maybe you sound a little sharp.

Shit. No, that’s not how you wanted the atmosphere of this conversation to go. But this week had been...a lot.

You’d told your little sister MJ about the big B news and she had advised you to talk to your boss about bumping up your healthcare, about maternity leave and all that other jazz as early as possible- and that had lead to you having to sit for over an hour with the one-eyed owner of the radio station.

Nick Fury was cool enough, really he is, but still. Explaining an unexpected pregnancy to him was...really awkward. Especially when he had asked about the father and you had to pretty much shrug and say “Bitch, I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out later today”

But you definitely didn’t call your boss a bitch.

“A meeting? Is everything okay?” Bucky actually sounds concerned and you purse your lips and spin the straw in the dark drink you hadn’t touched yet because you were preeeeetty sure it had liquor in it and that was a no go for you now.

“Um, yeah...it is now. I just had some serious stuff to talk to him about”

“Serious? That doesn’t sound great” Bucky didn’t mean to pry, but he knows how much you loved your job. How hard you’d worked for it.

He’s always rooted for you, knowing that like many things, the radio waves were dominated by male hosts. He listened to your podcasts, and your new show, religiously.

Every Wednesday night at 7- he diligently listens to your melodic voice, actually for the last couple months it’s the only way he could feel close to you.

Sucker. He knows.

“Um, yeah. Kinda serious? More just things I needed to get sorted out with Fury. A little planning for my future, ya know?” Our future, the life inside me, you don’t say. Yet.

“Okay, well as long as everything’s still going smoothly there, that’s good, right?”

“Yeah, right. Everything’s going smoothly…” fuck.

“Just say it and get it over with. Like pulling off a band-aid” Wanda had pep talked you about this- but god, how could anybody know it was going to be this hard.

Your heartbeat had gone hummingbird and your stomach was in knots as the minutes ticked on. You order an ice water and watermelon salad and Bucky frowns.

Because that’s not your usual...you always get the Nacho Tots. He offers them as an appetizer for the two of you to share and you shake your head with a forced smile, complaining of a stomach ache.

You don’t touch the peach tea, he points that it too and you shake your head telling him you weren’t in the mood to drink which, what? You were always down to day drink. Always.  

Half way through his chimichurri steak, Bucky can’t take the weird tension anymore. You’re trying...to hard. And yet he can clearly see that you’re more uncomfortable, more uneasy then he’s ever seen you.

He can only bite his tongue for so long. Months of tension were bound to come to a head eventually.

He couldn’t bare talking about the weather and other trivial bullshit subjects anymore.

“Y/N...if you didn’t want to hang out, why did you make plans with me?” Bucky questions, bluntly. Takes you off guard a bit.

“What?” Is your bright reply and he just frowns and leans back in his chair. His body language is all wrong- and it makes you even more anxious then you already were.

“I just- fuck. Fuck, it’s been so weird between us since March and I thought having lunch today was supposed to be us remedying said weirdness but it just feels worse” Bucky’s tone is slightly frustrated and dejected

You can feel your face drop. None of this was going how you’d planned- and you’d imagined this going 1,000 different ways in the last few days.

“I just want everything to go back to the way it was” Bucky speaks, interrupting your silence and it feels like there’s fucking needles in your stomach.

“It can’t go back” You utter, fidget in place, staring at the busy street outside the window for a moment. Not able to meet his eyes yet.

“Really? Cause I kinda think that’s bullshit. So we slept together? It was consensual and we’re adults, I don’t get why it has to be a friendship ending thing-“ Bucky’s feelings are hurt, and it’s apparent in his tone. Confused, slightly pleading.

Band-aid, Wanda’s words ring in your head as you muster up your courage and look back at Bucky.

Jesus, you could drown in his foggy eyes. Could be melted down to nothing by the molten silver of his gaze.

“I have something to tell you, it’s why I asked you to lunch today. I wanted to talk to you face to face because...this is pretty fucking huge and I- I” you stutter and stumble over your words and Bucky knows it’s something major because words are usually your weapon. You vernacular your sword and armor.

He doesn’t know why he knows, or why it clicked together in his head- call it some kind of weird intuition. Maybe from the fact that he grew up with all sisters and that he remembers his older sister Charlie and her face when she’d told his parents, at the age of sixteen, that she was-

And Oh, ohhhh, you hadn’t drank. Or touched your food-

“You’re pregnant” it doesn’t feel real to him as he says it, as his lips gram the words he can’t really feel himself speak them.

You gasp softly- your big eyes locked with his for a moment where everything goes still around the two of you, and then you nod.

It’s like he had peered straight into your soul anyway. Like he already knew.

“Yeah, I am. Nine weeks- well almost ten now, I guess”

“Oh...oh fuck” Bucky breathes out, a long exhale because he’d been holding his breath and oh shit- he hasn’t had a panic attack in years but this sure feels like what the start one.

“Bucky?”

“It’s mine?” He knows it’s an asshole question, but he grits it out anyway because he has to be sure of what he already knows.

“Yeah, it is. I haven’t been with anyone since we were together” It’s the truth, and he knows because you have a big fat unfiltered mouth that you hadn’t been with anyone for months before him.

“Five months?” You remember him breathing into your neck “Fuck, doll, how? No way”

“Mmhmm” you’d hummed as he’d kissed down your chest “I’m not a whore like you- I can go a few months without sex with out my genitals shriveling up and my brain short circuiting”

He’d laughed around a mouthful of breast.

And now you were pregnant. With his baby.

He gapes like a fucking fish as he tries to digest it all.

“I’m going to keep it, Bucky. And that doesn’t mean I expect you, or am going to force you to be in they’re life but I just...I don’t know I thought i should tell you? And not because I felt obligated to or anything...I mean kind of, but because you’re a good person and I wanted you to know” You’re rambling, yeah, but you’re saying your peace.

“You’re ten weeks?” Bucky questions, breaking you out of your ramblings and you nod, a little confused.

“Yeah, it’s the size of a Cherry right now...trippy, right?”

Bucky barks out a laugh, still in that headspace where he though he might wake up at any given moment.

“A cherry. Oh my god. Holy fuck- you’re pregnant” Bucky exasperates and then puts his hands on his face, trying to calm down. Trying to get a grip on himself.

He knows you. Knows that you’re not lying about it being his, why would you? And there’s a baby inside you, right this moment. One that he’d put there- that the two of you had created together.

“Yup. Super fucking pregnant- a doctor confirmed it and everything” You try to lighten the mood a little, just like you always do.

“Really?”

“Yeah...here, look” you dog through your handbag for a moment and then pull out a laminated picture and reach across the table to hand it to him.

When Bucky takes his first look at it, his heart squeezes and his breath gets stuck in his throat again.

It’s the ultrasound picture. Black and white, unidentifiable shapes- but his eyes zero in on the little blob in the darkness. The baby.

His baby.

His heart clenches again.

“There it is” you point out what he’s looking out with a manicured finger “that’s the baby. I know it all looks like an obscure Picasso painting or something but that’s it” you kind of hate calling your baby an it, but you don’t know what else to call...them, yet.

“A cherry” Bucky whispers, asks.

“Yeah, like-“ you make that annoying, internet famous, 6 shape, with your hand and put it up to your eye to look through it “this big”

Bucky chuckles. You’re so dumb. And so special, for being able to make such a tense situation feel...lighter.

“I’m going to want to be in this baby’s life, you know that, right?” Yeah, he doesn’t know how he feels about all of this yet. He still thinks this might be some kind of fever dream- that maybe he died from that flu he had last week, but he’d been raised right by his mom and pop.

Was he a bit slutty? Yeah, he guesses he’d own that(argue that he only acted on how he was pursued)

Could he be a little bit of an arrogant prick? You, and plenty of other people had told him that plenty in his life and yeah, he’d own that one too.

But he’d never, could never, leave you alone to raise this child. Not with how he felt about you- and shit, even if he wasn’t harboring these feelings could he ever just leave a woman who he’d gotten pregnant completely alone.

“Don’t make promises in the heat of the moment, I’m not expecting-“

“Me to want to be a father to my child” he doesn’t snap, per say, but he knows you can hear how offended he is. It makes you bite the inside of your lip.

“I don’t know. I just don’t...want you to feel like you have to say things you don’t mean because I’m sitting in front of you right now. Like? You might feel different later, you know?”

Bucky instantly feels bad for snapping at you. You’d been sitting on this, thinking you might have to do this alone…

Bucky looks back at the ultrasound picture and his stomach rolls at the idea of you doing this alone. Of him missing this first milestone of your pregnancy. Of his child’s life.

His child.

He’d woken up this morning, single, uncomplicated and now...he knew there was a baby that was half him inside of you.

He should have had that stronger drink.

“I’m going to be there for this baby, and for you. I don’t know what that looks like yet and I can’t promise I’ll be great at it, but I’m going to be here” his voice gets soft and passionate and fuck, the way he’s looking at you, vowing this to you…

It’s almost more than you can handle.

“Okay...I’m game” you say, and he snorts and nods.

He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, if he’ll be a good dad or not. There’s so many unknowns swirling around his head, clogging his brain-

But he knows he’s not going anywhere.

“We’re going to have a baby” He says it, and this time it feels a little more real as it comes out of his mouth. “Holy fuck I’m going to be a dad”

“Um, congratulations” The waiter chooses that time to come back to the table, and the kid who can’t be more then eighteen looks a little awkward at intruding “Do you want a celebratory piece of cake?”

“You know what? Yeah we do- and please, make sure there’s a cherry on top”

He grins too big when he asks for a cherry and you know he’s needs it as a visual comparison to the size of the baby inside you. Bucky is so obnoxious.

He’s also beautiful- in the restaurants low light. All teeth and bright blue eyes- his brows still pulled together and his expression a little overwhelmed, but not mad. Not disgusted or cold like you’d feared.

You can almost here both Wanda and MJ’s “told you so’s” now.

You can’t help but share in his contagious smile- the nerves that had players you aren’t completely gone, not by a long shot.

But...you and Bucky Barnes were going to have a baby.

You could only hope that the two of you didn’t fuck it up too bad. 

@peacefulwriter88 @jaamesbbarnes @jalapenobarnes @gifsbysimplysonia @brieannakeogh @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @lostinspace33 @4theluvofall @tatathekissypotato @siren-kitten-his @skishenanigans @geekyweed @spidey-babe-parker @lastfallenstar @rachelle-on-the-run @prettybubblesintheair @dani-si @hufflepuff-always-forever @morganhoran1671 @imdiegohargreeves @nikolett3 @miss-mcbotty @nerdgirljen @readingsubtitles @sgtbookybarnes @prussiangilbert @tiredofsatansbullshit @bitchwhytho @mishameadows @heartbeats-wildly @10kindsofderp @xodearling @notyourtypcalrose @rachelle-on-the-run

The taglist for this story is still OPEN. If you would like to be tagged, please be aware that I will be expecting feedback, and will not take the time to tag you again if you don’t give any- I will update with the next chapter once this chapter reaches 100 notes.

Okayyy, so here’s part two. It might be a little cheesy, but I really want this story to be more fluff then angst, okay?! Which let me say is not easy for me because lately I’ve been one angsty bitch.

So I decided that I wanted to play with more MCU characters then I normally do, do something different- and that’s how I came up with the idea that the readers little sister is MJ(Michelle Jones) from Spider-Man. I love Zendaya- and since I’m usually writing a mixed race reader- she fits as a sibling.

Just for heads up, a little spoiler for the next chapters, I will also be having the Van Dynes be in her family tree. Hope is her cousin.

I’m really just trying to have fun writing for Marvel again. Hope you guys are having fun reading this.

[benzilla80]

Waterous Trail on Foot 50 Miler – The Resurrection

The Backstory

The lead up to this race had been a pretty solid one by my standards. WTF 100 miler in 2015 was a qualifier race for another 100 miler on the Australian east coast. After nearly a year of waiting, I was accepted to race in the Great Southern Endurance Run (GSER) A 181km 10,000m vertical gain alpine race. Fast forward almost another year and the race is fast approaching this coming November.

I will try not to wander to far from this race, but it was all part of my preparation. My GSER training program involved nearly a year’s worth of ‘racing diet’ Both for financial and racing effort reasons. Since Australia Day Ultra in January until GSER in November, there was to be only one race, and that was a ‘test and tune’ event. WTF50 was perfect. Local, I knew the course and it was a chance to test out some things under race conditions.

Training involved a good base of 100km weeks before training even started. Bread and butter weeks including one interval session, one tempo session and one long run as the foundation. The first few weeks were 6 days a week with easy volume runs filling in between the harder workouts, then I swapped to 7 days a week and targeted at least 2,00m elevation gain. The training week of WTF was a 130k week with an extremely short 3-day taper.

What The Actual Race Day

I got as early a night as I could, and rose on the first alarm, quietly got ready and drove myself to the start line with an instant packet of porridge warming my belly. The drive was dark, wet and not exactly inspiring for what lay ahead.

I arrived at the meet point a bit early and was not sure of the new parking area, eventually, I found the toilets and parking area and Sergio was also wandering about in the rain looking for the start. A few moments later a stream of cars rolled in and it was on. I parked and walked behind my car to get my gear out and stood in a large puddle…. great.

Race director Dave Kennedy (DK) arrived in the big orange bus and we get through the drop bag process quick and easy then take the short walk through the early daw sunlight to the start line proper. It’s raining lightly and I am in two minds about keeping my hooded jacket on or not, I hate running in that thing, yet didn’t want to spend all day wet either, so it stayed on.

Race line brief, I hit my watch to get the location and it has an update waiting for me…. c’mon really? You need to do this now?! (I ended up starting the race without it tracking and got it sorted on the go, but that explains the minute difference between my watch time and gun time)

We set off and I’m about mid-pack and 50 meters into the race the lead guys run right by the first turn and take half the pack with them. I call out and everyone gets back on track among a few laughs. I find myself running with a person I didn’t recognise, Thomas with another lady I didn’t recognise Martina. Both looked springy and ready to go and as Chris and Andrew joined me they pulled ahead. The boys and I had agreed to run together for as long as it worked as a Runningworks Team, which I was happy for. The company was nice and I offered a few tips and laughs along the way. Both those guys had potential to win, and now there were two other factors I had not considered opening a gap ahead. I told the guys to be patient, 80k is a long way.

The first 5km is mostly downhill, so I tried to keep the pace comfortable but not silly. I said to Andrew “forget the split times and think of the split effort, consistent effort is more important than maintaining a specific number, some will be fast, some will be slow so think of the overall effort” I had planned my effort to be above training but stay below racing pace.

Things were going well, Martine came back to the group on one of the last big downhills before the river and Thomas opened the gap more and more. Our group of three crossed the river and began the next long 1.6km climb. I was happy to use my poles and run walk this, Chris seemed eager to run more and Andrew was happier to listen to his wife’s advice “winners walk the hills” Either way, we stayed pretty much together and were on the more runnable stuff into Kingsbury Drive Aid Station holding a nice pace and chatting away. Our average was pretty much 8 hours flat and Thomas was out of sight, a quick glance behind saw a few runners not far back, also in good spirits.

We round the last bend and I ask the guys if they were stopping and both said yes. I mentioned I needed to get my jacket off and have a pee so they might catch me then, but I avoid stopping at stations if I don’t have to. I had packed enough gear to not stop and ran right thought “307 in…307 out”

I would not see the boys again until Goldmine Hill’s out and back leg.

Running solo, I expected to slow down a bit, but managed to hold some pretty good pace on the hard-packed trail between the Kingsbury rd. crossing, around the plantation and into the ‘lil bitch’ (a term I use for my second most disliked part of the course, not an official name haha) the first of two rolling technical hills sections that can be tough in both directions, at least this year was a one way trip for me. A few hiking breaks and 6-7minute km’s saw me through to the Boyd Road section in pretty good shape. It was here my heart rate was elevated when I saw two rather large off leash Rottweilers running towards me with a small third dog in chase…. ALARM! The owner was close by and called the dogs and thankfully they had a great recall and decided against chewing on the skinny runner passing by! Just before leaving the road section I saw Chris’s wife Sandy and the rest of the support team at the junction. I appreciate the cheers guys. This was followed by a right turn and ‘big bitch’.

Part two of the rolling hill sections. It’s really not that bad, and many a runner would take it in their stride, but it’s enough to break your rhythm and technical enough to make you consider your footing and conserving the quad strength, it’s too soon to be burning them up. A few slower km’s and I took the chance to cram in some calories, after all the more you eat the less you have to carry! A couple of great single-track kilometres saw me popping out at the North Dandalup Dam Aid Station. 30km into the race and my first official stop. “307 in” and I was greeted by the lovely Kel, Harms and Jez at the table. “4 minutes behind the leader Ben” They took my rubbish and passed me my drop bag containing a kids sized packet of plain chips, a mini can of ginger ale and one Winners bar. I can’t remember if I had my bottles filled, I don’t think so?! I ate the chips, drank the drink and pocketed the bar “307 out” and was on my way. 30th kilometre was 7:15, so probably puts the total aid stop somewhere between 90 seconds and two minutes before setting out over the picturesque dam wall. 6 minutes behind Thomas.

As I crossed the wall in clear blue skies and tried to take in the views I reflected on two things, one was immediate and one was more philosophical. Firstly, was race related, Thomas was 6 minutes ahead, that’s a pretty solid kilometre gap and I figured I would see him in the next hour, or I would never see him again and the dark house effect had taken place once again like a Survivor blind side. Only time would tell. Secondly was a conversation I had with a hiker one day during training “runners see twice as much but only half as good” SO I made the effort to take in the views on the go, to really see twice as much

From the dam wall to the Out and Back Aid Station is my favourite part of the course. Even though it’s hilly it is still my favourite. Rolling single tracks, perfect for mountain bikers. Bermed banks and bush right up to the trail edge. I didn’t even mind the puddles or diversion around large fallen trees, plus I was almost halfway and the average pace was still sub 8-hour finish.

35.5km and I pop out at the Out and Back Aid Station, this year a full aid station and I cruise right through to complete the out and back leg before stopping. The volunteers cheer and I start the climb over Goldmine Hill, now officially on the local favourite 6 Inch Trail Marathon course heading towards it’s start. I break out the poles and run walk my way over the top and part way down to the 50 mile turn around. All the while wondering “Has Thomas opened the gap and run away, or will I see him any second?” Passing the Dodd’s sign, I see him on the return trip and we both look at our watches. As we crossed I gave him a cheer but I don’t think he heard me as he had headphones in, he was also climbing and probably doing the maths, as was I.

I hit the run and take two steps more, just to be sure and start my way back with that number locked in my mind, I pass the sign and #margiemaths has the gap back to 4 minutes, so I had clawed back the two-minute aid stop but at what cost? Hiking over the top with my poles clicking away I see SJ, it actually took at least 30 seconds for me to place the face and name but I got there in the end and smiled my way over the hill, stowed my poles and ran down the backside of Goldmine Hill towards resupply.

“307 in” and I find a bin to drop my rubbish and grab my drop bag. I pass on the chips and just drink the ginger ale. Helped by Elise and another lady I recognised but could not place a name, I’m bad with names until I hang out with them, sorry for not being able to thank you by name! I donate my ration of snake lollies to the aid station kitty as I still had a few left from the start of the race and stow my re-filled soft flask bottles. DK mentions I am looking in good shape and I feel pretty good at the halfway mark. In the parting seconds of the stop I cross paths with the leader of the 100 mile race, Nate. He is looking fresh as a daisy! With the roar of four people clapping it’s “307 out” and I’m starting the longest leg, 25km to the fabled Treasure Island at Oakley Dam.

The first half of this leg goes smoothly, I see the 100 pack coming past on their journey to Jarradale where I started and they all seem in good spirits and fairly spread out. I wish them all luck and they all cheer back, some saying “he’s right there” or similar but I was yet to see Thomas through he tree’s so I dismissed it as well meaning motivation but maybe not entirely accurate, #margiemaths really was a thing after all! It took until the sharp left turn across the rickety old wood bridge before I caught a glimpse of first place. I didn’t push or try to close the gap. I just maintained the same effort and let the cards fall where they may. At almost 48km we were should to should at the base of a long climb. We hiked for quite a long time (about 9 minutes!) and chatted about all sorts of things while we worked the hill. I took the chance to get some calories in knowing there was some runnable km’s coming up before the Del Park Road crossing. We crested the main climb and started running together, Thomas stayed with me for a while but seemed to drop off the back. Not sure if he stopped on purpose for a toilet break or just slowly slipped behind but the last I saw him at that stage was a cheer as we passed 50.1km, I called over my should “happy distance PB” we laughed and I turned my attention to my own effort and now had to make some decisions.

The section to the road crossing seemed to take a while and I tried my best to just run by feel and not try to run away from Thomas. I felt he had gone too hard too early and would now slip back in the pack as Chris and Andrew would be not far back, they were about 10-12 minutes back at Goldmine when I saw them there. From here I tried to dial the effort back a bit, this was a training run after all so I fell into the habit of looking back (which I always try not to do) and let myself hike more than I would if I was racing super hard. This had a weird effect on me and I hit my first low point of the race. My right wrist was getting sore when using the poles and I had to stop using them after the technical section from Del Park Rd and just ran the gentle climbs like Deadpool with my sticks strapped across my back. Hiking more than I wanted but I was also in a bit of a funk. Running past Tuner’s Hill (Aid 1 at 6 Inch) I berated myself for so many little hikes and committed to run to the Scrap Road crossing, “all the way, no walking, this is all runnable” I wanted to cruise slowly and consistently, but found I would run fast and get tired and the urge to walk was overwhelming. Weirdly, I felt exactly the same here at last year’s 100, and was passed in the exact same spot to slip from 2nd the 3rd (hat tip to Rob) I found the urge and saw a car coming which I think had a relay runner in it, he said “are you coming first?” and I replied “yes mate” trying to smile on the outside and “ gave me a cheer “that’s awesome, looking great” “thanks mate” as I passed by desperately trying to stay running. I knew the road was close now and was confident I was going to hold up my end of the deal and run all the way, before I hit a small rise and without permission my legs stopped running and I turned into a real life Jekyll and Hyde, right there out loud arguing with myself like a crazed lunatic “You f#$%ing P#$%y” “it is a training run, I don’t need to race that hard” “a deals a deal and you folded” Seriously, the weirdest conversation I have ever had and I was all alone. The rise was over and I was back running, chin up chest out in a bit of disbelief regards the last 30 seconds of my life.

I pass the start of the 3 Inch Trail Half Marathon course and begin the climb to the radio tower. I run the flatter stuff and hike the steeper parts, but walked almost a km solid to the top, eating what I can and drinking what I need to. Looking back, doing (now silent) deals with myself. As I pass the tower with the rumble of the conveyor belts to my left I feel the pull of Treasure Island and running down the other side I feel the funk passing. I see the relay guys again at the turn and they tell me I look fantastic and I confess “I’m not exactly feeling it” “I don’t think you are supposed to at 60km!” I cross the conveyor belt overpass thinking that he is right, I’m on target for a 8:30 finish and I had let my nutrition slip a bit that last long leg so of course I was feeling it. I ate another gel to be sure as I passed the ‘scarecrow’ and made the climb up towards Treasure Island.

I roll down the hill and can see signs posted for the runners, all pirate themed as the fabulous Treasure family embrace their name sake Aid Station. The road is lined with cars and there are people moving about. I hear a lady say to her daughters “her comes first place” and I smile. I don’t normally run this end of the field, only ever come first once before so it was a special feeling. I roll into Treasure Island to claps and cheers from a swarm of pirates. “307 in.”

I hand off one bottle to get me to the finish and leave one half full bottle in my vest. Blue is there with my drop bag, Frank fill my bottle and tried to give me a shot of rum, Ben and Shirley are right there packing my vest with my ‘to go’ bag and my other secret weapon, a small bottle of kids red fruit juice. That stuff sends kids crazy at parties, perfect for ultra-runners! I donate another small serve of chips and snakes to the aid station and finish my ginger ale. I mention that I really wanted to hit a sub 8:30 but I’m not so sure now and Blue does the maths for me “two hours to do 16 and a half kays’, no worries” (or to that effect) Going to be close but doable if I keep my head in the game. As I finish my drink Blue says, “don’t let us keep you” and two to three minutes later “307 out.”

Oakley Dam is a short 2km out and back that means you need to leave the marked Munda Biddi Trail. It also means you can once again see some of the field. I was expecting to see Chris or Andrew next, but was surprised it was Thomas, still holding on and still running. Kudo’s to him! Back to the scarecrow that is one of two danger points for navigation and has a history of runners missing the turn. As I was making the final turn back onto the trail I crossed paths with Aaron, but he was coming out of the trail and asked if he was going in the right direction. I confirmed the way to Oakley Dam and thought that was a good catch on his part in correcting the navigation mistake.

From here I was on the last leg, the final pull of the finish was there and the earlier pity party was wrapped up. The food was working and the mission was 16km in under 2 hours but to not destroy myself, maintain the faster than training, slower than race but should someone close the gap be prepared to run hard. The kilometres ticked by and I was happy with the effort. I drank my kids juice, tried to eat a bar but was over the dense food and only ate half of it. Not long later I ate two snakes, no point carrying them all the way and I continued to feel good.

Then it happened and for a moment I thought my race was done. As I neared the turn taken in the 6 Inch race that heads up to Aid 2, I began to cough. I had one almighty cough that was so violent my balls hurt and I doubled over and staggered to the side of the trail. Out of nowhere. I clutch my crotch and suppress the urge to cough again, I didn’t want the pain and I didn’t want to vomit. The urge passed and I got moving again, hesitant but moving. I had no idea where that came from and it worried me for a few seconds, but everything stayed down and the cough was a once off. I had a drink and decided to back off the eating for a little while. Pace came back and I was on my merry way, praying that didn’t happen again!

From here I hit a left turn onto the last of the notable climbs, mixed walk and run to get it done then steady pace, now alert for on coming mountain bikers heading out from Dwellingup. The effort is perfect, I do feel the miles but I’m not ‘running for my life’ Down the first powerline section and I have my final gel of the day and a drink. This section is open gravel road and I left the downhill flow, not even worried about looking back anymore. I feel if anyone catches me from here I can push it home. I just take in the trail, even saw a train! That’s a weird feeling seeing a steam train moving through the scrub where you had no idea there was train tracks! Now enjoying myself I sipped my water and did my best to avoid the run off puddles, one section of single track was impossible to avoid, it usually is so I just ploughed on through. Less than 10km with wet socks was fine, they had been wet most of the day anyway.

Second powerline section and into the Marrinup Maze. Five kilometres to home. One parkrun. Passing through the campground I have one last look back and can only see campers. I enjoy running the winding single track, taking in the berms and not caring about the puddles. Running well I think that this is what today was about. Not winning or leading or any of that stuff, but running well on tired legs. The training part of today. Manage the effort, be running well at the end and somewhere between 8 and 8.5 hours. A win was cream on the cake, or more accurately new shoes on my feet.

I pass the familiar farm with the hole in the shed and pigs, the dog barks at me as I run past, as Alexis predicted and now only 3km to go.

I pass some hikers and their border collie out for a casual walk, must be close now. I hear the noise of a country town and know in my bones it’s close and then I see a yellow trail marker. The original last turn to the finish. Now a four-way junction, and DK’s races have used all four in the past. There is no tape, I stand still in the junction and process my options and decide to follow the trail markers to the train tracks and see some tape at the upcoming road junction. I made the right choice and pop out once again on Del Park Road to a sign 50M to FINISH with an arrow.

I make the final turn and scan around looking for a finish line. The pub is busy, there are people in the park and I look both ways as I cross the train lines then ahead I see my youngest son running towards me, then comes my oldest into view and I choke back a sob. They had other plans that day and I didn’t expect to see them or my wife at the finish. I gathered them around my arms and jogged over the road to the group outside a small building. “where’s the finish line?” “you’re standing on it” and a wave of relief sweeps me as I pause my watch and look down.

It says 8:19.49, which was corrected to 8:20 and change considering my watch took a minute to sort itself out on the start line. Almost an hour faster than my 2014 race. I was pumped with the result, and stoked to have my family there to share it.

A word of warning to runners in DK’s events, if you have an issue with the course marking, be prepared to do something about it! Dave grabbed some tape and joked about sending me back out, but I also know he was recovering from a 200 mile race himself. So, I gathered the kids and Alicia and we took a slow stroll back to the four-way junction to put some tape down for the next runners. Thomas ended up holding second for the last 30km running sub 9 hours on his 50 mile debut.

 A special thanks to DK and his wife Belle for putting on a great event, even getting us some sunshine during the day. To the aid station teams who put so much work, time, money and effort into helping us runners. Many are friends already and I can’t thank you enough.

 Fast and Dirty Stats

Distance – 81.8km, 8 hours 20minutes, average pace 6:06/km

Calories consumed – Approx. 1,000 – 1,100, (7,000 burnt)

Water consumed – 2.5 litres, Kids Juices – 3, Mini Ginger ales – 3

Shoes – Altra Superior 3.0’s, Innov-8 mud sock with Stone Free Running Gaiters (also recommend Treasure Gaiters if you are in the market)

Shirt – TEAM RUNNINGWORKS tech shirt, Innov-8 Race shell when it was wet.

Poles - Carbon Fibre Z Poles

Vest, Salomon S/Lab 12 set

[catastrophizinglife]

FUCK YOU GUTHRIE

BEGIN RANT: Okay, so I’m done with having Guthrie Medical Group as my primary healthcare provider. I like my NP and all that jazz, but it’s not worth the headache anymore. She’s genuinely polite, and seemingly caring and compassionate. This is why my entire cluster go to see her. My sister, my daughter, my daughter’s little sister, and their mother. We’ve been with our primary for too many years to remember. We were even with Guthrie before our NP began practicing with Guthrie. Now whereas our primary is polite and sociable, she seems to lack in experience. Her knowledge just doesn’t seem to be enough. She consistently dopes us up with medications that just don’t cut it, and so we continue to have the same issues repeatedly. Even still, I have been willing to overlook it all, but enough is enough!

1) She’s not actually our doctor. In fact she’s not even a doctor at all, she’s a nurse practitioner. So every time we need medical information for miscellaneous appointments and prescription pickups etc, we’re always at a loss when asked to confirm our doctor‘s name. Our particular Guthrie office  employs only a couple actual doctors (who I don’t think even work there). They then hire dozens of NP’s to do the actual grunt work (us patients causing the grunts). Anyway, I’ve overlooked this fact for all these years.

2) I call, get put on hold, hang up, and call back again, until I’m finally helped. (We’ve all been here though, so no biggie).

3) I finally get through to the scheduling department only to be told that my NP is booked solid for over a month. Are you fucking kidding me? (Happens ALL THE TIME).

4) After all refills on meds are gone we have to schedule another appointment. We can’t just call the doctor’s office and let them know so that they can call our pharmacy and let them know, we actually HAVE TO go back to see them. Regardless in the amount of time it’s been; regardless on the medication, we must go back in, and there is no getting around this. - Yeah, because my chronic allergy issues, and my anxiety suddenly went away in 3 months time!

5 & 6) 5) The wait times for our SCHEDULED appointments is outrageous! Why are they always so backed up? Why do they continually double book patients?! I know that this is a common thing to rant about, but I’m serious, it’s horrid! Here’s an example: One day, recently, my sister had an appointment with our primary. I didn’t have an appointment, but because I was going to be there with her I figured I may as well just “do the Walk-In” right there in the same Guthrie office. We were there probably a few minutes before her scheduled appointment. Not 2 minutes later I get called by a nurse to come back. I get weighed, I get seen by the intake nurse. (The one who writes notes on the patient’s condition, and takes the weight, and vitals.) 6) The nurse tells me that the doctor, and a Nurse Practitioner in training will be in to see me in a few minutes. I’m all for medical professionals getting adequate training and experience. I don’t mind it at all. Who wouldn’t want a trained professional to have experience before becoming their primary care physician? And the woman who was still a student was so polite and professional. She was amazing! What I didn’t appreciate was the other nurse practitioner (or doctor) not actually doing a thing but sit there and watch the trainee check me out. I mean I told her that my ears itch terribly, and the sitting woman didn’t even look into my ear to confirm what the trainee was telling her was actually accurate. That’s just fucking lazy and pathetic. So now this nurse in training has THAT as her first few hours into learning in the medical field as her “how-to” guide. I mean is that just fucking insane or what? Anyway, all this happened within like less than 15 minutes. So I get out, and walk down the hall to the nurses station and ask where my sister’s room is, and they point me in the right direction, and I get in there, and they’re only at the point of the intake (vitals) nurse is visiting. So I get in and out in 15 minutes without an appointment, and my sister gets in much later than her scheduled appointment. That’s pretty fucked up if you ask me.

But this next one is where I have to draw the line between what is and is not acceptable for a patient to have to deal with, concerning medical professionals and ‘unprofessionals.’

7 &8) 7) I call to make an appointment, (this goes back to numbers 2 & 3) and after I’m told that I can’t be seen for at least a month, I’m told that I can go to any of their walk-in clinics and be seen for my particular medical issue. So I thanked the woman (even though I was irked because of the long wait-time I’d just experienced, only to be told I can’t be seen) because I’m a super nice guy even when I’ve been shit all over, and I got dressed. I had just gotten back from my daily walk to the post office a couple hours prior to leaving again, and when I was out earlier it had been warm out, and it was pouring cats and dogs, so I dressed for warm weather when I went out on this second walk. I did look out the window to be sure the rain had subsided before I got dressed, and thankfully the rain had stopped. Unfortunately, it had also cooled down quite a bit since I took my first walk. So that was rather unfortunate, but tolerable because I was finally going to get this medical issue diagnosed and treated. The problem is something I posted about in another recent post of mine: A burning, itchy, painful anus. Hurts to squat. Hurts to poop. The pain resembles the pain one gets when they wipe so many times in 1 day. I don’t know if it’s hemmroids, or if it’s an infection of another kind, or if I somehow wounded my ass -I have absolutely no idea why it’s happening to me, all I knew as I left here for the second time today was that I was on my way to get whatever’s wrong with my ass the help it needed so that I didn’t have to live in this pain anymore. Let me paint you a picture. Do you know what it feels like to have wet hair rub back and forth on an already painful, open wound? What about after you’ve sat in water for nearly 2 hours in hopes to ease the pain, gotten out, dried off, and applied hydrocortisone cream all over your freshly softened, open wound? It wasn’t until I was about a block away before the pain heated up by a thousand. Can you imagine what it must have been like for me to walk nearly 1 mile with wet ass hair in and around my asshole rubbing back and forth and back and forth against my softened, medicated wound?? Well if you can’t imagine what that was like for me then you’re actually very lucky. So I arrive at the walk-in. I’ve never personally been seen there, and had only ever gone there once with my sister, so I didn’t really know what to expect. Let me tell you what happened. 8) I walk in and stand by an empty reception desk for a minute or so before an employee walks out from a door in the back of the reception area. She walks over to a computer not where I was located, and asks me to come over to her. So I walk around the reception desk and am standing less than 1 foot from a patient sitting in the “waiting room” when the woman starts asking me for all of my information. I was fine giving her, and this patient who is an old man who looks to be about 60 or 70 -old enough to be old fashioned, but not old enough to be deaf my name, telephone number, address, and even insurance, but when she asked me the reason for my visit I was momentarily mortified. That mortification was quickly dissipated when she stood and said “Oh I’m not sure if we can see you for that. I’ll be right back.” The mortification was replaced with irritation. She came back out and said “yeah, we can’t see patients for those types of issues because we don’t have the equipment for rectal exams here. She then proceeded to ask if I’d like to make an appointment with one of their doctors (yes, in the same non-equipped office). What the fuck does that even mean? You can’t see me today because you don’t have any ass machines, but if I make an appointment for tomorrow you’ll suddenly have the machines needed? I didn’t say anything to her though about my frustrations, I just took the appointment for tomorrow and left. What the fuck!? What in the actual fuck?! But you know what, I wasn’t mad at her, or her lack of an ass machine, or the fact that what she was scheduling me for was kind of nonsensical, I was just so angry at the woman from scheduling who told me to go to the walk in clinic. Bitch I fucking walked damn near 2 miles today with wet hair rubbing on an open wound, are you fucking insane?! ARE YOU FUCKING OUT OF YOUR GOD DAMNED FUCKING MIND?! Believe me, I was crying on the way home! But not crying because of the terrible pain, but because it had gotten so cold that my face got numb and whenever that happens my eyes water uncontrollably. Man if I was a pistol-packing US citizen I’d probably be sitting in county right now.  

Guthrie, we’ve had our issues, but wrongly informed scheduling lady has crossed the line. I’m afraid our relationship is at its end. Goodbye!

END RANT