#not that it's my fault I physically cannot sleep before 6am

[babysdrivers]

my sleep schedule has circled round to the point where i don't experience daylight anymore and yet i wonder why i'm so goddamn sad all the time

[spencers-renaissance]

To Look On Tempests and Not Be Shaken

Summary: In the wake of a blazing row and an empty apartment, Aaron finds Spencer's well-thumbed copy of Shakespeare's sonnets and recalls the morning after their wedding, when Spencer sat on his lap and read Sonnet 116 to him. Suddenly, everything makes sense.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, fighting and making up, married hotchreid, relationship dynamics, introspection, fluff, shakespeare/literature

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Set in S11, AU in which Haley/Aaron divorced in S1 and Aaron/Spencer married in S4.)

It wasn’t really either of their faults: work was relentless at the moment and they hadn’t had any real time for one another in weeks. That’s not really a consolation to either Spencer or Aaron, however, when they’re in the middle of a blazing row that has them both drowning in flames of anger and passion, unable to see one another for the smoke filling their apartment. 

“Aaron, this is the fourth case in a row that you’ve stayed at  the office past 4 in the morning to wrap up the paperwork,” Spencer shouts, frustration rising in his chest as he tugs at his hair, already feeling far too overwhelmed. Aaron is looking as unbothered and stoic as he always does during their fights, and even though Spencer is fully aware of the emotion that will be stirring under his carefully constructed mask, it doesn’t make it any less exasperating. 

“You know as well as I do that this sort of work load is completely unavoidable,” Aaron says lowly, anger finally audible in his voice. It’s not as satisfying as Spencer had hoped. “We can’t keep rehashing this same old argument. I’m the Unit Chief of a team in one of the most prestigious FBI departments. I have a responsibility.”

“You have a responsibility to me and Jack as well,” Spencer cries, fury bubbling over as he thinks of Jack and just how much he deserves. “We deserve your time just as much as fucking serial killers do.”

Aaron visibly flinches as Spencer swears, an occurrence rare enough to indicate serious emotion. “This is exactly the argument I used to have with Haley, Spencer,” he says harshly. “I refuse to have it with you, too. If you can’t handle it then maybe you should leave, just like she did, hm?”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that means there’s an element of truth in it then, Aaron?” Spencer asks, voice breaking slightly as the scale tips away from uncontained ire towards hopeless misery. He turns away from his husband, trying in vain to conceal his crumpled face and damp eyes. “And you know I would never do that to you; don’t you dare throw your unresolved issues back in my face.”

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Aaron says, voice and face hardened; Spencer can almost see the walls he’s building up again, the stubborn refusal to concede any point. “You’re not being rational. I’m going to bed.”

His stomach twists with the desperation of the situation as he says quietly to Aaron’s turned, retreating back, “What happened to never going to bed angry?” He doesn’t turn back around. 

⭐️

Aaron waits in bed for Spencer to join him, fully intending to feign sleep the moment he enters the bedroom but nevertheless longing to know he’s safely tucked next to him in bed. When he hears the quiet click of the front door and checks the time to see he’s been waiting for almost 25 minutes, though, a panicked feeling fills his chest. He throws the covers back and treads out to the living room, only to be met with a decidedly empty room. If he was a more spiritual man he’d say he could still feel the angry aura of their previous argument lingering over the furniture. Really what he feels is the inevitable, empty vacuum a home without Spencer in it is bound to house. 

He sits down on the sofa, just on the wrong side of too cold in his threadbare t-shirt and underwear, and buries his head in his hands. The problem is that he knows Spencer’s right. He and Jack both deserve better than this kind of life, of course they do. Jack deserves a father, Spencer deserves a husband. Admitting such a fact, however, requires humility, vulnerability, failure almost. It means telling his boss that he needs reinforcements, that he can’t continue with the 80+ hour weeks, that he’s not as strong as he used to be. 

That sort of thing takes a courage that feels so far out of reach, though, and he’s left defending a place he doesn’t want to be in against people he loves more than anything in the world. 

Forcing himself out of his miserable carousel of thoughts and regrets, he pulls his head from his hands and catches sight of a note on the coffee table, his name scrawled across it in Spencer’s handwriting. Immediately, his heart sinks: it’s unlikely a love letter. It’s far more likely it’s a note of good riddance, an announcement of abandonment. 

Turning it over in his shaking hands, he reads: 

I’ve gone to stay with Derek and Penelope for the night. I will pick up Jack from Jessica’s in the morning, on my way home. I love you. Spencer 

He immediately feels guilt at ever having thought that Spencer would be cruel enough to leave him in the same way he’s been left himself one too many times. His husband has an incredible amount of love filling his heart, and he’s simply incapable of such cruelty. It’s been a fear of his for many years, that Spencer would grow unhappy but be too kind to leave, prioritising Aaron above himself. He knows it’s Haley’s fault for embedding such fear and doubt in his heart all those years ago, but he can’t help but berate himself for ever doubting Spencer. 

It’s not like they’re about to break up. When he considers the situation logically, he knows that. He loves Spencer, Spencer loves him, and ultimately, he’s going to relent. He’s going to draw on whatever shreds of courage remain in his tattered and beaten soul and do whatever it takes to make his family happy, to give them what they deserve. He just has no idea how to cross the gaping chasm that stands in the way of reaching that eventuality. 

He goes to place the note back down on the coffee table, but his eyes land on the book it had originally rested on: Spencer’s well-loved copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. He picks it up, sort of absent-mindedly, thumbing the pages the love of his life has read countless times, holding on to the book as an emotional connection to Spencer. It’s travelled their entire relationship with them; he remembers it laying on his spare bedside table back when Spencer visited his apartment in the dead of night, terrified of anyone finding them out. He’d read the poems over and over again, long into the night. Aaron can’t help but smile at the memory of Spencer’s unique quirks. 

Eventually, his absent fiddling lands him on a page Spencer’s visited time and time again. A worn leather bookmark Aaron recognises as one of Diana’s gifts marks the page titled Sonnet 116. Tired and lovelorn, he begins reading.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds  Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare 

((Modern Translation, if you’d prefer:

I will not admit that interferences are possible in the union of two people In love. Love that changes when circumstances do is not love, Nor if it bends when someone tries to destroy it: Oh no! It is an eternally fixed point, Which may watch storms but is never shaken by them; it is the guiding star for ever lost ship: Its distance may be measured but its quality cannot be. Love does not fall victim to Time, though features of youth Are eventually entrapped by him; Love doesn’t change as hours and weeks race past, But endures until death. If this is wrong, and I’m proved incorrect, Then I never wrote, and no man ever loved.))

The words come rushing back to him as soon as he reads them: it had been a contender for Spencer’s chosen poem at their wedding. He’d eventually gone with I loved you first by Christina Rosetti, the perfect compliment to his own choice of I love you by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, but on their first morning as a married couple, laid in their warm and comfortable bed, Spencer had pulled out this very book and straddled Aaron’s thighs, reading it to him with an earnest expression. He remembers the air being punched out of his chest as he’d looked up at a bright-eyed 27-year-old Spencer who had been through so much already but still held all the grace and innocence he did on his first day at the BAU.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until a tear runs down his nose and splashes on the page. What really tips him over the edge is reading Spencer’s small, chicken-scratch annotations around the poem, noting different points in their relationship, events between the two of them that prove the words of an Englishman born 400 years earlier.  

It’s so easy for him to doubt how much Spencer loves him - insecurities and the trauma of his separation from Haley consume him far too often - but he’s holding the tangible, physical proof. This is undeniable, this is the evidence his doubtful, damaged heart yearns for, and the furious, raging, endlessly tumultuous waters inside him settle for the first time in weeks.  

⭐️

The second Aaron’s alarm goes off at 6am, he gets started on the plan he’d formed as soon as the words of Shakespeare’s sonnet had sunk in. The email he’d composed the night before is the first thing his laptop screen displays when he powers it on, and he presses send on the uncompromising, demanding letter he’d addressed to Cruz. Finally feeling good about the entire situation, he turns the coffee maker on and gets dressed; Spencer’s an early riser but he’s determined to get to Derek and Penelope’s before he leaves. 

The relief is freeing, and he feels light for the first time in a long time. He hadn’t quite realised just how much it had all been weighing on him until he’d finally found the courage to cut it free. 

Armed with two coffees and Shakespeare’s sonnets, he heads downstairs to the taxi he’d ordered the night before. The city races past in front of the slow and steady sunrise, dawn marking a new chapter in Aaron’s life that he’s determined to make worth it. Slowly the thick of the city fades into the suburbs, and the taxi slows down as they wind through the maze of identical looking streets until they arrive at Derek and Penelope’s home. 

He pays the taxi driver as quickly as possible and sighs in relief at the sight of Spencer’s car still on the drive as he climbs out of the vehicle, carefully balancing his two coffees, still warm in their thermal mugs. Fully aware that Derek and Penelope are absolutely going to chew him out the minute they lay eyes on him, he hesitantly rings the doorbell. 

“Man, what the hell?” Derek exclaims, clearly exasperated as he swings the door open, revealing a sorry looking Aaron Hotchner standing sheepishly on his doorstep. 

“I know,” Aaron replies immediately, trying to portray as much regret and understanding with his body language as is possible when holding two coffees with  your husband’s most prized possession perched precariously under your arm. “I know, I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I need to see Spencer.”

Derek looks thoroughly put out just being in Aaron’s presence, but after a moment or two of hesitation he relents, opening the door wider to let him through. “Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll ask if he’s okay to see you.”

He parks Aaron in the living room and then leaves to go and find Spencer. Only seconds later, he hears the hurried click of kitten heels on the wooden floor and internally cringes; if facing Derek was bad, facing Penelope will be infinitely more painful.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Penelope shouts before she’s even fully entered the living room, “I have never, and I mean never been more disappointed in you. I don’t think you fully appreciate how lucky you are. You may be my boss but that does not mean I will not chew you out when you screw up this bad. Anyone who makes my Spencer cry is in my bad books for at least two weeks. You are in the dog house, you understand me? The dog house.”

She’s thankfully cut off from continuing her rant by Spencer’s shy, hesitant appearance at the doorway. Penelope immediately rushes over and gives him a hug, whispering something in his ear that Aaron doesn’t catch but makes Spencer giggle. She reaches up to ruffle his hair before patting his cheek fondly and casting a furious glare in Aaron’s direction as she vacates the living room. 

“Hi,” Aaron says softly, breaking the silence left in the wake of Storm Penelope. “I bought you a coffee.” 

“What are you doing here, Aaron?” Spencer asks, clearly a little confused but still accepting the drink. 

“I know you said that you’d come home this morning but I had to come and get you,” he replies, standing up from his seat on the couch and taking a few steps forward. “Look… your note last night, it was on top of this book. And in my absent-minded cloud of misery I was looking through it and came across Sonnet 116.”

A flicker of recognition lights up Spencer’s eyes as his face softens a little at the sight of his beloved book.

“Do you remember? Climbing into my lap on our one day wedding anniversary and reading it to me? Back then I was partly distracted by the gorgeous man in my arms but last night… Spencer, the words hit home in a way I haven’t felt before. Not to mention your annotations; I felt like I was reading a journal of our love story, which I know was probably your intention all along.” He shakes his head, trying to get back on track. “I’ve been an idiot, a rotten fool, and I’m so sorry. I emailed Cruz this morning. 

“You did?” Spencer looks up, surprise filling his features for a second before a small, hopeful smile takes over. “What did you say?”

“That I couldn’t continue with the workload and I needed reinforcements. That I would work the same hours for two more weeks to allow them to find an adequate solution, but after that I’ll be reducing my hours to align almost directly with yours,” he says, tentatively gauging Spencer’s reaction. 

It’s made pretty easy for him when Spencer’s hesitantly hopeful smile blossoms into a wide grin, relaxing his posture as relief overtakes his body and he throws himself into Aaron’s arms. Aaron buries his face into his husband’s curls and lets himself breathe easy, feeling infinitely better with Spencer wrapped up in his arms again, just where he belongs. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Aaron whispers as he pulls Spencer impossibly closer. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Spencer sighs, nestling his face further into Aaron’s neck. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. But, you’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

“I love you, you know that?” Aaron murmurs, pulling away slightly so he can look Spencer in the eyes, trying to convey his sincerity as well as possible. 

“I know,” he smiles. “I love you, too.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Aaron says, patting Spencer’s side gently. “Let’s get out of here before Penelope comes to stab me with her high heels.” 

Spencer giggles at that. “I don’t know, maybe, I’d like to see that,” he teases, digging his finger into Aaron’s ribs for good measure. 

“Oh, stop it you,” Aaron smiles fondly before kissing the top of Spencer’s head, feeling happier in this moment than he’d ever thought possible again last night. Peace is finally restored in Aaron Hotchner’s heart, all thanks to one rather ancient English playwright and an academic for a husband. “Let’s go and get Jack,” he says, longing to have his whole family back together, to restore the equilibrium of a tumultuous few weeks. 

Spencer leans down to kiss his shoulder as they walk out of the Morgan-Garcia household, and it’s enough to keep him warm the whole way home.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

[mcrmadness]

Oh look, an anxiety attack, hadn't had one in a while... yay

It's the health anxiety again. I random, small itchy spot just popped up to my wrist out of nowhere and now I cannot go to shower and I don't know if I dare to go to sleep even. It's almost 5:30am and I have a meeting tomorrow (today) after 1pm.

I'm still in the middle of a panic attack, I'm terrified of allergy despite not being allergic to anything. I get these skin things sometimes but usually never due to anything specific. In fact I suspect that it's just my skin being very sensitive and reacting easily to things like a hair or fur or even a corner of a piece of paper pressing against my skin for a little too long. Sometimes I get these on my neck when my necklace is touching my skin a certain way (e.g. when I'm trying to sleep and don't realize the pointy part is against my skin), sometimes I get these just from my clothes and I try to think it's probably a cat fur or my own hair that's just in a position that it is sticking against my skin.

It's just. Right now I am in the alert mode. All my body hair is sticking up and I can feel my blood circulating all around in my skin, ready to fight or flee. I'm just checking out every single sensation I get in case it's not just one spot but more would appear. My skin feels itchy from everywhere. I am so, so exhausted but I am too afraid to go to sleep until I calm down enough.

Some days, life with an anxiety disorder is so exhausting. It's moments like these that feel like a reality check. Feeling like I was doing just fine and having my anxiety under control, and then there is one second like this and I feel like I'm a fool for even thinking about my future because I have anxiety. One second like this can trigger a panic attack and depending on the time of the day (usually they happen at nights because everyone's asleep and I wouldn't want to bother e.g. my parents at 5am), it can just. Mess up with everything. Cause me to fuck up my sleeping schedule because I am too afraid to sleep, so then I sleep only like 2 hours or none at all, or if I have no plans, then I'll go to sleep when I have calmed down enough and it can be anything from 6am to 1pm.

Moments like these always reminds me of how I can't have a job. I mean, what is even worse than having these panic attacks? To not be able to sleep because you are too afraid to sleep no matter how exhausted you would be, and then still having to get up in time to go to work and be there, totally exhausted, as that will also create even more anxiety because of how overwhelming everything feels when you haven't slept enough. Anxiety attacks also drain so much energy that all you want to do afterwards is sleep. Skip any plans and just sleep and rest. It's another reason why I am afraid of having to start a "real job" one day because I don't know if I can manage that. I might be doing alright most of the time and then I have just one random physical sensation and my whole world falls apart because I think I'm dying and wanna know what caused that sensation but am too afraid to try again in case it's something dangerous.

Tomorrow the meeting is with the occupational therapist. For the past few meetings we have been talking about studying and working and browsing all kinds of schools and study opportunities and have been trying to figure out what would interest and also suit me. I also mentioned that I have been thinking about if there would be anything in Germany next year that I could do for like 2-3 months before the summer so I wouldn't have to wonder where to live during that 2-3 weeks between the concerts. Maybe this panic attack is partially of that too. I just feel so exhausted because the autumn and seasonal depression (seasonal affective disorder) is approaching, I would not be on the mood for any shit like that tomorrow but I know the time will run out soon and it'd be easier to do that now than in e.g. February. Plan stuff, I mean. I don't need to do anything yet, just go through options and plan things. But you know, I just would not have that energy now.

I've been having derealization and depersonalization moments lately too. Mainly because I have been wondering my future and every time I do that, I just am hit with the reality and start to dissociate. Because it's just... so difficult to understand how big the world is. How there are other countries outside of mine. How things are happening. My small die ärzte bubble at home is so safe. Everything outside that bubble is scary. I am afraid of mental breakdowns. What would I do if I was all alone in a new country and had a mental breakdown? I could not call my mom if I can go to their place at night. There would be a few thousands of kilometers too many between the places.

I have friends in Germany, but I still don't know what would I do or where would I go. Berlin has been a dream for over 10 years but I keep being told it's impossible to find a flat from there. I don't think any of my friends live in Berlin, either. Nor that close to Berlin. So I would be all alone in a city where I don't even have friends. And all my German friends live all around the country and I just... don't think there is any point in choosing a city just because a friend lives in the city. There is no point running after friends who also have other plans and goals. I very likely would just be left alone in their town, too, if I did that and they found a future from somewhere else and moved on.

It's just. I don't know. The loneliness is awful and one of the biggest reasons for why I have been thinking about Germany is that I might find more like-minded people from there, and of course to be closer to where everything dä is happening as I could even walk to a store and find and buy an album or maybe a poster, or just a magazine with interviews. Something that never happens in my city nor even country. Still I just always have this feeling like I would have doomed to be "forever alone" - me being aroace and not looking for any kind of (romantic) partnership doesn't help much either, just creates even bigger gap between me and those who are looking for a partner and eventually will find one. I dream that I would be less lonely in Germany and that it would be the solution to all of my problems, but at the same time I'm afraid that I would be as lonely there as I am here. I guess it's partially also my own fault because I never go anywhere, but in Finland I can't much because people are so introverted that every social interaction often happens when people are surrounded by alcohol and I don't drink alcohol. Already in junior high I felt that I had no social life because everyone else's social life was revolving around alcohol and I had no desire to take a part to any of that.

Well, at least I now feel a little better after venting. Not having that much anxiety anymore, but still being a bit confused as always. Feeling like wasting my time and being too old for anything. I need friends of my age but I still feel like I was 18 and see younger people and think they are friend material and then realize they're literally 10 years younger and we do think differently. I have seen it so many times, but I just constantly forget that people in their early 20s are still so young that we're basically from different worlds at this point.

I'll continue watching youtube videos. A little bit of escapism before I decide if I am brave enough to either shower or sleep. 5-6 hours until I have to wake up.

[harrywritingsbyme]

Anyone else have a love- hate relationship with your period? TM WARNING lol

Like i love my period for the exuses i get to use but hate it too

Like i NEVER have to take medicine even when on- today i had to take ibuprofen just because my period gives me a fuckin headache all the tome when on it but today- I literally haven’t slept in well over 24 hours and i have to stay awake for class but cannot stand the bullshit my teachers say and deal with a headache at the same time-

I also hate my birth control pills (im still a vergy its to control my period) but the thing is whith them is that I literally dont care about them that much which means i have gotten so behind on them that i LITERALLY haven’t had a good/heavy period in over 2 months (ik ik not healthy) besides for spotting so this week im have a really really heavy one since ive gotten back on track. Which means i have to use tampons cuz they are the only thing that i dont have to change every five minutes and i DISPISE fucking tampons cuz why the fuck should i shove somthin up my 🐱and feel like i have to pee or start having cramps just because something is up there-

ON THE TOPIC OF PADS

I hate them but love them- so i never trim- dont see the point- which means that my bush is really long sometimes- and i use the super long ones (not the ultra long) cuz my period blood can spread. I hate having to literally PULL my bush out of the sticky part of the pad cuz it won’t stick to my underwear- my vergina is already fuckin sintive as it is because of being on my period- that just makes it ten times worse. I like using pads cuz i don’t usually have a very heavy period which means i never have to use tampons but other than that i hate it. 

I really really really want to buy a nice pj set and sheets but I refuse because of my fucking period too.

ONTO OTHER TOPICS

Why cant pads or tampons be free!? Like hunny- Some of us are broke as shit and can’t afford it half the time and all you doing is making the fucking prices go up. Ridiculous

Dont even get me started on the topic of MEN

Fucking idoits thinking tehir life is hard and that we disurve yhe way they treat us- like (big big warning here) lets say soemone gets r$&@d they say it’s because of the way she dressed. Bitch what the fuck!? If us woman go out in a short skirt and tank top we physically have to keep an eye out for predators just because we started to feel confident and comfortable in our clothes to go out. Why should woman have to check their back seats before getting in the car!? Why should we have to hold out keys like a weapon?! Why should we have to make sure our windows are locked 3 times before going to bed. But men cant? Then men have a adulasity to say things like how we arnt strong enough like bitch what the fuck does your dick do? Does it literally PUSH a HUMAN out of it?!? Doe sit bleed every damn month? No so fuck off- our bodys lets expain that- we have periods because our verginas got prepared to be pregnant but we never did so our body decided have some fuckin revenge and make us bleed every month-

Men treat women like objects. There are only a few who understands litteraly every i just said.

As you can tell- ive had a bad day and its only 9 am.

Im on my period and just want cuddles from harry a guy who actually understands shit like this 🥺🥺

Ive never taken medicine during my period and ive having tok because i cant stand shit today. I havent slept in 24 hours and had a mental breakdown at 6am today.

I wanna sleep but i cant cuz i want to advoide getting yelled at at all costs. If i skip school taht means i get yelled at. Even if it was to fuckin sleep.

The next time i get yelled at for not turning in grades imma just sit there and cry. Like its not my failt km mentally unstable rn because of school its not my fault I literally have no motivation to do shit tgat i WANT to do.

I got yelled at for me starting to clean my room but not finishing it for god over a week because i lost all motivation to do literally anything even eating.

Sorry i needed to rant- But about the period and men shit- prodve me wrong if you can

-🧩

this was a ranttttt...but im rlly glad that you got all of this off your chest babes🥰😂🥺❤️periods and men definitely suck!!! but I hope that you're able to get back on track with your birth control, I hope your periods become less of a strain and not as painful, i hope that feminine products will be free in the future bc none of us CHOSE to have a period, i hope that all the bad men in the world get yeeted off a cliff, i hope that you're able to find some peace in your life and in regards to your school work, i hope that you're able to regain some motivation to get some things done, and i hope you find a great guy that isn't a piece of shit🥰❤️ilysm bbyyy!!

[alliebruns-blog]

Mega Blog 4000 - London Marathon, Bad Cow Double, Dorchester Marathon, The Ox Epic and 100 miles across the South Downs Way.

Well I’m doing really well at this blogging malarky aren’t I? I haven’t posted in AGES mainly because i have been too busy doing all the actual running. So grab yourself a beer because this is a LONG one. 

My race diary for this year is what some people might call ‘busy’. At the moment I have 27 marathons and ultras booked, but me being a suggestible fool, means this number will only go up. April saw me complete my 5th London Marathon on what was possibly the hottest day of the year ever, plus a little trip to Dorset for the Bad Cow Frolic. Two very different races done in very different ways. 

London is my favourite road marathon - it’s home turf and you cannot beat the crowd and the atmosphere along the route. This year I was running solo - in past years I have had a number of first timers running with me, so it’s rarely actually “my” race, but this year I was running alone and so had high hopes of qualifying for Boston, with a sub 3.40. However, that most definitely was NOT to be. It was brutally hot as you all know, so I decided to be sensible and rein it in a bit. Watching people throwing up and falling by the road from mile 10 onwards was proof that I had made the right decision. Weirdly I found the crowds to be a little overwhelming this year. I have spent so much time running on trails that I am now more used to peace and quiet so having thousands of people cheering was lovely but kind of strangely uncomfortable. 

Here’s a picture of me NOT in running kit. 

The heat meant that I was running without a base layer for the first time in 2018, and around mile 16, I realised that the tops of my flappy little arms were chaffing on my vest, and they were stingy. I wasn’t running with my pack, so I legged it over to St Johns ambulance and asked them if they had any vaseline. They had just run out but offered me some baby oil instead. Sexy scenes follow - I am throw it all over myself, basically basting Bailey up to get mega sunburnt for the rest of the day. I finished in 3.59.40 - classic sub 4 attempt done. Was still pretty pleased - I hadn't broken myself and I felt fine - which was good because the following week saw me trotting up to Dorset for White Star Running’s Bad Cow double. 

Hot metal on London marathon day 

Bad Cow is based in Burnbake - a beautiful part of the Dorset countryside. The event is run over two days - day one is the 12 hour frolic - as many laps of the 4.5 mile course as you can do in 12 hours and day 2 is the marathon. I was entered for both and was aiming for a marathon a day. There were a lot of Do-Badders signed up for this one, so we all camped together for maximum LOLS. It’s also dog friendly, which meant that we had a total of 3 dogs to help us round the course - BONUS. 

Bad Cow Squad - Me, George, Susi, Julius and Toby

Now the thing about having a load of Do-Badders camping together is it is NOT A GOOD IDEA. We like a drink and a chat and managed to control ourselves on the first night - a few beers, nothing extraordinary and a decent bit of sleep meant getting up the next morning wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened. To be quite honest, I was exhausted from Arran and London in the previous 3 weeks plus work had been a nightmare the week before so I decided to trot this one out with my pals and the dogs and trot it out I did. We were taking it in turns to run with dogs, look after kids and drink beers, so all in I managed about 30 miles for the day whilst having the best time ever. That night it all went pear shaped. We stayed up til about 4am yapping and drinking beer and playing with our new fire pit, which would have been fine, had we not had to get up for the Marathon at 6am. No chance of sleeping in when the race director drives up to your tent at 5am, puts a huge speaker outside and starts blasting Cotton Eye Joe at 100DB into the tent. Thanks for that Andy. The funny thing is, I still didn’t wake up. 

It shames me to say it but this was the first race that I have ever DNS’d. I was knackered, hungover and sleep deprived - all my own fault and I will make it up at East Farm in August, but I just couldn’t run it. The best thing is that I still had my number on my leg so looking at the results, I actually did it in 4 hours. Because I went too close to the mat when shouting at someone to do press ups. Classic Do-Baddery. 

Having a nice time with Toby at Bad Cow BEFORE the booze started

Next up was The Ox Epic at the start of May. Now I bloody love The Ox - I ran and won the 50 last year, so this was a key race for me - I wanted to defend my title, like the competitive tit that I am. 

I was signed up to do all 4 races - The Dark Ox on Friday night (6 miles), The Ox Ultra on Saturday (50 miles), the light Ox on Sunday (6 miles) and the Ox Half on Sunday (13 miles). Completing all the races means that you get The Ox Epic medal and are inducted into the WSR hall of fame for being a bad ass. My plan was to take it easy on the dark, smash the ultra and take it easy on the light and half. I had no intention of winning the Epic, I just wanted to win the ultra.  And then disaster struck. 

A close friend of mine went missing on the Wednesday before the race, and we were desperately worried about him. On the Friday morning it was announced that he had been found dead and my whole world collapsed. I was numb and I was overwhelmed with grief. From the minute I found out I was taken care of with Susi and Julius coming to find me to make sure I was OK. I didn’t know what I was doing from one second to the next and started questioning if I should even be running. I was fine one minute, and in floods of tears the next. I didn’t know, but from the minute they turned up, I was under the care of my running buddies - constantly being watched and monitored. 

Susi drove me onto the site on Friday - we were all camping together again and the boys put the tent up. I sat there staring at nothing. I was going to run. I couldn’t think of anything else to do rather than run. I got my number on and followed them all to the start at 9.30pm. I had the wrong number on, I had to go back to the tent and get my proper number. I was such a state. Lee and Susi ran with me - it took us 1.20 to get round a 6 mile course in the dark, but get round I did. I realised that this weekend wasn’t about winning, It was about finding sanctuary through running and just getting round would be good enough. 

No. No I didn’t. 

After a couple of beers and some crying (yay), we went to bed ready for the 50 mile race on Saturday. The Ox is a looped course that runs across the Rushmore estate. Each loop is around 6 and a bit miles, so 8 laps gives you 50 miles. I am NOT a fan of loops but strangely The Ox doesn’t bother me at all - the route is very beautiful (apart from the long drove of death) and there are hills so walking breaks are made easy. I ran with Julius for the whole day. He was brilliant. Chatting to me when I needed to be chatted to and letting me be silent when I needed to, he fed me, made sure I drank water and kept an eye on me the whole time. We gave parts of the course nicknames to make it more bearable Crisp Mountain (the hill that you can eat crisps walking up - later renamed to Peanut Mountain when we ran out of crisps) the Forest of Joy, The Droves of Death, the Hills of Despair, Lamb Kingdom  - I think most of the other people thought that we were mental, but it works for us. We came in for the 50 at around 10 hours 30 mins - over an hour slower than my 2017 time and certainly not a win for me, but again I had got round. My demons had not defeated me and I actually felt better than I had all week. Then came the news that changed the weekend for me. I was told that in the overall results from the two races, I was second lady - with only 1 minute and 14 seconds between me and the current front runner. THANKS ANDY. In a way I wish I hadn’t found out, but now the game was most certainly on. I was going to try and win it. 

Sunday morning came - game face was on, and we set out for the start of the 6 mile Light Ox. My pals were trying to find out where the first lady was, I kind of didn’t want to know. Having looked at the results, it was clear she was a fast shorter distance runner - something I am not. I had to really make the effort on this. I started at the front and shot (well, shot for me) round the course with Julius - coming in at just over an hour and five mins. The first lady had not come in yet. The minutes ticked by, 5, 10, 15 - my lead was going up and up, and then about 30 minutes after me she came in, hobbling, and that was the end of her racing weekend. The ultra had broken her and she wasn’t going to take on the half. I was in the lead. 

Now for the final slog - The Ox Half - it had got quite hot and I was physically and mentally exhausted. Plus I had added pressure on me (that I was totally putting on myself) to bring home the Ashtray Trophy of joy. I did NOT enjoy the half. My tiredness meant my brain was doing what Lee calls Vordermaths - numbers and times and numbers and times going over and over that make NO sense, and I was completely terrified that the second lady was somehow going to make up her 40 minute time difference over the half and beat me. That was never going to happen on the half course which was SO hilly and hot. I came in at around 2 and a half hours and took the win for the ladies. I was overwhelmed, exhausted and completely thrilled to be the first lady winner of The Ox Epic. 75 (ish) miles in 3 days on what could have been one of the worst weekends of my life. It taught me that the love and care of the ultra running community knows no bounds. I also just want to do a little shoutout to the 2nd and 3rd ladies - Kirsty and Debbie who were just brilliant, wonderful humans - it was Debbie’s first ultra and she smashed it. Good work team! 

YAS QWEEENS! L-R Debbie, Moi, Kirsty. Fucking badass women. 

The spoils of The Ox Epic.

A couple of much needed weekends off and it was back to Dorset again for ANOTHER WSR event - their only road race event in the form of Dorchester marathon. This is a very different type of run to the ones I am used to - there are a LOT of people and it’s entirely run on the road - it’s sold in as Britains’ prettiest road race and turns out that is actually true - it’s beautiful. 

We arrive at 8 in the morning in the worst rain ever, Thunder, lightning, rain, humidity - all the good ones. It’s raining so much that we are doing 30 mph on the dual carriageway. I am NOT looking forward to this. We park the car and walk towards the start and it’s stopped raining. Usual pants with the usual suspect at the start - I LOVE the White Star Runners so much. The race director is in a cherry picker, which rises towards the sky and, no shit, as it does the clouds part and it’s brilliant sunshine. Now I’m not saying Andy is a God, buuuut….. Oh and guess who is not wearing suntan lotion? (Clue - it’s me) 

Yeah, this is better than London

Sweaty medal picture

The atmosphere is slightly different at this race - usually you get all the LOLS at the start but there are some really tasty runners here - aiming for PB’s and aiming to win. I ran most of the race alone which was fine, and spent a great deal of time petting lambs and goats as per usual. I bumped into a few people I knew and some who I didn’t and had some great chats. The route is relatively flat with a few big old hills, and the heat made it difficult. This was never going to be a sub 4 for me - I had SDW100 to deal with in 2 weeks and didn’t want ANYTHING to go wrong for that. I reckon I’ll be back for a better crack at it next year - as far as road races go it is one of the best in the country - would defo recommend it. Fast forward 2 weeks and we are looking down the barrel of the South Downs Way 100. 

Looking fresh at the 6am start of the SDW 100

This is only my second attempt at 100 miles on one day. I have done a lot of multi day ultras - I really like them! But only one 100 miler in a day (Autumn 100 back in 2017). This is another one of my key races for 2018, and I was hoping to be able to beat my previous record of 23 hours and 38 mins. One thing I hadn’t taken into consideration was how different SDW100 is from A100. 

For a start SDW had 12,700ft of elevation across the course - that’s like climbing Snowdon 3 times. It runs from Winchester to Eastbourne through the beautiful South Downs National Park. It hadn’t rained for a while and the ground was super hard packed chalk with rocks sticking out of it for most of the way - looking back on it, I should have thought about this and worn road shoes - but I didn’t do that because I am an idiot.  I had already recce’d half the route with some of the Do Badders a few months earlier - it was the last 50 we had run which was brilliant as this was the part I would be covering in the dark. 

Making friends on the SDW100

I was extremely lucky to have 2 great pacers for this race. First up from mile 50, Lorna Spayne - a Do Badder and very tasty marathon runner - my WSR nemesis (always beating me dammit) and very good friend what I made through the internet. Lorna is a very experienced runner, and completed her first 50 on the SDW back in May, so was perfectly placed to help pace and crew me. She is the single most organised person I have ever met in my life. She is kind, patient and fiercely protective of her runner. She crewed me from early on in the race - making sure I had all the delicious food, ice, Calippos (yes really) from very early on, and then joining me at mile 51 to run 30 miles in the middle of the night to drop me off with Lee. You all remember Lee right? Lee who force fed me sandwiches on the A100. Lee who has given me PTSD every time I hear Your The Voice by John Farnham? Yeah - that Lee.  Lee was pacing me from mile 83 to the end. A highly inexperienced ultra runner (not my words) Lee knows exactly what he is doing when it comes to pace and hills - and that is exactly what I needed for the death march. 

We started the race at 6am. I bumped into a lot of Do Badders at the start which was great - nice you know you have someone to shout FUCK YOU BUDDY at on the way round. I started the race with Tania who I know through WSR and her friend Melanie. It was Tania’s first 100 and I was SO excited for her - the first 10 miles flew but chatting about running and stuff and running and stuff.  I knew that we were running to fast - doing around 9.30 min miles when I should have been doing 11. I decided at about 20 miles to pull back and let Tania go on - I couldn’t keep this pace and expect not to start breaking and it was already getting hot. It was very challenging underfoot too - the ground rock solid and a number of splendid long slow ascents. My favourite (Fuck you long, slow ascents). At around mile 25 there is the glorious Lorna and she has got ice cubes and ice lollies and I think I love her. She fills my bottles, gets my rubbish out of my bag, refills the sandwich supplies, checks me over, gives me life and off I trot. There were a lot of VERY jealous people when they saw me fishing my Calipo out of my sports bra. 

L-R: Melanie, myself and Tania off to a flying start. 

This is my “quick photographer run” face. Mel obvs finds it hilarious. 

It was at this point I reached the dead zone. Miles 35-40 were a real challenge - I was on my own and was bored. I wasn’t at half way and I was nowhere near the end. I could feel myself starting to mentally go. Then, as if by magic, Melanie is there behind me. I am SO happy to have a running pal. We trot along laughing at stupid things, hating on cyclists, and encouraging each other for 10 miles until we reach the halfway point. I now know that I am on my way to meet Lorna and my race will get better. I reach 50 mile 45 mins short of my target - it’s hotter and hillier than I thought - but I know if I want to go sub 24 then I need to put some effort in to the 50-80 mile leg.

Lorna is a dream. She chats away to me and makes me run when I don’t want to. She asks me stupid questions and distracts me from the task in hand, asking me if I have drunk enough and eaten enough and generally pushing me on. About 10 miles into this leg another Do badder emerges in the shape of Professor Russell Banks who has bough me a can of beer. NOMS! We run along with Mike - yet ANOTHER Do Badder that we have collected en route, and drink some beer and laugh at stupid stuff. It’s at this point I bump into Tania again - she’s suffering a bit so we scoop her up and run a good few miles with her in tow, leaving her at an aid station to drink coffee. I hope that she will be OK but I have to make up my time. 

Hydrating like a proper athlete around mile 55 (L-R Mike, Me, Russell)

A Fuckwittery of Do-Badders (L-R Russell, Me, Lorna, Mike)

Lorna and I trot through the afternoon and into the evening. Head torches come on, and we are running through the darkness to the 83 mile point where I will meet Lee. At some point on this leg, I lose my sense of humour completely, but she deals with it, allowing me space to eat my Peppa Pig pasta and clean my teeth and shout  “a new fucking body” when the marshalls ask if I need anything. It would have been a much sadder race without Lorna and I am so grateful for everything she did for me. Everything is hurting, but I am so close to the end now.  

Lorna disappears into the night....

At mile 83 we pull into the aid station and there is Lee. Boring the shit out of everyone with his Monarchs Way tales. I grab water and some snacks and give Lorna a hug - 16 miles to go and me and Lee set off up yet ANOTHER hill. 

Tea with Lee. 91 miles in. 

Lee’s brilliant as always and we chat about stuff, walk up hills, he lends me his cheat sticks and I start talking to him about times. He thinks I can beat my A100 time - I am not so sure. I have been eating really well on this race and it shows. I am hurting all over and my body feels bruised, but I still have petrol in the tank and I run the downs and walk the ups and we listen to Queen and debate what their best song is for about 2 hours (It’s The Show Must Go On BTW). 

Day starts to break at about 4am. The beauty of the Downs around this time - when the moon and sun are out at the same time - is astonishing. When day breaks on a 100 mile race, you know it’s over and you know you can do it. It spurred me on and I felt like I was only getting stronger. We stop for a coffee at the aid station at mile 91 and Lee is treated like royalty. I am left to wait in the wings for my coffee and water - the marshals are very apologetic when they realise he is my pacer and I am running the race. Fucking Lee, man. 

Having a moment as the sun comes up and moon goes down. Thanks for the photo Lee!

We leave the aid station and trot out the next 9 miles. It starts to become a reality that I can PB this. I can do it in a faster time than A100. I start to get faster. I feel brilliant. Lee is complaining a lot about the hills. I tell him to shut the fuck up. We keep going and eventually come off the hills and down onto the road towards the finish. The road seems to go on forever, but I want to run not walk. 

23 hours and 20 mins in the end is on sight. One loop round the athletics track,�� and I am done. 23 hours, 28 minutes. 9 mins off my previous time with about 7,000ft more elevation. 

BOOM. 

I am presented with my buckle, I get the beer out of my bag and at 5 am have a delicious beer and a hot dog. I am exhausted and elated. Second time round is not easy, but it’s easier. Thank you to Lee and Lorna for everything they did for me. I won’t ever forget it. Shout out to Melanie who finished in 25 hours - this photo says it all.....

So, what’s next? Well I am back with my Rat Race pals doing The Wall this weekend - just 69 miles along Hadrians Wall , followed by a pretty exciting recce in Snowdon. I will also be attempting to not leave my blog so long. If you’ve got to this bit you’re a stronger person than most - ultra reading. 

[peevishmandible]

My husband has been working nights from his home office for about 6 months, and will continue until September when his boss gets back from overseas and will no longer need him to work so closely with the international team that my husband manages. It’s been weird. I mean, there’s stuff that isn’t great but there is lots that is, so it’s ok. You know, trade offs. We’re not upset and it isn’t hurting any one, it messed w our family dynamic at first but we found equilibrium. It’s at the very least a lot more consistent and healthier a schedule than when he would be out to commute to the city at 6am, get home at 5:30 and then maybe work from 9 to midnight so he was able to manage the people across the globe, you know?  So anyways. Here’s the thing. When I had my babies, lord I was what you’d call an attachment parent. I mean, it wasn’t a term I even knew, it wasn’t something I did deliberately... it was just what I DID. We knew I was going to be a stay at home parent and keep my kids close, and I did babywearing from day one, right up until the kids outgrew the 35lb limit in the hiking back pack that was a part of me for like 4 years. I breastfed - and I’m SO grateful I was able to do that, I do not say this as a status signal or virtue, trust me. It’s a combination of damn I was lucky I was able to and damn my kids NEVER TOOK BOTTLES. EVER. EVER. NOT ONCE. BELIEVE ME I TRIED. Anyawys I breastfed my daughter until she was three, and 7 months of that time was while I was pregnant with my son. I had to stop because my lap was disappearing and my son would kick her so hard it hurt me when he felt her. I breast fed my son until he was 2, when I got a bad ear infection and the antibiotics in my milk made him sick. So five years of my life, 5 consecutive years, nursing children.  UH, WE”RE CLOSE.  Lord, but I did NOT enjoy sleeping with them. My daughter never liked it, always did better in her own room, from 4 months on (we had both our babies in bassinettes by my bed at first. I had naps with her in bed beside me sometimes but that’s it. When my husband had to leave us for 5 months when I was newly pregnant she had adjustment problems and I was so exhausted that I brought her into my bed at night but she was THE WORST, I’m so sorry to say. She was sweet and beautiful but god, she would kick me, flip upside down in bed, play until late into the night, fuss around, wake me up by yelling in my face or forcing my eyes open... And she was like, 2.5. Listen sleeping next to a 2.5 year old who still pees in diapers while asleep is gross, ok. I haaaaaated it.  When my son was born, lord. He wouldn’t sleep unless I was holding him. I slept with him in my arms in bed for 3 weeks. Not safe! I didn’t feel great about it! My husband didn’t have enough room in our bed and had to sleep on the couch and we both hated THAT because WE are close and need each other to sleep well. I was sore and unhappy about it and so grateful when he finally slept in his bassinette. Because of our living situation we built his crib and had THAT at the bottom of our bed for about 8 months. That was fine - I didn’t mind having them IN the room, I just didn’t want them in my bed.  Like, I spent EVERY SINGLE WAKING - and sleeping, if we’re being totally honest - minute with my children. I didn’t resent that, but GOD DAMNIT, I am an introvert at heart, I really am, and I NEED SPACE. My bed was MY BED. Well, and my husband’s of course. And of COURSE we goddamn got interrupted tons when we fucked but at least we had the opportunity to DO so without kids in our bed. It was just, you know. A boundary. Like, the one boundary for me, being pregnant, nursing, and parenting small babies and children constantly for like 5 years.  I’m going somewhere with all this.   K, so, my husband had to go work away from us for another 6 months a few years later. It was my fault that we were separated and I am very deeply guilty about that but we won’t go into that in this post. The point is, the kids and I were in a single room at night, with my big queen mattress, a twin bed for my girl, and a toddler bed for my boy.  THEY DIDN”T USE THEIR BEDS.  Now, I got it. You know? Like, Daddy was gone, my daughter was newly in kindergarten, we’d moved to a new place abruptly, and Mama was in the room with them for the first time. They both piled into my bed with me - my 5 year old and my 2 year old (who yep, was still in diapers, believe me I smelled like toddler pee and baby sweat far more than I want to remember...) and once again I was sometimes a little resentful (I would try to escape to the twin bed after they fell asleep sometimes) but I was both so exhausted, so anxious about the shitty situation that I let it slide and even actually enjoyed it. I finally did find joy in sleeping through the night with them, it was comforting without my husband there, absolutely.  When we all reunited we went years without sleeping that way again, which was fine. Once in a while I’d grab a nap with one or the other in my bed or theirs. Sometimes THEY would have sleep overs and share a bed or room but mostly they enjoy having their own space - my daughter especially.  But now, here we are again. Daddy isn’t in my bed. So the kids are. They take turns. It’s fine. I can sleep alone but I prefer not to, now. It’s very lonely without my husband there, ever. I was actually pretty fucking sad about it. And, you know. The anxiety nights and nightmares can be better if I can look over and see someone I love safe and real. The kids won’t be small enough to do this much longer and if they’re happy and I’m happy, then we best do it while we can. My husband has been waking us up when he comes to bed at 6 or 7 - he brings the dogs now and we all have a big cuddle and play session before I get the kids up for school. It’s nice.  Last night I had both kids in with me. We’ve not done that for many years because they’re too big and they fight and someone inevitably gets too hot/has no blankets/kicks someone/wants to be next to mum/farts and pisses someone off/etc ad fucking nauseum. But last night I let my daughter in after a week and a half of banning her from sleeping with me - she was acting out and I finally had to tell her to fuck off because dude I already deal with some pretty gnarly insomnia, you canNOT fuck with what sleep I get - but her brother got in some trouble for something and was sad. So. I put her beside me, and him at the foot of the bed. I actually woke up during the night and was petting him with my foot because I thought he was my big dog - until he started farting and I was like... that doesn’t sound like Dana farts....ha. Anyways wow I had a flash to a memory I hadn’t thought of it a very long time.  I used to sleep at the foot of my mum’s bed. (we did a lot of co sleeping in my family, but again - it’s for another post to examine. It wasn’t a healthy situation I don’t think.) I have a distinct memory from... gosh I was young. It was before we left Cassiar mining town so I was 5 or under. I was dreaming about peeing into one of her little painted ornamental boxes that she had, and of course I peed the bed. Wasn’t something I did more than any other kid I don’t think (although I did sleep walk and pee in people’s shoes which... yeah again, another post) and I didn’t get in trouble for it that time, it’s not a traumatic memory.  It was just funny. To remember that when I woke up and saw my son at the foot of my bed. And I’ve been thinking about co sleeping. So. That’s why I wrote all this. I don’t really know where I’m going with all of this but I think there is something for me to unpack. My sleeping problems have been exacerbated the last few years, but the nightmares, night terrors, paralysis, and sleep walking and sleep talking have been constant since I was... well. A new born. I never slept. It fucking killed my mother it was very very hard on her. I know that, so I know it must have been bad. I don’t sleep walk anymore, thankfully, but I do sleep TALK and I’ve lashed out physically against my husband many times (Never against my kids. Ever, just to be clear. And when I was going through a period of hitting him at night we completely stopped allowing the children into bed with me until I stopped. I haven’t had any incidents like that since.) So I think I need to go comb through and examine some more trash.  I think I need to find a better name for it though. Some of it is trash sorting but... you know. That negative word doesn’t always feel right. I’ll work on it.  The end.