#please consider this the roughest of all rough drafts

[kkpwnall]

a bit more of diyc for wip wednesday, per favore? 🥺🤲

hiiiii noah, thanks so much for the ask and the encouragement!! and since it's been a minute since last week's wip wednesday, here's an extra long excerpt just for you. immediately following this snippet:

He digs his own lunch out from under the counter. Swaps half of his ham and swiss for half of Eddie’s pb&j. Slides a can of pringles across the counter between them. Knocks his elbow against Eddie’s and rests there, leaning against the counter and into each other.  “Did you get any sleep last night?” Eddie shrugs, “More than none. Less than some.” Steve snorts. Ain't that the truth. "Yeah, same here. Got any other insomnia tricks we should try?" “I mean, the last time I slept well was...” Eddie trails off suggestively, raising his eyebrows and cutting his eyes to the van outside the window with his lips pursed in a smile. Steve follows Eddie's look, a small smile tugging at his lips too as he nods. Even though he woke up with a crick in his neck, reeking of sex and sweat and rainwater, it's the best he's slept in years. Definitely since spring break.  "That and uh..." he draws his thumb over his palm, working out some imaginary soreness while he holds Eddie's gaze.  Come to think of it, the only times he's slept really well, the only sleep that's felt like rest, has been the times he's slept with Eddie.  “My uncle’s working tonight…” Eddie starts slowly through a mouthful of ham and swiss, finishes with a shrug. “You could come over, if you want to.”  On the one hand, the largest hand, the one that’s easiest and most tempting to reach out and grab, he’s literally dying to get back in bed with Eddie. In every sense of the word. To spend more time with him, to spoil him, to take his time with him… On the other hand— “It’s a school night, Eddie,” Steve flounders. Wants to laugh at himself for such a weak fucking excuse. Wants to bang his head against the fucking counter.

[mybiasisexo]

Reverent

Genre: Angst | Fallen Angel!au

Pairing: Suho x Reader

Length: 1.8k

Warning: Religion (?) | Blasphamy (?)

Summary: Suho’s dull life takes quite the turn when he stumbles across a beautiful demon

Author’s Note: @byunfirstlady here is the roughest of rough drafts of the angel!suho fic I promised like 2 years ago smh. I really need to give it the attention it deserves bc it could really, truly, be something great. Until then, here is what I have for now. Mind you it is not edited and I plan on changing a lot of things about it, but I really like the narration, idk, its kinda beautiful???  Title is also a WIP

MASTERLIST

credit

What do you miss?

That was the question Suho thought constantly. It repeatedly flowed through his brain. Oh, so many answers to the question! But, undeniably, being in good grace was the most regretful.

He made his choices, fair enough. Some would say he shouldn’t had been able to do that much, he knew all too well, free will wasn’t of his domain. Yet, look where it got him.

Trapped. Stranded on an insignificant sphere that twirled around mockingly as a cruel reminder of all that he had lost.

Time to him meant absolutely nothing. It was yet another thing out of his domain, but some years such as this, he dreaded the slowness of it. Dreaded the reminder that he was stuck in this vacuum they called Earth, waiting for a day that will never come.

For him to finally be forgiven.

His eyes squinted as he took in the corn yellow sun. It was almost blindingly white, as if life itself had sucked away all of the vibrant hue. This part of the world was like that: dreary. Filled with washed out blues and browns, dusty and dry. It wasn’t a place he preferred, he found himself more at home in large metropolises, surrounded by people too busy to recognize such a raw entity, although they could still tell when around his presence that something was…off.

It was a blessing and a curse, Suho supposed, his soul. If he even had one. If he could even call it that. That was the one thing that reminded him of who he truly was. After being stripped of everything, that was all He left him with. Naked, shaking in humility, bleeding for the first time, and radiant.

He could leave the holy place, but it would always reside within him.

Lately, he felt lonely.

That’s what had brought him here—the loneliness. Being imprisoned upon the Earth for as long as he had, you grew to become lonesome. There were many ways to try to compete with it, but as long as he was an outcast, he would forever be lost in his isolation.

His closest friend throughout it all was the sun. The bright mass of energy that warmed his hard skin always reminded him of the love he once had—that he still had. The sun kept his faith alive. And as it rose in the morning, it brought with it the start of a new beginning.

He could never turn back time.

That was probably why he disdained the word so much.

His attention was pulled away from the hovering orb, brought to the young man of which he came for. The boy with the brazen skin.

He was beautiful, this could not be denied. As he rushed out of his house, keys clanking in his awkwardly large hand. He was late again. Suho tisked, but his eyes widened with what followed after the boy.

An unfamiliar woman trailed behind him, not nearly in as much a hurry as the one before her. Her face was otherworldly beautiful, built to invite, built to seduce.

The boy was in the car in no time, speeding away in a hurry, leaving dust in his wake.

The woman stopped, not taking after him. Instead, she lifted her head and locked eyes solidly with Suho.

He gasped as she smiled angelically and then the dust lifted, barricading her from view.

Once it settled again, she was gone.

~*~

Suho could barely recall the last time he saw another one of the Fallen. About fifty years, give or take. A demon? It had been a bit longer. There were fewer of them, although some of the fallen seek refuge under the dark wings of the under lord. It was why they were created after all, to follow, to serve. If not to Him than to his enemy. The two of them were more similar than they thought, although Suho would never dream of telling either one—not like he would ever get the chance to. Lucifer terrified him and God… well, they weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

Even though it had been a while, he recognized a demon when he saw one. What did she want with the boy? Puzzled, Suho pondered what drew the creature to him in the first place.

Speaking of places, this wasn’t Suho’s at all. He never considered himself a vigilante, as many other Fallen do. Their sense of purpose and protection overwhelming them to do right. That was mostly those who were guardians in the past. Suho was not in that field. No. This foreign sense of concern drew from something else entirely. He bit his lip, curling the warm mug in his hands closer to himself as he fought off the strange feeling fogging his mind.

The demon, right.

Demons were sent to Earth from the Under Lord to do his biddings. Simply, to coerce as many humans as they could. Drag them back to hell so that He could mourn the loss of yet another of his fragile creatures. Suho understood enough to know Lucifer took great pride in hurting Him however he could. Another lost soul was a victory to him.

She must have saw something within that boy to make her decide to latch. Suho had been watching him for a while now, and this was the first he had seen of the dark entity. Maybe she felt it…. No, there was no way. Suho was being careful, meticulously so. There was no room for error as far as his involvement and he meant to keep it that way.

He was that boy’s protector, now more than ever, he had a duty to him.

It felt good, having a purpose again. He had lost it centuries ago���a real duty, a call to be good.

Maybe after all of this was done, he would again be in His good grace. But it was still a wistful wish, one he refused to humor until it happened.

“Would you like another one, Sir?”

Suho lifted his head to the waitress and despite being a regular at this point, she still stuttered at his beauty.

He smiled, white teeth on display and her breath caught in her throat. “Please.”

~*~

A week had gone by without any sight of the demon. Suho tried to mask his disappointment with relief. It wasn’t as though he wanted anything to come to the boy, but it had been so long since he had been in contact with one of his own, demon or not. She had to have some sort of connection to their shared past.

He knew how demons worked.

Once they found a person to leech off of, they attached until their job was done, or the person fought them off. Suho watched an exorcism once. It was one of the hardest things he ever had to witness. That was a long time ago, using different methods, different practices. All the same, it was a memory that, to this day, gave him chills.

The boy was a religious man, oddly enough. Suho didn’t understand how, but every Sunday, he found himself at the local church, sitting in the back, listening to the spoken word.

He used to pray, but hadn’t in years. He wondered if it were his place too, if God ever listened to him or others like him. Or, like everything else, if it were only for them.

He was running late this Sunday. It was well into mass when he rushed towards the small, yet still elegant tan bricked church.

His quick steps came to a stop when he saw someone leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. She wore torn leather pants that hung dangerously low on her wide hips, an equally as torn black wife beater that appeared more of a well-used rag than anything else as it barely covered the swell of her breasts, though her toned stomach was exposed. Her belly botton was pierced and a faded tattoo splayed over her abdomen. He couldn’t make out the word from this distance and the ink blended into her skin. A small black denim vest sat on her shoulders, leaving her arms exposed, tattoos dotted the limbs as well. Her jet black straight hair hung loosly. It was time for her to wash it. Her face, again, was angelic, despite her best efforts to be anything but. Big stunning round eyes surrounded by long eyelashes that brushed her chiseled cheeks whenever she blinked. Nose a button on the center of her face, lips full and pink, cheeks rosy, and skin flawless, not a blemish in sight.

He had her full attention as well. She took him in with a pleased smile, holding the cigarette up. “You think this will kill me?”

Her voice was just as attractive as her face, and the way she tilted her head left Suho breathless. He couldn’t seem to find his voice, struck dumb by her large presence. It had been a moment since he saw one of his kind, but he never felt a presence as strong as hers.

She noticed.

Never breaking eye contact, she dropped the small stick, putting it out with the heel of her boot. Than she motioned her thumb towards the building she currently leaned against where he could faintly make out singing.

“They won’t let me in. I thought this place welcomed all.”

“Why are you here?” He worked up the courage to ask. He knew why, but wanted her to say it.

She shrugged. “Thought our old man would be happy to see me.” She shoved her hands into the pocket of her jeans. “Guess not.”

“Do… Do I know you?” Suho pressed. There were hundreds of angels, all with a specific role/job. It was impossible to know them all, especially if this were someone who fell after him, but her energy was strong—too strong to be newer than him.

She shrugged again. “Maybe. When did you fall?”

“When did you?”

“Oh, so you’re the one in charge here I see.” She laughed, pushing herself off the building to come closer. “What’s your name, tough guy?”

Her breath smelled sweet. He hadn’t been this close to a demon before, refusing to have anything to do with them. They were everything He hated, everything He feared. He wanted nothing against those who had turned their backs completely from Him.

All the same, he felt complied to answer. “This land refers to me as Suho.”

“Suho,” she repeated, letting the word swirl around her wet tongue. “Korean, correct? Makes sense, that’s where we are.”

“It means—”

“Guardian.” She interrupted. “Fitting. You must’ve been one in your past life.”

His jaw clenched and she noticed.

“I’m sorry,” she said, not sounding apologetic in the slightest.

[elizascarlet]

WIP WEDNESDAY

it's not Wednesday here but whateva

Tagged by @marble-halls

This is the roughest rough draft of a streetkid! Anne AU. Probably will keep this part though.

-----

Once she had believed in fairytales.

Didn’t they all have ugly orphans who won a beautiful prince or princess and lived happily after? Did they tell the story of love conquering all? A handsome prince to sweep the maiden away from her dark tormentors?

Fairytales didn’t exist. At least not for her.

Where was the dashing lord when she bounced from house to house, looking for a place she could call a home? Where was the noble prince when she sold her hair to feed herself? Where was the shining knight to rescue her that black night when she lost her innocence by force?

Where ever they were, they never came.

Anne Shirley--- with an e, if you please, she had retorted often in her younger days, but now she was called Cordelia--- huddled in an alleyway behind a rotting trashcan. Her fist clenched tight to her mouth muffling the screams of pain. What could be considered her skirt was soaking wet, with fluid and what looked like blood.

But she could get through this. She always had and always would. Between her stubborness and her imagination, Anne Shirely could get through anything.

Even and including the disease that killed only women: child birth.

Tagging @the-strangest-person @roadtoavonlea and @bravebatgirl

[himbowelsh]

Can we please please come back for a moment to that headcanon (or was it?) about Lieb having no boundaries when it comes to people he considers his own and how it drives Web up the wall? Can I have something fluffy with it? I'm back in school mode and it's going to be reallly stressful week and I need you! And Webgott and Lieb sitting in bed in Web's clothes, reading book or chapter Web just wrote and Web just melts because everything is perfect in the world.

AN: i’ve written more about joe not knowing any single boundary here. (i want to jump out of a tree, it took me SO LONG to find that prompt again). have some soft webgott with lieb having absolutely no self-restraint and web loving it ;)

He walks into the room, prepared to find Joe asleep – probably draped over his side of the bed in his usual haphazard manner, limbs asked and hair splayed around him like he’s just emerged from a windstorm. Joe takes the expression “falling asleep” literally. He seems to collapse into bed every evening. Although he goes out like a light, a sleeping Joe Liebgott is an even bigger mess than David’s latest manuscript.

He has every expectation of his boyfriend being asleep – given it’s nearly midnight, and Joe’s put in a long day at work. On most of David’s late nights Joe is too tired to do much more than give him a few lazy kisses and pull him close. He doesn’t really think tonight will be much different.

So he’s surprised to find Joe sitting up in bed, wide awake, hunched over a stack of papers. When he steps into the room Joe’s attention snaps up, but he doesn’t look at all shamefaced to be caught previewing his boyfriend’s latest chapter.

“That isn’t finished,” is the first thing out of David’s mouth – because he’d left that chapter in the printer for a reason, and it’s the roughest of rough drafts. Then, noticing the exhaustion shadowing his boyfriend’s face, he says, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“I felt like waiting up for you.” Joe shrugs, as if this means nothing – as if the simple gesture doesn’t make David feel like he’s drowning in warmth.

“I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

“It’s a free country,” Joe retorts, smirking.

Little things like this are one of the biggest reasons he loves Joe Liebgott. With a sigh, David moves over to the bedside and begins to slip out of his clothes. His jacket is abandoned on the ground, followed by his jeans and shirt. He imagines Joe’s gaze lingering on him as he undresses, but when he looks back he finds his boyfriend engrossed in reading once more. Joe’s head is bent over the page, unruly hair haunting in his eyes. His lips move as his eyes follow each word. The way his brow furrows in concentration reminds David of how Joe looks trying to navigate rush hour traffic.

Joe’s half-draped over David’s pillow, half on his own. He’s got David’s neck supporter behind him, though he’s not even using it. The grey sweatshirt he’s wearing is one immediately familiar, down to the large red letters across it’s chest.

“Is that my sweatshirt?”

“Might be,” Joe replies without looking up, even though it obviously is. Joe doesn’t own a single article of clothing which bears the name HARVARD, and he certainly wouldn’t display it so proudly in public. Behind closed doors, however, is a different story.

He knows how wild it drives David to find him wearing his clothes. Joe has no problem stealing David’s things out of the hamper – he claims they smell like him. David insists that’s because they need to be washed, Joe, that’s what a hamper is for, but even he’ll admit to the thrill he gets when he finds Joe relaxing in his clothes. It makes him feel warm, affectionate, and loved.

He slides into bed next to Joe, and his boyfriend shifts to make room. Their legs twine together unconsciously. David finds himself leaning in, close enough to watch Joe’s pupils dart across the page, to hear the low murmur as he reads along. Something about Joe reading his work leaves him hypnotized.

He waits with baited breath until Joe comes to the end of the page. That’s when he rests his chin against the other man’s shoulder. “So?”

Joe glances over at him, and David blinks back with owlishly inquisitive eyes. He doesn’t mean to be pushy, but he can’t help it. Joe’s reading his work. (Besides, Joe’s made it clear that his concept of boundaries are shaky at best; David is not the pushy one in this relationship.)

His boyfriend heaves a sigh and allows the manuscript to fall to the bed’s comforter. A moment of silence passes. David holds his breath, feeling anxiety begin to lock around his throat like a vice. Joe’s eyes seem determined to avoid his. They glance over the page once more, before he rips his head back to gaze at the ceiling.

“It’s damn gorgeous, Web. You write like a poet.”

David blinks. “You like it?”

“You wrote it, sure I do. This one, though – there’s something there. Something that sucks you in, keeps you reading. You’ve got it, Web.”

He can feel his face growing warm, and knows he must look as bright as a summer cherry right now. In response, his boyfriend’s lips tug up. Joe’s smirk is as attractive as it is maddening, but the fondness that shines in his face now steals David’s breath away.

“I could read your writing forever,” Joe admits. David finally manages to exhale.

“That’s… wow. I’m glad you like it. It’s not done, I’ve got a lot of work, I still –”

“Web.” Joe leans over and presses a kiss to the top of his head. Unconsciously, the last bit of tension in David’s body melts away. As an arm wraps around his shoulders he leans into Joe, relaxed and content. “It’s perfect,” Joe whispers into his head of curls. “You can make whatever changes you have to make tomorrow. For tonight, it’s perfect.”

“Perfect,” David echoes. He’s not talking about his chapter.

When Joe leans away just enough to smile down at him, face warm and relaxed… David thinks the word “perfect” has never described anything better.

[trogersracing]

Ironman Barcelona

Ironman Barcelona Race Report

When I finally allowed myself the reality that I wanted to undertake the challenge of my first full Ironman in fall of 2017 I started by looking at the race schedule. I had already signed up for London Marathon in April 2018 and wanted to run well there and knew that effort would both need a decent amount of recovery as well as take a bit away from cycling and swimming during the build up. I also knew that having just qualified for South Africa for 70.3 WC’s I wanted to perform well there and that build could work nicely with building to a full race a few weeks/months beyond. Additionally, and being a bit ahead of myself (or just wishful thinking) I knew that there was no way we would be able to swing a trip to Kona in the same summer so finding a race in late September/October really seemed to be the best option to give myself another year to focus on Kona if I should qualify. This quickly narrowed the race options down and on final review IM Barcelona seemed to be the winner. I approached the race with the idea that I wanted to limit the ‘complications’ as much a possible, travel, course difficulty, etc etc. Barcelona was a single, relatively inexpensive and limited air time travel race from London, winner for travel. The course is very fast, (usually) calm seas, flat, smooth, simple bike course and a flat, smooth and simple run. It wasn’t that I wanted an ‘easy’ race, but I’ve never competed in a race of this distance or time and adding in a huge amount of elevation gain at my first go seemed like a unnecessary complication. It also helped that it was Barcelona, so a few days on the beach afterward seemed like a fantastic way to end the season!

This brought back some bad memories….

The first two races I had on the calendar in 2018 were the IAAF Half Marathon Championships and London Marathon. This gave me a solid run focus through the spring and through April. I purchased a Tacx Neo smart last year which has been a great tool for training and has allowed for consistent bike training during the variable London weather. It also allowed me to make efficient use of my ‘other’ training time during the run block and retain some quality on the bike. Given that (at the time) I couldn’t mount the Dimond to the trainer had had an old roadie bike that I set up with the same gearing and fit to replicate my race setup. I was also using my daily bike commute (about 10k each way) to pad my weekly miles or use as a cool down for the mornings workouts.

By virtue of the 70.3 WC’s and Barcelona my season was very much focused on getting to September/October fit and healthy. Generally my weeks were in the 10-12 hour range with a few pushing up beyond that mark. As a note, I never counted my commuting time/mileage, it was always just ‘extra’. There were a few larger weeks built into the schedule with one 100 mile ride (done outdoors) and one 5 hour ride (on the turbo). Otherwise my longest ride was no more than 4 hours. My longest week was around 15-16 hours, before adding another 5 of commuting. I wanted to do well at the WC’s but my primary focus had always been Barcelona, so I was very happy to have take away a 9th in my Age Group performance at the race with about four weeks to go before the big race (I’ll write a separate post about that race).

Skipping a bit to Barcelona

  Blending in.

Travel always means packing the Hen House. I’ve actually had the travel bag longer than I’ve had my Dimond and I used the bag to travel to Milwaukee and Chicago when I was living in the states for USAT National Champs and ITU worlds. I’ve always loved the ability to have the bike with me, and (knock on wood) never paid a bike/baggage fee. Since moving to London I’ve used the bag to travel to Australia, South Africa and Barcelona for races all without fees or hassle. With the Dimond I use the carrat case and have self reinforced the bag with custom cut lexan sides. I love that the bag is light enough to pick up and huff off from baggage claim without much fuss and allows us to rent whatever car we want as the bags aren’t bulky (another cost saver)!

  Snug as a bug.

As mentioned, Barcelona caught my eye because it was flat and fast. After arriving at the race I was quick to set up my bike and see the course with my own eyes. The race is actually set a bit further north in the city of Calella. The transition area is right on the beach (they take over an astroturfed soccer pitch) so the transition zone is concise. However, that means that you need to get through the old part of the city to get out to the main road where the majority of the bike is held. This means no aero bars for the first 3k. However, once out on the main highway they road is smooth, clean and fast. There are a few slow rolling hills as you arrive or leave the small villages you ride through but primarily the course along the ocean is flat. Perhaps, in an effort to break up drafting, they updated the course with a small out and back about 1/3 of the way into the loop which went uphill and away from the sea. Looking at the course map it looked like the great pyramid of Giza but once you realized that it was only in comparison to the pancake flat remainder of the course it wasn’t bad at all.

            Important race prep happening.

  Pre-race jitters.

The majority of the few days leading up to the race were filled with the typical pre race shenanigans. Obsessing over your gear, obsessing over what you eat, significant other telling you to get a grip… you know the drill. However I do always enjoy bike racking. To me, it is really the first time to size up the race and who you might be racing against. Its always a great time to meet some new friends and chat about what brought you to whatever race you happen to be at. Living and racing in London and Europe I’ve only ever seen one other Dimond at a race. Combined with my American accent I do find myself the focus of some attention when racking the bike. Barcelona was no different in that I didn’t see any other Dimond’s but a few interested onlookers. Typically I find myself talking about how easy it is to travel with the bike. As I’ve not had a wealth of racing experience at the half or full distance before the bike I’m not one to say that its made me ‘’xx minutes faster’’. I’m more of one to talk about the bike as something that gets me excited to get out there and ride, to me it’s a part of a well rounded approach to racing, its not some magic bullet that will suddenly transform someone from an enthusiast to a champion.

  Full race race setup.

Get some.

Finally race day was upon me. My general race plan was to survive the swim, pace myself into a good position on the bike and go for it on the run. I knew the marathon would be my strength so my goal was to put myself in a position to run into a Kona slot. The weather had been sunny and warm for the preceding days but come race day it was cool and raining. The sea, which had been calm, was in full swell. Generally the specific race conditions don’t put me in a better or worst mindset, being from New England I consider my a ‘tough’ guy and tend to power through most conditions. I always try and remember I’m racing with the same situation as everyone else so I try not to get concerned. However, not the strongest swimmer to begin with I was concerned that swimming in these rough conditions might hamper my race plan. But by that point, there was no turning back and after the normal pre race screwing around with the bike and double checking transition bags we were off.

    fak.

  I’m seriously reconsidering the race at this point.

  But I don’t wanna!!!

I had lined up in the 1:00 area thinking that was going to be my goal time, however, soon some staff ushered me down to the AWA starting wave. I think it’s a bit odd to have a specific AWA wave, there is nothing saying that I’m going to be faster (or slower) just because I’m AWA. It seemed odd to cater a starting wave to the group. However, I knew that if it put me that much further in front of the ‘crowd’ I’d be setting myself up for a quieter bike. The swim was easily the roughest I’ve ever done. I felt like I drank a gallon of water by the time it was over and sighting was a complete nightmare. I had to time sighting with the top of the swells or you’d never see the next buoy. When you did look up to sight I’d see swimmers going straight up the next wave. This was a race!! Making the primary turn I glanced at my watch and saw 30:00 and was pleasantly surprised. I knew that the second half was going to be into the swell but to have paced right to where I want to be gave me confidence. Powering through the second part of the swim I exited the water at just over one hour and was very, very, pleased to have had that swim behind me!

  Holy shit! I’m alive!!

Jumping on the bike I knew this was where the work (for me) really began, I had a target wattage (230-235) and worked out a good nutrition plan. The goal was to take down a half of a honey stinger waffle every 30 minutes and supplement with a mix of Precision Hydration and Honey Stinger gels. The idea was that as I worked through the pre mix hydration I would take course water and cycle that into my routine. Starting the bike you always get a few guys that seem to go out like they’re going to win the race in the first five miles. I resisted the temptation and stuck to my plan. My average power seemed to be tracking a bit lower than where I wanted but I was moving along at a good pace and this being my first race I didn’t want to overextend myself now. I stuck to my plan for fuel and hydration and covered the first lap without issue. By the end of the first lap I had found myself largely riding alone and had been able to put in a few blocks of consistent power. However, as I began the second lap I could sense riders behind me and was starting to encounter last of the riders that exited the water late. On the out and back hill I could see my that while there weren’t main people in front of me but I was definitely the start of the chase. By the end of the second lap between passing those still on their first lap and the people behind me putting on good pressure I had been caught. My power suffered drastically and its definitely one of those times that I should have put down a good effort to get some separation, but I played it safe and stuck to my plan of not burning matches on the bike. In retrospect I really feel this was a poor decision and really wished i had put down some watts. I don’t think my run would have suffered all that much in comparison to putting some solid time into my competition on the bike.  

      Still coughing up water at this point. Current aero situation: -10

I had a retul fit done over the winter in preparation for this race which had moved me a bit lower and longer which yielded great results. I’m sure I could fuss about with the fit more and find either some additional aero advantage or power output but it would be starting to split hairs. Overall I felt very comfortable and relaxed on the bike, no areas of unreasonable pain or discomfort. I think this speaks of both a quality fit as well as a comfortable and stable bike under saddle. For the race itself I used Continental Force and Attack tires with Latex tubes and Stans sealant wrapped around HED Jet 9 and Disc wheels. The only other modification I’ve made to the bike outside of the factory ‘race’ set-up is the SLF oversized pulley wheels. I use a Stages power meter as I find that to be the easiest meter to swap between my training and racing bike. I currently have the Gen 1 Left only meter but just upgraded to the gen 3 L/R meter, so looking forward to that. I use a profile design refillable BTA bottle and amount a second cage to my stem (TriRig Sigma). Additionally, I have my tube and repair kit behind the saddle with another bottle. This set up works well for 70.3 races as it allows me to not stop at aid stations and easily take on course water but have my own mix for the full distance. I’ve made a reasonable effort to clean up my front end with the Sigma stem but there are definitely some gains that I could make by reviewing my setup.

  Race nutrition.

Its on.

  Werk.

However, with all that said about my ride clear differentiator for my bike is the color scheme. As a graduate of Virginia Tech the Orange and Maroon paint scheme was a given. My time there in was formative and provided me with the tools that have allowed me practice architecture all around the world. When I’m running up to my bike in transition I can hear the Metallica’s Enter Sandman playing at Lane stadium and sixty-eight thousand fans jumping up and down. The bike and the paint scheme signify the work that has been done, and the work that needs to be done, this is my time, my effort. I always jump on that bike ready to rock.

After two laps along the scenic Barcelona coast it was back into Calella, through the old town and back to transition. A quick shoe change (and socks on for this race) later it was out on the run. Coming off the bike I felt energized, I had made it through the bike without a crash, technical issue or any penalties. At this point I knew, no matter how I might do it, I was going to finish the race, even if I had to crawl across that line.

Well frick… its time to run.

The first mile or two of the run felt amazing, being back on my feet, stretching my back a bit and opening the legs up was fantastic. It was also now I could hear Carly cheering which was a really nice pick up. We had run through a bit of what i’d like her to do in terms of split information so I was looking forward to getting an idea of where I stood in the race. From a pace perspective my goal was to run a 2:55, I felt I had that in me and was a good target to set. I started off at a brisk 6:40 pace and was holding it well for the first 3-4 miles before I saw Carly for the first time. She yelled something about 8th, or 8 minutes down… or something…  I wasn’t really sure. Oh well, it is only a few miles in, I really need to run a bit and let the race settle to get a feel for the work I need to do.

The run course at Barcelona is three big loops with the finish at one end. Carly had positioned herself at basically the halfway point so I was able to see her both heading out and coming back of each loop. After the initial split where I didn’t really get where I was she had some solid information that I was sitting in 3rd and running the same pace as first but well above 2nd or anyone else around me. This was great news! Outside of finishing my goal was 3rd in my AG, I figured that would be a ‘safe’ position in my AG to secure a slot for Kona. Knowing I was running strong compared to others also gave me some confidence that if i slipped a bit I might have a bit of a buffer.

Your mind goes to some dark places.

I continued pushing and ended up running with a few groups during the first half or so. At one point I ran with who would turn out to be the second place female professional and grouped up a few times with some other runners. I went through the 21k mark at 1:27:33, pretty much perfectly on pace for a 2:55.

Carly continued to offer updates and I seemed to making ground on second but wasn’t past him just yet, no mention of where 4th was so I kept on grinding. However, shortly after the turn around on loop two I hit the wall. Mentally perhaps I had gotten too comfortable, and physically perhaps I had gone out a bit too fast. Either way, mile 15-19 were pretty rough. I had been taking water and coke regularly throughout the race and added in some gels and red bull. I’m not sure if it was the added fuel or the fact that I started what would be my last lap and knew that was it, 9 more miles, one more lap. I checked myself back in the game and really tried to push myself with what I had left. I knew second had to be super close to second and if I put in a solid effort here I might be able to pick him off. However, as by now people were pouring on to the run course from the bike I had little to no idea who was who and if someone was on the first lap or third.

Just trying to maintain.

I honestly can’t recall the last information Carly gave me, but I’m pretty sure I asked her how far off and she said something like 4 minutes down on first, 4 minutes back to third… I had made it into second!!! I knew I wouldn’t see Carly again till the finish so it was up to me to close this out. I was terrified that at any moment my body would just say ‘nope’ and start to shut down so my goal was to get across that finish line as quickly as humanly possible. I told myself to suck it up and you’ve only got 4….. 3……2…..1… miles to go. Running back towards town I knew that once I passed back by the transition tent I’d have only a mile to go and I had made that my last ‘carrot’ before the finish. As I was closing in on the transition I passed by one racer, he looked over at me and asked ”second or third?”. Not really thinking/having any idea what he was asking about I told him ‘I have no idea’ and kept on cranking.

  Passing through the transition tent with only a mile to go it started to feel real to me, that I’d actually finish this race and be an Ironman. I started to skip the aid stations and just push towards the finish. The course tightens up a bit near the end and a couple of times I found myself wedging myself through some slower moving runners.

You know the difference between me and you? I make this look good.

However, as soon as I got to the last corner it was a sharp turn off and down on to the red carpet and I found myself running alone. It was down a quick hill and to the left with the finish chute all to myself. It all happened quite fast, I’m naturally one to race all the way through the line so in retrospect I do now get why people say to relax and enjoy the finish experience. I however, cruised through the line and promptly collapsed. It took me a few minutes to compose myself, I was totally drained…

  A slow walk to the recovery area where I took my time to have a bit of food and drink. Looking around I saw a few male pro’s, one or two female pro’s and a few age groupers. It seemed like a pretty small group, but I really couldn’t tell. I hadn’t run one watch throughout the so I didn’t have an actual race time but I could piece it together knowing each of the disciplines and figured I was near 9:00, which had typically been where my age group’s third place finished. That, coupled with Carly’s encouragement, left me feeling good that I had secured a solid place.

  After a bit of food and drink and chatting with a few of the other AG finishers and going around to congratulate everyone who had finished thus far  I made my way out from the finish area to find Carly, she had been anxiously waiting for me and gave me a great big hug exclaiming ‘You won!!!’ I told her ‘No, you said I was second , but still I had a good day!”  She replied, ”No, you caught first, you wont your age group!!’ Wow….. I made up four minutes in the final half of the last lap on first… I couldn’t believe it!!!

Still in a physical and emotional state of shock she handed over my gear and we slowly made our way back to the apartment. After some confirming glances at the Ironman tracker I finally did realize that yes, in fact I had won my age group, and in fact been the 6th Amateur across the line!! The next few hours were filled with a well deserved shower and a lot of food and drink. We went down to the finish line around 10:30 to cheer on those still working their way through the marathon. It was really exciting to see how jazzed everyone was to finish the race. Despite the fact that it was now pouring out there was a great crowd out cheering the last competitors across the line. It was really quite fun to watch everyone finish.

Monday’s award ceremony was certainly an experience. I had laid out some lofty goals for my first race, but to have placed first in my age group and 6th overall was really something I wasn’t expecting. I was really happy with my overall race plan and management and while I took a lot away from this race as learning experiences I feel like I put it all out there for my first race. I’m looking forward to racing Roth Germany next July which I hear is another fast course and then Kona in October!!!

It goes without saying but none of this would be possible without the unwavering support of Carly. Her ability to encourage me along this journey and be great partner is without measure. She is the reason I push myself to be better. Plus she’s pretty cute.

          Ironman Barcelona was originally published on Rogers Racing