#this entire championship is testing my patience

[louisferrignojr]

poland really testing my patience rn. fuck off man that penalty was not deserved and that re-kick even less so. fuck u.

[vroomvroomcircuit]

You pulling in made me wish your Dad pulled out

(A/N): Thank you to @foreveralbon for workshopping this fic with me with this prompt. I don't know what to do if you weren't my muse.

Summary: Charles pissed off his neighbor with his parking. Her answers are notes taped to his car window. How can evolve more out of that?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Wordcount: 1.6k

🏎Masterlist🏎 ________________________

(Y/N) knows that she isn’t the most professional car parker. She should never start a career as a valet for sure. After all, she needed a second attempt on her own practical test to attain her drivers license.

But there is this one neighbor of hers. She doesn’t know what he looks like, what his name is or where he even lives. But (Y/N) knows one thing for sure: He is a shit parker.

Like, he is the worst person at parking that has ever walked the world. If he could, he probably would park his oh so expensive car onto other cars. But she tries to not let that get too close to her. After all, we just talk about parking spaces and it’s not worth getting her blood pressure up over it.

But (Y/N) found her tipping point.

Her whole morning has been a shit show. Her alarm went off, but she accidentally turned it off instead of giving herself another five minutes of sleep. Five minutes turned into 45. That meant the young woman had to rush through her usual morning routine and she is 90 % sure that she put at least one clothing item on the wrong way.

But it’s ok, she is still on time. She just needs to get out of the car par-

This is where (Y/N) last thread of patience with that neighbor snaps in two like a potato chip, crisp and unclean. This person parked the front half of his car in a way that completely blocks (Y/N)’s rear end from exiting the car in a way that does not hinder the sidewalk.

It takes a solid seven minutes to get out of her spot, trying not to scratch hers or another car. Arriving a few minutes late at work because of that and receiving a reprimand from her boss is really the young woman’s last straw. On her lunch break she does some snooping on the internet and comes across a really fine find. It’s worth the price and shipping cost to her.

Actually, she can’t wait for the week it is supposed to take to arrive at her doorstep.

But the time between that particular day and the day of arrival do fly by when you use it getting madder and madder at the dickhead that is unable to park like a normal person.

The next occurrence doesn’t take long after (Y/N)’s package finally arrives. She wanted to park her vehicle in her usual spot when Mr. Ferrari already took his and her own too. How can one person be such an asshole?

(Y/N) takes one of the business card sized cuts out of her glove box and puts it in the slit of the black car’s window. Satisfied with her work she steps back into her vehicle and looks for a different spot, ending up walking several minutes back to her apartment building, having to look somewhere farther away.

Charles can see from a distance that there is a card at his car’s windowshield. Which makes him suspicious. Surely no one thinks that he wants to sell his car for cheap, so it can’t be one of those car handler’s business cards. Maybe it’s a new ruse of thieves, trying to get him to stand long enough at his car to read it and be able to steal his car. Or they are kidnappers. Anyways, he makes quick work of putting the card into his pocket and drives off at a neck breaking speed.

When he arrives at his destination, the Monegasque pulls the piece of paper out and reads it. “The way you pulled in makes me wish your dad pulled out”, he reads aloud, laughing a little to himself.

He has to admit that he might not be the best at parking. Who is he even kidding, he would win the world championship at being the worst car parker possible. But the thought of someone getting that angered over his non-existent skills.

It’s something that makes him happy throughout his entire day. Which is his main reason to try and look how much he can piss that particular neighbor off even more.

So Charles starts parking even worse. If he also starts on the habit of watching out of his window more often now, he would claim it is just a coincidence. But something in him wants to meet that neighbor.

That person that gets more and more creative with their insults. One time they called him an obstacle to evolution. The other day the business card said something along the lines of him belonging to the asshole club now.

Another, a handwritten, note asked him not to reproduce. The neighbor even left a condom for him. This made Charles laugh so loudly, that (Y/N) looked out her opened window.

She just finished one of the worst shifts she ever had since starting that job and all she wants is just a quiet evening to come down from the stress. Just the noise of the laugh is enough to set her off again.

Seeing her handsome neighbor from under her apartment pocketing the note and condom she left just minutes earlier isn’t what she expected. Watching him opening the car, sitting down and driving off is even less on her list.

It kind of destroys her world view, realizing that hot neighbor and asshole parker are the same person. In the last couple of weeks (Y/N) started to get some fun out of the mean comments she left at the black Ferrari’s window. This also could be her chance to finally make a move on him.

The young woman waits for the brunette to return with his car and stays seated on her couch for another couple minutes, for extra measure of course. After that, she leaves the apartment building with her prepared note and tapes it to the car’s rear window.

Charles on the other side stays glued to his window as soon as he enters his apartment. He finally wants to catch the person that gets angrier and angrier each time he parks in an outrageous way in the act.

Seeing the beautiful neighbor, who lives above him, sticking another note to his car makes his heart flutter in an unexpected way. For some time now he wanted to get to know her and if everything went according to his original plan, ask her out on a date. But maybe he can now use this to his advantage.

As soon as the beautiful neighbor is back in the building Charles waits an extra couple minutes before he once again makes his way to his car.

Running over his vehicle with a pep in his step, Charles is kind of excited about what insults or threats await him now. He has to admit, he actually parked pretty decently. Or as decent as he is able to. So the note has to be at least a little bit nicer than the previous ones.

“Hey neighbor. I thought instead of shitting on you and your parking skills even more, I want you to help and get better. I may not be a driving teacher, but helping you wouldn’t make your skills worse. Just text me with the times you are available at ;)” signed with (Y/N)’s name and number.

It’s kind of funny to explain to the press later how Charles met (Y/N) and became her boyfriend.

"Yeah, well I know that my driving has become sort of a, a meme,” he answers when asked a week after his announcement on instagram, “And my neighbor wasn’t too fond of it either. So she started to leave me these really funny, but also really aggressive notes at my car. One said something like I won the inconsiderate Parker Price. Which made me quite proud.” This entices a laugh out of the journalist. “Yeah, (Y/N) has a really good way with words, I fear. But in the end she offered me some parking lessons.” Charles smiles and thinks back to them.

He had texted (Y/N) immediately and they set up a date for the lesson two days away. But they still continued to text non stop and by the time they met up, it felt like they had been friends for years.

Which didn’t stop (Y/N) raging at Charles after his fifth failed attempt of parking his car according to her instructions. “I don’t believe you anymore. With the way you park you are not from Monaco but the deepest and wildest parts of Italy! Your Ferrari seems really fitting now!” This drew a laugh out of him until she graced him with the meanest look he didn’t expect her to be able to muster up.

“How about dinner as a thank you and apology?” He asked sheepishly, trying both to diffuse the situation and make his move. Why not shoot his shot right now?

Luckily the young woman agreed.

“In the end my parking skills weren’t enough to win her over, but my charm was what scored me a second date.”

And a third. A relationship. After some more funny parking jokes and him kneeling down on one knee with a ring and the promise to take lessons to keep their future family safe he even scored himself his unexpected forever.

[formulatrash]

Because of the Mitch question lately - why was Jaguar such a mess their first season & kind of how were they able to turn it around? (Also I didn’t realise Chadwick was involved with them & am now very excited despite the fact probs nothing will come of it)

Jaguar basically uhhhhh didn’t prepare in any way whatsoever for their first season. They like, glued a powertrain together, asked Williams for some engineers, signed a couple of drivers and got going. 

JLR (Jaguar Landrover, the automotive group) announced that they were going to stop making any combustion-only cars. Only hybrid and full EV, from then on - that encompasses a lot of things because hybrid can mean a very weak and optionally-enabled KERS system rather than a substantial electrical contribution or a plug-in but still: big commitment. Combustion’s over.

So it stands to logic that they should also enter Formula E, except that Jaguar at this point haven’t been in motorsport for a bit. They were last in single seaters really quite some time ago and to fairly disastrous effect in F1. Their last race win as a factory effort was decades back. They don’t have a race team or a racing division.

At the time, Jaguar were the third full factory team effort in Formula E (discounting Venturi, who are an automotive brand but quite obscurely so) after Renault and Mahindra. Remember this was waaaay back in Season 3 where we’d had two rounds of the early funny stuff but the wheels were at best five seconds from coming off the entire championship at any point so like: heck, it’s a huge deal.

FE are like ok cool come join. Well, some slightly more enthusiastic encouragement than that, to be fair - and Jaguar hook up with Williams (then supplying the Formula E battery) to get some people from their powertrain bit that might know what the flippity heck regen is and they do this whole thing in the three months before pre-season testing and are, frankly, shocked to discover the car goes.

They knew the first season was going to be a mess and decided to effectively take it on the chin and lick their wounds and find a way to move forward. Getting points at all in their first year had really seemed impossible - their powertrain was hopeless even compared to some of the pretty technologically dismal ones around then when most of the teams were using a Magneti Marelli train to varying degrees of efficiency for placement and management. Jaguar had no practice, were buying in equipment and people as they went along and they had no experience of existing as a team let alone sorting out how to seem convincing in a series it’s hard to come into as like, Porsche’s full-scale former LMP1 effort.

So what they’ve done in the interim is take the seriously painful lessons of having to fuck up and panic for their first year. It could have been the end of things - Porsche are reputationally flailing much more badly in response to their own struggles this year, for instance, with a much better-prepared team.

But Jaguar have been patient - hungry and frustrated but patient and there’s been a hell of a lot of work that’s gone into developing the team and the technology. Jaguar directly use Formula E-developed technologies (and eTrophy tech) in their road cars now and their aim was to go from not really knowing what they were doing to being world class leaders in the tech.

It’s been painful for them. Having very, very driven people who can nonetheless take it on the chin when things go badly - and learn to do that repeatedly - is essential for Formula E. Evans really comes into his own with that in that his bouncy, determined nature 

And like, I’ve seen him super fucking pissed off to have lost out on something but already moving on, already reassuring the team and saying what they can take from it and what there is going forwards and that’s what you desperately need when you’re trying to get there. JEV is a bit more tempestuous than Mitch generally but the point when he got his head down (also in Season 3) and realised how to work forwards in that way, with Techeetah, is how they got where they did as well. 

It’s interesting that in Formula E there’s this really necessity for quiet, calm drivers - ok, they’re probably swearing like troopers during the races but the kind of driver who lets go of that the second they get out the car. It’s why I think the most successful drivers in the series have tended to be ones that have taken pretty severe public kickings or had major career knockmbacks because it means they’re mentally tough enough to take the screaming frustration of when things go wrong and it’s not their fault. 

I worked on the 2019 Canadian Grand Prix in an office full of F1 people and I was like “why the hell should the fact it’s not his fault - given it’s also not Lewis’ - mitigate Sebastian’s penalty?” Everyone was like “Hazel are you on crazy pills” but I honestly didn’t get it - racing is full of random forces. A lot of them are so tediously banal dust, a freak contact, whatever - it’s just the way that these things happen and yes it’s frickin annoying to lose the win but like, lick your wounds and sort it out. 

It hadn’t really occurred to me to think the lead driver has a right to the race win by dint of being in the lead because there should always be a battle - and there’ll always be things. Wehrlein getting helplessly punted off in the last 10m of Mexico Season 5 loomed in my mind at the time - god it was unfair and that he was then penalised for running out of energy felt absurd but actually, it was the rules of the racing and as much as it felt like bullying from Di Grassi, efficient Audi powertrain and not having miscalculated the energy per lap, racing is about being able to use that last percent of everything. 

I’ve completely forgotten what I was talking about? Anyway, for screaming, chaotic, electric whiz-whiz Formula E rewards patience and endurance. You just have to take whatever you can get, even if that’s just finishing the race - and hopefully things will be better next time or the luck will turn its back on someone else and give you a break.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @cousinshelley!

You said you liked hurt/comfort, missing scenes, concern, denial overcome by sheer determination and affection and rescues, so I hope you'll like my retelling of that scene from S3 in Derek's loft! 

Read on AO3

*****

The Feeling of Happiness

Derek had almost forgotten what happiness feels like.

He certainly remembers it differently, more vibrant, more all consuming, chasing Laura, being chased by Cora in turn, hugging his mum, winning the championship game.

But then he hadn't been happy since he’d been a teenager, and now he's an adult, finally happy again after all the time that has passed. He has changed a lot as a person, surely it only makes sense that his feelings of happiness have changed, too. What he remembers are the childish feelings of a boy about inconsequential things; what he feels now is the happiness of an adult, in love.

That’s what Jennifer always says - they are in love and they are happy.

It’s hard to remember a time before Jennifer was part of his life. And whenever she’s gone it seems empty without her, the hours passing by in grey monotony when she’s teaching, making them hard to keep track off. The hours when she’s with him are a haze of fuzzy happiness. There’s still the threat of the Alpha pack and whoever is responsible for the sacrifices, but it seems less immediate now than it felt a few weeks ago.

Sometimes, especially when Jennifer isn’t there, the nagging thought enters Derek’s mind that he should be doing more about those threats, should work harder at protecting his pack, what’s left of it at least, but Jennifer’s presence soon calms him again. It’s like she says - rushing won’t help here, they’ll need just a little more patience and time. What they are waiting for Derek can’t say precisely, but it must be worth it if Jennifer thinks so.

And anyways, it’s his pack, his decision. Noone is going to question him.

If only because no one else seems to be around anymore. He thinks he saw Cora once before school a couple of days ago and Peter is surely lurking around somewhere, but that’s it. Everyone’s busy with school, Jennifer says, tests and papers coming up, so Derek doesn’t bother them either, content to wait for them. Jennifer tells him what they’ve been up to anyways - it sounds as though they’ve been little mischiefs like always, especially Scott.

There’s something like an itch at the back of his mind, a similar feeling to having a word on the tip of your tongue, some thought or memory that wants to move forward into your conscious, but is blocked by something. Something about Scott being the mischievous one doesn’t match, but Derek can’t think of what is wrong with it. Scott has always had a knack for trouble, hasn’t he?

The sound of the loft’s main door opening draws him out of his wandering thoughts, and he realises that he never even heard anyone come up the stairs. The adrenaline rush of that realisation cuts like a knife through the cotton ball fluff filling up his brain.

The first thing he notices is his scent.

Warmth is the overwhelming impression it leaves, hot cinnamon and bright sparks. But not the sparks of a fire soon burning to ash, like Kate, but the sparks of firework, of the stars in the sky. Burning yes, but bright and beautiful, not signalling death and destruction. Oh, there’s still danger, a spark is what starts the fire after all, but it’s a threat turned outwards, to protect, not to attack. All of that is dampened right now, though, as if buried at the bottom of the sea, underneath mountains of water and salt.

“Grief,” his mother’s voice echoes in his mind. “That’s what you are smelling.”

Grief and the acid tang of fear.

Derek is moving before the thought has fully manifested, making it to the door in a few big steps, hand curling around Stiles’ shoulder and drawing him into the loft, barely acknowledging Scott behind him.

Stiles’ eyes are wide and his face is pale, shock written all over his features. Derek’s hold tightens and his eyes rove over Stiles’ frame, nose twitching as he tries to figure out whether Stiles is injured, if he’s in pain.

“What is it?” he asks urgently, voice cracking from disuse. He and Jennifer don’t talk much, and when they do, Jennifer usually takes over most of the conversation. If it can even be called a conversation. Derek’s mind feels clearer than it’s been in weeks and many things are starting to look stranger than he thought they did. But he can’t focus on that right now, not with the tears threatening to spill from Stiles’ eyes.

“My dad,” Stiles starts and then has to swallow, whether words or a sob, Derek can’t tell. “My dad, she has my dad, Derek.”

“Who has?” Derek asks, but even as the words leave his mouth another curtain rises and he knows what Stiles is going to say before he opens his mouth.

“Ms Blake. I’m sorry, Derek, I know you and she are, you know, but, she tried to kill Lydia, and then she took my dad. She’s going to kill him!”

Derek’s stomach twists at Stiles apologising.

“We are not,” he starts denying, before admitting: “I mean, we are, or were, I guess, but it’s all fuzzy, I don’t know.”

Stiles’ scent sharpens and his eyes narrow.

“Fuzzy?” he asks and Derek shrugs.

“I don’t really remember, the days just run one into the other. It was mostly just her, and me, happy and in love.”

It’s disturbing to hear himself speak and not recognise his own voice. Already he can feel his panic and worry slipping away, though, buried under a blanket of wool.

Stiles’ face hardens - Derek almost doesn’t realise it; it’s hard to focus, his eyes seem to want to slip away from Stiles as though he’s a piece of wet, slick soap in the shower. That’s what Derek feels like, too, under water, sight and scent and hearing all impeded.

Stiles’ voice cuts through the cotton in his ears, though, sharp and angry: “I’m going to kill her. Twice. I’m going to kill her, make Peter bring her back to life and kill her again. Once for my dad and once for Derek.”

“Stiles, killing can’t be our answer,” Scott interjects from behind him, and Derek had completely forgotten he was even here.

“Scott, she roofied him,” Stiles interrupts him, voice steely, only the tiniest hint of a tremble revealing the outrage that has overtaken his scent. “She whammied him with magical roofies and did God knows what to him, all while pretending to be his girlfriend and telling him they were in love!! You are right, death is too good for her, we’ll definitely need to resort to torture.”

His scent has turned almost rancid with hate, and Derek’s stomach both jumps and turns at the thought that it is for him, unleashed in his defence.

“Stiles, no,” he presses out, keeping his thoughts together somehow getting harder again. “Not for me.”

Don’t dim your light with hate, or something equally cheesy is what he wants to say, but his brain seems to have been replaced with cotton wads, making it impossible to form full sentences.

“Dude, someone’s coming,” Scott suddenly says, and again Derek is shocked at how lacking his senses are right now - or he would be shocked, the panic reduced to a faint sensation under the calming blanket of what must be Jennifer’s spellwork. Vaguely he’s aware of Scott tugging Stiles into the shadows of the loft, until they won’t be immediately visible from the door, but all his focus is now on what approaches from behind those doors, or rather who.

Now that he’s aware of it, he can feel how the spell works to keep him calm, filling him with fake content and a weak imitation of love. “Happy and in love.” Ha! But still the awareness is not enough to shake it off entirely, making him feel trapped inside his own body, inside his mind.

“Derek? Derek, where are you?” Jennifer calls as she’s entering and Derek feels compelled to answer.

“Right here.”

“Thank God,” she breathes, looking and sounding frazzled. Only an hour ago, Derek would have stepped towards her, tried to comfort her. “Something happened at the recital. At the school. Okay, I need to tell you before you hear it, before you hear any of it from them.”

“From who?” Derek presses out, trying to act as naturally as possible, or like he thinks he acted when fully under her influence, but it’s not working. Already he can feel her amping up the pressure, the desire to please her, to agree with her whatever she says growing despite his best efforts to push against it with his own will.

Jennifer’s eyes have narrowed in suspicion, but for now she’s playing along, apparently not yet willing to break the illusion.

“Scott, Stiles. They're gonna tell you things. Things you can't believe. You have to trust me, okay? You trust me.”

There’s weight behind those words, a weight that presses Derek down, makes him want to agree, reassure her. It’s only with the greatest effort that he gets a question out instead:

“What is it?”

“Promise you’ll listen to me,” Jennifer insists and this time Derek thinks he can almost see the tendrils of her magic, feel them snaking around him, binding him.

“I promise,” he says and doesn’t even have to be forced to do so, because it’s not a lie. He’ll listen. But that doesn’t mean he’ll believe a single word she says. It must be obvious to Jennifer, too, because she changes tracks.

“They're already here, aren't they? So... they told you it was me? That I'm the one taking people?”

“We told him you are the one killing people!” Scott pipes up, finally coming forward with Stiles in tow.

Jennifer scoffs.

“Oh, that's right. Committing human sacrifices? What, cutting their throats? Yeah, I probably do it on my lunch hour. That way, I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day. That makes perfect sense!”

Her mask is finally slipping, but her hold on her magic, and thus Derek is as strong as ever. It even feels as though the bands around him are tightening.

“Where’s my dad?”

Once again Stiles’ voice cuts through all the layers holding Derek captive. The sheer desperation in his voice carves into the wall built around Derek’s senses and the sharp mix of anger and fear, fire and acid in his scent blows the cobwebs from Derek’s mind.

But it is the single tear that finally spills from his wet eyes that washes away the last remnants of Jennifer’s control. It’s as though Derek can breathe freely for the first time in weeks, when he hadn’t even realised he’d been close to suffocating before. His thoughts and feelings are finally his own again, not dictated to him, and what overwhelmingly dominates them is relief and gratitude. And worry. For the Sheriff, but even more so for Stiles and what the loss of his last family member would do to him.

Jennifer’s voice distracts him, but now it carries no compulsion with it.

“How should I know? Derek, tell me you don’t believe this!”

It’s a fair enough last ditch effort, but it’s clear to Derek that she knows she has lost. Her hold on him has been broken, whatever spells she wrought, enchantments layered, curses spat, they have no power over him anymore. Derek doesn’t know how or why, but he knows Stiles has played a part. There’s a faint memory of a story his mom once told him that might help explain what just happened here, about a boy who ran with wolves and a wolf who played with fire, but the details escape him for now.

One thing he does remember again though, is the feeling of happiness.

And it’s not what Jennifer tried to press into him.

It’s the memory of Stiles’ smile. His cheering when he’d put down the mountain ash line, the twinkle in his eyes when he teases Derek, the fond grin that’s reserved for Scott.

It’s Stiles.

[softhaos]

SWIMMER!MINGYU

pairing – kim mingyu x reader genre – fluff + coach!reader + highschool!au author’s note – this was originally supposed to be a normally written oneshot but it never came out the way i wanted it to be so yeah here’s the bulleted version and it came out nicer!! enjoy!!

it’s safe to say that your high school swim team is one top tier swim team

you’ve won many championships in the past

and some of the past swimmers were skilled enough to snatch scholarships from top tier colleges

one even made it abroad and that says a lot

you’re lucky enough to be the current assisting coach for the swim team

okay truth be told the current swim captain – choi seungcheol – begged you to coach them because he knows you’ve got some experience

he was really desperate okay

because like,,,,,,

he literally begged you every day in the first two weeks after the new semester started

and he nearly went on his KNEES in front of the entire SCHOOL

yes,,, that’s how desperate he was

so you said yes before he actually went on his knees

none of the swimmers can deny that you know your stuff and know how to help them improve

but you’re also known for being strict af and if the swimmers value their wellbeing, they won’t talk back to you

it’s lowkey amusing seeing how you are feared of to a certain extent

but you’re only putting out that front so the swimmers will move their asses,,, well,,,,, seungcheol said himself everyone wanted to improve and needed your help

and you’re satisfied with almost everyone

keyword: almost

because there’s kim mingyu

you don’t have anything against him,,,, he’s a really nice guy,,,, but the thing is

instead of swimming his goddamn laps

he’s busy flirting with jung chaeyeon

not that you have anything against chaeyeon as she is your friend and you could care less about any of their love lives

it’s just,,,,,, mingyu should be swimming his laps!!!!!

yes he is a prodigy (somewhat) and is already naturally quick given his long ass arms and legs (those proportions should be illegal)

but that doesn’t excuse him from tRAINING FFS

he even said himself he wants to get a scholarship so you put in even more effort for his sake

because you’re positive he will stand a chance but only if he prACTICES

and so you always gotta pull mingyu back to the pool

and he’d whine around saying “just five more minutes please!!”

five minutes my aSS that’s what he said fifteen minutes ago too

in the end he’d swim the laps diligently

but lately,,,,, lately it seems as if he doesn’t really care

maybe ‘not care’ is the wrong term but he has other things in his mind too

and it’s quite obvious judging how he gets out of the water as soon as he’s done and rushes back to chaeyeon who shows up to practice regularly to cheer the swimmers on along with some others

(you still can’t believe the swim team has a fan club for the love of god–)

you don’t mind if some take off five minutes to talk to them but mingyu apparently has a different understanding of five minutes only

this guy is really testing your patience

he isn’t the only one you have to keep an eye on so you really can’t be his personal babysitter and see that he stays in the water 

and with the competition coming up in a few months

you really have no other solution except forcing him to stay after hours

which you do

so when seungcheol calls it a day

and everyone’s about to go change

you hold mingyu back

“mingyu, you’re doing extra laps.”

“what?”

“you want that scholarship? you gotta earn it. eight laps freestyle, now.”

tbh you’re expecting him to complain but ? he’s ? not ? complaining ?

sure, he’s baffled at first but then he nods and swims his laps??

and while he smiles whenever you’re pointing out some things just like usual, he goes on full serious mode when he’s swimming???

why is he a changed man all of sudden

besides the regular training four times a week you force him to stay behind after every time

and when you’re feeling stricter as usual you make him come on weekends too

but mingyu has never complained

all he does is smile and agree and follow your instructions,,, which surprises you pleasantly

however,,, you notice that he talks much much  m u c h  longer with chaeyeon during regular training

and you’re like ??? he does know that you only take your time to beat his ass in the evening because he does pretty much nothing during normal hours, right ???

but you’ve got every right to be confused and mad because you’re literally using your free time to play his personal trainer because he can’t get his crap together 

or he isn’t as serious as when it’s just you two in the hall

anyway, you’re pissed at him and everyone can see it

seungcheol can see it

chaeyeon can see it

hell, even the fan club notices your grudge

but not mingyu, this oblivious little shi–

“you really don’t have to go out of your way to train mingyu after hours, y’know,” seungcheol tells you while you’re busy timing junhui (who by the way, upped his game when it comes to butterfly)

“he’s half assing regular practice but not after hours which confuses me, but i don’t really mind staying late here.” you shrug and give jun a thumbs up after checking his time.

“that brat, i swear to god–“

“cheol, i can and will kick his ass myself so don’t do anything stupid!!!!”

you even have a little talk with chaeyeon

though you’re the one who initiate it,,,, you swear you don’t mean to pry

because you  d o n ‘ t  care

but some things need to be said you figure

“i’d really appreciate it if you and mingyu wouldn’t talk so much during practice, y’know? look, he’s got the best chances grabbing one of those scholarships but if he doesn’t get a grip, he can kiss them goodbye.”

“y/n, don’t worry, we’re not together and of course! i’ll make sure to keep an eye on the clock the next time!!”

and with that she sends you a wink and you’re like wait what

you never implied to know anything but okay?

a n y w a y s

bless chaeyeon for keeping her word

she still comes to practice but ignores mingyu every time he tries to start a convo with her

it’s a hilarious sight ngl

even seungcheol is cackling sjkhd

once mingyu gets it,,,,, he stops bugging chaeyeon and swims his laps

nonetheless he still insists on staying behind to practice more,,, and you don’t mind helping him out

in fact,,,,, it’s a lot of fun with just the two of you in the pool,,,, no it’s him in the pool and you’re observing from the sidelines

he really has nice shoulders

now here’s the tea

it’s become your thing to stay behind and do this one on one training

ofc you stay serious but can’t help but break into laughter every time mingyu hits his head against the wall when he’s swimming backstroke

fun aside tho

fast forward to the day of the competition

seems like all hard work was worth it

he got the gold medal in freestyle

and several offers from prestige colleges

even after the competition you continue your post-sessions

and while he’s playing around in the water you ask him

“so,,,,, already decided which college you’re gonna attend?”

he looks up at you with his adorable usual grin that you find so endearing

“yeah I already decided,,,,, I rejected them all!”

wait what

w h a t

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND KIM MINGYU WHAT THE ACTUAL–”

“I’m going to your college,,,, wouldn’t want to give up the best coach for any college”

that shuts you up,,,, you stare at him in disbelief and when the words finally sicker

“if this is a joke,,,”

“chaeyeon told me you’d find stuff like this romantic,, just forget what I said then” he suddenly mutters 

and you finally get why he’s been pestering chaeyeon for a while

now that you think about it,,, wasn’t chaeyeon the one who implied he should get extra hours of practice?

“,,,, well,,,,, she isn’t exactly wrong,,,,”

and suddenly he’s overly happy and grins at you and you finally notice that fond expression in his eyes

“does that mean I can ask you out?? and you’re not mad at all??”

“fyi, i’d always say yes to you but that doesn’t change the fact that i’m mAD YOU WASTED MY FREE TIME THE ENTIRE YEAR”

“,,,,, but I can make it up with a really great date?”

that makes you chuckle and you playfully smack his forehead

“swim the laps first and then we can talk about it”

fun fact: the date exceeded your expectation,,, mingyu really knows how to cook his food

[hamburgergod]

For the prompt, maybe disaster jock + disaster nerd au for destiel! And established relationship if you like!

uhhh… hm. this one got away from me. oops :P thanks for such a fun prompt, and for the sunset picture!!!

destiel AU, jock!Cas and nerd!Dean, ~2.7k. Credit to @pleaseturnoffthedoor for the hand-waving thing in the hallway :D

Dean is dusting one of his bookshelves off on a warm Sunday when he pauses, and bites back a smile at the sight of an old yearbook.

It’s funny–he hasn’t thought back to his high school years for a long while now, and all of a sudden, he’s feeling a little nostalgic. He should really clean the rest of the house before the guests get here, but he takes the yearbook out of its place in favour of the impulse that’s taken place to look through it.

He flips it open, and right off the bat he sees Sam’s dumb locks flying in the air as he’s captured in the moment of scoring a goal for their school. In the distance is another familiar face, yelling an encouragement.

He smirks.

“Go, Sam!” Dean cheered from the bleachers, and his voice was soon buried within the rest of the crowd that went wild after the soccer ball slammed into the net. Sam pumped his fist in the air with a grin, and high-fived Cas. Dean cheered with the rest of the crowd, and celebrated the triumphant victory achieved by Sam’s heroic attempt at the risky goal.

Dean practically jumped down the bleachers, and joined the rest of the team who were getting off the field, still jumping and yelling for joy. “Sam! Cas!”

Sam and Cas both looked his way, and their simultaneous grins warmed him to his core. The high from winning the regional championship didn’t go away easily, and they soon made a three-way hug, yelling and jumping at the same time. It was borderline chaotic, but Dean knew just how hard Sam and Cas worked for this moment, so they were entitled to make a scene.

Dean ruffled his little brother’s dumb hair, and Sam ran to the shower before Dean could mess up his sweat-ridden hair any further.

“That nerd,” Dean laughed, and walked Cas back towards the change room. “Dude, that was an awesome pass you made back there.”

Cas smiled. “Thank you, Dean.”

Cas paused before the door to the change room just then, and Dean almost bumped into him straight-on.

“Cas?” Dean frowned in confusion.

Cas levelled him with a look. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Dean studied Cas, who was patiently waiting for him to catch up to speed, and he played innocence. “What’d you mean?”

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand to pull him aside, under the bleachers and out of the view from the rest of the crowd and the team. Dean’s back hit the cold metal, anticipation building up in his guts.

“I was promised a victory kiss if I recall,” Cas said coyly with heat in his eyes. Dean laughed, and kissed the bastard right then and there with a smile played along his lips. Cas smelled like sweat and grass, but Dean didn’t mind as much as he should.

“Could’ve probably waited until after you showered,” Dean commented.

Cas raised his eyebrows. “Be glad I didn’t do this on the field like I wanted to.” He nipped little kisses onto Dean’s neck, and Dean felt his entire body vibrate. He sighed in contentment.

“I’m sure Sam and my parents will thank you for your patience.”

Cas huffed against his neck, and rested his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. His entire body became lax on top of him with his arms around him. “I’m glad we won,” he said quietly.

“Me too,” Dean replied. “Now you can stop stressing.”

“Yeah.” Cas looked up with a quiet smile, his eyes catching the light of the day. “I don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”

“What?” Dean laughed. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“You always drove us to practice,” Cas said. “And stayed to watch.”

“That’s nothing,” Dean said flippantly, but Cas shook his head.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Geez, this guy.

“Hey, Novak!” called one of the team members. “Quit macking on your boyfriend and get over here!”

Cas held up the middle finger in response, and Dean laughed.

“Anyway, go have your shower,” Dean replied, glad for the distraction if only to hide his flush. “We’re gonna be late for dinner.”

Cas gave a knowing smile, and kissed him one more time. “Of course, Dean.”

Dean turns to the next page, and doesn’t stop his automatic response of rolling his eyes at seeing the photo of Cas sitting in the school library with the caption Regional Champion Captain Proves He’s Both Brawn and Brains, Dean himself blurry and out of focus in the picture even though he was sitting right beside him. Cas and Sam and the rest of the team had gained quite a following after the championship, and the yearbook committee was determined to include as many pictures of the members as possible.

For Dean, all it meant was disruption of their usual privacy.

“Garth, quit it!” Dean hissed, putting a hand over the lens.

“Deeaan,” Garth whined, but Dean didn’t give a shit.

The shutter clicks loudly in the library, and Dean snapped up to glare at Garth, who shrugged apologetically and made a run for it. Dean sighed through gritted teeth, and tried to focus back on topic. He didn’t know why it annoyed him so much, but he just wanted to be left alone to tutor Cas on their upcoming anthro test.

If only everyone would stop staring at them.

He startled at the hand that covered his own, and looked up to see Cas peering at him.

“Let’s take a break,” Cas whispered.

Great. Now he’d gotten Cas worried over nothing.

They walked to the nearest vending machine, and Dean punched the buttons with more force than necessary. It whirled and dropped his bag of chips. He tried to rip the bag open, only for it to refuse to pop open, and when he couldn’t get to it with pure force, he shuffled it loudly back and forth until he was practically clawing at it. Ugh, stupid cheap plastic, stupid Garth, stupid everything–

Cas raised his eyebrows, took it from his hands, and opened it with gentle ease. He took a chip, and handed the bag back to him.

“Why do they bother you so much?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

Dean glared down at the wrinkled bag, and took a mouthful of chips instead of answering him. Cas was wearing mismatched socks again today, but that sort of thing never made it into the yearbook pictures. No, all they saw was the shiny soccer team captain who managed to lead their tiny school to a miraculous victory. And yeah, he was proud of Cas, but what infuriated him the most was that nobody had cared until after the game. Like they knew Cas so well when they had laughed at him and the rest of the team throughout the entire year for even having hope, and now all of a sudden they wanted to be his best friend?

Ugh. Ugh.

“I don’t know,” Dean muttered instead with a shrug. “I’m just not used to people staring at us.”

Cas frowned incredulously. “You play the main role in the annual school plays. In front of everyone. On stage.”

“Not everyone,” Dean retorted.

“Everyone,” Cas repeated. “Dean–”

“Oh!” came a voice. “Castiel! Hey, Castiel!”

Dean bit back a sigh.

“Can I grab a quick picture of you?” the kid said enthusiastically, unaware of Dean’s tense shoulders. “It’ll be for the yearbook, and–”

Cas looked up with a heave, and turned around. “Go away,” he replied tersely.

The kid blinked. Dean also blinked.

“Um.” The kid laughed nervously. “Am I interrupting something? I just–”

“You are,” Cas said with force. “I’m talking to my boyfriend.”

“Oh. Um.” The poor clueless kid scratched his nose, and backed off. “I–”

“Go,” Cas growled, “away.”

The kid’s eyes widened. He muttered, “Geez, I got it,” and left. Dean helplessly watched him walk down the hall, somehow feeling responsible for all this.

“You didn’t have to be such a dick about it,” Dean said weakly.

Cas frowned at him, and touched the slope of his cheek. “Dean, what’s wrong?”

Dean faltered, and sighed against the touch. He really was fucking proud of Cas. He was. Maybe it was just his own insecurities getting to him. He shrugged. “Guess I’m just not used to sharing.”

Cas’s eyes widened, and he inched closer. Dean clued in, and they kissed against the vending machine, hotter and heavier than Dean had expected this kiss to be. Cas lightly bit down on his lips, and Dean yelped in surprise. They parted, and Cas was still staring at him in a way that made Dean squirm under.

“What?” Dean finally asked.

Cas went for another kiss, his usual gentleness gone and instead replaced by a fierce possessiveness, bruising his lips with the force he kissed with. Dean had to remember that they were still in the middle of a hallway, and stopped them before they went any further, or worse, had their picture taken together like this.

They were both breathing heavily when they parted, and Dean was honestly taken back at this sudden display. “Cas?”

Cas’s piercing eyes looked impatient, and his face was flushed. He took a deep breath as if reminding himself to keep calm, and leaned over Dean’s ear.

“Who said anything about sharing?” he rasped, and Dean’s breath hitched. “I’m yours, and yours only, as long as you’ll have me.”

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean muttered, burying himself in the crook of Cas’s shoulders so as not to show how much his face was burning up.

The vending machine beeped in protest as Cas shoved him against it for another kiss, but this time, Dean didn’t care.

“Dean?”

Dean looks up from the yearbook, and glances at the clock.

Oh. Shit.

“Dean?” comes the voice again, and there are footsteps coming up the stairs now. Oops. “Are you done–”

Cas catches him putting the yearbook away. He raises his eyebrows in question.

“Uhhh,” Dean says intelligently. “I may or may not have gotten a little distracted while cleaning.”

“You don’t say,” Cas replies, though there’s no bite to the words. “You know Sam and Eileen will be here in half an hour.”

“Yes, sweetheart,” Dean replies with an eyeroll.

“Hmm,” Cas says disapprovingly. He also gives up the pretense, and takes out another yearbook to indulge in their nostalgia. His mouth twitches into a smile at whatever page he opens to.

“What?” Dean asks, peering over Cas’s shoulders. When he sees his own fourteen year old’s baby face in the Orlando costume looking back at him, he blanches from the pure second-hand embarrassment. “Ugh.”

Dean took a deep breath, his heart running miles a minute. It was just a little play, he told himself. Not like the whole school was watching him. Even if they were, they were sort of forced to do it for the arts festival. Most of them were just probably glad to be out of class.

Yup. No doubt about it.

He straightened his hat, and took a step out onto the stage.

When the initial stomach-tightening nervousness had gone away, he recited his lines with ease, like he had a hundred times before the actual showing. His eyes lingered over to the audience, and found himself making direct eye contact with one Castiel Novak, so prominent in his presence for Dean even in the dark.

He halted, but quickly regained himself, his face burning. His mouth kept moving, and he focused back on acting. Acting. That was what he was supposed to be doing right now.

Castiel Novak was in his English class, and that was who the plays were for. Of course he was here to watch the play. It made sense.

“But are you so much in love as your rhymes speak?” Rosalind slash Ganymede asked, and Dean focused. This was an important scene. He had to focus.

“Neither rhyme nor reason can express how much,” Dean replied, a little more desperately than he intended, and his eyes didn’t wander away back to the audience. The way his heart beat frantically was because he was nervous. That was all.

After the play, though, he had no excuse when he was face to face with Castiel again.

“Uhhh.” Dean looked around to see who he was here for. Everyone else was busy getting the stage ready for the next play. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Um.” Castiel cleared his throat. “I liked you.” A pause. “As Orlando. I just wanted you to know.”

“Oh.” Dean was glad the backstage was dim. “Thanks. Did you, uh, like the play?”

“Yeah. Yes. It was educational.”

“Cool.” Dean scratched the bridge of his nose for the sake of doing something in the awkward silence that followed. “Uh. Well, I gotta get ready for the next one, so…”

“Oh. Yes, I’ll just…” Castiel pointed to the door.

“Sure.” Dean cleared his throat. He tried out looking at Castiel in the eyes, and smiled. “See you in class.”

Castiel blinked, and smiled back tentatively.

Shit.

After that, whenever Dean saw him in the hallway or whatever, all muddy and grass-stained knees from soccer practice, Castiel waved at him, and Dean waved back, and it was a weird thing where they had established over the course of few weeks. It was weirder whenever Castiel’s teammates slung an arm over Castiel as soon as they did that, and snickered, like they were in on a joke nobody else was. Dean’s face burned up every time, because geez.

To be fair, his friends weren’t any more kind to him than Castiel’s teammates were. “You like him.”

“Charlie,” Dean warned.

“Have you guys even talked to each other since?” she asked, ignoring his silent pleas.

“No. So what?” he replied defensively.

She only rolled her eyes.

Only, they ran into each other the next day, with Dean putting up a poster for an upcoming play. Dean spotted Castiel coming down the otherwise empty hallway, in deep thoughts and still in his uniform with his cleats slung over his shoulder, and swallowed hard. Castiel looked up and glanced to his side as he passed Dean by, and then all of a sudden, he halted in the middle of the hallway with sharp awareness. Castiel stared at Dean a little wide-eyed, and Dean stared right back.

Um. Awkward.

“Hey,” Dean said carefully.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel replied. He eyed the poster. “Are you in this one?”

Dean looked back at the poster, remembering why he was here. “Yeah.”

“Who are you playing?”

“Um. Enjolras.” Dean fiddled with the tape dispenser. “He’s the guy that leads this rebellion. Pretty cool dude if I do say so myself.”

Castiel studied the poster, and nodded to himself. “Which nights are you playing?”

“Huh? Uh.” Dean’s skin prickled under Castiel’s unwavering eyes. “The 12th, 14th, and 15th.”

Castiel smiled, and Dean just about managed to stand still. “Okay. I’ll see you, then.”

Dean licked his dry lips. “Right. Yeah.”

True to his words, Castiel came on the 12th night, and maybe Dean imagined it, but he swore he could physically feel Castiel’s eyes on him the entire time. Maybe it was just him being too hyper-aware of Castiel being there at all.

Well, that was mighty nice of the guy to come out to support him. Dean figured, he was only returning the favour when he went to watch him during his soccer practices. Castiel was incredible, running past his senior teammates left and right, and the way he looked when he scored a goal had Dean twitching out of his own seat. Castiel glanced at the bleachers and Dean saw the moment he saw him, and everything stopped for a heart-stopping moment.

Castiel soon became Cas, and Cas continued to come to Dean’s plays, and Dean continued to visit Cas at practice.

And, well. The rest was pretty much history.

“You know, I think I loved you from the moment I saw you here,” Cas says with a small smile, his fingers tracing the photo. “You were so passionate, and I’d never seen anyone as beautiful before. I couldn’t look away.”

“Of course not,” Dean grins. He puffs out his chest in bravado, and Cas raises his eyebrows. “Nobody can resist my charms.”

Cas rolls his eyes, and kisses him. Dean laughs into his mouth. “Of course, dear.”

[mercadosadaf]

The Value of Swimming In Uncertain Times

Hi Swimmers

Firstly, apologies for the radio silence over the last few weeks on the blog - we've had the whole Swim Smooth team busily engaged in a complete revamp of the entire www.swimsmooth.com website and coaching interface, and whilst we are not quite done, we are getting very close and hope to resume the blog and our usual community engagement very soon. Thanks for your patience and understanding.

Today, Head Coach Paul Newsome, has prepared a reflective piece for you on the value of swimming and what it means to us all, especially in these uncertain times. We hope it allows you to pause over a cup of tea or coffee and think a little bit about your own swimming and how your relationship with the water might have changed somewhat in the last 12 months.

Paul features three brief stories of some inspiring swimmers he has had the pleasure to work with and how their swimming journeys have been significantly altered by the coronavirus, mostly for the better. Paul summarises with some of his own take-home points on how this period has changed his own thinking on swimming somewhat and how his ordinarily extrinsic competitive goalposts have shifted to a place of intrinsic challenge and finding a new calm with that. So please, relax, put your feet up and let’s get a little zen for a moment.

The Value of Swimming in Uncertain Times

I was recently invited as a guest on the new An Open Water Swimmer's Podcast with host Will Ellis (release date: 28th February here) to discuss my love and passion for swimming - an easy topic for me! Will is a great host and someone I'd taken for a Swim Smooth analysis session as part of a group over a decade ago in the UK. Given my area of technical interest in swimming, many podcasts that we've done with other hosts have always centered on these elements, but Will took a very different slant, one which focused very much on the "why" of swimming.

Why do I swim? Why do I enjoy the water? Why swimming and not another sport? I came away with a headful of thoughts that I'd either never given due consideration to before, or maybe some that crystallized a growing appreciation I've started to foster of late?

Given the current state of play with COVID-19 restrictions on our sport over the last 12 months, I feel my own relationship with water has not necessarily changed per se but it's definitely evolved. Perhaps though, it's me who's changed and it's this period of intrinsic reflection that has heightened the "why" behind what we all love to do? For many of you, could the absence of being able to do the thing you love or the thing that perhaps challenges you the most (as a triathlete maybe?) be the necessary catalyst to kick your swimming to new heights of appreciation (however you measure that) when we do all come through this? I'm certainly seeing that in myself and my squad of very lucky swimmers over here in Perth, Australia.

Lady Luck

Over the last 12 months, Perth has been heralded as one of the best places on the planet with respect to the relatively few restrictions and impact of the coronavirus - many of us scarcely realizing how lucky we are. Next week will see 3,500 people start one of the largest open water swims on the planet, the Rottnest Channel Swim, in which I will be competing with a good friend over the 20km distance. We have, however, just come out of a heavily publicized (albeit very short) 5-day lockdown here in Perth which restricted access to the pools and saw us only being able to swim solo in the open water or with one other family member. This incident garnered international press on account of the very rapid and focused response to a single case in the community transferred between a quarantined hotel guest and a security guard. The whole state came to a grinding halt for just one case - everything ceased and panic was high. Despite extensive testing (myself included) of those who may have been in the vicinity of this one person, fortunately, no other community transmission has occurred. Consequently, life is returning to some form of normality again. 

One of the hardest things I've personally struggled with over the last 12 months though is being able to fully appreciate and empathize with just how brutal this period must have been - and continues to be - for many of you from the perspective of being able to simply enjoy the pleasures of a nice swim. Lady Luck has shone down on me, and for why, I do not know? I feel a toiling mixed sense of guilt, of pure luck, and of umbrage at myself for the seemingly petty feeling of missing the ability to travel overseas and share my love of swimming with you all, wherever you might be. I miss it so much and yet feel I have no right to do so given where I have the good fortune to be right now. 

I had a frank conversation before Christmas with my Mum about this. Many of you know Linda as "Mother Smooth" and if you've ever ordered anything from us, she'd have sent it to you. True to the adage that "Mum always knows best", I finally managed to pluck up the courage and expand on how excited I was to be taking my wife and two kids camping over the Christmas holidays to a beautiful town called Albany in the South West which we'd all visited together as a family a few years earlier. Mother Smooth couldn't understand why I'd not told her sooner, to which I responded that I didn't want to make her feel bad. "Feel bad?" she quizzed, "I am at my happiest when I know you are happy". Profound stuff - good old Mum!

The Changing Tide

So, what has this all really got to do with swimming? If you are in the northern hemisphere, chances are you are sick to the back teeth of hearing about the coronavirus and maybe even more so the thought that other pockets of the world are experiencing far fewer restrictions than yourself currently. Last week's swift lockdown gave me a rapid reminder though just how uncertain these times can be - the tide can change on a dime so easily. What has been remarkable for me has been watching how those of you who still continue in enforced lockdowns have survived this last 12 months and I'd like to recognize some of the cool - and crazy - things you've been doing, obviously simply for the joy of needing to get your swim in! Perhaps you can tell us more about how you've weathered this storm so far?

Helen Webster, UK

I met Helen in March 2014 at the 220 Triathlon Show in London. As the editor of the 220 Triathlon Magazine, Helen had taken it upon herself to learn to swim freestyle properly for an upcoming triathlon and I was tasked with assisting her with that goal in an Endless Pool and in front of hundreds of people. For someone with very little swimming experience at that point, Helen did amazingly well in front of such a crowd and it’s a testament to her bubbly “can do” spirit that she took on this challenge!

We spent a good hour or so filming her stroke, analyzing it (in front of everyone!), and then getting back into the pool to correct her issues which mainly centred around developing confidence in the water and improving the timing of her stroke, specifically her breathing. Back then, Helen was what we’d have described as a classic Bambino - someone very new to swimming with a relatively high level of anxiety in the water - so to see the following images circulating on Helen’s Facebook page in the last couple of weeks simply blew my mind! Helen’s gone all Bear Grylls on us and now is not happy unless she has to break the ice in her backyard pool just to ensure she gets her swim in! I’m so proud of her as a mate!

Here's Helen on what the last 12 months have meant for her swimming:

"Open-water swimming has been a key part of my training week ever since taking those first steps with Paul all those years ago! Lockdown had made me realise just how important swimming is to me though and in so many ways. Not living near the coast and with managed venues nearby forced to close I've realised how much I rely on swimming for lifting my mood, giving me a pause from a busy world and fully immersing myself in nature. I'm a pool swimmer too and with centres all closed I'm even missing the tang of chlorine and having to do kick drills!!

It sounds melodramatic but a tearful moment on the phone with a friend prompted her to gift me a garden pool and swimming tethered has given me a route back to the water (thanks to Swim Smooth Coach Jason Tait for the tethered swim sets!). It's also led me to a new swim community who are making the most of what they have and finding humour in sitting in ice baths and under hosepipes, or sharing tips for how to stop your garden pool freezing!

I can't wait to have my 'proper' swimming back and believe me, will never take it for granted again. I'm planning a swim challenge for September and keeping fingers crossed it goes ahead!"

Sue Allingham, Denmark

Sue attended one of our 3-day Swim Smooth Coach Education Courses in Mallorca, Spain back in May 2019 and was clearly a super-passionate swimmer and coach. We’ve remained in close contact via Messenger since and she frequently sends me crazy pictures of where she’s been swimming, however, nothing could quite prepare me for this one - her frozen Margarita experience (as she calls it)!

When I asked Sue about what the last 12 months have meant for her swimming, she said this:

"A year ago I entered the World Ice Swimming Championships in Bled Slovenia for a laugh. 2 weeks later I broke both my wrists and then Lockdown! By April I was going stir crazy and the day I had my casts removed, I got back into the sea, as the pools were shut. Little did I know that I would continue going in every day since! As my wrists got stronger, I could swim longer but the thought of trying to pull on a wetsuit was hanging over my head. By the time I probably could get one on I no longer felt the need. I continued to swim throughout the year and ended up becoming the Danish age-group champion in 25m & 100m Freestyle - Ice swimming and 5k Openwater. 

A year on from Covid and we are still in the sea and simply just grabbing any opportunity to jump in the water, to try new beaches or temperatures. As you can see from the picture, we’ve started making our own frozen Margaritas! 

What will I do when the pools open again? Dive in and just keep swimming! Never thought I’d miss the black line so much. Swimming as always is such a social thing & drinking coffee with friends after each swim has really made Lockdown actually enjoyable. Already looking at SwimRuns in Sweden, hopefully as it’s close by we may be allowed to travel. Otherwise lots of pre-paid events carried over from last year. I live in hope. 

One thing is for sure, the sea is always open!"

Mark Turner, Switzerland

Mark also attended one of our other 3-day Swim Smooth Coach Education Courses in Mallorca, Spain (the week after Sue) and had just a few months prior completed the Rottnest Channel Swim here in Perth. Mark set up the world’s most prestigious multi-day cycling event for amateurs, the Haute Route, which is a brutally tough challenge in a breathtakingly beautiful landscape. Mark was also the man behind Ellen MacArthur’s sailing career (who set the world record in 2005 for the fastest solo circumnavigation of the globe), the Offshore Challenges/OC Sport business, and the Extreme Sailing Series, and is widely seen as a visionary in the sport of sailing. And, if all that wasn't enough, Mark led the Volvo Ocean Race series as CEO in 2016/17. Needless to say, Mark is not someone to do things by half and is always up for a (big) challenge! 

Mark now lives in Switzerland on the banks of Lake Geneva and is fastidious about his swimming, especially a weekly completion of the infamous 10 x 400m Red Mist Endurance session! Like with many parts of the world, Mark has had unreliable access to his local pool over the last 12 months and so has turned to the great outdoors instead…even during the middle of winter! Hooking up regularly with like-minded souls in these freezing temperatures has been what has kept Mark going and will stand him in good stead when the world finally comes back to some sense of normality.

It Is What It Is

I think one of the most obvious things with each of these three swimmers - and yourself hopefully too - is that they’ve simply rolled with the punches that 2020 and beyond has brought their way. They’ve got on with it, adapted, pivoted, and thrived in a new environment and in doing so sought out other goals to keep them motivated and in the game. Resilience personified. We always talk so virtuously in training and racing about “control the controllable”, and clearly, none of this is in any of our control right now. Way back in April 2020 when we were still in lockdown and I was personally unable to coach, a very close friend and one of my athletes, Nolan McDonnell told me to “stop trying to save us all - we can look after ourselves!” in response to me frantically trying to work out how to keep everyone fit and engaged when I couldn’t be with them face-to-face. It really struck a chord with me, and whilst it didn’t happen overnight, I did begin to accept the situation. 

Knowing I wouldn’t be able to travel and spread the Swim Smooth word - as has been my life over the last 16 or so years - was a real blow, but ever so gradually I started to move beyond this and to focus on what I could do, not what I couldn’t. For me personally, that’s meant plenty more time at home with the family, and as we are seeing on the pool deck at the moment, plenty of opportunities to be super consistent with our respective training schedules too. The squad here in Perth has never swum so quickly before, ever! Why? Everyone has their groundhog day schedule dialled in and they’re sticking to it because there’s nowhere else to go, and there’s something very centring about that, zen even. 

Fancying a challenge myself - and recognizing the collective benefit of encouraging others to follow suit - I have even got myself back into doing a few triathlons, marathon swims, and even the odd SwimRun event too! Taking on a range of varied challenges was in an effort to not put all our eggs into one basket in case events got canceled or postponed. 

Again, I’m super privileged to be able to do these things right now, and part of that appreciation brings a whole new angle on why we do what we do. For me, it’s all been about my shared experience of training up with one of my best mates Chris to do the Rottnest Channel Swim together as a Duo next week. With last week’s unprecedented lockdown it looked certain to be canceled but you know what, I wasn’t bothered in the slightest! The religiously attended Sunday morning swim with Chris in the river is what it’s all about - not the event itself. Swimming + Best Mate = Win. 

Sure, the race will be a nice finale, but the old adage of “the journey is better than the destination” is what this whole crazy period has really taught me. We egg each other on even in the middle of winter and for me, this has seen a major step away from the profound sense of training for competition’s sake, to training for training’s sake, and for the social camaraderie that this has brought. I wouldn’t change that for the world.

Even if you haven’t had the opportunity (yet) to be quite so free in your activities, that time will come again, hopefully very soon, and in the meantime, just set yourself some little consistency of routine benchmarks to tick off. Get creative like our friends above (just maybe not quite so crazy!). How many swims in the river can you consistently do every Sunday? Can you always ensure you meet up with Bob for your Friday lunchtime jog in the park? Make sure you commit to that group ride on Zwift you booked in for on the Companion app etc. It’s the little things, done often that will keep you going and when the world opens up again, you’ll be ready! 

Thanks for reading. Swim on!

Paul

from Sports http://www.feelforthewater.com/2021/02/the-value-of-swimming-in-uncertain-times.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[keyapooh55]

Nervous Wreck

Why must I feel like I am the only person in the world that loves and cherish the children that I created. I hate the way this world is so corrupted that i didn't pay attention to my actions before I just ventured out an started doing things on my own. I can admit that when I finally got a taste of freedom that I did not know how to act. Now look at me today sitting here paying for it. Although, I am appreciative of where I am in life right now. Its still a few things that upset me truly. As I sit back an act unbothered my patience and whole entire soul remains to be tested. I just wish that I had a better bond with my children fathers. How ever I can not dwell on the fact that I can not get things to go in my favor. Im trying my best to hold my crown up and do what needs to be done. No matter what assistance that I may need to recieve. No matter how low budget I have to live. I just need others to know that this position plays a major role in my life. Sometimes I just space out in thought and began to tear hurt because it hurt so bad to raise my kids alone with a championship smile. I just need my hurt protected because I feel that I am getting worse by the day. I feel like I am going to explode on someone that I am going to have myself removed from my kids.

I just want to go into my creative hiding place right now. Where I tune everyone out and focus on my passion , health ,and the future that I am trying to create for my kids.

Each day , I truly feel myself getting wiser. I feel myself looking at alot things as more so child like. I just need the strength to help me keep my head up. Its so easy to give up like everyone else.

[ohsweetflips]

hawk in the raven nest, chapter two

A/N:  hey guys!!! oh my god!!! thank you all for the AMAZING feedback on the first chapter, you guys are the reason i write!!! i hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

chapter description: Don't you just love the number two?

tw(s) for chapter: extreme violence

read on ao3 (one last little question in the end notes abt update schedule)

Nathaniel could hear Kevin and Andrew arguing from down the hall, in his room, with the door closed. He also thought that Kevin and Andrew were in Kevin’s room with that door closed, but he couldn’t be so sure. Either way, they were very loud.

After hearing what Riko had said to Kevin earlier in the week, Nathaniel assumed that Riko forced Kevin into the confrontation and then left him alone to deal with it, because he knew for a fact that Riko was in the lounge. He wondered if Riko every fought his own battles, or if he always had his lackeys carry them out for him. Even with Andrew, despite Kevin being the one who brought him to the team, Riko was the one having problems with him. And still, he made Kevin call him out, and made Kevin be the one to argue with him, therefore, disturbing the peace of the Nest, which wasn’t very peaceful in the first place and Nathaniel didn’t need anymore infighting.

“They’re always fighting,” Jean muttered from his spot on the bed. He had his school books out in front of him and was most likely cramming in any work he could in the short time he had away from Exy. “Andrew is always antagonizing him. Plus, he barely cares about Exy. I don’t understand why Kevin doesn’t just put him in his place. He has the power to.” In that moment, Jean sounded so much like Riko. But then again, Nathaniel assumed that all the Ravens shared the same opinion on Kevin and Andrew: why doesn’t Kevin just deal with him?

“Why do you think Kevin keeps him around?” Nathaniel asked, turning his attention back to staring at their door. “Why do you think Kevin wanted him in the first place? He rejected his first recruitment, you know.”

“I’m well aware, Riko brings it up every time when he’s pissed at Andrew,” Jean sighed. He lowered his voice when he said, “It’s quite aggravating to hear about after a while.” He then paused, probably realizing he never answered Nathaniel’s question. “But why? I don’t know, why don’t you ask Kevin yourself? He seems in the mood to talk.”

Nathaniel heard very clearly the sarcasm dripping from Jean’s voice, but his interest still tripled when he heard the fighting come to a halt and Kevin’s door open and slam close. “Good idea, Jean,” he said, standing up  and heading for the door. “I’ll go do that.”

“Nathaniel don’t you dare, I was kidding-” Nathaniel let Jean’s voice die out behind him with the door slamming shut. He immediately turned to Andrew, who was walking down the hall, expressionless, and Nathaniel raised an eyebrow in question.

“No one likes an eavesdropper, Nathaniel,” Andrew said as he blew right by him.

“It’s not eavesdropping if you’re loud enough for the entire Nest to hear,” Nathaniel called after him before continuing on his way to Kevin’s room.

Kevin, who seemed to have heard him, stuck his head out of the door. “What do you want, Nathaniel?” he asked, his voice still laced with aggravation.

“I just have a question,” Nathaniel answered, waiting outside his door. It wasn’t a lie, he just wasn’t going to question Kevin about his decisions outside where anyone could listen.

Kevin did a once over of him, attempting to find a lie in him. Finally, he sighed and stepped aside. “Fine.”

Nathaniel walked inside and turned to Kevin as he shut the door behind them.

“So?” Kevin said, crossing his arms. “What is it?”

“You and Andrew fight quite a lot.”

“That’s not a question.”

Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “I’m getting to that. So, I repeat, you and Andrew fight quite a lot.”

It was Kevin’s turn to roll his eyes. “We do. He doesn’t listen to me when I tell him that focusing on Exy would be in his best interest.”

“I don’t think Andrew has ever listened to you. He didn’t when you first recruited him.”

“Still no question, Nathaniel, and I’m losing my last shreds of patience.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Why did you want Andrew here so badly if you knew from the beginning that he was going to be a problem for you?”

Kevin didn’t necessarily seem shocked by the question, but he still gave Nathaniel a look. “Why do you care?”

Riko was ready to let him “live out his short, miserable life” and resents that you keep him around. Why is Andrew such a dividing line for our leading duo? is what Nathaniel wanted to say, but he promptly decided that that would definitely blow his cover, and possibly get him punched in the face for eavesdropping.

“Everyone does. Everyone can see that you two argue at every little thing. I’m just the only one who’s asking you directly,” is what he went with instead. “So, why do keep him around?”

Kevin didn’t answer for a moment. He just stared down Nathaniel. If Kevin was trying to intimidate him, it wasn’t working. Kevin wasn’t Riko. Kevin couldn’t intimidate like Riko could. Kevin didn’t have the ranking.

When Kevin realized that Nathaniel wasn’t going to step down, he let out an exasperated sigh. “Andrew has the potential to be the best goalkeeper Exy has ever seen. He could go Court and thrive on it. Instead, he wastes his own time, and ours, by not giving a shit. I’m trying to get him to realize that he can actually do something once he graduates, and that ‘something’ can be Exy.”

Nathaniel stared in disbelief at Kevin. For whatever reason, that wasn’t the answer he expected. “So you keep Andrew around… because you think he has potential?”

“Is it that hard to understand?” Kevin asked. “He already does okay on the Ravens. I want to make him do better because he can. If he does better, not only will our team see an even better season, but he will definitely see Court in his future.”

“I didn’t realize you were the type to take people under your wing.”

“We only care about those who can actually do something significant. That’s why there’s only five of us.” He pointed to his face, and Nathaniel’s eyes went straight to the two on his cheek.

“We?”

“Yes. Riko and I spend all of our time on this team, but do you really think all twenty-three of us will be going to Court? That’s what everyone expects of us. And say all twenty-three of us do, do you think all of us will succeed?” Kevin asked, shaking his head. “Most likely, no. So, Riko and I spend our time getting the Ravens to Championships, and then winning. But in the end, the only ones we really see anything in are the top five.”

Nathaniel didn’t expect to be struck speechless, but there he was with his fingers touching his tattoo and just staring at Kevin.

Kevin rolled his eyes at his stupefied look. “You’re on the Ravens because you survived Tetsuji’s test. But you’re in the top five because you’re worth it. Did you really think we put a three on your face and a four on Jean’s because you were bought instead of recruited? Did we just put a five on Andrew’s face because we felt like it? Don’t be an idiot. You three and us two are the ones that will truly succeed in Exy and lead our Court team to success. So that’s why I keep Andrew around. In Castle Evermore, we don’t let potential go wasted.” Kevin took once last look over Nathaniel. “Did that answer your question?”

Nathaniel nodded and was promptly dismissed from the room.

--

After practice one night in the middle of April, two weeks after training began, Coach Tetsuji dismissed all Ravens except for Riko Moriyama and Kevin Day. “Typical,” Nathaniel had heard one of his teammates muttering as they all shuffled into their locker rooms.

It was nine-o’clock when all Ravens but the two prodigies were dismissed from practice.

It was nine-thirty when only Riko returned.

Nathaniel found that out when there was a pounding on his door that shook Nathaniel from his state of half-consciousness. As he stumbled over to the door, he swung it open to find Riko standing there. Even though Riko was taller than Nathaniel, he didn’t have much on him. However, with the cold, dead look in Riko’s eyes and all the light being swallowed up by the black interior of the Nest, Nathaniel felt a chill run down his spine.

His common sense told him something was off.

“Come out here,” Riko said. His voice was low, barely reaching Nathaniel’s ears, but he heard the murder in it. Nathaniel cast a quick look over his shoulder to see if Jean had woken up, and instead found his roommate still sleeping. He looked back at Riko and nodded. The secrecy behind Riko’s words set up a red flag.

“What is it?” he asked, stepping out the door and closing it behind him.

Riko looked to either side of him, looking for onlookers or eavesdroppers. Even though no one stood with them in the hall -the other Ravens had retreated to their rooms- Riko leaned in closer and whispered into Nathaniel’s ear, “Kevin’s in the locker room upstairs. Go deal with him. Make sure he knows what happens when he crosses the Moriyamas.”

Nathaniel’s survival instincts told him that something was very, very wrong. In his mind flashed the image of an axe being brought down upon his crying mother, and he felt nauseated at what Riko could have done.

“What?” he said too loudly without thinking.

Riko shushed him by slamming his hand to his mouth. “Do not question,” he growled. “Just do as you’re told.”

Nathaniel nodded. His mind was already jumping to the worst conclusion: that Nathaniel was about to find a Kevin near death. It was unlikely, but a lot about Riko was unpredictable.

As he headed up the stairs to the court, he ran his mind through what he would be walking into. Worst case scenario, most unlikely, was a corpse. Nathaniel had seen enough in his life, done by the hands of his own father; he didn’t need to see anymore. Next case scenario, still very bad, and more likely, was an almost dead Kevin. He wanted to rule out those two, that Riko would never do any of that. But that was a lie. Riko Moriyama was capable of many terrible things.

When Nathaniel reached the locker room, the first thing he noticed was that only half of the lights were on. And then, he heard the pained, haggard breathing.

Nathaniel Wesninski had seen what the Moriyamas could do. They were manipulative, able to wield the justice system and physicians with a few easy threats that no one would dare report. They put children (or “loose ends” as they were dubbed) in a competition to see which ones would qualify for the Ravens; those who passed were welcomed, those who didn’t were executed. Nathaniel had seen his own father murder someone because a Moriyama told him so. And even though Riko had less power than his older brother and father, he was still a Moriyama, and therefore had the ability to manipulate and hurt people and not face consequences as long as he had no loose ends.

But Riko was meant to use that power, that violence, on the people he really owned, like Nathaniel and Jean. Sure, he might as well have owned the entire team, but the kids who were bought were different than the athletes who were recruited. It was just accepted knowledge.

And between Kevin Day, the kids bought, and the athletes recruited, Kevin rested on a level higher than all of them. He was not exempt from Riko Moriyama. Nathaniel knew that he and Riko fought, and that it sometimes got physical, but he had just assumed that the pair had a line drawn that neither would cross.

Nathaniel realized he was wrong when he found Kevin in the state he was in.

Kevin Day, a child of Exy, a prodigy, a man who was supposed to be on Court, laid crumpled on the locker room floor. Riko had left all the lights on in this particular section of lockers, a spotlight for anyone to see what he did to Kevin.

Ugly, red bruising lined the side of Kevin’s face and his left eye was swollen. His nose was bleeding and blood had splattered the floor underneath his head. Tears had streaked down his face and sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. His breathing had turned to gasping. It sounded like Kevin’s lungs were collapsing in on themselves. Nathaniel feared that they actually were, but then he caught sight of what the epicenter of all this pain and panic was.

Kevin had his right hand cradled to his chest. However, Nathaniel’s eyes were fixed upon his left and he felt like he was going to be sick at the sight.

Kevin’s left hand, his playing hand, was destroyed. Bone protruding, angled in directions that Nathaniel knew bone shouldn’t. The skin of his hand was completely torn apart, bleeding from more than a few cuts. Every time Kevin moved slightly, every time his hand shifted, he cried out in pain, louder each time.

After three tries, Nathaniel finally found his voice. “Your playing hand’s destroyed.” He hadn’t known what to say. He had a feeling that wasn’t it, but it was the truth.

Kevin barely even showed that he heard Nathaniel, but he didn’t wait around for an answer. There were enough paper towels in the bathrooms to clean this up, to clean Kevin up. After collecting all the towels and finding a bucket to fill water with, Nathaniel realized that the act of cleaning Kevin up was much harder than he ever thought it would be. Every time he even tried to move Kevin, a scream of pain broke out of him. After five minutes of that, Nathaniel knew that if he wanted to finish the job Riko gave him, he had to quit stopping whenever Kevin screamed.

Nathaniel didn’t expect to be so mentally exhausted, but cleaning blood off a shattered hand and watching Kevin resort from panicked breathing to full on breakdown with shaking and sobbing and inability to get even one steady breath in, can take a toll on a person.

But he did get the blood cleaned up and Kevin sitting upright, so that had to be some sort of victory.

When Kevin’s breathing finally calmed down, Nathaniel said, “Riko told me to deal with you.” He paused. “I don’t know what he meant by that.”

“Just please… don’t hurt me.” Kevin’s voice sounded so broken. The fact that he thought Nathaniel would fuck him up more than he already was made Nathaniel feel nauseous.

“I’m not,” he defended himself. “I just… he told me...” Nathaniel trailed off, trying to find the right words. He came up blank; he wasn’t one for comfort, and he had a feeling Kevin wouldn’t listen. Instead, he went for, “Why did Riko do this to you?”

At first, Kevin didn’t answer. After a minute of silence, Nathaniel was ready to give up when Kevin finally answered, “The Master held Riko and I after practice because he wanted to tell us something.” A pause. “The ERC believes that Riko is holding me back. They think I would flourish more as an athlete if I was the captain. They also… think that I would be Court’s first priority over Riko.

“The Master made us have a face-off to see who’s the better striker. When he and my mother played together, he was the goalkeeper. He had us shoot for fifteen minutes one after the other. If it was anyone else, it would have been worthless. A regular striker and a regular goalkeeper doesn’t mean anything. But it’s the two sons of Exy and one of the founders. It really did say something about who scored more.”

“And it was you,” Nathaniel wasn’t asking a question. He already knew the answer.

Kevin nodded. “Three-two, me. I broke the tie in the last ten seconds. The Master didn’t say anything else, just dismissed us. He went to his office on the other side of the court, and we went here and then… this.”

It didn’t take long for all the pieces to click into place in Nathaniel’s brain. For all of Riko and Kevin’s life at Castle Evermore, even when they were kids, they were compared. The two kids of Exy, one had to be better than the other. They never got a chance to see who the true heir of Exy was, though. The pair never played against each other, never had a reason to. At least, not until the ERC itself was growing curious. Perhaps that made Tetsuji curious, too, and he had to see who was the winner. And it was Kevin. And that derailed Riko’s plan to be the best Exy player there ever was. So, in a fit of jealous rage, he destroyed Kevin’s playing hand.

“You won’t be able to play,” Nathaniel said stupidly.

“Thanks, I didn’t realize that yet, jackass,” Kevin glared at him.

Nathaniel opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself when he heard the locker room door be kicked open. Both him and Kevin froze as they locked eyes. However, Kevin’s eyes broke away from Nathaniel’s and looked behind him. When Kevin paled so much he almost looked green, Nathaniel felt his stomach drop. He looked over his shoulder and saw Riko approaching them in workout clothes, a bag in his hand.

“Good to see you two are finally finished with the pity party,” Riko said casually, admitting that he’d been listening the entire time. “I was never good with comforting words.”

And then, at the sight of Riko’s cocky smile, something inside Nathaniel was set aflame. Rage burned through his body and seared him inside out until he felt his cheeks flush with heat and his hands shake. He was blinded with an anger so fierce that his insides coiled. “You fucking piece of shit,” Nathaniel wasn’t thinking, and he just let the insults and curses roll off his tongue. He turned on Riko, stomping over to him. “He breaks a tie between the two of you and you break his playing hand? What the fuck is the matter with you? How could you-”

Riko shoved Nathaniel so hard against one of the lockers he felt his head smack against it. Pain erupted in the back of his head but he didn’t get much time to worry about it because now Riko had him by the neckline of his shirt. “You watch the way you fucking speak to me,” Riko snapped. “Don’t forget who owns you. You were given one job: to deal with this pathetic mess. You’ve done it. You’re dismissed, and if I hear anyone talk about this, you will not live to see another day.” Nathaniel knew Riko was one-hundred-percent serious. “Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” Nathaniel bit back. His blood was boiling with rage, but he valued his life too much to test Riko.

“You’re dismissed,” Riko repeated. He pushed Nathaniel away before turning back to Kevin. “Put these on, we’re going for a little run.”

Nathaniel should have kept going. He was dismissed twice by Riko, and Riko hated repeating himself. But Nathaniel was apoplectic with rage and had an attitude problem. “You two are doing what?” he snapped back to Riko.

“Didn’t I say you were fucking dismissed?” Riko shouted, turning back to face Nathaniel.

“Nathaniel,” Kevin said before the other two could say anything. The look on his face was one of desperation. “Just go!”

After one last look at the scene before him and Kevin’s desperation, Nathaniel decided that it was in his best interest to go. He left the locker room seething and entered his room the same way.

It seemed like Nathaniel had just fallen asleep when his door was pushed open and the lights were flicked on. The light had already woken him up but his mind was cleared from all haze when he heard Riko’s voice saying, “Get up and go to the lounge. Now. ”

Nathaniel immediately recalled what he had seen before and was at once filled with rage. He sat up and feigned confusion when Jean shot him a look. Nathaniel rubbed his eyes and saw that the bedside clock said it was one-a.m.  

Nathaniel and Jean shuffled into the lounge with the other tired and confused Ravens. He noticed that Riko was still in his workout clothes, and there was no Kevin in sight. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying something. Andrew trailed in not long after him, his black armbands poking out from his too-short pajama sleeves. Nathaniel wondered if he slept with them on.

When Riko saw that everyone was here, he started off with, “Something terrible happened while Kevin and I were out on our run. I just got back from the hospital, Coach Tetsuji is still there with Kevin.”

Riko fell silent after that, letting this words and the suspense drown everyone in the room. The team shared looks with each other before all turning their attention back to their captain, who had yet to say anything more. “Can you tell us what happened?” Reacher, a backliner, finally asked.

“I- I can’t talk about it,” Riko said. Nathaniel would have found Riko’s feigned worry laughable if the rest of the team wasn’t hanging onto every word he said. “Coach Tetsuji just wanted me to tell you all this, and that we’re meeting at eight tomorrow in the locker room lounge to talk about what happened, and what it means for this season.”

At the mention of whatever happened having an effect on the upcoming season, the tired Ravens managed to get worked up into a chatter. Some were begging Riko to tell them what happened to Kevin, others were already expressing doubts about their rank in Exy.

“I can’t say anything,” Riko said, holding his hands up and cutting them all off. “It’s for Coach Tetsuji to say, not me. Just know that… things are changing. Now, all of you, go back to bed.”

The Ravens complied. All except Nathaniel and Andrew, who stood back a moment to stare through Riko. Nathaniel was sickened by Riko’s lie and how easily the team believed it; Andrew looked like he knew something wasn’t adding up right, but he didn’t quite know what it was.

Riko kept his eyes alternating between the two of them. Finally, Andrew slowly turned on his heel and walked out of the room. Perhaps he realized he couldn’t find an answer by just staring down Riko, or perhaps he realized that he really didn’t care what happened to Kevin. Nathaniel could never figure out his stance on the striker (or, well, ex-striker now).

Riko’s eyes then turned to Nathaniel. He didn’t speak until he heard the soft sound of Andrew’s door closing. “What do you want now?”

“How did you get him to a hospital?” Nathaniel asked and crossed his arms.

“I thought I told you that if I heard anyone talk about this, I would kill you.” Riko’s harsh words didn’t match up with his bored expression.

“I thought ‘anyone’ meant ‘anyone but me’, my apologies,” but Nathaniel was obviously not sorry. “So how did you get him to a hospital without them asking too many questions?”

Riko seemed to consider his options. Nathaniel guessed that Riko realized it was better to just tell him than be bothered by his questions when he stepped closer, lowered his voice, and said, “We didn’t. The Moriyamas have people for everything. You would know, your father is our executioner. Now, unless you would like to see him again, I suggest you stop asking questions and fuck off.”

Nathaniel found it laughable that Riko thought he had enough power to control Lord Kengo Moriyama’s lackeys, let alone his executioner.

“Well, I would like a birthday and a Christmas card from him every now and then. If you could arrange that, that would be great.” Riko’s sudden slap burned Nathaniel’s cheek, but Nathaniel still gave him a smirk in return.

It was when Nathaniel entered his room that the anger finally evaporated and was quickly replaced by the cold realization of what exactly had happened that night. Riko had destroyed Kevin’s hand. Kevin couldn’t play Exy anymore. Riko made Nathaniel go deal with Kevin. Nathaniel blindly jumped to fight Riko for Kevin. Riko so easily fought back. Nathaniel talked back to Riko. Riko slapped Nathaniel in the middle of the lounge.

Nathaniel thought of Kevin’s fucked up hand, of the protruding bone and all the blood and all the screaming. Nathaniel thought of how he was so stupid to stand up to Riko, but he did it for Kevin. Nathaniel thought of how easy it would have been for Riko to be rid of him too; Riko didn’t handle people directly talking back to him. Riko so easily could have killed them both, one for crossing Riko’s boundaries, the other for crossing Riko.

Nathaniel swallowed any weak feelings and nausea and replaced it once again with anger.

Nathaniel barely slept that night. When he did, it was in short bursts, ten minutes there, half hour here, but never long enough to feel rested, never long enough for be rid of the feeling that Riko was going to attack Kevin, attack Jean, attack him.

[rafaelthompson]

10 Minutes With Anggela Sara Garcia: Part Two

We close our interview with Peru’s Anggela Sara Garcia, who founded Espressate Mujer and the Specialty Coffee Community.

BY VALORIE CLARK SPECIAL TO BARISTA MAGAZINE ONLINE

Cover photo by Nathalie Sayago

From the editor: Last week, we began a conversation with Anggela Sara Garcia from Peru, and learned how she founded several coffee organizations in the country. Today we get her take on what the country needs to do to improve its specialty coffee. This interview has been translated from Spanish. It was edited and condensed for clarity.

Anggela Sara Garcia speaking at the 2019 Espressate Mujer competition, with 2017 World Barista Champion Dale Harris. Photo provided by Anggela Sara Garcia.

In the first part of the interview, we discussed some of the problems facing Peru’s coffee community, including low prices and climate change. How does the Specialty Coffee Community—the group you created to explore coffee in Peru—help solve those problems?

The Specialty Coffee Community arose from a group of friends who shared very good coffees and who always wondered what we could do to get more people to these. We started by putting together free public tastings. At first we thought that it would continue to be just us, that at most our family would accompany us. Because, let’s be honest, for most people cupping is not the most fun part of the process. Between sips and spit, it scares some people, and even more so with the tables and everyone describing flavors and giving “poems” about them. We think that these tastings will be more “light.” We comply with the initial protocol, weights, temperatures and all that, but for the tasting itself, we do it without tables, just passing and testing, remembering what we are trying and then talking about what we find. We guide each other, resulting in an audience amazed by the sensations experienced and wanting more. We’ve already done 25 public tastings!

Now, after these 25 tastings, we see that many local coffee shops and brands start to make their own sensory events and tastings for their target audience, which shows us that we were able to contribute something.

But we wanted to go further. People needed to see where these coffee came from, to know truly that “the coffee doesn’t just happen.” We started with the “Travel to Origin” trip, where we knew the farms, the processes, and the producers told us their experiences, their day-to-day. The participants could interact with the producers, get to know their reality, then we ended the trip with a tasting of the coffees of the farms visited.

What led you to create the Espressate Mujer barista championship?

I am a founding member of the Peru Chapter of the International Women Coffee Alliance (IWCA).

As part of our goal of empowering coffee women, IWCA holds events, one of which was the All Star Female Barista 2017, which was held in Puebla, Mexico. They advised that we contact the organizers of the Barista championship in our country so that the female participant who had occupied the highest place or is the champion in the last edition was our representative. 

But by May 2017 in Peru, a championship had not been held in four years! It seemed totally crazy to me that this is the situation in our country, so I proposed to our Board of Directors that we organize a championship. How hard can it be, I thought. Fabiola Ugarte [also with IWCA] joined me, and between the two of us we discovered that it was a huge challenge! But we were totally willing to do it. We found a community willing to help us—someone lent us a cafetería for development, the necessary sponsorships arrived to be able to fulfill bringing our champion to Mexico, prizes for the other contestants, and all this without giving us a dollar! It was beautiful! The reception, the quality, and level of the participants, uff! We decided to modify the Author Drink rule: It does not have to be based on espresso, it had to be Espressate Woman, which is a play on Spanish words, meaning espresso drink and express, the verb.

We already had the second edition in 2019, which was much bigger. We even had Dale Harris, World Barista Champion, there to help us! It was beautiful! And thanks to Espressate Woman, I started my time in the world of championships, and have now been a judge of the national championships.

What are you most excited to see happen in the coffee community in Peru?

The desire for things to change, the role that women are taking throughout the chain, from the countryside to the industry, making our voices heard. It excites me to see how more and more people want to learn, to professionalize the sector. I see the constant growth of the entire chain: Producers wanting to innovate in their fields. Roasters that pay competitive prices, so that we can also get these coffees in a local market while taking full care and respect to give us the best version of them. Baristas committed to bringing to the consumer not just a cup but an experience. With patience and a lot of work, this whole community is coming together, because it is tired of the guilds and waiting for things to change. Coffee never ceases to amaze me for a single day: It challenges me, it pushes me, and sometimes it even gives me headaches. But there we are, looking for the way out, to grow in community and, of course, eventually, as a country.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Valorie Clark (@TheValorieClark) is a freelance writer with a background in specialty coffee. She is based in Los Angeles.

The post 10 Minutes With Anggela Sara Garcia: Part Two appeared first on Barista Magazine Online.

10 Minutes With Anggela Sara Garcia: Part Two published first on https://espressoexpertsite.tumblr.com/

[torentialtribute]

Sir Nick Faldo tips Justin Rose for glory at USPGA Championship

Sir Nick Faldo gives tips for Justin Rose for glory at the US PGA Championship, but he's cool about the odds of Rory McIlroy

He believes Brooks Koepka, Francesco Molinari and Dustin Johnson will fight Derek Lawrenson for the Daily Mail

| Sir Nick Faldo supports Justin Rose to bounce back from his Masters misery to the Rory McIlroy

Faldo said: & I have Rosey as one of my four possible winners alongside Brooks Koepka, Frankie Molinari and Dustin Johnson

<img id = "i-609bbb04d2cb719b" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/15/20/13544310-0-image-a- 19_1557950142745.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-609bbb04d2cb719b" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/15/20 /13544310-0-image-a-19_1557950142745.jpg "height =" 423 "width =" 634 "alt =" Justin Rose was tipped by Sir Nick Faldo to be among the contenders in Long Island

Justin Rose was tipped by Sir Nick Faldo to be among the contenders in Long Island

<img id = "i-e161d5dd3af9a34f" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/15/20/13544312-0-image-a-21_1557950176473.jpg" height = "441 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-e161d5dd3af9a34f" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/15/20/13544312-0-image-a -21_1557950176473.jpg "height =" 441 "width =" 634 "alt =" The Englishman fits well with the course and likes to find his way, says Faldo "class =" blkBorder img- <img id = "i -e161d5dd3af9a34f "src =" https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/15/20/13544312-0-image-a-21_1557950176473.jpg "height =" 441 "width =" 634 " alt = "<img id =" i-e161d5dd3af9a34f "src =" https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/15/20/13544312-0-image-a-21_1557950176473.jpg "height = "441" width = "634" alt = "The Englishman fits well with the course and likes to find his way, Faldo says" <img id = "i-e161d5dd3af9a34f" src = "https: // i. dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/15/20/13544312-0-image-a-21_1557950176473.jpg "height =" 441 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-e161d5dd3af9a34f" src = "https: //i.dailymail .co.uk / 1s / 2019/05/15/20 / 13544312-0-image-a-21_1557950176473.jpg "height =" 441 "width =" 634 "alt =" The Englishman fits the course well and finds it nice to find his way, says Faldo

& # 39; This is the ideal course for him, where you have to make your way. Justin loves that kind of golf. I watched him at Quail Hollow a few weeks ago and I thought he played great. He is a complete golfer. He is now 38 and it would be a good time for him to crochet his second major. "

World No. 2 Rose, whose only success was at the US Open in 2013, was embarrassed after missing half the way to Augusta for

& # 39; I still feel always, at this point in my career, that I am waiting for my run in the majors, where you claim two or three in a short space of time.

Regarding the prospect of the first English winner since Jim Barnes in 1919, he said: "We must have a good chance. We have six or seven in the top 35 of the world, so we have a lot of firepower. We need that little lady luck to make the stars I would like to be the one who made it.

One of the main reasons why British golfers have struggled in this event is that it was invariably held in sultry conditions in August.

The first round is expected to start on Thursday morning with me t the temperature meter struggling to get Celsius in double digits.

<img id = "i-bf1b9760a82032f9" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2019/05/15/ 20 / 13544324-0-image-a-22_1557950206580.jpg "height =" 475 "width =" 634 "alt =" <img id = "i-bf1b9760a82032f9" src = "https://i.dailymail.co.uk /1s/2019/05/15/20/13544324-0-image-a-22_1557950206580.jpg "height =" 475 "width =" 634 "alt =" Faldo also thinks that Francesco Molinari, Dustin Johnson and Brooks Koepka have great opportunities have Johnson and Brooks Koepka have great opportunities

[FalsedenktookdatFrancescoMolinariDustinJohnsonenBrooksKoepkagrotekansenhebben'IkhebhetgevoeldataldiespelersdievorigeweekinvergelijkbareomstandighedenaandeBritseMastersopHillsidehebbendeelgenomenhiervanzullenprofiteren'aldusFaldohoofdgolfanalistvoorCBSTV

& # 39; You look at Tommy Fleetwood and this is a good way for him. Matt Wallace and Eddie Pepperell could also do well. They all played with three layers last week and many Americans panicked when they had to put on one layer. It would really be suitable for the English boys. There is a good wave of them. "

& # 39; I remember I said & # 39;

& # 39; I remember I said & # 39; in 2014, when he came to four and people predicted he would be 19 majors would get – wait a minute, & said Faldo.

& # 39; Five would have felt both during that time, but now he would be ecstatic to get his fifth. I really don't know what will happen to Rory this week, but I see some downsides there.

Rory McIlroy didn't win a major for nearly five years and could do this week " Rory McIlroy did not win

Rory McIlroy did not win a major for nearly five years and could have fought this week

& # 39; It is likely to be a par-fest and I don't know if he has the patience for such a test. Rory likes it when he is charging or he gets drained when things are wrong.

& # 39; There are a few physical problems with his swing that result in a strange shot and you can't afford it this week.

& # 39; I do not like the problems I have with checking with his wedges. That would really bother me. Imagine that you hit it so far along the fairway and then you can't get a wedge within 15ft. That must be so daunting.

& # 39; The bottom line is that you have hit the number, that is the real skill in professional golf. Look at Dustin. He left, worked very hard on his game and his remote control. What a difference.

& # 39; Rory must do something similar. He is now 30 and he must make golf his entire priority for the next five or ten years. Then he will have the rest of his life to catch up with everything else. & # 39;

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[mitchkiper]

TEAM PREVIEW: GOOSE, ANATOMY OF A CHAMPION

For this next preview in the Mitch Kiper Preseason Series™, we skip hop and leap all the way up to the top of the 2017 Dynosteve Standings, where we find defending champion Goose of Greater Zimbarbecue. Where with the Walla Walla Wallabies we examined where his team failed, and if he did enough to finally cut back on his team’s glade plugin budget, we’re shifting our analysis with the Victoria Falls. Instead of asking “Did they do enough to improve,” we’ll be asking “Have they done enough to maintain their dominance?”

ZIMBAB’S 2017 ROSTER: LIKE A SLOW SMOKED MEAT.

Great meats take time, careful preparation, and the patience to let things take their time, all while enjoying a good beer with friends. So do good rosters. Owner Augusto Alonso has seemingly mastered this trait, winning in two different years with a starting roster that’d seen only slight adjustment. His 2018 Projected Roster isn’t that different, either (pictured L to R: 2015, 2017, 2018)

Let’s sum up the changes. Basically, Goose has seen movement at RB2, WR-FLEX, and Kicker. Darren McFadden -> Mark Ingram -> Joe Mixon, and Josh Gordon -> Rishard Matthews -> Alshon Jeffrey. It doesn't take a deep dive to reflect on those changes and label them positive.

Just to be sure, though, let’s take a look at each of these three rosters side-by-side, using a combination PPW stat—one that blends this year’s projections (assessing the current value of a player) with their 3-year averages (a more accurate reflection of their long term value)—that I call “Composite PPW”

According to this combined stat, the Falls have improved considerably since 2015. That will happen when you have two players who haven’t even made it to 2018 rosters. What we can see, however, is that this team is built to last. Remember that composite PPW is strongly influenced by players’ 3-year averages. Goose’s players, by showing high composite PPW, show that they rank highly both in projections for the future and have demonstrated consistent past performance. His players dip below the 80% percentile mark in only three positions: FLEX, K, and DST. Goose has players strong enough not only to win the major categories week-to-week, but to do so with significant net point gain.

Don’t let that slight drop from 2017 to now fool you, either—Goose makes up for it in depth. Both Mark Ingram and Rishard Matthews are still on his bench. The Falls have plenty of options should one player not perform as expected, or even better, should a high-potential player exceed that. I’ve been collecting stats on bench depth vs. starter depth. Unfortunately, the current FA players such as Darren McFadden make it hard to collect older historical data, but I can show you this.

Of all the current teams in the league, Goose has the second strongest bench, with his bench players averaging a 75.9th percentile against the rest of rostered players in Dynosteve. To be clear, this is every single one of his bench players accounted for, rookies included. Part of being championship ready is having players to fill in when your starters have an injury, bye week, or slump.

Compare this to last year’s standings, organized by Points For.

See a correlation? Yeshivas vs. Fenoms aside, the top 4 in both categories look mighty similar. The mid-to-bottom starts to scramble a bit more (this may be due to Starter Depth %, as well as some other factors), but when it comes to keeping a high level team, quality bench depth is incredibly important. (We’ll get into this more when we examine the Fenoms’ high scoring yet disappointing 2017, and whether we can expect that to happen again.)

But enough of my proverbial sucking on Goose’s meat. Let’s take a look at something I can try to criticize: The Victoria Falls 2018 Draft.

2018 DRAFT: DROPPING THE BALL?

When a team has no apparent weakness, they get to draft whoever they want, at any position. The name of the game for a successful team is finding great value at the low draft spot they’re given. Or, if you’re Goose, fleece the Ludders for better draft position and find value there.

At a quick glance, here’s how the Falls utilized their draft:

Ohhhhhhh shiza. Did the Falls eff up? Did they really pick an RB more than an entire round ahead of their expected value? To answer those questions in order: Sadly no, despite yes. Hines was a reach, don’t get me wrong, but the Falls otherwise picked at value, and have the roster flexibility to allow for some boom or bust prospects. But why can I confidently claim that the Falls did not actually eff up this draft?

Trades. Recall in 2016, when the Falls got the Ludders 1.2 and a 2nd round swap (2.12 for 2.2) all for T.Y. Hilton and Peyton Barber? Yeah, Goose turned those around to the Hammerfest for Alshon Jeffery and Carlos Hyde, two fantasy-level starters, one of whom is just going to chill on ZIMBAB’s super talented bench. Goose also turned another asset from that trade, Kirk Cousins, into promising young player Kenny Golladay as part of a trade with the Hellslinkies.

By the way, weeks later in 2016, Goose got Peyton Barber back from the Ludders for a 3rd round pick. He also received the 2018 3.2 and 4.2 from LONG, in return for a 2017 4.05. All of this leads one writer to conclude that the owner of the Ludders has no clue what draft picks are worth. Unfortunately for the rest of us, Goose figured this out two years ago.

P.S. Mitch Kiper would like to know how Hammerfest got a hold of the 2018 4.2 from Goose. That particular trade isn’t up on the Google Doc.

But back to recapping the Falls’ draft, here are the players they received in some manner or another involving 2018 picks (I’ve summarized a few trades above for simplicity sake as well): Alshon Jeffery, Carlos Hyde, Kenny Golladay, Four Rookies with 2nd-to-3rd round value, and oh wait… a future 2019 pick from Hammerfest.

Greater Zimbabwe may not have the greater rookie picks of the draft, but they certainly made use of their assets. Their Draft Grade is pretty much the same as their overall team grade: An A. Remember when I said I’d try to criticize Zimbab’s draft? Well I tried, and Mitch Kiper earned an F™. 

GREATER ZIMBABWE: FURTHER GREATNESS AHEAD?

Let’s put it this way. I tested the Falls’ bench—Goff, Ingram, Hyde, Matthews, Golladay, Seferian-Jenkins, Boswell, and the Lions—against the Ludders’ starters, and they projected to score within ten points. An entire bench scoring within ten points of another team’s best starters. Something tells me the Falls will be okay this year, and due to their depth, there is very little chance of them ending up anywhere other than the championship bracket.

[runningseason]

Negative is Positive!

We’ve all done it. The gun goes off, the adrenaline takes over and before we know it, we went out too fast in a race. We approach mile 1 about 20 seconds too fast. No big deal, right?! Now we have 20 seconds in the “bank”. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but the Bank of Running doesn’t exist! Depending on how long your race is, this could be a very detrimental mistake made by both beginner and experienced runners alike. 

Coincidentally, this error is a hard one to break away from. It’s very easy to get “caught up in the moment” and run too fast in the early part of a race. “But I feel good,” you may tell yourself. “This could be my day for a big PR.” While this can be true, you are most likely setting yourself up for slower splits later on in the race. 

Don’t get me wrong, you can still PR with positive splits, but speaking from experience, it feels so much better (both physically and mentally) when you have a strong last mile and are passing people instead of barely holding on and getting passed. 

Running a negative split takes a lot of practice and patience. 

Let’s start first with practice. When I run workouts, I go in with a plan. My coach prescribes a pace and it is my job to run that pace for a certain amount of time and/or reps with a finite amount of recovery in between. Just like in races, it is easy to go out too fast on the first rep. This is why it is very important to be conscience of your pace and make adjustments as needed. My general rule of thumb is that if I feel I can do the entire workout at a slightly faster pace, then I better be able to keep the pace I start at and not slow down as a workout progresses. Many times, I will run my last few reps a bit faster than I started to practice negative splitting. 

Patience is the hardest part of running a negative split. Patience should be practiced during workouts, but the true test is always during a race. You need to fight that feeling in the beginning of a race that tells you that you can do anything; embrace that feeling later in the race. I have found my Garmin to be very helpful at keeping me controlled early on in a race. I’ve been told in the past to ditch the watch and run on feel, but my problem is that I feel so good in the beginning of the race, that if I don’t have my Garmin to tell me my pace, then I will go out too fast. There is nothing harder than watching people you know you are faster than go out in front of you. This is where you need to be the most patient. If you are truly faster than the person, then you will catch up. 

Last night was the men’s and women’s open USATF-NJ 5k championship. My goal going in was top 5 and sub-17:46 (which would be a PR). The time goal was most important and I figured the place would come with the time. I knew there was going to be some tough competition, but I had to be patient. My coach and I devised a pace plan for the race earlier in the week: 5:49-5:45-5:35-kick. Mother Nature decided to throw in an added obstacle—heat and humidity. The temperature was approaching 90 degrees when I arrived at the race. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to drop down to negative splits based on the conditions, but I decided I would at least go out smart and see what this 36-year-old body was capable of. The gun went off and it took everything I had to keep my pace controlled. I caught myself in the beginning and immediately slowed myself down. A few friends saw what I was doing and tried to stay close as I am known to “go out smart.” The first mile I was constantly being passed. I knew many of the people and I wonder what they were thinking when they passed me. Did they know I had a plan to run negative splits, or did they think that the heat was too much for me? 

I hit mile 1 in 5:45. Although I knew this was a few seconds faster than planned, I knew that this was a good starting point. The previous week, I made the mistake of going out in 5:37 and paid for it dearly in miles 2 and 3. As soon as I hit that mile mark, I increased my effort. Mile 2 had some uphill, so I knew I would need to push harder to maintain the same pace. It was during mile 2 that I started catching up with some of the people who passed me in the beginning and I was not going any faster. Mile 2 of a 5k can be the hardest mile because it is your maintenance mile. It’s the mile in which you want to either maintain your speed from the previous mile, or gradually increase your speed. If you went out too fast in your first mile, you probably already started slowing down before you reached the 1st mile marker, which sets you up for a much slower pace at the start of mile 2. I gave a lot of effort in my second mile of this race. I stayed focused on the task at hand. When I approached the mile marker, my Garmin clicked off another 5:45. 

With 1.1 miles left in the race, it was time to turn it on. Though I didn’t know it at the time, I had worked my way up to the 7th female position. The last mile of this course is downhill. It’s nothing substantial, but you can use it to your advantage if you run smart in the beginning of the race. It took me years of running this course before I realized the last mile was downhill. I typically ran too fast in the first mile and was on a slow death march until I reached the track finish. This year I had a plan and I was sticking to it! I started picking up the pace. I was hovering around 5:40 pace. I pushed harder to get in the high 5:30 range. I started passing a lot of people, mostly men. I saw a woman that I didn’t know in a cluster of men from my old team. I pushed hard to catch up and then I kept pushing forward to pass them. There was another woman that I passed on the downhill as well. All of a sudden, it was time to make the final right turn before the left onto the track to finish. I could see my teammate Alex getting closer. She was the only woman in sight. 

***A few days before the race when I was discussing my plan with her, I told her that I hope to see her in the 3rd mile. Alex and I run very differently, but our 5k times are similar; she is a beast in the longer races.*** 

I made that right turn and it felt like forever before we were able to make the left turn onto the track. The road approaching the track is the slightest bit uphill, so you really need to push here. Finally, I made the final left turn and my feet felt soft rubber underneath. With about 2 tenths of a mile to go, I kicked my pace up to a new gear. I was approaching the 3 mile mark. Just a curve and a straight away until the finish line. Mile 3 clicked off at 5:37. I was fast approaching Alex, so I made a move. I passed her on the curve. At this point I was giving it everything I had. Alex responded and picked up the pace. I could not go any faster, so I watched her cross the finish line 2 seconds before me.  I was so proud of her for taking it to that next level. She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t have the competition. She is not only a teammate and a friend, but we both pushed each other to new PRs!  My pace was sub-5 minute for my final kick—a new Strava course record for the track portion of this race. I ended up accomplishing both of my goals by running a 17:42 and placing 5th female!

Knowing I ran smart and gave it everything I had to progress my pace to the point of not being able to go any faster is such a positive feeling. If you haven’t tried it yet, I encourage you to try running negative—you will have nothing but positive results!

[mercadosadaf]

The Value of Swimming In Uncertain Times

Hi Swimmers

Firstly, apologies for the radio silence over the last few weeks on the blog - we've had the whole Swim Smooth team busily engaged in a complete revamp of the entire www.swimsmooth.com website and coaching interface, and whilst we are not quite done, we are getting very close and hope to resume the blog and our usual community engagement very soon. Thanks for your patience and understanding.

Today, Head Coach Paul Newsome, has prepared a reflective piece for you on the value of swimming and what it means to us all, especially in these uncertain times. We hope it allows you to pause over a cup of tea or coffee and think a little bit about your own swimming and how your relationship with the water might have changed somewhat in the last 12 months.

Paul features three brief stories of some inspiring swimmers he has had the pleasure to work with and how their swimming journeys have been significantly altered by the coronavirus, mostly for the better. Paul summarises with some of his own take-home points on how this period has changed his own thinking on swimming somewhat and how his ordinarily extrinsic competitive goalposts have shifted to a place of intrinsic challenge and finding a new calm with that. So please, relax, put your feet up and let’s get a little zen for a moment.

The Value of Swimming in Uncertain Times

I was recently invited as a guest on the new An Open Water Swimmer's Podcast with host Will Ellis (release date: 28th February here) to discuss my love and passion for swimming - an easy topic for me! Will is a great host and someone I'd taken for a Swim Smooth analysis session as part of a group over a decade ago in the UK. Given my area of technical interest in swimming, many podcasts that we've done with other hosts have always centered on these elements, but Will took a very different slant, one which focused very much on the "why" of swimming.

Why do I swim? Why do I enjoy the water? Why swimming and not another sport? I came away with a headful of thoughts that I'd either never given due consideration to before, or maybe some that crystallized a growing appreciation I've started to foster of late?

Given the current state of play with COVID-19 restrictions on our sport over the last 12 months, I feel my own relationship with water has not necessarily changed per se but it's definitely evolved. Perhaps though, it's me who's changed and it's this period of intrinsic reflection that has heightened the "why" behind what we all love to do? For many of you, could the absence of being able to do the thing you love or the thing that perhaps challenges you the most (as a triathlete maybe?) be the necessary catalyst to kick your swimming to new heights of appreciation (however you measure that) when we do all come through this? I'm certainly seeing that in myself and my squad of very lucky swimmers over here in Perth, Australia.

Lady Luck

Over the last 12 months, Perth has been heralded as one of the best places on the planet with respect to the relatively few restrictions and impact of the coronavirus - many of us scarcely realizing how lucky we are. Next week will see 3,500 people start one of the largest open water swims on the planet, the Rottnest Channel Swim, in which I will be competing with a good friend over the 20km distance. We have, however, just come out of a heavily publicized (albeit very short) 5-day lockdown here in Perth which restricted access to the pools and saw us only being able to swim solo in the open water or with one other family member. This incident garnered international press on account of the very rapid and focused response to a single case in the community transferred between a quarantined hotel guest and a security guard. The whole state came to a grinding halt for just one case - everything ceased and panic was high. Despite extensive testing (myself included) of those who may have been in the vicinity of this one person, fortunately, no other community transmission has occurred. Consequently, life is returning to some form of normality again. 

One of the hardest things I've personally struggled with over the last 12 months though is being able to fully appreciate and empathize with just how brutal this period must have been - and continues to be - for many of you from the perspective of being able to simply enjoy the pleasures of a nice swim. Lady Luck has shone down on me, and for why, I do not know? I feel a toiling mixed sense of guilt, of pure luck, and of umbrage at myself for the seemingly petty feeling of missing the ability to travel overseas and share my love of swimming with you all, wherever you might be. I miss it so much and yet feel I have no right to do so given where I have the good fortune to be right now. 

I had a frank conversation before Christmas with my Mum about this. Many of you know Linda as "Mother Smooth" and if you've ever ordered anything from us, she'd have sent it to you. True to the adage that "Mum always knows best", I finally managed to pluck up the courage and expand on how excited I was to be taking my wife and two kids camping over the Christmas holidays to a beautiful town called Albany in the South West which we'd all visited together as a family a few years earlier. Mother Smooth couldn't understand why I'd not told her sooner, to which I responded that I didn't want to make her feel bad. "Feel bad?" she quizzed, "I am at my happiest when I know you are happy". Profound stuff - good old Mum!

The Changing Tide

So, what has this all really got to do with swimming? If you are in the northern hemisphere, chances are you are sick to the back teeth of hearing about the coronavirus and maybe even more so the thought that other pockets of the world are experiencing far fewer restrictions than yourself currently. Last week's swift lockdown gave me a rapid reminder though just how uncertain these times can be - the tide can change on a dime so easily. What has been remarkable for me has been watching how those of you who still continue in enforced lockdowns have survived this last 12 months and I'd like to recognize some of the cool - and crazy - things you've been doing, obviously simply for the joy of needing to get your swim in! Perhaps you can tell us more about how you've weathered this storm so far?

Helen Webster, UK

I met Helen in March 2014 at the 220 Triathlon Show in London. As the editor of the 220 Triathlon Magazine, Helen had taken it upon herself to learn to swim freestyle properly for an upcoming triathlon and I was tasked with assisting her with that goal in an Endless Pool and in front of hundreds of people. For someone with very little swimming experience at that point, Helen did amazingly well in front of such a crowd and it’s a testament to her bubbly “can do” spirit that she took on this challenge!

We spent a good hour or so filming her stroke, analyzing it (in front of everyone!), and then getting back into the pool to correct her issues which mainly centred around developing confidence in the water and improving the timing of her stroke, specifically her breathing. Back then, Helen was what we’d have described as a classic Bambino - someone very new to swimming with a relatively high level of anxiety in the water - so to see the following images circulating on Helen’s Facebook page in the last couple of weeks simply blew my mind! Helen’s gone all Bear Grylls on us and now is not happy unless she has to break the ice in her backyard pool just to ensure she gets her swim in! I’m so proud of her as a mate!

Here's Helen on what the last 12 months have meant for her swimming:

"Open-water swimming has been a key part of my training week ever since taking those first steps with Paul all those years ago! Lockdown had made me realise just how important swimming is to me though and in so many ways. Not living near the coast and with managed venues nearby forced to close I've realised how much I rely on swimming for lifting my mood, giving me a pause from a busy world and fully immersing myself in nature. I'm a pool swimmer too and with centres all closed I'm even missing the tang of chlorine and having to do kick drills!!

It sounds melodramatic but a tearful moment on the phone with a friend prompted her to gift me a garden pool and swimming tethered has given me a route back to the water (thanks to Swim Smooth Coach Jason Tait for the tethered swim sets!). It's also led me to a new swim community who are making the most of what they have and finding humour in sitting in ice baths and under hosepipes, or sharing tips for how to stop your garden pool freezing!

I can't wait to have my 'proper' swimming back and believe me, will never take it for granted again. I'm planning a swim challenge for September and keeping fingers crossed it goes ahead!"

Sue Allingham, Denmark

Sue attended one of our 3-day Swim Smooth Coach Education Courses in Mallorca, Spain back in May 2019 and was clearly a super-passionate swimmer and coach. We’ve remained in close contact via Messenger since and she frequently sends me crazy pictures of where she’s been swimming, however, nothing could quite prepare me for this one - her frozen Margarita experience (as she calls it)!

When I asked Sue about what the last 12 months have meant for her swimming, she said this:

"A year ago I entered the World Ice Swimming Championships in Bled Slovenia for a laugh. 2 weeks later I broke both my wrists and then Lockdown! By April I was going stir crazy and the day I had my casts removed, I got back into the sea, as the pools were shut. Little did I know that I would continue going in every day since! As my wrists got stronger, I could swim longer but the thought of trying to pull on a wetsuit was hanging over my head. By the time I probably could get one on I no longer felt the need. I continued to swim throughout the year and ended up becoming the Danish age-group champion in 25m & 100m Freestyle - Ice swimming and 5k Openwater. 

A year on from Covid and we are still in the sea and simply just grabbing any opportunity to jump in the water, to try new beaches or temperatures. As you can see from the picture, we’ve started making our own frozen Margaritas! 

What will I do when the pools open again? Dive in and just keep swimming! Never thought I’d miss the black line so much. Swimming as always is such a social thing & drinking coffee with friends after each swim has really made Lockdown actually enjoyable. Already looking at SwimRuns in Sweden, hopefully as it’s close by we may be allowed to travel. Otherwise lots of pre-paid events carried over from last year. I live in hope. 

One thing is for sure, the sea is always open!"

Mark Turner, Switzerland

Mark also attended one of our other 3-day Swim Smooth Coach Education Courses in Mallorca, Spain (the week after Sue) and had just a few months prior completed the Rottnest Channel Swim here in Perth. Mark set up the world’s most prestigious multi-day cycling event for amateurs, the Haute Route, which is a brutally tough challenge in a breathtakingly beautiful landscape. Mark was also the man behind Ellen MacArthur’s sailing career (who set the world record in 2005 for the fastest solo circumnavigation of the globe), the Offshore Challenges/OC Sport business, and the Extreme Sailing Series, and is widely seen as a visionary in the sport of sailing. And, if all that wasn't enough, Mark led the Volvo Ocean Race series as CEO in 2016/17. Needless to say, Mark is not someone to do things by half and is always up for a (big) challenge! 

Mark now lives in Switzerland on the banks of Lake Geneva and is fastidious about his swimming, especially a weekly completion of the infamous 10 x 400m Red Mist Endurance session! Like with many parts of the world, Mark has had unreliable access to his local pool over the last 12 months and so has turned to the great outdoors instead…even during the middle of winter! Hooking up regularly with like-minded souls in these freezing temperatures has been what has kept Mark going and will stand him in good stead when the world finally comes back to some sense of normality.

It Is What It Is

I think one of the most obvious things with each of these three swimmers - and yourself hopefully too - is that they’ve simply rolled with the punches that 2020 and beyond has brought their way. They’ve got on with it, adapted, pivoted, and thrived in a new environment and in doing so sought out other goals to keep them motivated and in the game. Resilience personified. We always talk so virtuously in training and racing about “control the controllable”, and clearly, none of this is in any of our control right now. Way back in April 2020 when we were still in lockdown and I was personally unable to coach, a very close friend and one of my athletes, Nolan McDonnell told me to “stop trying to save us all - we can look after ourselves!” in response to me frantically trying to work out how to keep everyone fit and engaged when I couldn’t be with them face-to-face. It really struck a chord with me, and whilst it didn’t happen overnight, I did begin to accept the situation. 

Knowing I wouldn’t be able to travel and spread the Swim Smooth word - as has been my life over the last 16 or so years - was a real blow, but ever so gradually I started to move beyond this and to focus on what I could do, not what I couldn’t. For me personally, that’s meant plenty more time at home with the family, and as we are seeing on the pool deck at the moment, plenty of opportunities to be super consistent with our respective training schedules too. The squad here in Perth has never swum so quickly before, ever! Why? Everyone has their groundhog day schedule dialled in and they’re sticking to it because there’s nowhere else to go, and there’s something very centring about that, zen even. 

Fancying a challenge myself - and recognizing the collective benefit of encouraging others to follow suit - I have even got myself back into doing a few triathlons, marathon swims, and even the odd SwimRun event too! Taking on a range of varied challenges was in an effort to not put all our eggs into one basket in case events got canceled or postponed. 

Again, I’m super privileged to be able to do these things right now, and part of that appreciation brings a whole new angle on why we do what we do. For me, it’s all been about my shared experience of training up with one of my best mates Chris to do the Rottnest Channel Swim together as a Duo next week. With last week’s unprecedented lockdown it looked certain to be canceled but you know what, I wasn’t bothered in the slightest! The religiously attended Sunday morning swim with Chris in the river is what it’s all about - not the event itself. Swimming + Best Mate = Win. 

Sure, the race will be a nice finale, but the old adage of “the journey is better than the destination” is what this whole crazy period has really taught me. We egg each other on even in the middle of winter and for me, this has seen a major step away from the profound sense of training for competition’s sake, to training for training’s sake, and for the social camaraderie that this has brought. I wouldn’t change that for the world.

Even if you haven’t had the opportunity (yet) to be quite so free in your activities, that time will come again, hopefully very soon, and in the meantime, just set yourself some little consistency of routine benchmarks to tick off. Get creative like our friends above (just maybe not quite so crazy!). How many swims in the river can you consistently do every Sunday? Can you always ensure you meet up with Bob for your Friday lunchtime jog in the park? Make sure you commit to that group ride on Zwift you booked in for on the Companion app etc. It’s the little things, done often that will keep you going and when the world opens up again, you’ll be ready! 

Thanks for reading. Swim on!

Paul

from Sports http://www.feelforthewater.com/2021/02/the-value-of-swimming-in-uncertain-times.html via http://www.rssmix.com/

[ahwhite2208-blog]

A Thousand Days In Hell

Non-league football is a peculiar entity. For half of the teams in the National League, and certainly the rest in the steps below, it is a wonderful opportunity to do the unthinkable and gain entry to the world of full time football, a dream that so many children have and yet so few manage to live. The players are part time brickies, postmen, regional bank clerks – you know, the type of clubs and players that the BBC cameras fawn over in the FA Cup first round. In principle, it’s great. If I was a Gateshead or a Solihull fan, I might even enjoy it. But when a club the size of Tranmere Rovers fell out of the Football League trapdoor, the typical non-league experience is turned on its head.

The day before I moved to university, I stood on the terraces at Southport and watched us go 2-0 down within 20 minutes. It still hadn’t registered to me that this was actually happening, a feeling of bemusement that I’m sure most of us shared. It was meant to be a whistlestop tour of shit grounds and shit teams that we’d only ever seen in pre-season friendlies. As it turned out, we were destined to spend 1,115 days with this feeling. Denial, sadness, anger, guilt and frustration all came and went, depending on the level of opposition and how quickly we managed to concede. A wounded animal, confused and in pain, Tranmere Rovers as a collective entity was in unfamiliar surroundings. What were we meant to do? It felt like a fever dream. The hideous turquoise tracksuits, the god awful Vanarama branding, even the footballs themselves looked tacky and amateurish. Granted, we hadn’t exactly covered ourselves in glory for about fifteen years but what did we do to deserve this? Most of the players, on our side and theirs, looked like they had won a competition to play at being a footballer for the day. It was a continuation of the previous season’s atrocities, but at a level of football that was truly embarrassing to watch. We didn’t even make the playoffs in that first year, thanks to a team from Essex with about three pound fifty to their name and two P.E teachers in charge. Two ends of the spectrum and all that.

If I’m being honest, I remember next to nothing about the 16 months that Gary Brabin was in charge. I barely went to the games after September, I didn’t know who half of our players were, and I stopped caring. When you spend your 18thbirthday watching Boreham Wood beat you 2-0, something inside of you just dies. I didn’t even bother going to Wrexham. I binned off browsing the Cowsheds – probably a wise decision for anyone wanting to keep their sanity – so FlashScore and the occasional Twitter update was about as much as I could be arsed. I was used to my Kopite and Bluenose mates taking the piss out of us, but I draw the line at Sebastian from Surrey braying in the Mission smoking area about how he could never watch non-league football because his daddy gets executive seats at Chelsea. To be honest, I kept a good crowd at uni. Most of my teammates supported Championship teams like Ipswich or Preston, but even their sympathetic nods and “you’re too big to be down there, remember when you were playing us in League One?” became depressing.

On my occasional visits home in second year, things seemed to be picking up pace. The glamping tent was established (two Gamma Rays and a Sheppy’s please Mark) and we had an alright team. Nors and Harris were becoming cult heroes, we signed Steeeeve and looked like we could actually win the league. Still had to put up with the refereeing, the 12 North Ferriby fans and the voice in the back of your head that says you’re going to be here forever, but at least things were looking up. Remember though, this is Tranmere, and the good was inevitably followed by the bad. Lincoln away was possibly the worst place I’ve ever been for several reasons, the main one being that it looks like post-apocalypse Brexit Britain and the locals are the strangest mutants you can imagine. Whoever’s van I keyed: you deserved it for a) beating us, b) living in Lincoln and c) having a copy of the S*n on your dashboard. Imagine giving somewhere as desolate as Lincoln city status. Anyway, they had the last laugh because they won the league by four points and we got beat at Wembley by a team whose owner wanted to spend millions of actual Great British Pounds on a football ground made out of matchsticks.

Having a life outside of Tranmere proved to be surprisingly easy when we were dwelling in the depths of non-league. I still spent my Saturdays on the couch with an illegal stream of Phil Thompson’s nose and no money in my Betfair account, but it was a somewhat refreshing change to not be planning your life around Rotherham away on a Tuesday night. There wasn’t a chance that I was spending my free government money going to Dover or Torquay when I could spend it on weed and takeaways instead. The few aways that I did manage (hello, 20 minute train journeys to Guiseley and Halifax) were just soul crushing. The council pitch that Guiseley play on had a building site behind it, and absolutely zero incline on the terrace, which is a problem for a short arse like me. I went three times in three years and managed to see a grand total of about 40 minutes. Still worth it for the time I got sick of a 15 year old singing ‘sign on’ and told him in no uncertain terms that Sutcliffe killed his nan. There’s a couple of layers in that one.

As usual, the footballing gods conspired against us last year and we managed to get ¾ of our midfield injured before the play off final. I think we were one injury away from having a centre midfield partnership of Purple Aki and Pete Price, although on reflection the lizard would have had a better game than Lois Maynard. If he was under 6 foot, he’d still be knocking about playing for Manchester Met or wherever we signed him from, the absolute fucking fraud. I’m sure Aki would have put the fear of God into Forest Green as well. Imagine marking him from a corner, he’d have a field day squeezing muscles. In all honesty, we deserved another year in hell for that performance. I’d like to make an official apology for getting escorted off the premises for what can only be described as monumentally dickish behaviour after a long day in the sun.

Now that we’ve won there, I can finally say that Wembley is a corporate shithole without it sounding like sour grapes. Mr. Palios, tear down that arch! Christ alive, what an awful place it is to watch football. Notwithstanding the fact that it’s only ever 20% full for the National League, everything about it just drains you as a fan. It’s more like an airport hangar than an actual ground. I hear Tottenham are putting shops in their new gaff, something the Jaguars owner will almost definitely copy when he buys the place. I’m not a fan of London in general, but Wembley just takes the piss. If I can make it through the next 60 odd years of my life without ever going back, I’ll be happy.

The fact that I’ve got this far in without mentioning the referees is testament to how long the list of complaints about the National League is. Incompetent would be putting it kindly, because every single one of these clowns got their qualifications from the back of a Cornflakes packet. I’m well into my conspiracy theories, and the one about BT and Vanarama deliberately keeping us down in order to boost viewing figures sounds plausible enough, but that would require several doses of the dark arts that these morons don’t have the brain capacity for. It’s a hard job to referee a football match, made even harder if you have absolutely no common sense. The timewasting in that league is enough to test the patience of a saint. All the VAR nonsense at the World Cup is proof that the governing institutions have gone mental. You’d never finish a game in the National League if the refs had VAR. The first half against Ebbsfleet would still be going on. I could list hundreds of terrible decisions both for and against us and it still wouldn’t scratch the surface, but Ritchie Sutton getting sent off at Welling, Scott Davies being assaulted into the net at Barrow and Chester getting a penalty that was about three yards outside the box all stick out.

The last thing I fancy a rant about is the almost comedic lack of professionalism surrounding the entire setup. They absolutely ham it up to the BT cameras like the entire world has woken up at 12.30 to watch Woking v Eastleigh on a Saturday morning. Literally every tweet the official account has ever posted makes me cringe, the pundits are so painfully beige that they make Steve Claridge and his receding hairline look like Little Richard in comparison and Boreham Wood somehow managed to get away with charging to watch their highlights. The fucking cheek of it! It was a stress relief to unfollow them all, clicking each button and feeling part of my soul flowing back into me. At one point, we had no idea whether we were playing on Saturday or not, because the FA Trophy replay took priority over the league. Usually this is all sorted out as soon as possible, but because the NL fixtures are done by some fella writing them down in his ma’s kitchen, they’d got confused. They eventually told us on Friday afternoon that yes, your league game is on. I despair. Even the whole Solihull floodlights debacle got sorted quicker. Juventus’ match-fixing scandal had nothing on that, by the way. The 200 odd people who watched that replay were witness to us throwing that game. I don’t think I saw anyone in a white shirt break out of a jog, and I was all for it. I got to spend a lovely weekend in Solihull (not a patch on Birkenhead) and watch a game of football played in front of a crowd smaller than the Beechwood-Upton derby, with a fraction of the intensity. The perfect non-league experience.

I’ll finish this off by saying thank you to Mark and Nicola Palios, to everyone at the Trust and the TROSC, the Wirral Radio team, and every single season ticket holder. Without you, the club wouldn’t have climbed out of the pit. In fact, I think we’d have developed Stockholm Syndrome within the next few seasons and become like our Welsh friends. The turnaround and revitalisation of the entire structure of this football club gives us hope for the future. Not just blind hope, but optimism as well. When we were losing to Altrincham, I didn’t think that the suites would be pulling in money, or we’d have an academy setup in China. When Welling were putting us to the sword, I didn’t think we’d ever see a club that the fans are so fiercely proud of again. Thank you for not losing interest when I did. That day at Wembley has already been written about. Let us not emerge from non-league abyss blinking at the sunlight, desperate for comfort. Let us instead kick the door of League Two down, wielding dual scythes and behead Stevenage like an invading Dothraki horde.

Figuratively, obviously.

[inb4vaughn]

Chipping Instruction For Kids – And Everyone

Short game has been my passion since I realized that it is the biggest equalizer in golf. Not everyone is able to hit the ball solidly nor should we fool our students into believing they can, but everyone can learn to be a good short game artist. We all know the importance of putting and distance control, but it’s time to discuss chipping instruction, especially to juniors, though there’s plenty here for adults, too.

I teach students at the Lion Golf Academy two options to chip. Option one is higher in the air, option two is lower in the air. Obviously, it really all depends on the lie, position, and situation you are in, but I can tell you that most people, adults and juniors alike, hit too many high shots.

Why? Maybe because we think it is better. Maybe because we see flop shots on TV by the best golfers in the world who spend hours a day practicing those shots and admire the talent it takes. I agree there is satisfaction in accomplishing them but is it worth the gamble? If you want that rare shot that may give you the joys of tour players with a very low success and a high risk rate, then go ahead. But don’t expect your scores to improve, or to gain the ability to learn the art form of scoring.

Paul Runyan, better known as “Little Poison,” was one of the best short game artists of all time. Standing 5 feet-7 inches tall and weighing 125 pounds, he won nine PGA Tournaments in a single season in 1933 and won 29 total PGA tournaments including two PGA Championships. This man earned that nickname and he owed it entirely to his short game. He didn’t hit it long enough to reach many holes in regulation but found a way to still score by relying on the greatest equalizer in golf, his short game.

There was a story of him beating Ben Hogan in a round of match play, and the reporters asked Hogan how he enjoyed Paul Runyan’s game and company. Mr. Hogan replied only as he could: “I never saw the man other than the tee box and the green, and I liked him better on the tee box.”

My students are aware of the “little poison” only because I teach them his style of chipping. Hands high, weigh left, swing left, stay left, and usually with a 6 or 7 iron, as I’m demonstrating in Photo 1. It is a very basic motion with very little to no wrist movement and resembles that of a putting motion. The ideology is to keep the same motion and swing arc, but just change out the clubs. It deals with math, and ratios.

The 9 iron will probably carry 50 percent and roll 50 percent, while the 5 iron will carry 15 percent and roll 85 percent. It all depends on the slope of the green, angle, lie, position of shot, etc. It requires the player to walk the shot beforehand and think about where they wish to land the ball, and how much break and run they wish to use (like a putt) then choose the club that allows that ratio.

You would have to have the student practice an awful lot with each club to get the ratios, but make sure the swing doesn’t get further or change. That is the beauty of it. When it comes to the high/low option choice, I al-ways teach my students to look low first, and as a last resort to look high if you “have” to flop it.

In the high option you have very little control with a longer swing, usually hitting it a short distance. On the low shot, you have more control and learn to read the chip like a putt, and it is a shorter motion that is easy to duplicate and goes further. Less is more!

To help the students discover and test this theory, I usually use bright red chairs so it’s easy for them to see the goals (Photo 2). I ask the first set of students to hit a high flop shot that has to go over the chairs (Photo 3); they get three shots each. If they are lucky enough to clear the chairs, then those shots qualify for our closest to the pin contest.

I then ask them on their second shot to try and go under the chairs, using the “little poison” technique. Most of the time all three balls qualify go under the chairs, and it results in more selection of shots to qualify for the closest to the pin contests.

This is a great drill to help the student learn through experience which shots are a higher percentage than others without forcing that decision on them. When you involve the student to make those decisions through experience, you will be amazed with the increase of growth on both decision making and planning and executing.

Utilizing what we know about putting through distance control only gets amplified through chipping. The idea is to teach the student that everyone can plan and execute the short game. It only takes time, and a little patience with each student starting with fundamentals like grip and stance (Photo 4).

I am a huge believer that the full swing is mostly talent driven, but the short game from 30 yards and in is mostly correct practice and time investment. It’s something we can all agree on that most people still fail to do. Most people would rather spend hours on the range learning how to hit shots that equals 40 to 50 percent of your game on the course.

If most people switched that ratio to putting and chipping, the national handicap would go down rather quickly. We have just been trained to believe that distance off the tee and spending thousands of dollars a year on new equipment is the secret. If I added up all the 10 yards every manufacturer has promised me over my life of golf, I would be able to hit the ball over 3,000 yards. Don’t drink the Kool Aid, folks; correct practice, and time on the green and surrounds will make you a better player.

I challenge everyone as a family to get out on the chipping green, putting green, and practice bunkers and spend some good quality family time and do these drills, and come up with your own game to help you learn and practice — and most importantly, to stay on that practice green.

Next time: Full swing mechanics and drills; how to have fun with your child on the range and learn at the same time.

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