#trackmeet

[nicks-lunchbox-service]

5.4.23 Lunchtime drawing: Track meet with a view of the Manhattan Bridge. Go go go!!!

#NicksLunchboxService #manhattanbridge #trackmeet #watercolor #bridge #drawingaday #sketchbook #paintingaday

[hispeedtrackclub]

#Beverlyhills #trackmeet #trackandfield #discusthrowers #discusthrow #losangelestrackandfield #hispeedtrackclub https://www.instagram.com/p/CpRaTw_LW4B/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#beverlyhills #trackmeet #trackandfield #discusthrowers #discusthrow #losangelestrackandfield #hispeedtrackclub

[glowstickslasher]

Oh looks like I've got a little bunny to go chase

#watch your ass trackmeet

[moralesmilesanhour]

trackmeet (re-write!) 01

summary: you didn't like to lose, especially not to someone like Miles. wc: 500-ish A/N: I felt like the original version of this fic had potential to be an interesting story but needed a lil polish. So here I am! The reader is kinda ridiculous but we're rolling with it lmao enjoy! (I know absolutely fuck-all about running track so pls don't jump me sdfghjk I'll research more in the future I promise)

read the original here...at ur own risk

This would be your third year trying out for the track team.

You and a handful of other students were strewn about the area next to the actual track, stretching in various positions to prepare. You spent nearly all of August keeping in shape - sweating through your shirt in the gym, running around your yard, around the park, around your block - all to make sure that your fastest time remained the fastest on the entire team. So far, your routine hasn't failed you yet.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the clang of your water bottle being knocked over by a pair of red and white Jordans.

“S-sorry!” exclaimed the boy they were attached to as he stumbled over his own feet to get back to his spot. You cut your eyes at him, but paid him no further attention.

“Alright people, to the white line!”

Your heartbeat surged with excitement as you followed the coach’s directions and kneeled in front of the line, absolutely certain that the only record you’d have to beat was your own.

The sound of the whistle sent you flying, immediately leaving almost all of the other candidates in the dust.

All except one.

A blurry figure zipped past you in a gust of wind, crossing the finish line an entire five seconds before you could get to it. 

How the hell…?

Heaving incredulously, you looked up to see who had somehow managed to give you competition after all these years. It was the boy with the fancy sneakers. 

He was tall and lanky–not an uncommon trait among this particular group of students–with a high-top fade and warm brown skin. Once you landed on his eyes, they were staring directly at you and widened in fear. The boy scurried off of the track as soon as the coach dismissed everyone. 

So it seemed that Visions had somehow finally enrolled someone speedier than you. Disappointing, but an easy fix with enough focused practice. What made your eyes narrow in suspicion, however, was spotting the boy reaching into his bag just outside the door fastening something around his wrists. His head turned every which way, as if surveying the area for fear of being caught. 

Naturally, you followed him.

Was it kinda stalking? Maybe. But was it absolutely necessary? Of course. 

Worst case scenario, you find nothing and go home. Best case scenario, you find something that would get him kicked off the team.

With light steps, you hid behind the corner of an old building as you watched him size up a fire escape, expecting him to climb up the steps.

Then he leaps. He leaps again. And again. Without taking a single step.

He lands on top of the fire escape without so much as breaking a sweat, and just as you were about to find out where he was going…

He disappears.

There’s no other way you could’ve possibly explained it; the boy had simply vanished despite there being nothing blocking your view. Had you hallucinated his existence the entire time?

No, couldn’t have. He’d knocked over your water bottle! The coach had smiled at him! He had to be real.And tomorrow, you were going to find out what he was up to.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #miles morales fic #atsv x reader #moralesanhour

[rabbiteclair]

everybody jokes about tech companies having names like Gribb.lr, but I posit that those are only a small corner of the market, and that what you're really looking at, especially when it comes to SaaS and PaaS stuff, is names that are two 1-2 syllable words smushed together.

do your code reviews on MonkeyBarrel™. track your sales opportunities in HotScout™. provide quarterly performance feedback to your coworkers in BeesWax™. get your DDoS protection from BitKnight™. share UI mockups in LightSpire™. track engagement analytics in CafeSpy™. gather customer feedback in ThoughtSpout™. track employee feedback in CloutWhale™. monitor expenses in DollarDog™. host your media in GlassHouse™. implement business workflows in TrackMeet™. track customer support issues in StriveWise™. collate and search production logs in BookMouse™. send incident alerts in SentryPost™. implement customer-facing chatbots in BanterStreet™. automate VM creation in BigLever™. create a templated and version-controlled homepage in CloudCanvas™. coordinate business travel in SwiftSee™. track your coworkers' morality in VoidHeart™. undertake the dark pilgimage in CryptWalk™. offer sacraments unto Grez-Belfor the Star Goat with AltarHive™. purge the masses in CullBuddy™. blot out the sun with ShadeFast™. spread plague to the corners of the earth with BlightStar™. fill the seas with blood in StyxEdge™. rain fire from the skies with CinderBox™. tally the souls of the damned with EssenceTrain™. usher in the end of all things in TrumpetCall™. return to the primordial void with NullGuru™.

et cetera

[moralesmilesanhourlibrary]

trackmeet (pt. 1 + 2)

summary: you're the top student on the track team until a certain someone beats your record. originally posted: sept. 2, 2019 and sept. 21, 2019, respectively a/n: this was later re-written in 2023! whether it will be completed? who knows...

This was your third time trying out for track. For the past two years, you’d had the fastest time out of everyone on the team. THE fastest. Before the first day of school, you ran laps around the park, around your yard. As per usual, you stretched on the sidelines with others, your water bottle sitting on the gym floor to your right.

Exactly five minutes and forty eight seconds before tryouts began (you were keeping track on your digital watch), a pair of red and white Nike sneakers trip over your water bottle.

“S-sorry,” a disembodied voice chokes out. You cut your eyes at the stumbling figure, but ultimately pay them no mind and return to your stretching routine.

“Alright, everyone line up around the gym, on the gray lines please!”

After various excercises, the coach had everyone meet up on the track outside for a 100-meter dash. You had this in the bag. Tilting your head from side to side and pulling your slender legs behind you, you get in position to sprint.

“GO!”

You practically fly into action. As expected, nearly all of the participants were behind you (and stayed behind you). All except for one. With red and white Nikes.

No matter how much or when you pushed your legs and feet, the kid was way ahead of you. Seeing the coach’s expression of pleasant surprise made you a whole different typa mad. Running was the only thing you could look forward to. Be told you were the best at. It wasn’t fair.

After being dismissed from tryouts, steaming rage boiled in the pit of your stomach and laboured your breathing. Second place. You caught a look at the kid who beat you. He was slender, and about your height, and packing his things to go.

He catches you unintentionally glaring at him and freezes, sheer terror transforming his face. The boys sprints out of the gym, just as fast as he did on the track. Looking down at your watch, you furrow your brows as you realize you were about to be late for dinner, and your mom wouldn’t be too excited about that. Unknowingly, you catch up to the kid outside the entrance of the school, who begins to look around and creep towards the side of an adjacent building, but duck behind the nearest bush before he can turn around and catch you.

Was this stalking? Yes. Was it absolutely necessary? Duh!

You expected him to take out some illegal shit, like performance-enhancing drugs or something, but what you saw made your jaw drop.

The boy climbed the building with his bare hands, then shot some substance from his arm to swing to the next. And the next. And the next.

-

Frustrated as you were about being one-upped at tryouts, the email confirming you’d been selected to be on the team took some of the sting away. What was at the forefront of your thoughts, though, was what you’d witnessed just after.

You had to find that kid.

Making a beeline for the cafeteria, you scanned through the sea of faces for him. In your search, you lose your sense of direction and step back into another body. Whipping around to apologise, you couldn’t believe your luck–he had been right behind you.

“S-SORRY-”

“Excuse me-”

You awkwardly interrupted each other. Before the kid could rush past you, you firmly grab his shoulder and he hesitantly turns to face you again. Banking on his fear, you give the boy the most intense stare you could muster.

“Hey,” You began a little too casually, “can we like, talk?” You look around, “privately?”

Without a word, the boy quickly nods and follows you at your signal to a more discreet corner of the cafeteria. Once the two of you are seated, you give him your best politician smile.

“So, did you make it onto the track team?” you ask, sweetly. The boy relaxes a little. “Y-yeah, I got the email. You?” Nodding, you cut right to the chase, “I have a bit of a hunch, and I need to confirm it.” Once again, the kid you were interrogating tenses.

You pause for a moment to phrase the question, then ask, “how did you swing off of all those buildings yesterday?” You’re almost amused at the sheer horror that took over the boy’s face. Before he can answer, the bell rings and students begin streaming through the double doors of the cafeteria to get to class.

You watch the new Spider-Man swing through Brooklyn every evening on television, or as you were walking home, if you were really lucky. You began to recognize the way he practically flew from building to building. It was the same way that boy suddenly launched himself up onto skyscrapers–the same hand motion, too. The look on his face told you your intuition was correct. Being Spider-Man more than likely gave him some kind of athletic advantage.

Knowing this made you feel a little better about your own running abilities.

#miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader #category: og fic

[bcacstuff]

The story Sam told about Valentine's with Graham sounds bogus. 2019 Sam was in Hawaii for VD, it was around Tuna gate. 2020 was just after he was in NY, as trackmeet gate was around Feb 8, and he was Vegas for culinary with AN or back in LA, 2021 he was in Scotland shooting OL, and 2022 was post New Zealand trip. Earlier than 2019, the story doesn't fit because of MM and shooting schedule. The wine, drinking dinner with GMT, works but not for a Valentine's day.

Sorry Anon, but I have to correct you on this one. VD 2022 he was still in NZ. He tweeted about wrapping MiK2 on February 16 and then flew back landing in the UK during storm Eunice, which hit the UK/Europe on February 17/18. He talked about that on Zoe Ball's podcast. The first spotting in London was on February 19.

See this is where the timeline is helpful and why I made them. See timeline 2 (at the end) wrapping up MiK2 and timeline 3 beginning with him getting back in London.

Valentine's Day 2023 seems already been covered too, as TFY or BtoM or whatever it will be named, comes out on that day. 😉

Oh and about paying the bill... I bet not out of his own pocket 😉. He might have been the one with the creditcard paying it on behalf of the production (GGC is involved again I believe)

[beatrack92]

Demi van den Wildenberg 🇳🇱

2022 AtH Trackmeeting Eindhoven

#demi van den wildenberg #team netherlands #sprinting #athletic girls #girls abs #female athletes #athletics #track and field

[brandlife]

#branding #logos

[painofhumanity]

Name: Delilah Margaret Hanlon Nicknames: Lilah, D (by Lucky) D.O.B: March 19th Age: 13 Species: human Family: Mike Hanlon (dad), Nadine Grant (mom), Lucky Hanlon (big brother)

Lilah would never tell her brother, but she grew up knowing exactly why her parents weren't together: her mom couldn't bring herself to raise another woman's child, and it broke their relationship. Her mom stayed in contact and took Lilah for weekends every now and then during the school year, or for a couple weeks during the summer, but she was mostly raised by her dad.

Growing up, it was really just Lucky, Lilah, and their dad--with frequent visits with their dad's old friends and their kids, who really were the only extended family either of them ever knew.

Lilah was always a shy kid and it made it a little hard for her to make friends. She thankfully had an older brother who didn't mind her hanging out with him and his friends, and so often just ended up joining in on boys nights, or going to do things with Lucky and his friends like going to the mall. The girls he hung out with thought it was adorable, and the guys just liked that she wasn't a whiny little kid, and always seemed content just to be included. When she wasn't hanging out with Lucky and his friends, she generally just sat by herself with a good book--she also often brought a book with her to her brother's trackmeets and read during the races he wasn't in.

#{📖} lilah hanlon ; bio #queue the raven: nevermore

[meowizard]

but they change their chune! whenya gottem intha backseat! (with 'is 'eart bee'in fahst) they make it sound like a trackmeet!! gross!!!!!

#/lry. to be very clear #or rather #/lyr. my dumbass

[hispeedtrackclub]

#Beverlyhills #trackmeet #trackandfield #discusthrowers #discusthrow #losangelestrackandfield #hispeedtrackclub https://www.instagram.com/p/CpRZmMkr4zk/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#beverlyhills #trackmeet #trackandfield #discusthrowers #discusthrow #losangelestrackandfield #hispeedtrackclub

[trackandfieldimage]

Trayvon Bromell , 100m ( 9.92 sec) 2021 Track Meet, Irvine ,CA Sound Running/ American Track League . . . . . . . #trayvonbromell #usatf #100meters #jeffcohenphoto #soundrunning #trackmeet #americantrackleague #trackandfield #roadtotokyo #athletics #newbalance #nbrunning #teamusa #worldathletics @iamtrayvonbromell @usatf @newbalancerunning @soundrunning https://www.instagram.com/p/CO8sZjmL51j/?igshid=1hvns8zqo4s9c

#trayvonbromell #usatf #100meters #jeffcohenphoto #soundrunning #trackmeet #americantrackleague #trackandfield #roadtotokyo #athletics #newbalance #nbrunning #teamusa #worldathletics

[blerdsunite]

#trackmeet #1960s They probably were slow as shit lol that hair https://www.instagram.com/p/B5Q4fBXh0MG/?igshid=1cpchnbjcnbad

#trackmeet #1960s

[vaultermagazine]

Side by side view only four days later. @running_report ・ M😳ND😳 DUPLANTIS⁣ ⁣ Crazy what a difference of a couple days can make. ⁣ ⁣ @mondo_duplantis sets a New Indoor Pole Vault World Record of 6.17m after missing the mark earlier this week. Also he’s only 20 🤯🤯⁣ ⁣ Is the Outdoor WR next?? 🤔⁣ ⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣⁣ #milesplit #runner #indoortrack #running #runnerspace #mile #track #polevault #ncaa #pv #trackmeet #usatf #runningmotivation #trackandfield #crosscountry #2020tokyo #sprinter #hurdles #nxn #olympics #run #trackstar #ncaatrack #track #mile #diamondleauge #relays #runner #flotrack https://www.instagram.com/p/B8U0y7CnUyq/?igshid=xnuj9x166ull

#milesplit #runner #indoortrack #running #runnerspace #mile #track #polevault #ncaa #pv #trackmeet #usatf #runningmotivation #trackandfield #crosscountry #2020tokyo #sprinter #hurdles #nxn #olympics #run #trackstar #ncaatrack #diamondleauge #relays #flotrack

[gojugirl]

The Week Of...

Lots of religious days of importance are happening this week - including the start of Holy Week for Christians coinciding with Jewish Passover celebrations. As my mother died on Easter Sunday, it's been a conflicting time for me for many years. Twenty-seven years ago this week, my family was everywhere emotionally. We'd received the devastating news a few weeks before that my mom's breast cancer had metastasized to not only her lungs and liver (which she knew about), but also to her brain. In addition to the struggle that comes with knowing someone you love has only a short time left in this physical plain, my dad insisted that my mom not be told about the new diagnosis, and my disagreement with his insistence led to a lot of additional tension. Hospice was around, as was a day nurse that helped administer medications to mom during the day. Back then, adjuvant treatment included oral dilantin to help eliminate brain swelling. It had to be administered every six or eight hours, if I recall - plus an N-G tube had to be taken care of to make sure liquid nutrients could be given as well, as she was unable to eat. Add the steady stream of family and friends happening by to visit, and it's not hard to get that there was lots of movement in and around the house during Holy Week that year. But the push to aim for normalcy was strong. I'd moved back home less than a year before from Philadelphia to deal with a career change/transition from photojournalism that involved deciding if graduate school was the direction to take. In between gathering GRE and grad program application information, I was also training for an outside chance at trying for another Olympic team. Yes, things were crazy busy. Because mom was pretty immobile, changing her bed sheets was done the same way hospitals do it: by rolling her over instead of getting her out of bed. But a new Hospice bed delivery required that we get her up to actually change beds. During the relatively quick exchange, we helped her sit in the big comfy chair in the room, a plush recliner that happened to sit near a dresser. Not two minutes after she got into the chair, she glanced into the mirror and was pretty shocked to see that all of her hair was gone from the radiation she'd received in the hospital when her metastasis was discovered. "Wow," she said as she rubbed her head. "I'm as bald as a cue ball!" She didn't ask where her hair had gone or why, but I think she knew. As the Olympic Trials were around the corner, I had decided to open my outdoor track season with a meet in New Jersey that seemed to be about an hour or so away. My mom was always my biggest cheerleader, traveling the country with me to meets through the years - both during and after college. She was actually more excited about the meet than I was. The night before the meet was Good Friday. As lots of folks called to see how she was, I remember overhearing my dad telling folks he hadn't seen in years that my mom was acting a bit delirious, describing her as "talking out of her head." That totally shocked me, because I hadn't witnessed anything like that at all. She and I talked all the time, although she talked a lot less than she use to. I remember giving her a manicure that night. While I painted, she talked a bit about the meet, asking if my uniform was clean and if my car was gassed up and ready to go. She said she wished she could go and watch me compete. While I painted my own nails the same color I told her she'd be with me in spirit, but she was already fast asleep. I took a picture of our hands together a few minutes later.

My event started relatively early so I had to leave on Saturday when it was barely light outside to make it on time. But it ended up being much further away than I'd thought and it seemed like it took forever to get there. The whole while I drove, I kept thinking about how horrible it would be if my mom passed away while I was stuck in my car trying to get to or from a track meet. Those thoughts and the very cold weather made me warm up, take just one jump (winning the event at a pretty low height), get back in my car and drive home as fast as I could. As soon as I poked my head into the room, she smiled and wanted to know how the meet went. "How did you do?" she said. "It didn't go so well," I told her. "Don't worry - you'll get 'em next time." Those raspy words were the very last ones she ever said to me. Around midnight, when I went in to give the dilantin, her breathing was very loud and labored. I knew instantly that I needed to get everyone up and here as soon as possible. I told my dad, then called our pastor. His wife told me he'd be right over. We - my dad, grandmother, great aunt (grandmother's sister) and the pastor - sang and talked to her for what seemed like both an eternity and only a few minutes. Sometime after 4am, her breathing got even more labored and shallow. I was standing near her left leg and just kept rubbing the tiny spot above her knee. Seconds later, she took her last breath. My mom passed away from metastatic breast cancer on 4/19/92 at 4:19am. Folks around the globe were getting up and prepping to get to Sunrise Services to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. I was calling the local funeral home to make arrangements for a funeral. I’ve always thought there was a strange irony in that. This year, the 19th is actually Good Friday, and I have been dreading it big time. Of course I remember the day she died, but because Easter Sunday isn't a fixed date on the calendar, the dates don't coincide every year. Memories seem to hit a smidge differently when they actually do, though. Suffice to say it will be a long weekend. In the years since, I've married, become a mother myself, divorced, been through all sorts of life changes and even married again. This is the first time I've ever written about those last days with her.Thanks for indulging the need to commit these thoughts and memories to virtual paper. I guess it was important for me to do this today and in this way. May you enjoy your holy day celebrations with your families or with whomever you celebrate. I plan on trying my best to do the same. 

#BreastCancer #Easter #HolyWeek #Dilantin #Hospice #LastWords #Mom #TrackMeet #Radiation