Amputee peg leg
PegLeg!
2013.12.20 00:23 PegLeg!
2017.12.03 01:30 This Thing Is Soo Minty
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2024.05.20 23:12 Stock-Sprinkles-9325 Jack O Pose TR6 RX124
 | https://preview.redd.it/kyvxy6dzbn1d1.jpg?width=4032&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=2588a5d2979caeb85becc426be0b56769b14f676 submitted by Stock-Sprinkles-9325 to gunplagonewild [link] [comments] https://preview.redd.it/bxx88pl8dn1d1.jpg?width=4032&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=f5a920ee668f26214401b0956eb53a7c5aec80fc Months ago there's a post mentioning about bootleg kit woundwort that does jack o pose got me curious and had to purchase it plus is only $7, but my contract job got me delay so i apologize for the late. Few things to do, Collar, Neck, and Pelvis https://preview.redd.it/kofry5x0cn1d1.jpg?width=1737&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=59c823466f6de1f32d7703cf62979a692bc4a78d https://preview.redd.it/ba45okencn1d1.jpg?width=1829&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=aed6bd06e8d37f646235aeb5cca53c7cb92405fa https://preview.redd.it/1ihvji6qcn1d1.jpg?width=3027&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=710ac60e5ff44986d85dfb4529eeea0ec723f5ec https://preview.redd.it/legz0sgscn1d1.jpg?width=3359&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=16b33f09c6f496fc61e2881f87c5dcddd7fcd5da https://preview.redd.it/1pkdgopvcn1d1.jpg?width=2268&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=c18cf81ebd251c95fd792b9b32b1e22a482884d8
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2024.05.20 21:45 Will12239 Battle hack
Never seen it posted anywhere online. I grew up in Texas and we would get our hacky sacks when in Mexico. One common game that everyone in my area played was called battle hack or battle hacky sack. It was a mix of dodgeball and hacky sack. The rules were the bag had to be hit at least 3 times, by at least 3 different people before coming active. When the ball is active a player can grab it and peg someone, but they can't move. If a player catches the bag while being pegged, the thrower is out hence the skill of hitting people in the legs or hard to catch areas. The thrower has to act fast since everyone in the circle runs away. If the bag missed the circle reset. You could not serve the ball to yourself. If you were passed the bag you were allowed to hit it around to yourself as long as you want, but it couldn't touch your arms and you only count as 1 person. Once the bag was active anyone even another player could grab it and throw it. Most of the time we played with 3 lives. It was very popular in BSA and my HS. Anyone ever play this or something similar?
submitted by Will12239 to Hackysack [link] [comments]
2024.05.20 20:47 wecanhaveallthree [f][leagues of votann] Milk Run
It was too late now. All Meddler could do was grit his teeth and tuck his chin.
The punch came in fast, but in that slow-motion shaft-collapse things do when there’s pain on the way and nothing you could do about it. He had plenty of opportunity to study the crisscross of scars on hairy knuckles, to smell the rancid grog they called ‘shoot’ on his assailant’s breath - to watch those wide, angry eyes as the blow landed.
To hear half the bones in that untrained fist break on skein-toughened skull. It must have been like belting bedrock. Ancestors, the poor drunk would have had more luck slamming his hand in a metal press.
Meddler grinned. His turn. And since there were no prizes in a bar fight - and he might need his own hands for something useful that day - he slugged the local right in his gut and stepped back to avoid the sudden stream of watery ejecta. Hold and Forge, but they served thin-bodied stuff in these local dives, knowing that the labourers off the plains - strictly grog-free, those jobs, and touchy about it - wouldn’t argue the difference, and wouldn’t feel it all the same by the end of the night.
The plainsfolk had no tolerance for it. Hadn’t much tolerance for anything that happened in cities like Maron Ma’jal, though calling the sprawl that spread out from the meagre sandstone docks a ‘city’ - smaller even than a rural logistics hub back on Hesperis - felt like giving the locals too much credit.
Their urban kin felt at least an equal disdain for the plainsfolk. The publican barely looked up as his nominal fellow fell into a puddle of quick-drying sick, groaning.
‘Dirt eaters,’ he growled. ‘No end of trouble.’
Meddler grunted, smoothing down his ruddy red beard. It bristled like a gyrinx when his temper was up, like a bloody thornbush - and that seemed more often than not, the last few days. He wiped sweaty palms down the rugged grey weave of his coverall. ‘From me or them, sirrah?’
‘Henh. Don’t mind the brawls. Part of the entertainment.’ The publican held a musty glass up to the morning light filtering in through the cracked shutters. ‘But the ones I don’t know? No good. Lot of strange faces, hands I don’t recognise.’ The glass passed this cursory examination and went back on the rack. ‘You see hands like his, what do you think?’
The Kin shrugged, not particularly interested - he’d just wanted a drink before the sun picked up and day-roster rolled over. ‘They don’t pay me to think.’
A strange, high-pitched warble: the publican’s laughter. He brought all four hands down on the weathered countertop, then folded two up to cradle his tilted head. With heavy brow and thick furred body visible beneath a rough tunic, the Karic could almost be a strain of Jokaero, though nothing Meddler had seen suggested they had anything like the innate technical genius of that race. They were humanoid enough that they might survive under the bootheel of the Imperium, even - relegated to the very bottom of that black pit as an abhuman strain.
If the Kin were ever put in such straits, Meddler figured he’d eat his own axe than ‘survive’ in that manner, even if it meant he’d never join his Ancestors. Some lives just weren’t worth living.
‘You look down, sure,’ said the publican. ‘But that’s what you do, you look. Always looking. More eyes than should fit in your head, all looking where others can’t or won’t. So. Humour me, and see to his hands.’
With a scowl, Meddler knelt - not a far trip down, all told. When he’d confronted the plainsfolk, his red ‘hawk would barely have tickled the Karic’s nose and this specimen hadn’t been particularly imposing. They stood about the height of a well-fed Imperial, thinner in the trunk, with much of their bulk going towards their four arms and powerful legs. They’d been hunters at some time in the not-so-distant past. Judging by the dirt eater’s attire of rough leather harness and moccasins, some kept those traditions alive and in practical use.
The Kin carefully turned the Karic’s primary hands over. Knuckle-scarred, as he’d seen, but the palms were less rough. Much less so. Not what one would expect from a labourer or, as he’d speculated, a regular hunter. Weathering, at very least, from working with hides and crude tools or weapons, would be expected.
The second set was even smoother. Delicate, even, as though almost unused, or used very sparingly.
‘Fresh as a virgin seam,’ Meddler frowned. ‘This lad’ - and even he, who’d never known the Karic had existed a bare few weeks before, could see now this was a youth - ‘Hasn’t done a day’s hard labour in his short life. Or,’ he rubbed speculatively at his wholly unharmed jaw, ‘Been in a fight. What’s he doing in a worker’s dive? They come off the plains to change their stars, that it?’
‘Sometimes, yes,’ the publican equivocated, waggling his own secondary hands. ‘But him? This? No. Ordinarily, I think, a clan falls apart, a hated clan, so no other will take the young - all come to the Majoris. All fade into the metropolis. Assimilate. Why you might see many untempered young. But I hear nothing of such a thing, while I hear of children like this often. And not just children - the honoured eld, too, and they are more reckless with their age, not less.’ The Karic crossed his arms and bowed his head a moment, a gesture lost on the Kin. ‘Their bones should be at rest, not moving about as restless haunts.’
‘Restless?’ Meddler quirked a smile. ‘Like ghosts?’
‘Pah. Or soon to be. I think that is what you are here to look for, yes? And you have not seen it; you have seen its absence, which proves it.’
‘Be a bit of a bloody end for them, wouldn’t it? Who’ll guide them to join the old chiefs?’
The publican’s eyes flashed - with warning, and sorrow. That was understandable enough. Even if he wouldn’t spit on a plainsfolk for risk of giving the wretch water, there were some hurts - some spiritual wounds - that he could still feel and empathise with.
‘I do not think they care.’
‘Come now.’ Meddler tried a different, soothing track. ‘It can’t be all that bad. I hear they’re finishing up an agreement right now. Independence for the plainsfolk. Mutual recognition. They lose nothing. Same deal as you urbans got.’
‘There is a maxim.’ The publican returned to his glasses, polishing away, holding to the light - doing little but spreading the dust around. ‘Off-worlder as you are, unlearned, you will not know it. It loses much in translation. ‘The image is not the thing itself.’ Hanh, I speak wrongly. Perhaps… ‘appearance may be deceptive’. There. Better, perhaps. Do you have a similar knowing, on your stars?’
Meddler was quiet a moment.
The canny rag-pusher had the Kin pegged, alright. Back home, the only time he’d ever had a sniff of drink was a customary sip of cider on Landing Day. He certainly hadn’t been the prize brawler he made himself out to be - was ordered to make himself out to be. The Core was a hard place, and the Hesperian League skeined strong, but it skeined smart, too: ‘appearance may be deceptive’ indeed.
He’d been allowed in, a mercenary offworlder, to start fights and catch gossip that the urbans wanted him to have - but didn’t want to pass on themselves. Because appearance was the thing, down here.
Appearance was why the publican polished glasses while the plainsfolk poured into the ‘unseen’ parts of Ma’jal: young, scared scrappers ready to fight and their elders, here to make sure they did. And none of their experienced warriors to be seen. Which meant they were still out on the plains, the North Harvest - where a treaty was due to be signed, supposedly, any day now, between the Karic and their new overlords.
‘Somebody,’ he said at last, ‘should tell someone.’
The publican shrugged, a perfect imitation of the Kin’s earlier dismissal.
Perhaps the disinterest wasn’t feigned. The Karic may hold only a single system, true, and of that single system, only this world had anything approaching an industrial base - and even that had only recently discovered the most crude of forging techniques. Enough for iron and black powder. But their cities were built on the fragmented remains of older, greater bastions. Fortresses and starports and a whole southern continent that was so deeply irradiated it made even instruments designed for the brutal conditions of the Core scream.
The Karic built on their own bones. They had risen and fallen before. Who knew how many times? The digs were still in their infancy, and they made new discoveries, new revelations about this ragged, remnant species daily. Their history was as long as it was violent. They would, the publican’s shrug seemed to say, endure, no matter what misery came tomorrow.
Who would be arrogant enough to claim dominion over such a people?
A fluting, electronic voice penetrated the bar, rattled the glasses in their racks. It spoke in melodic trade-speech, the common tongue, and the higher pitch of an alien lexicon. The newcomers had been busy. They’d wired an extensive loudspeaker network into the city, and they’d been thorough when they did it with an efficiency that was almost - almost! - Kin.
But then, they’d had plenty of practice.
They had it down to a science.
‘Another glorious day, citizens and members,’ the voice sang, ‘for the Greater Good.’
submitted by wecanhaveallthree to 40kLore [link] [comments]
The punch came in fast, but in that slow-motion shaft-collapse things do when there’s pain on the way and nothing you could do about it. He had plenty of opportunity to study the crisscross of scars on hairy knuckles, to smell the rancid grog they called ‘shoot’ on his assailant’s breath - to watch those wide, angry eyes as the blow landed.
To hear half the bones in that untrained fist break on skein-toughened skull. It must have been like belting bedrock. Ancestors, the poor drunk would have had more luck slamming his hand in a metal press.
Meddler grinned. His turn. And since there were no prizes in a bar fight - and he might need his own hands for something useful that day - he slugged the local right in his gut and stepped back to avoid the sudden stream of watery ejecta. Hold and Forge, but they served thin-bodied stuff in these local dives, knowing that the labourers off the plains - strictly grog-free, those jobs, and touchy about it - wouldn’t argue the difference, and wouldn’t feel it all the same by the end of the night.
The plainsfolk had no tolerance for it. Hadn’t much tolerance for anything that happened in cities like Maron Ma’jal, though calling the sprawl that spread out from the meagre sandstone docks a ‘city’ - smaller even than a rural logistics hub back on Hesperis - felt like giving the locals too much credit.
Their urban kin felt at least an equal disdain for the plainsfolk. The publican barely looked up as his nominal fellow fell into a puddle of quick-drying sick, groaning.
‘Dirt eaters,’ he growled. ‘No end of trouble.’
Meddler grunted, smoothing down his ruddy red beard. It bristled like a gyrinx when his temper was up, like a bloody thornbush - and that seemed more often than not, the last few days. He wiped sweaty palms down the rugged grey weave of his coverall. ‘From me or them, sirrah?’
‘Henh. Don’t mind the brawls. Part of the entertainment.’ The publican held a musty glass up to the morning light filtering in through the cracked shutters. ‘But the ones I don’t know? No good. Lot of strange faces, hands I don’t recognise.’ The glass passed this cursory examination and went back on the rack. ‘You see hands like his, what do you think?’
The Kin shrugged, not particularly interested - he’d just wanted a drink before the sun picked up and day-roster rolled over. ‘They don’t pay me to think.’
A strange, high-pitched warble: the publican’s laughter. He brought all four hands down on the weathered countertop, then folded two up to cradle his tilted head. With heavy brow and thick furred body visible beneath a rough tunic, the Karic could almost be a strain of Jokaero, though nothing Meddler had seen suggested they had anything like the innate technical genius of that race. They were humanoid enough that they might survive under the bootheel of the Imperium, even - relegated to the very bottom of that black pit as an abhuman strain.
If the Kin were ever put in such straits, Meddler figured he’d eat his own axe than ‘survive’ in that manner, even if it meant he’d never join his Ancestors. Some lives just weren’t worth living.
‘You look down, sure,’ said the publican. ‘But that’s what you do, you look. Always looking. More eyes than should fit in your head, all looking where others can’t or won’t. So. Humour me, and see to his hands.’
With a scowl, Meddler knelt - not a far trip down, all told. When he’d confronted the plainsfolk, his red ‘hawk would barely have tickled the Karic’s nose and this specimen hadn’t been particularly imposing. They stood about the height of a well-fed Imperial, thinner in the trunk, with much of their bulk going towards their four arms and powerful legs. They’d been hunters at some time in the not-so-distant past. Judging by the dirt eater’s attire of rough leather harness and moccasins, some kept those traditions alive and in practical use.
The Kin carefully turned the Karic’s primary hands over. Knuckle-scarred, as he’d seen, but the palms were less rough. Much less so. Not what one would expect from a labourer or, as he’d speculated, a regular hunter. Weathering, at very least, from working with hides and crude tools or weapons, would be expected.
The second set was even smoother. Delicate, even, as though almost unused, or used very sparingly.
‘Fresh as a virgin seam,’ Meddler frowned. ‘This lad’ - and even he, who’d never known the Karic had existed a bare few weeks before, could see now this was a youth - ‘Hasn’t done a day’s hard labour in his short life. Or,’ he rubbed speculatively at his wholly unharmed jaw, ‘Been in a fight. What’s he doing in a worker’s dive? They come off the plains to change their stars, that it?’
‘Sometimes, yes,’ the publican equivocated, waggling his own secondary hands. ‘But him? This? No. Ordinarily, I think, a clan falls apart, a hated clan, so no other will take the young - all come to the Majoris. All fade into the metropolis. Assimilate. Why you might see many untempered young. But I hear nothing of such a thing, while I hear of children like this often. And not just children - the honoured eld, too, and they are more reckless with their age, not less.’ The Karic crossed his arms and bowed his head a moment, a gesture lost on the Kin. ‘Their bones should be at rest, not moving about as restless haunts.’
‘Restless?’ Meddler quirked a smile. ‘Like ghosts?’
‘Pah. Or soon to be. I think that is what you are here to look for, yes? And you have not seen it; you have seen its absence, which proves it.’
‘Be a bit of a bloody end for them, wouldn’t it? Who’ll guide them to join the old chiefs?’
The publican’s eyes flashed - with warning, and sorrow. That was understandable enough. Even if he wouldn’t spit on a plainsfolk for risk of giving the wretch water, there were some hurts - some spiritual wounds - that he could still feel and empathise with.
‘I do not think they care.’
‘Come now.’ Meddler tried a different, soothing track. ‘It can’t be all that bad. I hear they’re finishing up an agreement right now. Independence for the plainsfolk. Mutual recognition. They lose nothing. Same deal as you urbans got.’
‘There is a maxim.’ The publican returned to his glasses, polishing away, holding to the light - doing little but spreading the dust around. ‘Off-worlder as you are, unlearned, you will not know it. It loses much in translation. ‘The image is not the thing itself.’ Hanh, I speak wrongly. Perhaps… ‘appearance may be deceptive’. There. Better, perhaps. Do you have a similar knowing, on your stars?’
Meddler was quiet a moment.
The canny rag-pusher had the Kin pegged, alright. Back home, the only time he’d ever had a sniff of drink was a customary sip of cider on Landing Day. He certainly hadn’t been the prize brawler he made himself out to be - was ordered to make himself out to be. The Core was a hard place, and the Hesperian League skeined strong, but it skeined smart, too: ‘appearance may be deceptive’ indeed.
He’d been allowed in, a mercenary offworlder, to start fights and catch gossip that the urbans wanted him to have - but didn’t want to pass on themselves. Because appearance was the thing, down here.
Appearance was why the publican polished glasses while the plainsfolk poured into the ‘unseen’ parts of Ma’jal: young, scared scrappers ready to fight and their elders, here to make sure they did. And none of their experienced warriors to be seen. Which meant they were still out on the plains, the North Harvest - where a treaty was due to be signed, supposedly, any day now, between the Karic and their new overlords.
‘Somebody,’ he said at last, ‘should tell someone.’
The publican shrugged, a perfect imitation of the Kin’s earlier dismissal.
Perhaps the disinterest wasn’t feigned. The Karic may hold only a single system, true, and of that single system, only this world had anything approaching an industrial base - and even that had only recently discovered the most crude of forging techniques. Enough for iron and black powder. But their cities were built on the fragmented remains of older, greater bastions. Fortresses and starports and a whole southern continent that was so deeply irradiated it made even instruments designed for the brutal conditions of the Core scream.
The Karic built on their own bones. They had risen and fallen before. Who knew how many times? The digs were still in their infancy, and they made new discoveries, new revelations about this ragged, remnant species daily. Their history was as long as it was violent. They would, the publican’s shrug seemed to say, endure, no matter what misery came tomorrow.
Who would be arrogant enough to claim dominion over such a people?
A fluting, electronic voice penetrated the bar, rattled the glasses in their racks. It spoke in melodic trade-speech, the common tongue, and the higher pitch of an alien lexicon. The newcomers had been busy. They’d wired an extensive loudspeaker network into the city, and they’d been thorough when they did it with an efficiency that was almost - almost! - Kin.
But then, they’d had plenty of practice.
They had it down to a science.
‘Another glorious day, citizens and members,’ the voice sang, ‘for the Greater Good.’
2024.05.20 18:21 IcyCattle6374 Is it worth skipping an exercise to reduce joint stress (injury)
I have shin splints and knee pain, so leg presses mostly (in some cases not) trigger the pain or increase it if it’s already hurting. I went to two doctors (edit: actually 3), the problems weren’t solved 100% but maybe were reduced in some way or another. So I just got used to the pain (it’s nothing too serious) and usually continue my workouts normally even with pain. But for today, especially that I played a bit of basketball this morning, both my knee and shin hurts, so should I skip leg presses? Even though I know for most that the pain would return soon when doing any other workout.
Or is it worth it for this week just to reduce stress (and hopefully and maybe) lower the risk of further injury). But I do really hate peg presses so I feel like I’m just taking the pain as an excuse to skip it.
Edit: rethought about it, I think the whole exercise should be switched, it almost always triggers the pain and make me uncomfortable the whole workout and sometimes affect future workouts. So what alternatives do you suggest? (Other than squats and their variations
submitted by IcyCattle6374 to beginnerfitness [link] [comments]
Or is it worth it for this week just to reduce stress (and hopefully and maybe) lower the risk of further injury). But I do really hate peg presses so I feel like I’m just taking the pain as an excuse to skip it.
Edit: rethought about it, I think the whole exercise should be switched, it almost always triggers the pain and make me uncomfortable the whole workout and sometimes affect future workouts. So what alternatives do you suggest? (Other than squats and their variations
2024.05.20 17:15 adwise27 Race Report - Cleveland Marathon - My Icarus Story
Race Information
- Name: Cleveland Marathon
- Date: May 19, 2024
- Distance: 26.2 miles
- Location: Cleveland, Ohio
- Website: https://www.clevelandmarathon.com/
- Time: 3:39:xx
Goals
| Goal | Description | Completed? |
|---|---|---|
| A | 3:05:00 | No |
| B | 3:10:00 | No |
| C | 3:30:00 | No |
Splits (roughly)
| Mile | Time |
|---|---|
| 1 | 7:02 |
| 2 | 7:01 |
| 3 | 7:09 |
| 4 | 7:10 |
| 5 | 7:04 |
| 6 | 7:10 |
| 7 | 7:48 |
| 8 | 7:35 |
| 9 | 7:22 |
| 10 | 7:30 |
| 11 | 7:17 |
| 12 | 7:22 |
| 13 | 7:47 |
| 14 | 7:56 |
| 15 | 8:17 |
| 16 | 8:15 |
| 17 | 9:09 |
| 18 | 8:39 |
| 19 | 8:49 |
| 20 | 9:47 |
| 21 | 10:09 |
| 22 | 9:46 |
| 23 | 10:05 |
| 24 | 10:11 |
| 25 | 11:23 |
| 26 | 9:46 |
Training
29 M Pfitz 18/55 This was my first road marathon and my first planned training block I have ever done. My ultimate goal this year is to qualify for Boston so I can cross it off my bucket list and go back to trail running. I finally got a spot in the Chicago marathon this fall so I was planning on using this block/race as a stepping stone to get me ready for a 2:55 or below in Chicago. I had figured I could get into 3:10 shape for Cleveland, so that’s the goal time I set back in Jan of this year. I used that goal time for my pfitz training paces for the entire block. The training went well, and I adjusted the plan slightly to meet my needs. I work from home and can get most of my runs in during my lunch hour. With small kids at home, I did everything I could to not take away any family weekend fun. My schedule roughly turned into:Monday – Workout
Tuesday - General aerobic
Wednesday – Med Long Run
Thursday – Recovery/Easy
Friday – Long run (don’t tell my boss)
We are usually very active on the weekends, but I would try to get an extra run on the treadmill for 30 minutes every Sunday as a “shake-out” for my Monday workout and a way to get a couple extra miles in. I was able to get into a groove and hit almost every workout on mileage and pace. I ran a half marathon week 12 at 1:31. A 10k time trial week 14 – 41m and then another 10k time trail week 16 where I managed a 39:45. My 18 mile LR with 14 mile MP was smashed. Really just felt like I nailed everything. Loved the plan, 10/10 would recommend. The book has so much great info in it as well.
Pre-race
My taper went well, Pfitz has a 3 week taper and based on some research (reading reddit threads, letsrun pages, talked to my crazy uncles, etc.) I decided to keep that 16th week at 50 miles instead of the 44 he recommends. Based on my races/time trials I was hoping I could manage a 3:05 but would still be happy with a 3:10. It being my first race, I knew that I could blow up and figured a 3:30 would be a “everything went horribly wrong” scenario. lolSo I live in Cleveland and as you might assume, our weather is total garbage from October til March. I had been watching the weather like a hawk, and saw it was going to be in the 60s w/90% humidity at the start line and would rise in the the 70s. I have run outside in 60+ degree weather maybe 5 times since Thanksgiving. At this point, I should have adjusted my target to a 3:15/3:20. I also tried to carb load. 750g of carbs Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Featherstone nutrition has a great and easy guide on it. However, it sucked. Not sure if it helped at all, will probably just eat more but not kill myself trying to get to the carb levels. Went to the convention center Friday afternoon to pick up my bib.
Race
Morning of, woke up at 330. Coffee, bagel, Maurten 320. Gear check and packed my bags. Popped an Imodium on my way out the door as I typically do with my trail races. I got a parking spot in a garage 2 minutes from the start line. Got downtown around 530. Dropped off my bag at gear check and I found a nice place to sit and warm up. Got to meet Harvey Lewis and Sage Canaday, both really nice so that’s cool. I put 3:10 estimated finish time on the registration page, that’s good enough for Corral A at the CLE marathon so Corral A it is.0-12
Went out with the 3:10 pace group and my plan was to stick with them until mile 18-20 then assess how I felt. The first three miles were about 10-15 seconds too quick. I knew in my head that it was not a great idea and that I should slow down, but I felt fine. I felt good. I felt strong. Everyone was chatting that it was probably a little too fast but the pacers didn’t yield. There is a pretty big hill at mile 7/8ish and I crushed it. Around mile 10 I started to feel a little warm, so I pulled off to the side, removed my bib from my tank top, put it on my tights, and took off my tank top. Every aid station I took a sip of water and dumped a cup on my head. I was running with a group of 5-10 people who really turned it on from miles 10-12. I loved their energy, so I stuck with them. We came to a split where half marathon runners went right, and marathon runners went left. They all went right. I went left. Uh-oh.
12-20
As I peel off left, I start to realize my mistake. These people I had been running with were kicking to their finish line. “Its okay, you are almost halfway and you are feeling strong. A little warm, but its flat from here until mile 20. Get to 20” Not 10 seconds later and I make a left turn onto a “flat bridge” that might as well have been Mt Denali. I laughed out loud, I knew I was screwed, and a wave of regrets flooded over me. I crossed 13.1 at ABOUT 1:31. I told myself that 3:20 was my new goal and I allowed myself to slow down and wanted to maintain about an 8min/mile the rest of the way. At mile 4,8, 12 I took a gel. I was planning on taking more at 15, 18, and 21. My gel at mile 15 didn’t go down well, and I developed an insane cramp below my rib cage. I had never dealt with that before so I was unsure if I was about to have a heart attack or if it was just GI distress. (That would be my last gel of the day.) I then passed a strong looking runner (he had a tracksmith tank and new alphaflys on) who had passed out on the ground and the crowd ran over to make sure he was ok. “oh shit, that would be me if I push it too much” As you could imagine, my mental strength was chipping away rapidly. I knew my family was at mile 17 so I held it together. Made it to them, dropped off my tank top, gave all the kids a kiss and high fived a couple dogs. I completed my trip thru Clevelands cute western neighborhoods and headed to the Shoreway.
20-finish
As I ran down the highway ramp to the Shoreway, this is where the wheels started to really fall off. It was hot. It was humid. I knew there was a huge hill ahead of me without an ounce of shade and the breeze was no where to be found. I said goodbye to 3:20 and just wanted to finish in one piece. This was an out and back portion of the race so I could see the strong runners at mile 24 coming back and they looked like they were melting. I took the shoreway out to lakewood, ran/walked between all the aid stations, had people doing yard work spray me with their hose, and focused on keeping my HR down so I could finish and not be one of the many people passed out on the Shoreway awaiting to be rescued by the EMS crew. It was only 70-75 degrees during the last 6 miles but I know everyone struggled immensely, it was really a suffer fest out there. Leg cramps, knee pain, and plantar fasciitis accompanied me for the last couple miles back into town but the crowd support was amazing and kept me going. Was ready to bust ass thru the finish line when I had to pull over to make way for an ambulance, how poetic. I hustled over the finish line with a smile on my face because you know what Andy glaze says. Smile or you are doing it wrong.
Post-race
Grabbed my medal, grabbed my checked bag, and found a shady bit of grass behind a tent and crashed. After a few minutes I was able to get up, find my family, and head home. Lessons learned.- Should have adjusted my goal time. I knew it was going to be hot. I was literally complaining to my wife every day for 10 days about how hot it was going to be. I let the EGO win. Went out too fast for what it was and blew up. How many times have I read this exact scenario online and vowed it would never happen to me?
- I think I ate too much food in the morning which led to GI distress. The stomach cramp was debilitating.
- Road marathons are a totally different beast, and I need more practice with all the nuances.
- As upset as I am about the results, I am extremely fired up to get back to training. I am taking 3 weeks “off” and then going to start Pfitz 18/70. I will start the plan with workout paces around a 2:55 marathon pace but assess the training more closely as I go thru. I believe I am in 3:05-3:10 shape right now but need to be realistic on what I can accomplish in 20 weeks. A 2:50 is probably a safe BQ time but I would need a miracle.
- I have thought about getting a coach, but I am not sold on the idea yet. I think my key is bumping up mileage, which I feel ready for.
- Hoping to run a handful of races (10k-halfs) this summer to practice my Racing mindset. I am signed up for the River Run half in September, shooting for a 1:22. Cleveland has a ton of great stuff going on running wise.
- Plan on incorporating more weightlifting for my lower body and core. Currently at around 200 lbs. Would love to run Chicago at 195 or lower but not trying to crash diet.
- I am a sneakerhead. I ran in Asics metaspeed Edge Paris and generally liked them. My main training shoes were Boston 12s, superblasts, peg 39s, and some older race shoes (vaporflys, endorphin pro 2, etc). Will be looking for something new for this fall.
- Used a google sheet from Floberg Runs that I tweaked, really nice to have a clear calendar with my personal schedule laid out.
"Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light."
Made with a new race report generator created by herumph.
2024.05.20 14:42 Cheesy-Tube Foreshadowing in HTTYD
2024.05.20 09:36 Doc_Zed_42 Humans are Space Rednecks Chapter 25: Red Tape Blues
Chapter 25:
On the other side of the galaxy....
In the dimly lit chamber of Zortan Blart, a figure emerges from the shadows. The agent, cloaked in secrecy, approaches the Moafia Don with a report that hums with the electric tension of covert operations.
"Boss," the agent begins, voice a modulated whisper, "the beaurocrats have been swayed. Doubts have been seeded, their integrity questioned. They're ensnared in our narrative, believing the Convoy harbors contraband and fugitives."
Zortan Blart, a silhouette against the star-strewn viewport, nods slowly. "And the fleet?" he inquires, his voice a low rumble.
"The fleet's nature has been... embellished. Tales of their firepower exaggerated, their purpose cloaked in mystery. The officials are hesitant, fearing a Trojan horse within their midst."
A sly smile curls the lips of Zortan Blart. "Excellent. Let the Federation choke on their bureaucracy. By the time they untangle this web, the Convoy will be mine."
The agent bows, a move as calculated as the game they play. "Your will be done, Boss."
Inspector Xilthar's arrival at the Federation station was supposed to be routine. Every form had been meticulously filled, every protocol followed to the letter. Yet, as the Inquisitor docked, a flurry of red flags greeted him, each more absurd than the last.
The station's justices, known for their impartiality, were suddenly citing trivial infractions and absurd claims. A missing comma here, an outdated code there—each filed with a severity that belied their insignificance. And the accusations of sentient trafficking were outright insulting! Xilthar's brow furrowed as he sifted through the paperwork. It was unlike the Federation to behave like this.
As he delved deeper, patterns emerged. Two justices, in particular, seemed to be at the center of the bureaucratic maelstrom. Their rulings were erratic, their justifications flimsy. It didn't take long for Xilthar to uncover the truth: these justices were puppets, their strings pulled by shadowy hands.
The realization hit Xilthar like a rogue asteroid. They had an antagonist, one that lurked within the very system meant to uphold justice.
With a steely resolve, Xilthar began to hack through the red tape. If the Convoy was to continue its journey unimpeded, he would need to confront this new threat head-on. The Great Human Convoy had faced pirates and perils of the void, but now they were up against a foe that wielded bureaucracy as a weapon.
The station was abuzz with the usual commerce and chatter, but an undercurrent of unease ran through the corridors. Xilthar's discovery of the meddling was troubling enough, but the missing military escort was a glaring omission that couldn't be ignored.
The Big Ugly Stick, the Convoy's capital ship, was a fortress among the stars, its presence a reassurance to all. The Pimp Hand, with its arsenal of missiles, was a deterrent to any who dared threaten the fleet. The Attitude Adjuster, a destroyer known for its formidable firepower, and the Mama Bear, a carrier, were integral to their defense. Yet, none had arrived.
Xilthar's instincts told him this was no coincidence. The military's delay, coupled with the farcical red flags, painted a picture of a coordinated effort to undermine the Convoy. Someone was pulling strings, creating distractions, perhaps to mask a more sinister objective.
As he navigated the station's labyrinthine bureaucracy, Xilthar kept one eye on the comms, awaiting news of the escort. The Convoy was vulnerable without its guardians, and every passing moment was a moment too long.
As the chronometer approaches standard evening, Xilthar sends a secure call to Jeb, "We have an antagonist within the Federation. Be cautious."
Jeb tips his hat back, "Have I got a story for you!"
In a dimly lit cabin aboard the Hodgepodge, Jeb, sits across from the storied pirate lord with the unfortunate name of Peg Leg Polaris. Chessmaster floats nearby holding a holographic scale with a feather on one side and a heart in the other.
Jeb: "Alright, let's cut to the chase. You used to be a big shot, now you're wantin' to join up with us. Why should we even consider it?"
Pirate Lord: "Look, I ain't gonna sugarcoat it. I was the best there was, and then I wasn't. Got locked up, paid my dues. I'm here 'cause I got nothin' left to prove but to myself. I can navigate, I can lead, and I sure as hell can fight."
Jeb: "Hmm. Chessie, what's the read on him?"
Chessmaster shows the scale the heart tilted slightly downward "His physiological responses indicate sincerity, Jeb, even if he was lying a little about being the best." She grins. "However, caution is advisable."
Jeb: "You got a rep for bein' a bit too full of yourself. How do we know you ain't gonna cause trouble?"
Pirate Lord: "Jeb, I got humbled, hard. Ain't lookin' to stir up no hornet's nest. Just wanna sail with a crew that's got a purpose beyond lootin' and shootin'. Im giving up the name of my boss cause I have no future with Blart after this anyway."
Jeb leans back, eyes narrowing: "Don Blart, huh? That's a heavy name to drop. You sure you're ready to burn that bridge?"
Pirate Lord: "It's already ash, Jeb. I'm done with that life. Done with lookin' over my shoulder. If it means a clean slate with you and the crew, then so be it."
Chessie's projection flickers with intrigue: "A bold move. The Convoy does not take kindly to mafia ties. This information will be... evaluated."
Jeb: "We'll verify what you're sayin'. If it checks out, you've got yourself a deal. But remember, we're a family here. No secrets, no backstabbin'. You step outta line, and it's the airlock for you."
Pirate Lord: "Understood. I ain't lookin' for family, but I reckon I could use one. I'm as good as dead alone."
Chessie: "I will monitor the situation closely, Jeb. Should he prove deceitful, I will alert you immediately."
Jeb: "Good. Welcome to the Convoy, Polaris. Let's see if you can navigate more than just the stars."
Back on the station, Xilthar, armed with the name of their opponent, begins his meticulous research. He sifts through historical records and databases, uncovering the intricate web of connections that tie the criminal underworld to the echelons of power within the federation. His investigation reveals a complex network of influence and corruption, where suspect justices may have been compromised, swaying their decisions and undermining the very pillars of justice they are sworn to uphold.
Jeb adjusts his hat, speaking to his crew and the pilots, "Alright, folks. We've set things in motion. Now comes the hard part—waiting. The gears of bureaucracy grind slow, but they grind. Our defenders will come, and when they do, we'll be ready."
submitted by Doc_Zed_42 to HFY [link] [comments]
On the other side of the galaxy....
In the dimly lit chamber of Zortan Blart, a figure emerges from the shadows. The agent, cloaked in secrecy, approaches the Moafia Don with a report that hums with the electric tension of covert operations.
"Boss," the agent begins, voice a modulated whisper, "the beaurocrats have been swayed. Doubts have been seeded, their integrity questioned. They're ensnared in our narrative, believing the Convoy harbors contraband and fugitives."
Zortan Blart, a silhouette against the star-strewn viewport, nods slowly. "And the fleet?" he inquires, his voice a low rumble.
"The fleet's nature has been... embellished. Tales of their firepower exaggerated, their purpose cloaked in mystery. The officials are hesitant, fearing a Trojan horse within their midst."
A sly smile curls the lips of Zortan Blart. "Excellent. Let the Federation choke on their bureaucracy. By the time they untangle this web, the Convoy will be mine."
The agent bows, a move as calculated as the game they play. "Your will be done, Boss."
The station's justices, known for their impartiality, were suddenly citing trivial infractions and absurd claims. A missing comma here, an outdated code there—each filed with a severity that belied their insignificance. And the accusations of sentient trafficking were outright insulting! Xilthar's brow furrowed as he sifted through the paperwork. It was unlike the Federation to behave like this.
As he delved deeper, patterns emerged. Two justices, in particular, seemed to be at the center of the bureaucratic maelstrom. Their rulings were erratic, their justifications flimsy. It didn't take long for Xilthar to uncover the truth: these justices were puppets, their strings pulled by shadowy hands.
The realization hit Xilthar like a rogue asteroid. They had an antagonist, one that lurked within the very system meant to uphold justice.
With a steely resolve, Xilthar began to hack through the red tape. If the Convoy was to continue its journey unimpeded, he would need to confront this new threat head-on. The Great Human Convoy had faced pirates and perils of the void, but now they were up against a foe that wielded bureaucracy as a weapon.
The station was abuzz with the usual commerce and chatter, but an undercurrent of unease ran through the corridors. Xilthar's discovery of the meddling was troubling enough, but the missing military escort was a glaring omission that couldn't be ignored.
The Big Ugly Stick, the Convoy's capital ship, was a fortress among the stars, its presence a reassurance to all. The Pimp Hand, with its arsenal of missiles, was a deterrent to any who dared threaten the fleet. The Attitude Adjuster, a destroyer known for its formidable firepower, and the Mama Bear, a carrier, were integral to their defense. Yet, none had arrived.
Xilthar's instincts told him this was no coincidence. The military's delay, coupled with the farcical red flags, painted a picture of a coordinated effort to undermine the Convoy. Someone was pulling strings, creating distractions, perhaps to mask a more sinister objective.
As he navigated the station's labyrinthine bureaucracy, Xilthar kept one eye on the comms, awaiting news of the escort. The Convoy was vulnerable without its guardians, and every passing moment was a moment too long.
Jeb tips his hat back, "Have I got a story for you!"
Jeb: "Alright, let's cut to the chase. You used to be a big shot, now you're wantin' to join up with us. Why should we even consider it?"
Pirate Lord: "Look, I ain't gonna sugarcoat it. I was the best there was, and then I wasn't. Got locked up, paid my dues. I'm here 'cause I got nothin' left to prove but to myself. I can navigate, I can lead, and I sure as hell can fight."
Jeb: "Hmm. Chessie, what's the read on him?"
Chessmaster shows the scale the heart tilted slightly downward "His physiological responses indicate sincerity, Jeb, even if he was lying a little about being the best." She grins. "However, caution is advisable."
Jeb: "You got a rep for bein' a bit too full of yourself. How do we know you ain't gonna cause trouble?"
Pirate Lord: "Jeb, I got humbled, hard. Ain't lookin' to stir up no hornet's nest. Just wanna sail with a crew that's got a purpose beyond lootin' and shootin'. Im giving up the name of my boss cause I have no future with Blart after this anyway."
Jeb leans back, eyes narrowing: "Don Blart, huh? That's a heavy name to drop. You sure you're ready to burn that bridge?"
Pirate Lord: "It's already ash, Jeb. I'm done with that life. Done with lookin' over my shoulder. If it means a clean slate with you and the crew, then so be it."
Chessie's projection flickers with intrigue: "A bold move. The Convoy does not take kindly to mafia ties. This information will be... evaluated."
Jeb: "We'll verify what you're sayin'. If it checks out, you've got yourself a deal. But remember, we're a family here. No secrets, no backstabbin'. You step outta line, and it's the airlock for you."
Pirate Lord: "Understood. I ain't lookin' for family, but I reckon I could use one. I'm as good as dead alone."
Chessie: "I will monitor the situation closely, Jeb. Should he prove deceitful, I will alert you immediately."
Jeb: "Good. Welcome to the Convoy, Polaris. Let's see if you can navigate more than just the stars."
2024.05.20 09:21 StyleCramped Knee Injury Mystery
Hello 23 year old guy. I was wondering if anyone would help me identify what issue I am having or whether they have experienced the same thing.
2 years ago, I ran a marathon with 6 days of training (I was in good shape but didn’t run before those 6 days). There were literally zero knee problems before or during the marathon. 3 weeks later, I am doing a leg workout (I haven’t done one in a few weeks) and do walking lunges and box jumps. Still no issues.
I forget if it was the next day or a few days later but I am going up a small flight of stairs and both of my knees have a huge shooting pain. The only way I make it up is by walking kind of peg legged. It feels like the structure of my knee is collapsing.
Causes: From that moment, the pain would go on and off at almost any random time but prominently on stairs or when my legs get super cold or sitting in a car sometimes. It could even happen when I’m just laying down. If my knee is activated, it can hurt to go on stairs. I really do not think fatigue causes it to flare up.
Bodily Location: The pain would could be anywhere around my knee: top, left side, right side, bottom, and upper part. Most of the activity was on my left knee but the ratio was like 80% left and 20% right knee.
Pain Type: the pain can be 2 options: it can be a pain that feels like my knee structure is collapsing or it can feel like my muscles around my knee ache. Really never both at the same time. Both options range from 0-7 on the pain scale at times.
X Ray didn’t show anything wrong and other doctors couldn’t pinpoint anything they found to be wrong. Not a single doctor I spoke to seemed to have a single clue. Even PT people were stumped.
In the past two years it has become extremely less frequent and I can now go a month or two without feeling it even slightly. 2 months ago, I did a backpacking trip where we hiked around 10 miles a day and I only felt my knee at night when it got cold.
If anyone has any clue or anything similar that would be great!
submitted by StyleCramped to KneeInjuries [link] [comments]
2 years ago, I ran a marathon with 6 days of training (I was in good shape but didn’t run before those 6 days). There were literally zero knee problems before or during the marathon. 3 weeks later, I am doing a leg workout (I haven’t done one in a few weeks) and do walking lunges and box jumps. Still no issues.
I forget if it was the next day or a few days later but I am going up a small flight of stairs and both of my knees have a huge shooting pain. The only way I make it up is by walking kind of peg legged. It feels like the structure of my knee is collapsing.
Causes: From that moment, the pain would go on and off at almost any random time but prominently on stairs or when my legs get super cold or sitting in a car sometimes. It could even happen when I’m just laying down. If my knee is activated, it can hurt to go on stairs. I really do not think fatigue causes it to flare up.
Bodily Location: The pain would could be anywhere around my knee: top, left side, right side, bottom, and upper part. Most of the activity was on my left knee but the ratio was like 80% left and 20% right knee.
Pain Type: the pain can be 2 options: it can be a pain that feels like my knee structure is collapsing or it can feel like my muscles around my knee ache. Really never both at the same time. Both options range from 0-7 on the pain scale at times.
X Ray didn’t show anything wrong and other doctors couldn’t pinpoint anything they found to be wrong. Not a single doctor I spoke to seemed to have a single clue. Even PT people were stumped.
In the past two years it has become extremely less frequent and I can now go a month or two without feeling it even slightly. 2 months ago, I did a backpacking trip where we hiked around 10 miles a day and I only felt my knee at night when it got cold.
If anyone has any clue or anything similar that would be great!
2024.05.20 04:26 darthraxus Megatron arrived.
 | Just got the concept Megatron in the mail. A great figure that borders 3P quality, but also misses the mark. The bot mode is easily a 10. The alt modes lack. I would say the jet is better than the tank. The lack of peg points is where it suffers for the jet overall. If you could snap the legs into the torso so that it doesn't move around, it would be far better. The tank isn't bad, just seems like a more hollowed out version of what they were going for. The jet mode reminds me of a Skynet drone, which I really like. submitted by darthraxus to transformers [link] [comments] The biggest complaint I have about this figure is the size. This is suppose to be a leader class figure, but it is no doubt the size of a Voyager from the old size. I had this sized up to the evasion mode optimus and it's only a hair taller. It's overpriced for sure. https://preview.redd.it/lnj88rjyrh1d1.jpg?width=1536&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=94a11e6357d5f14f84c981399d0b01d1e3df71fc |
2024.05.20 00:30 breadysetg0 Uh… anyone else having this issue with Neo Tokyo Ninja Miku?
 | My order from BBTS arrived today, and she doesn’t line up with her base at all. I fussed with her a little and I can force her into the proper peg holes, but her ankles feel really delicate and I’m afraid they’ll snap. A bit bummed out because I really like the figure and its design. submitted by breadysetg0 to AnimeFigures [link] [comments] Guess it’s time for the hairdryer and to gently pry her leg out…? |
2024.05.19 23:00 DustlessDragon How practical would it be to use a too loose prothetic leg in a post-apocalyptic setting?
I'm currently writing a post-apocalyptic story where one of the characters is a below the knee amputee who received his prothetic prior to the societal collapse.
It's my understanding that prothetic limbs have to fit very well to function without causing pain (or to function at all) and may have to be changed if the person gains or loses weight.
So, if my character lost weight due to less access to food, would it be worth it at all to keep the prothetic leg around, or would it be better to exclusively use crutches (assuming he doesn't have access to medical care, more electricity than a few batteries can provide, or an environment conducive to wheelchair use)?
Would there be a way to jerry-rig a too loose prothetic so that it stays on? Even if there is, would such a jerry-rigged prothetic actually be more usable than other mobility aids or would it cause too much pain or another problem?
submitted by DustlessDragon to Writeresearch [link] [comments]
It's my understanding that prothetic limbs have to fit very well to function without causing pain (or to function at all) and may have to be changed if the person gains or loses weight.
So, if my character lost weight due to less access to food, would it be worth it at all to keep the prothetic leg around, or would it be better to exclusively use crutches (assuming he doesn't have access to medical care, more electricity than a few batteries can provide, or an environment conducive to wheelchair use)?
Would there be a way to jerry-rig a too loose prothetic so that it stays on? Even if there is, would such a jerry-rigged prothetic actually be more usable than other mobility aids or would it cause too much pain or another problem?
2024.05.19 21:09 Potential_Arm_4021 When did medical amputations become common?
I didn’t want my title to get out of hand, so I may need to clarify a bit. First, I know there have been times and cultures where amputations were (and sometimes still are, apparently) meted out as punishment: a thief being sentenced to the loss of his hand, for instance. And you hear, historically, of war captives or those overthrown in coups being the victims of mutilations that include amputations. Neither of those are what I’m asking about.
What I’m wondering about is the practice of removing a damaged limb, or a section of the limb, under medical supervision, seemingly most often because of an injury sustained on the battlefield.
You hear about the procedure so much in the 19th century, especially in relation to the American Civil War, that it almost sounds like a default procedure for any wound at all. (My grandmother’s grandfather, who lived with her nuclear family when he was elderly and she was a child, had the same leg amputated twice when he was a newly-minted teenage captain of the Confederacy at the Battle of Spotsylvania Courthouse. It’s no wonder he spent the rest of the war in a Union hospital, or that my grandmother remembered into her old age hearing him scream into his pillow from the residual nerve damage as she passed his room as a child.) But it was also used frequently in the 20th century and, though I’m sure the injury-to-amputation rate is much improved now, I certainly associate amputations with the use of IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan.
I can think of occasional examples of amputees from the 18th and 17th centuries, Horatio Nelson being most famous, but I honestly can’t remember hearing anything about it from the Renaissance, Medieval, or Classical eras…but then, I haven’t done anything like a literature survey, which is why I’m asking about it here. Did the procedure simply not exist, at least in the West? I find that hard to believe, given how advanced Greek medicine, especially, could be. Was it not needed as much as it was in later eras? The reason frequently cited for a limb to be amputated was that the bone was shattered, and that was frequently caused by it being hit by a bullet. (That was the case with my great-great grandfather: he took a minnie ball to the thigh bone.) Perhaps pre-gunpowder projectiles and blades didn’t do that kind of damage, that often? Or maybe the linkage of physical impairment with evil, or curses, or punishment from the gods, or other kinds of difficult associations that began to fade with modernity meant that there really were amputations in these earlier periods, but authors didn’t like to write about men bearing stumps, especially in high numbers, so it just appears to us now that amputations weren’t part of a physician’s toolkit, particularly in wartime.
Any thoughts?
submitted by Potential_Arm_4021 to AskHistorians [link] [comments]
What I’m wondering about is the practice of removing a damaged limb, or a section of the limb, under medical supervision, seemingly most often because of an injury sustained on the battlefield.
You hear about the procedure so much in the 19th century, especially in relation to the American Civil War, that it almost sounds like a default procedure for any wound at all. (My grandmother’s grandfather, who lived with her nuclear family when he was elderly and she was a child, had the same leg amputated twice when he was a newly-minted teenage captain of the Confederacy at the Battle of Spotsylvania Courthouse. It’s no wonder he spent the rest of the war in a Union hospital, or that my grandmother remembered into her old age hearing him scream into his pillow from the residual nerve damage as she passed his room as a child.) But it was also used frequently in the 20th century and, though I’m sure the injury-to-amputation rate is much improved now, I certainly associate amputations with the use of IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan.
I can think of occasional examples of amputees from the 18th and 17th centuries, Horatio Nelson being most famous, but I honestly can’t remember hearing anything about it from the Renaissance, Medieval, or Classical eras…but then, I haven’t done anything like a literature survey, which is why I’m asking about it here. Did the procedure simply not exist, at least in the West? I find that hard to believe, given how advanced Greek medicine, especially, could be. Was it not needed as much as it was in later eras? The reason frequently cited for a limb to be amputated was that the bone was shattered, and that was frequently caused by it being hit by a bullet. (That was the case with my great-great grandfather: he took a minnie ball to the thigh bone.) Perhaps pre-gunpowder projectiles and blades didn’t do that kind of damage, that often? Or maybe the linkage of physical impairment with evil, or curses, or punishment from the gods, or other kinds of difficult associations that began to fade with modernity meant that there really were amputations in these earlier periods, but authors didn’t like to write about men bearing stumps, especially in high numbers, so it just appears to us now that amputations weren’t part of a physician’s toolkit, particularly in wartime.
Any thoughts?
2024.05.19 20:04 Somebeach84 My pawn had his leg shot off…
Newbie here! So one of my pawns had his leg shot off and I ended up doing surgery by replacing his leg with a peg leg. So he ended up disliking that because of his trait of not wanting to have any thing replaced (I think it’s something like that). I totally forgot that he had that trait really. So my question is, should I not have replaced it and let him limp around with one leg, or did I do the correct thing and replaced it?
submitted by Somebeach84 to RimWorld [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 19:01 Gopnik_Cosmonot_ I was moongooning last night
And I must have done something wrong because I was pegged by the 8 legged Chinese man...
submitted by Gopnik_Cosmonot_ to moongooning [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 19:01 Krisfabmoos Raised seat Multistrada V4S or lower foot pegs?
 | Hi Guys and Girls, submitted by Krisfabmoos to multistrada [link] [comments] I am 6f 3” (193 cm), and I suffer from cramps in my legs on longer rides. Has anyone around my height purchased the raised seat from Ducati and does the 15mm extra height add much more comfort? Or has anyone bought foot pegs which are sitting lower on the bike and if yes which one did you go for? |
2024.05.19 17:26 manjush3v Another Solo Long Distance Ride on the Triumph Scrambler 400X: 700 Kms in 2 Days
 | Just completed a nearly 700 km solo ride over two days with my Triumph Scrambler 400X. Here are some thoughts on the bike and the journey: submitted by manjush3v to indianbikes [link] [comments] Bike Performance:
Starting Issues: During my ride, I encountered some intermittent starting problems with the Scrambler 400X. Occasionally, the electric start button wouldn’t engage the starter motor. To resolve this, I had to cycle the ignition key off and on before the starter button would work again. Need to visit service center to understand why this is happening Route Details:
|
2024.05.19 16:38 ausdis Prince Harry's triple amputee friend has stolen prosthetic legs returned - Yahoo News
 | submitted by ausdis to DisabilityAuLtd [link] [comments] |
2024.05.19 05:13 dgoodrich AQ3D Right peg leg help
I have the left peg leg and am trying to get the right peg leg I have made THOUSANDS of attempts and I have yet to get the right peg leg any ideas.
submitted by dgoodrich to AQ3D [link] [comments]
2024.05.19 03:48 Templar_Blonic Rajang is the worst designed fight in every game he’s in
That’s it. That’s the post.
This troglodyte designed stupid monkey in every game I’ve played, all the way from MHFU, to 4U, to World and Rise is hot, steaming trash. He is, in every game except Rise, an insta-lock hitstun, non-stop, spastic, moronic excuse for an enemy with the most idiotic bounce mechanic I have ever see for how fast he is. I’m probably just unlucky but this abomination to the series turns every single time I try to hit his legs and my weapon bounces off of his arms, to which I then get half my health deleted by an attack that is faster than Dan Schneider huffing a child star’s toe pics.
It never stops moving. Each attack does AT LEAST 1/3 of your health, if not outright deletes 2/3 of it, most of them auto-lock on or are instant(like that stupid arm dash) and change direction mid-animation, and although he got smaller in every game after FU, they still screw it up by making him just small enough and spastic enough while being big to hit you from absurdly small windows of opportunity.
Not even mentioning his stupid jump and ball attack. In every game this is in it’s the worst thing to deal with except for World’s belly flop of death.
He isn’t fun. He isn’t enjoyable. He isn’t even cool. He’s a stupid, charmless monkey that is literally just another lame DBZ reference because the Japanese love to masturbate to their big 4 anime franchises.
Then in Rise he’s just a joke. Not even rebalanced to be fun— just an absurdly easy joke. He’s always a joke but in Rise it’s an unfunny rape of him. They didn’t even try making him interesting instead of just “Oh, he’s spamming the sweep again. Guess I’ll just hit one attack at a let as he passes by.”
And for some reason the main sub jerks this guy off and says their typical “DURR WELL I AKCHUALLY ONLY CART ONCE EVERY FIGHT AGAINST HIM BECAUSE I LIKE TO PRETEND THAT I’M GETTING PEGGED BY RAJANG BECAUSE I’M A ZOOPHILE” crap when you criticize any of their favorite monsters.
Oh, and in Iceborne; a DLC where pretty much every monster has some new B.S. to deal with but at least can be played around— Rajang is ONLY B.S..
Screw Rajang. It is the least fun, most unreasonable monster to fight in the series. Whoever designed him to be this consistently enraging deserves to be curbstomped into the concrete to the point where the sounds are so graphically loud and explosive that Japan thinks they’re being nuked again.
Screw. Rajang. Worst monster in the entire series. Even worse than Hyper-Hip-Check-of-Death Plesioth in MH1 and MHFU, because at least it has only one absurd, stupidly designed attack you have to worry about.
Edit: Because some of you can't read; It isn't a "I can't beat Rajang" situation. I always do. That doesn't change the fact that he is the worst monster in the series, just like we all have THAT monster we hate more than anything else and groan when you have to fight it.
submitted by Templar_Blonic to monsterhunterrage [link] [comments]
This troglodyte designed stupid monkey in every game I’ve played, all the way from MHFU, to 4U, to World and Rise is hot, steaming trash. He is, in every game except Rise, an insta-lock hitstun, non-stop, spastic, moronic excuse for an enemy with the most idiotic bounce mechanic I have ever see for how fast he is. I’m probably just unlucky but this abomination to the series turns every single time I try to hit his legs and my weapon bounces off of his arms, to which I then get half my health deleted by an attack that is faster than Dan Schneider huffing a child star’s toe pics.
It never stops moving. Each attack does AT LEAST 1/3 of your health, if not outright deletes 2/3 of it, most of them auto-lock on or are instant(like that stupid arm dash) and change direction mid-animation, and although he got smaller in every game after FU, they still screw it up by making him just small enough and spastic enough while being big to hit you from absurdly small windows of opportunity.
Not even mentioning his stupid jump and ball attack. In every game this is in it’s the worst thing to deal with except for World’s belly flop of death.
He isn’t fun. He isn’t enjoyable. He isn’t even cool. He’s a stupid, charmless monkey that is literally just another lame DBZ reference because the Japanese love to masturbate to their big 4 anime franchises.
Then in Rise he’s just a joke. Not even rebalanced to be fun— just an absurdly easy joke. He’s always a joke but in Rise it’s an unfunny rape of him. They didn’t even try making him interesting instead of just “Oh, he’s spamming the sweep again. Guess I’ll just hit one attack at a let as he passes by.”
And for some reason the main sub jerks this guy off and says their typical “DURR WELL I AKCHUALLY ONLY CART ONCE EVERY FIGHT AGAINST HIM BECAUSE I LIKE TO PRETEND THAT I’M GETTING PEGGED BY RAJANG BECAUSE I’M A ZOOPHILE” crap when you criticize any of their favorite monsters.
Oh, and in Iceborne; a DLC where pretty much every monster has some new B.S. to deal with but at least can be played around— Rajang is ONLY B.S..
Screw Rajang. It is the least fun, most unreasonable monster to fight in the series. Whoever designed him to be this consistently enraging deserves to be curbstomped into the concrete to the point where the sounds are so graphically loud and explosive that Japan thinks they’re being nuked again.
Screw. Rajang. Worst monster in the entire series. Even worse than Hyper-Hip-Check-of-Death Plesioth in MH1 and MHFU, because at least it has only one absurd, stupidly designed attack you have to worry about.
Edit: Because some of you can't read; It isn't a "I can't beat Rajang" situation. I always do. That doesn't change the fact that he is the worst monster in the series, just like we all have THAT monster we hate more than anything else and groan when you have to fight it.
2024.05.19 01:55 Qp703 You have got to be kidding me.
There is really no way you’re going to tell me a level 4 medic is going to fail 5 times in a row, I get it 4 is low but jeez. I went through every piece of herbal meds we had, and it still wasn’t enough. The level of knowledge for level 4 states “Some Familiarity” and while I know that’s pretty open to interpretation, you’d like putting in a peg leg wouldn’t be out of the question.
submitted by Qp703 to RimWorld [link] [comments]
2024.05.18 22:55 No_Test7819 One stressful body swap later 💖
 | I saw this beauty at Walmart but I loathe mermaid dolls so I swapped her head with the body from a Barbie looks doll and accidentally pulled the neck peg out with the head 😍 luckily thanks to so many Reddit posts and YouTube videos we got the girl some legs submitted by No_Test7819 to Dolls [link] [comments] |
2024.05.18 18:57 BootManHands Headboard is missing a metal peg and the wood broke. Any way to fix it?
 | We recently got this bedframe from my wife's friend. We noticed the leg on the headboard was cracked but it seemed sturdy. When we went to put it together, the wood came apart and the metal peg fell out. Is this something we can put back together have it be steady enough to sleep on? submitted by BootManHands to woodworking [link] [comments] |