One Year

A year ago, today, I said an extremely tearful goodbye to my family and got on a plane for Denver, Colorado.  I cried all through security, to my gate and then would randomly burst into tears on the plane.  I might have looked slightly unstable. The array of emotions was overwhelming.  There was an extreme amount of guilt, sadness but also excitement, happiness.  It was almost too much to process as I sat smothered in the middle seat.

I didn’t have a lot of time to think when I landed, I needed an apartment.  I had 5 days to get settled before I started my new job. We managed to find one within hours of landing thanks to weeks of extensive research and color coordinated spreadsheets.  The next morning, it really hit me. I remember sitting in the living room of our friends’ house at 5:30 in the morning, in tears (I cried a lot those first few days), trying to figure out how much it would cost me to cancel this whole thing and head back to Miami. I have never been more afraid and unsure of “what was next” than at that very moment. As soon as I signed this lease, it was real.  I told myself at least a year, I could make it a year. The next couple of days were a whirlwind of Ikea, Bed Bath & Beyond and furniture stores.  I didn’t have a lot of time to think, just do. 5 days later, I was as settled as I was going to be and my boyfriend was heading back. There I was, completely alone, in a half-furnished apartment.  The first few weeks were odd, it didn’t feel real. I am forever grateful for the few friends I had here, they made those first months feel normal and were a huge help.

There are days I miss my family and friends so much, I still wonder if I made the right decision. It’s not all beautiful mountain views, as much as my Instagram probably says otherwise.  It’s lonely, it’s hard watching my niece grow up over the phone and not in person, it’s taking a lot of adjustment.  I’m still working through a lot of the guilt.  At the same time, I feel like this move saved my sanity, my relationship and my career. I’ve never felt so at peace. I actually feel like it’s revitalized my career.  I enjoy coming to work, what I do and the ability to be creative and implement my ideas.  I have the freedom to make decisions and don’t have anyone constantly breathing down my neck. I’m allowed to make mistakes, learn from them and find ways that they don’t happen again.  It is now clear what a great boss can do for a career.   Work life balance is a thing here, it’s real, not just something you read about on social. There is something about the mountains that gives me peace and freedom. A couple of hours with no cell service and you’re refreshed. I love where I live, the life we’re building here and yes, even the snow. I know that I made the right decision for me, for my future.

It was a process to physically get here and a process to continue to adjust. If you’re contemplating something big and scary but know it’s right for you, I recommend going for it. Nothing worth having comes easy, right? ~AddingMoMiles

Colorado Racing

Colorado racing, just like Colorado riding, has a way of wearing you out (and occasionally wearing you down).  It doesn’t necessarily feel warm and fuzzy.   It gives off a certain vibe, that your place has to be earned.  At the same time, it’s welcoming, electric and you feel the love of cycling, the love of bikes, the love for the sport. The season is coming to an end but I’ve only done 3 races (I have my reasons). At each one, I completely feel like the new girl (which, I am) and for that reason, feel that much more intimidated.  It takes me back to my first few races and I feel like just that, a rookie. The racing is so different here, that it’s new. For one, it’s more than four corners. The ladies, they show up to race.  There isn’t the option to sit in and half ass it.

This weekend, I lined up with 31 other ladies (cat 3 & 4) for the Littleton Crit. This is the largest field I’ve ever raced and it’s been a while since I race with anything other than cat 4’s. It was so great to see the number of women in the sport growing. On a very good day, we had max 20 in Florida. What was even more exciting were the spectators and their cowbells, not just family of racers there to support. A lot of people there to see bike racing.  The nerves were real, like first race real. It wasn’t good nerves, it was make you jittery on the bike nerves, hit your brakes when you don’t have to. The odd thing is the race two weeks before, I felt great, settled and it went very differently. Mentally, this race, I had already set myself for failure.  I couldn’t get out of my own head.

In each of the very few races I’ve done, it starts off at the whistle. There’s no few easy paced laps as everyone settles. Whistle, go, fast, turn, turn, turn again. Unfortunately, turns aren’t as smooth as one would like, especially at the back. Meaning, gaps open and after each turn, it takes a toll having to close them. Myself, I haven’t nailed down turning at fast speeds in big groups just yet. About 18 minutes in, I just couldn’t close gaps anymore. The women are fierce and aside from the usual race attacks the pace is kept high, consistently. The pace did not settle and catching them on my own with the storm winds became pretty much impossible. So there I was in no man’s land. Your mind either goes to pushing your pace or wondering why you race in the first place.  Mine went to, why race in the first place when I’m doing this poorly.  I made sure the cat 4’s that had dropped before I did, didn’t catch up but there was no fire in my pedal.  It was finish and get this over with and I did.

This was definitely not my best race. I am still getting the flow of the many aspects of crit racing (it’s a science) and it will take a while for me to get it. There were a lot of negative thoughts that came with this race, including no longer racing crits, but they were pushed aside once I passed that line.  I know I am being impatient, I’m well aware of that.  I need to see my racing in Colorado as being new to racing. My training has to be consistent, I need to be in it 100% or the results won’t change.  Next race, 12 days. ~ AddingMoMiles

DK100

Before I get into the race, I want to talk about those that finished DK200. I have nothing but admiration for those that not only finished, but just had the courage to line up and start.  A special congratulations to my friends, who just left me in awe with their courage and will to finish.  So proud of each of you and your level of badassery.

This race, it has so many level, it needs chapters to break it out properly.

First Came The Storm

Up by 4, out by 5.  That’s the rule. So we geared up and listened to the wind howl. The plan was to ride to the race and we did, in what felt like something out of The Wizard Of Oz.  I was waiting for the tornado, the witch, toto, all of it. We navigated through storm winds, watching the pieces of trees fly by infront of us. At the race start, 30 minute rain delay. Then off went DK200, then DK100 lined up and we were on our way. The first couple of miles of gravel felt like either quick sand or sliding on ice it was so slippery.  Rubber side down, that was my focus. We made our way through the massive amount of people, working our way through groups.  The first 30 miles just flew by. There were cows, horses, wide open ranges, it was absolutely beautiful. I felt great (altitude doping at its finest). Made sure I was taking in calories every 30 minutes, passing people along the way.  Mile 50 approached and as I looked at my time, I thought of the possibility of making under 8 hours. Into the check point, they were quick to give us our bags, clean and lube our chains, and give us ice packed in panty hose (lifesavers).  A huge thank you to the support group of 3 Feet Cycling.  They went above and beyond to get us out as quickly as possible. My first half high didn’t last much longer.

Lions & Tigers & Bears, Oh My!

Lions, the mud.  Tigers, the heat. Bear, the Flint Hills. Oh My! The wind. As I started to settle in after the check point, it felt like the start of the infamous Flint Hills.  Each hill taking a little bit out of your legs with each pedal stroke. The mud had done a number on my gearing and getting to my easiest gear was becoming a problem.  Just mash it out on whatever gear was working at this point. The rollers came to an abrupt end when we ran into a whole lot of mud.  You couldn’t ride through it, so you had to hike with your bike. I wasn’t sure exactly how far we hiked but it was a 45 minutes to an hour. After we cleared the mud, the terrain got seriously rough.  It felt more like mountain bike trails than gravel.  I was taking descents that I would probably never take on a normal day.  Come to think of it now, one wrong twitch of the handle bars and I was face planting into a pile of rocks.  Some areas had mud at the base of the hills forcing you to walk through it and up the next hill.  The hiking a bike started to take a toll. My legs and mental state took a turn at about 75 miles.  From then on it was 20+ mph head wind. On a rare occasion we took a turn and got crosswind but it was short-lived.  No matter how hard I pedaled I couldn’t keep anything over 12mph. It didn’t help that the last two hours, taking down anything to eat or drink was becoming a problem, my wrists and shoulders were killing me.  With tears of frustration, at mile 90, I stopped and was ready to quit.  Trying to work out in my head how to get back to the finish. Yes, with only 8 miles to go, I was ready to quit. Jorge didn’t let me.  So, I climbed back on my bike and just made the crank turn, one pedal stroke at a time.

There’s No Place Like Home

Civili-f’ing-zation! With one last uphill on mile 97, we made it into town.  Covered in mud, grit, dust I saw the finisher shoot. The energy of the small town cheering you on, crossing the line with Jorge, the stress of the day, it made me all tear up. This was totally out of my element and my first gavel event.  In hindsight maybe I should have started with something a little easier (yolo no?).  This race took an incredible amount of mental strength but I’m so glad I signed up. Would I do the 200? Probably not. Would I do the 100 again?  With a little convincing. Another adventure checked off. Jorge, thank you, thank you, thank you. The Dirty Eight, what’s next on the list?  Coach, thank you, so much. This was definitely one for the books. It’s days like this that build strength, resilience and courage for everyday life. ~ Adding Mo Miles.

The Groad To Kanza

It’s here, Kanza week. As I read through all the messages in our Kanza group chat, I can feel my anxiety creeping and my stomach turning.  Too late to go as moral support?  I’m a really great pro spectator.  For months we’ve discussed tire selection, patches, who’s packing what, worst case scenario situations.  I also may have googled how to build a fire, in case I get lost in the middle of Kansas. Someone send help if you don’t see a finisher insta story by night fall.

In all seriousness, since March I’ve been working to get myself into half decent shape for this race.  But it’s also felt like I’ve been preparing for battle or the end of the war. No course signs, no water for 50 miles, rocks that apparently are capable of slashing all your tires open.  Oh by the way, your derailleur may fall off and you’ll need to do the whole thing single speed.  There’s also the possibility of river and mud crossings if it rains.  As I looked through pictures and read the horror stories….

I need new f’ing friends, I keep saying it.

Training for this Kanza did not come without its difficulties.  I was extremely out of shape when I first signed up and slightly overweight.  My poor coach had the daunting task of getting me ready and he very patiently got me there.  Preparing for this race came with some new challenges.  For one, I had a lot of trouble recovering.  I like to blame the fact that everything that surrounds me is rollers and well obviously, mountains, so even “easy” rides could include about 1K of climbing.  But it could be a multitude of reasons (I even gave up weekday wine because of this). The result was sometimes missing key workouts. I also started having major issues with nutrition.  I didn’t grasp the toll climbing for 45 minutes to over an hour took on your body and the amount of calories I needed to replenish.  The end results, bonking and sluggishly making my way back home trying to keep the bike straight.  I’m sure it may not have helped that I was reducing daily calories (in a healthy manner) to try to drop weight.  It’s somewhat hard to manage fueling for training and losing weight without something suffering.  Combine that with still adjusting to the new city and learning routes, weddings to travel to, a trip back home and not having those bike friends live and in person to train with…like I said, it came with its new set of challenges but they were faced, adjusted and moved past.  I also quickly learned how hard it was to lug around a 30+ pound mountain bike through rollers and what not.  So, I upgraded to a proper gravel bike.  Any excuse for a new bike no? (N+1+1+1+1)

If there is anything training for Kanza has done is take me way outside my comfort zone, like roaming gravel roads for 5 hours alone. This is where I want to thank everyone who’s sent me “when animal attack/chase cyclists” videos, it’s really comforting at these very moments.  It’s slated to be 90 degrees and this makes me nervous.  But whatever the outcome may be, the fact that my bike has led me to another new place, another new adventure is enough for me. Even if it is the middle of nowhere Kansas…self-supported….no course markings…save yourself type of adventure. ~ Adding Mo Miles.

Starting From Zero

I took a step away from the bike. It was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be to let it sit there and collect dust.  Don’t get me wrong, it felt very very wrong.  But sleeping in and having all this “extra” time felt very very good. It was the longest I have been off the bike since, well, my first bike 6 years ago. Sure, I’ve probably taken time off here and there, I’m not always the most consistent but this was different, it was probably weeks (moving states included). To the point I swore I would probably not race again (ha, sure).  This is the point where we realize something in life wasn’t going right. Though I wasn’t burnt from training, my coach was actually very good with this, I was burnt out in other aspects and your hobby is usually the first to go when this happens (atleast for me).  It’s like crisis management, you shift your priorities to what needs fixing in your life immediately.  I was mentally exhausted and it seeped its way into my riding. In my head, if I wasn’t training, there was no point in riding.  That is a future post all together.

Well, here I am, trying to get it back and already kicking myself in the ass for taking this time off, though it was probably crucial and much needed. I’m a little fluffier than one would like to be, my watts are at baby levels (yet again) and the thought of racing….well I already feel like a fred.  Trying to get consistent has been a challenge, more because I’m in a new city and I have to rely on myself to get out and going.  Having that group to meet with, even if we weren’t all riding together, was the best motivator to get me out of bed. But over the last couple of weeks I’ve caught myself looking at the Colorado’s racing schedule.  It’s no secret that I also have a 100 mile race in June that I have to get my shit together for.  I miss everything about it though…. training, riding atmosphere and racing. It’s a part of me that has been missing. It’s kind of the missing piece in Colorado, along with my friends and family that I’m secretly trying to convince to move. I took this as a sign that it was about that time.

Amateur athletes, age group athletes, sometimes forget that we’re just that, amateurs. This is not our entire life, we are not pros and occasionally it has to take a back burner to adulting and other ridiculous things…like mental health and career.  We push ourselves to heaving on the side of the road during an interval before we walk into the 9am meeting and then we don’t stop.  Some people can continue this for years without a break, I can admit that I don’t have that kind of strength.  Sometimes, you take a step a back, take a break and prepare yourself to come back stronger.   With any sport, even curling I’m sure, you need to first mentally be there to prepare yourself physically. So, it was kind of about that time, I got my coach, poor guy is stuck with me and dialing in my nutrition with Jungle Fitness. I am well aware that I am late to start training for the season.  I am even more well aware that I am out of shape.  Colorado mountains are very humbling. But I also know that I’m ready to put in the work and I couldn’t force this even if I wanted to previously.  So I may not be where I need to be but I know that I’m ready to get there, wherever the F that may be.  So, here we go, 2018 season. ~AddingMoMiles

Tranquila y TropiKANZA

I need new friends.

I have a perfectly good reason for such harsh words.  Every year this group of dear friends pick some bike adventure and well, I end up going along with it.  It seems like a good idea at the time until I’m half way through a race wondering what the hell I got myself into.  It’s how I signed up for a half ironman, a full ironman, six gap and most painful, yet absolutely great experiences.  I must note that I’ve skipped out on most fat tire and snow related races. But yes, if my friends were to jump off a bridge, I’d be cannon balling right behind them.

This year, we’re heading to Kansas for Dirty Kanza. Which I really hadn’t heard of until I signed up for the lottery.  In hindsight, I should have done a little more research. It’s a 200 or 100 miles self-supported (we’ll get into these awful words later), gravel race.  See I’m only half crazy and signed up for the 100 miles.

So how did I end up embarking on this epic adventure or possible complete disaster.  It’s a simple, yet comical story. Someone decided to post it in a group chat, which snowballed into 11 us (including two groups of four) signing up for the lottery and ALL 11 of us getting in.  I am officially part of the Pan Con Kanza team.  I’m not exactly sure what the selection process was and who’s idea was it to let us all in together but the Miami (plus Colorado transplants) grupete are heading to Kansas. I never thought I’d be saying the words “I’m going to Kansas”.

So what is Dirty Kanza.  It a a 200 mile long ultra-endurance bicycling challenge, held on the gravel roads through the Flint Hills region of east-central Kansas. There is a 100 mile and 50 mile option.  It is self-supported.  Meaning, they do not provide any nutrition or hydration.  They do not SAG, they do not pick you up if your bike or you break. You either carry it on your bike or get/hire support that will be at the check points every 50 miles.  The course is somewhat, possibly marked but not really. Let’s quote the Dirty Kanza bible:

“Some of these roads receive little to no maintenance throughout the year and can be quite primitive in nature. In the event of inclement weather, gravel and dirt roads can become mud roads. Riders are therefore encouraged to prepare their bikes, their bodies, and their minds to be ready for any and all possible conditions.”

It’s survival of the fittest on bicycles. I don’t think I’ve really wrapped my head around it just yet.  I may not have signed up for the 200, but I don’t think the 100 miles will be a walk in the park either.  It will still be a very long day filled with what I’m sure lots of challenges and possible catastrophe.  Lots of solo miles, wind, possible rain which leads to mud.

So why do it?  Because a lot of my best memories, and stories, are with these people on these great bike adventures.  If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t have had the balls to sign up for any of them. And well, I love conquering challenges.  So, on my last post I’d say there would be something to train for, you could say this is it. ~ AddingMoMiles

Fashionably Late, Hello 2018

Last day of January, so how are those resolutions going?  I cheat, I tend not to make resolutions. It’s not to say I don’t set goals for the new year or “focuses.” I would like to note that the end of the year came with a pretty massive change and goal met.  Could I just carry that over into 2018 and call it a day?

2017 was a funny year.  My cynical side would love to say that it was awful and I’m so glad it’s over.  I was ready to move past it but it was equally great as it was difficult.  I went into 2017 with what felt like a career blow and reached a breaking point. Then there was all time highs, literally and figuratively.  Of course, it wasn’t without it’s lessons and those are always a plus, regardless of how they’re learned. (or whatever the quote says)

2017 lessons in a nutshell (note: I could have done without some of these universe, thanks)

The more you push down what you’re feeling, the more it’s going to come at you with a vengeance. You are disposable to people, whether romantic or friendships. What you must know, it’s not you (usually), it’s their issues. Fear is strong enough to let you ruin what’s meant for you (son of a bitch). I love this aunt thing and it taught me to love way beyond myself. Throw away your plan, throw away your back up plan. Jump. Your happiness may come at the expense of someone else’s. Colorado is everything I expected it to be. Croquetas are irreplaceable.

I usually start the year planning races, labeling their level of importance, figuring out base mileage.  That’s not happening.  That’s not saying I don’t plan to race or prepare of them.  But I just needed to bring it down a bit for the time being, explore my new home.  I don’t want to feel forced to train, when what I really want to do is find a new trail to roam. I’m sure this will be short lived and there’ll be a training post soon, knowing myself, but in the meantime, I haven’t found a trail I don’t love.

It sounds cliché, but I’m ready to do 2018 differently.  I may not have a resolution but I do have some words that I want to focus on.  Balance, consistency, freedom.  They don’t really go together, I understand that but it makes sense to me. So whenever I feel things (life, etc) pulling me away from these aspects, I need to pull myself back to them. Regardless, I know 2018 will be great.  I mean, it started with mountain views and my partner in crime. Looks like the miles I’ll be adding this year will be climbing. ~ AddingMoMiles

Oh Colorado

Oh Colorado, you are pretty.  I’ve been here about 6 weeks and I’m absolutely in love with it.  Yes, it’s cold.  Yes, I’m usually the one in the room wearing the most layers.  Yes, my dog is petrified of falling snow.  We are Miamians at the end of day.  Everyday there’s something new to adjust or learn about living here.  Colorado is not without its quirks.

Colorado, what is up with your weather?  Make up your mind.  I went from wearing a dress one day to looking like the Michelin Man the next morning.  It’s 19 degrees in the morning and 55 by 2pm.  That’s almost a 40-degree difference in one day.  Hey look snow, from where?  Every day is a new adventure trying to find out the perfect amount of layers.  It’s a science and I get a new level of accomplishment if I get right. Note to self: always look at the “feels like” temperature.

Colorado, the land of nice people.  I’m still skeptical.  Why are you so happy?  What do you want from me?  Why are you saying hi? Everyone introduces themselves.  I know my neighbors, we wave hi and say good morning (wtf).  I need to make a conscious effort to be nice because well, I’m from Miami.  We don’t exactly do that. But as friendly as people are, personal space is a very serious thing.  There is no cheek kissing, hugs.  I’m almost sure that’s considered some form of harassment.  How exactly am I supposed to say hi to people if I can’t give a kiss?   So I just show up and awkwardly wave, while secretly wanting to give out hugs and kisses.

Guess what, people kind of know how to drive.  Driving the speed limit is a thing here, not for me yet but others.  Turning signals mean something.  Who knew that when you put it on, the person will actually let you in and not speed up to close the gap.  I haven’t even been honked at once.  Come to think of it, I haven’t used my horn in weeks… and I LOVED my horn.  The noise soothed me.  Colorado, the land of bike lanes and trails.  I rode for the first time on Sunday.  People yield to cyclist, it’s another thing. I didn’t get honked at, cursed, run off the road. Got a couple of waves though.

Yes, Colorado is beautiful but you can’t turn a blind eye to it’s lack of Latin food.  I miss croquetas, like in my soul.  The ability to find cafecito on almost any corner.  Yes, I get that expresso is the “cafecito” here but it is most definitely not the same.  Someone just ship me some damn croquetas. There are delicious Mexican restaurants but I need more than that in my life.  Some whole in the wall Peruvian, arepas filled with deliciousness. (sigh)

Altitude hurts. It’s a rude awakening.  It’s like breathing through a straw, while climbing up a hill just to get to you apartment.  What goes down, comes up and oh does it comes up.  So, I fear descents, because I know I have to go back up it when I come back. Nothing is flat.  If it feels flat, it’s a false flat, I promise.

Colorado, wtf is up with the Broncos?….and your radio stations….and the Christmas carols.

I can’t lie, it’s a continuous adjustment.  Miami is unique to say the least.  It’s like it’s own country separate from the US. So when you step out of it, there are a lot of learnings, learning the American culture.  Thank you for being so welcoming Colorado. ~ Adding Mo Miles

#MiAtoDEN

I’ve started this post numerous times, deleted it, started again.  Mostly because I wasn’t exactly sure how to put it together.  It’s no secret that for years I’ve been trying to get out Miami.  Even less of a secret that Colorado was a place I wanted to be. So, I’m in Colorado, I made it. Easy right? It’s been quite a process.  Years of process, actually.  Nothing great comes easy or whatever cliché quote that fits here.

Let’s start by saying, if you’re a Cuban woman, you don’t move away from your family.  You’re technically supposed to live with your parents until the right suitor sweeps you off your feet and marries you. I’m surprised my dad doesn’t have to pay a dowry, this mentality is so ancient. How many goats am I worth? So at 15, the thought of actually leaving felt impossible but it was there.  At 20, it became a possibility.  At 23, I was sure I was going to make it happen and oh did I try.  Manager programs at the company I was working for, saving, getting laid off, attempting to save again, moving out of my parents, some love stuff in between, looking for work, visit Colorado (turning point), move back with my parents, saving more, going to be an aunt, decide not to leave, more love stuff, we should try to leave, climactic breakdown, find job, leave. Half of my autobiography in a few short lines.  The point, it was a very long process and not one that came with an easy set of emotions.

I remember hanging up the call of my verbal offer and thinking “oh shit”.  There was relief, so much joy and excitement, accomplishment but equally there was fear, nervousness and heart break.  I was leaving everything I had ever known and those few individuals that were a piece of me.  I knew I was going to hurt my family and it was something that I didn’t know how to process and still kind of am.  It’s hard to do something for yourself, knowing it will hurt other people.  It doesn’t come easy to me, not how I’m wired.  It took a good amount of therapy to be able to make the choice to finally leave, for me. I knew I needed to make a change for a better quality of life and knew that I couldn’t continue to just run on auto, day after day with how unhappy I was.  It took a lot of reflection to realize I’ve been somewhat unhappy for years, finding bandaids to how I felt.  Pouring myself into training and races to not face the bigger issue, finding people to keep me entertained. Until one morning, I just couldn’t get up and face it.  I knew that feeling of suffocation wasn’t just going to go away until I followed what I wanted….to move.  Experience something new, get back my quality of life where I wasn’t working around the clock.

I’m here and absolutely in love with it.  I spent most of the day on the side of some mountain somewhere.  I don’t check work email constantly and I’m usually home by no later than 5:15 but usually 5pm.  It takes me 15 minutes from door to cubicle.  I don’t deal with traffic.  People are actually nice, like strangers say hi…all the damn time.  I have a mountain a view steps from my front door.  Quality of life. That was the goal.  The point of this?  If there’s something you want, go for it, even if it takes 16 years.  There is no shame in reaching out for help, mental health is a thing…not a just millennial thing.  Know that sometimes it takes time, enough to give up on your goals. On that note, #coloradosucksdontcome. ~ Adding Mo Miles

Dear Lia Rose

July 15^th , 4:27am.  That specific time is forever engraved in my mind.  A whole 5lbs 8oz, 18 inches.  A month early, Lia Rose came into this world and pretty much changed my perspective.  She shifted our priorities in a way nothing else can.  Lia Rose forever changed our family. She forever changed me, I’m an aunt now.  There is a human I love more than anything else, than myself.  People tried to explain to me how it would feel but there really aren’t words.  It gets you thinking on things you want to tell her, protect her from.  I hope that one day my sister decides to share it with her (whether she agrees with what I’m saying or not).

Lia, the first thing we want you to know is that you are loved beyond what you can comprehend.  You are loved unconditionally and without question.  Know that you will never be alone, even on days you feel lonely (and you will), but you will always have someone in your corner.

You can’t be anything you want to be. You can be anything you work hard to be.  Nothing is given.  Goals don’t get reached by just setting them, don’t I wish that was the case.  Work hard for what you want.  You will fail, more than once.  You will fall, dust yourself and stand back up.

Be humble, there are few things less appealing than arrogance.  Be kind, it’s something generations are losing and it’s sad.  Don’t be the mean girl; the world has enough of them. Be strong, don’t take shit.  Be respectful, of others, of elders, of yourself, of your body. Be real, be genuine.  These are the qualities that make you beautiful.  These are the traits that will keep your soul happy.  Physical beauty is fleeting and won’t get you far.  Imperfections are beauty.  Love your body and treat it well.

Society is going to try to dictate a lot of aspects of your life; a middle finger is the appropriate answer.  Yes you are a woman but that doesn’t mean you have to fall under stereotypes.  Like pink, don’t like pink.  Be a mechanic, be a teacher, be a CEO. Be whatever you want.  Marry, don’t get married.  Have kids, don’t have kids.  Don’t let the pressure of society mess with your chosen path. Don’t let the pressure of age rush you into something that is not for you. Let it happen when the time is right.  Listen to your gut, it is right.  If it feels wrong, it’s wrong.

Life is hard.  It is really hard but you are tough.  You’re cut from tough cloth.  It’ll kick, push and shove you around.  But it also comes with these pockets of perfection.  Like when you’re sitting on the floor of a new empty apartment with your person, eating Publix cake and drinking wine out of a paper cup.  You know for a fact there’s nowhere else you’re supposed to be.  When you look out at the beach and see you family laughing, happy.  Nothing but that moment matters. Create and cultivate lasting friendships.  You will need your girlfriends.  Real ones that will tell you the honest truth, even when it hurts.  With them, create memories that even 10 years from now make you laugh.  Ask your mom about some of our nights out.

Love hard. Get hurt. Love again. Don’t let heart break make you cold.  Some men will tell you what you want to hear and not mean it.  A few men will mean it.  It’s hard to tell the difference but worse case they become lessons.  Pick the one that shows up.  The one that follows through with his word, not just writes pretty text messages.  Pick that one that picks you up when your car breaks down, holds your hand and rarely raises his voice at you.

Your mom and dad won’t always get it right.  You won’t always get along.  But I can promise you this though, that later in life you’ll catch yourself saying “my parents were right”.  My sister is absolutely insane most days but I have yet to meet someone who loves as much and unconditionally as she does.  Your parents are the only people who will drop everything for you, be kind to them, they have sacrificed a lot.

If nothing else goes right in my life, it’s enough for me to be your aunt and watch you grow. Know that you will always have me.  Know there isn’t anything you can’t come to me for.  Know that I will never judge you. Know that every day you are loved. ~ Adding Mo Miles.