It’s Been A While

I’m ashamed to say it took me 3-4 tries to remember the password to my account. I remember writing the last post like it was a year ago and a half ago. Oh wait. There are lots of half written posts saved on my computers somewhere.  There are a few reasons I stopped writing.  For one, this was a triathlete’s blog and well, ask me when was the last time I swam or ran.  I made a sad attempt at a comeback last year.  Half assed my way through a sprint tri, think I threw away my goggles after.

It’s an odd feeling when you don’t feel you fit in something you use to love so much.  Same odd feeling when you don’t feel you fit in something you genuinely love, which is pretty much every bike race last season.  It’s this limbo. At the time I loved the concept of racing my bike but I had no idea what I was doing.  I sat in the back. I survived.  I was a triathlete with minimal bike handling skills and questionable watts, what exactly was I planning to accomplish here.  I’m going to call 2016 the year I white knuckled training. Didn’t care for it, didn’t want to do it but training for something is what I’ve done for years, so I went through the motions. But we all know Saturday breakfast was the true motivator behind it all. So if this was a blog about what I loved and I wasn’t exactly sure if I loved doing it anymore, I stopped writing.  I had nothing I wanted to accomplish, nothing to train for because, I didn’t really see myself succeeding in either sport.  In all honesty, my coach at the time got the short end of my motivation, sorry for that.

At the end of last season, leading up to the state road race I got really sick.  Since I had already put in the “time” I decided to race it any ways.  I didn’t even last the first loop. Spit out the back on a climb. Yes, I was sick for weeks. Yes, I had trouble breathing.  No, that’s not why I think I got the so loved DNF.  I wasn’t there; my mind wasn’t in the race.  In all honestly, I didn’t want to race because I knew I hadn’t worked hard enough to do much of anything.  It was a long 4 hour drive home where I knew something had to change.  The women racing didn’t come out of utero clipped in to a bike and racing.  Meaning, there was no reason that I couldn’t get my shit together and start learning how to race bikes.

Step one, no excuses and start being consistent.  Started strength training again, stopped eating donuts (ok, cut back on donuts) and got my weight down again.  Step 2, rekindled my romance with my bike. I knew I had to make a tougher decision though.  I made the choice to switch coaches.  I needed someone who wouldn’t take any of my shit, someone who invested so much time in my progress that I would be embarrassed not to follow through. I found him.  He doesn’t take any of my shit.  I may even be a little scared of him.  Nice guy tho.

Its taken work, a lot of it.  Not just on the bike, in the gym.  I ask questions, watch videos, read, have someone out there walk me through form (my sprint coach), train my weaknesses…a lot (but a lot).  I couldn’t have picked a less exhausting sport?  This is the hardest & most consistent I have ever trained and it’s just the start.  ~ Adding Mo Miles.

Simple

2016 kind of creeped up on everyone, kind of like that full frontal snapchat you really didn’t expect to get.  I’m torn between good riddance 2015 and impending doom going into 2016.  Everyone always starts with the new year, new me.  Well, I promise I’ll be the same sarcastic pain in the ass in 2016. I’m not a fan of the fact that people wait for a new year for a fresh start.  I had a “fresh start” on a Thursday two weeks ago at 4:46pm.  Your problems aren’t going to disappear when the clock strikes 12, look at Cinderella.  But I get it; let me not burst the magical bubble of unicorns and rainbows of people everywhere.  By my tone, it’s obvious I’m not one for resolutions.  For the most part they last about 5 weeks and then you kind of ghost them.  But I do like to make lists of things I want to focus on going into this year.  We can’t tackle it all, as much as we feel motivated going into the New Year because well, life happens.

This year was hard, challenging, and an all-around character builder.  I’ll spare the gory sob stories.   But I’m sad to see it go because there were some great things sprinkled around between those tough days and the year ended so damn peacefully.   I met people this year that pushed me harder (physically and mentally) and forward in my life.  If it weren’t for those tough times, they wouldn’t have come into my life.  See, the silver lining to the sad stories (insert inspirational quote here).   If there is anything that I learned was the importance of having the right people in your life, never feel bad for saying goodbye to the wrong, the biggest critics are sitting on the couch trolling your world, and PLP (a spanish acronym) is a perfect response to everything and anything.

There is no doubt, to anyone that knows remotely anything about me (and creeps my Instagram), that one of my focuses is training and bike related.  So I’m not going to touch on that, it’s a given.  I’m sure there will be a follow up post of all my tragic cycling moments and power test conquest on a later day.  My focus for 2016 is a mix of simplicity and change.  I don’t mean a new comforter, paint my walls; I’m talking about life altering, mass climate change.  It’s been a long time coming and something I will embrace with open arms, anxiety, and well fear, logically.  Simplicity makes me sound slightly ridiculous (PLP).  It means keeping it all simple: relationships, work, thought process, possessions, goals, people, social media.  It’s not that serious and what worries us now, we won’t even remember in our next new years resolution .   People spend more time being, what do kids call it nowadays? butt hurt?… than focusing on what matters, the Starbucks Christmas cup of course.  So lets appreciate the good, the bad, and the very ugly of 2015, toast to 2016, eat your 12 grapes and make your wishes, wear the yellow undies, throw the bucket of water, stroll your neighborhood with an empty suitcase and lets do this.  Happy New Year.  ~Adding Mo Miles

State Road Race

It was the race I set my eye on a few months ago.  The race that got me up to ride alone at 5:30am (the struggle).  The race I like to call bittersweet.  The race that finished the year of me dipping my toes into road racing.  I made the not so smooth transition from triathlons to road races at the beginning of this year.  Not so smooth because for the most part I felt like a fish out of water, flopping around.  I went into this race haunted by my lack luster performances at the beginning of this year.  Race 1: dropped in the first 5 minutes.  Race 2: Dropped in the first 10 miles.  At that point, I didn’t want to race until I felt comfortable with my ability to compete.  One of the best decisions I made was to find a coach that fit me, not me trying to fit my coach, and I couldn’t be more grateful for him.  He pushed me to a lot of my limits, both physically and mentally, those few weeks leading up to the race.

Florida state road race for my category was two 16 mile loops and luckily cat 4 women had their own start.  I surprisingly started the race relatively calm, which is the opposite of how I start any competitive event.  I’m usually going through 564 scenarios, overthinking life.  With the first few uphills, I just observed the girls, keeping an eye on anyone coming up on the sides, going over all the words of wisdom.  It’s the first race I observed versus just trying to survive.  On the first major climb I noticed a gap start to open.  Thanks to the advice of a friend, I didn’t freak but kept my pace and closed the gap on the downhill, saving legs.  It was here that I realized I needed to start the climbs at the front of the pack.  This way I could either control the pace or fall back into the group.  Going into the second lap, I was in the front of the group.  For the first time not in the back, not chasing the group down, not riding past the start/finish alone.  I settled in and prepared for it to get harder and it did.  Up…down…push the pace…a few miles to go, mentally preparing myself for the downhill finish.  On the second to last climb is where the race took a turn and the group split.  We worked and caught them on the last climb.  At this point I gave it all I had, anything I had left to keep with the group.   Legs shaking, lungs burning, teeth grinding, wait is that throw up? There are few things more discouraging than getting to this point and still watching the group creep away.  What is even more defeating was knowing there was only 3K to go.   I came over the top and with the last bit left I made on more effort, but just couldn’t close the gap into the next small climb.  It was a rush of disappointment and anger.  I came into the finish line frustrated, I don’t think I can properly put into words how I felt.  My mind flooded with just brutal negativity.

I grabbed a burger, followed by a cold beer and reflected.  I’m sure I did about 27 things wrong and paid for it at the end but it was the first time I didn’t feel like a rookie that didn’t belong.  It was the race where I actually strategized.   Sparing the details of the numbers, it was some of the best riding I’d done all year.  There was massive progress from race 1.  I didn’t get the results I wanted, but there was a lot of be happy with. Preparing for this race taught me so much about myself, this sport and did more for me than anyone will know.  So a huge thank you to Patrick from Pinnacle Coaching for drawing the map, taking on this rookie and getting me as ready as possible.  The men of Outcast for the advice, tips and laughs.  Momma duck for the constant support from day 1. Time to go from dipping my toes to diving right into cycling and prepare for next season.  ~AddingMoMiles

All The Gaps

“Prepare to take your mind to another place,” it was the last thing I read before the horn went off for the start of 6 Gap. We took off Friday to Georgia for the 6 Gap century ride. Well “century” because it was 104 miles. Six Gap has 6 separate climbs in the Georgia Mountains, a total of 11,000 feet of climbing. Totally normal. I think it is the second most challenging event I’ve signed up for, didn’t quite beat Ironman. Getting to Atlanta was an adventure all on its own. Cancelled early morning flight, full flights the rest of the day, connecting flight…fast forward to the evening and I finally make it to ATL, my bike did not. It was still in Charlotte. I had to sit and hope it was put on the next flight. Thankfully it made it one piece.

I had an odd calm going into this ride, mostly because I already had the mentality that it was ok if I didn’t finish (explained later). It was technically not a race, so time wasn’t a stress factor. I honestly wanted to enjoy the ride. I was just happy to get the chance to ride my bike somewhere else on my bucket list. We stayed in Helen, a little German town I really wish we had more time to enjoy about 40 minutes the start. Like most of these events, your alarm clock is going off way before the sun comes up. When you looked back at the start, all you could see were bikes. A site I always love at rides.

I’m not going to lie, my trip to Boulder scared me a bit when it came to climbing, so I didn’t know what to expect. I prepared for the worse but prayed really really hard for the best. I played it safe and kept my power at a number I knew I could maintain and I wouldn’t blow up half way up a climb. Enter Neels Gap, the first climb. It wasn’t necessarily difficult, just long. At the end of this climb is when I realized I should have put some more food in my jersey pocket. The next two climbs, Jacks and Uncoi, went by relatively quick. My legs felt good, I felt good, my new friends around me felt good. I make friends at these things for fear of losing my mind. We parted ways at the bottom Hogpen. The 4^th and hardest climb. This is the climb that brings the demons. It was a total of about 6 miles and 3,000 feet of climbing and it was pretty much the half way point. Your legs already had a little burn, body parts were starting to hurt. I just focused on each pedal stroke, I counted the polka dots on my socks, anything to keep me from looking up to see how far I had to go. I was even writing this very post in my head. It had a lot more curse words then. It came to a point where you were so high up the fog didn’t let you see very far. Then, over a climb, you see the yellow aid tent. At this point, there was no doubt that I would finish thing. I had just made it up Hogpen, slowly, three miles an hour slow, but I got there. It didn’t take long to get to Wolfpen, the 5^th climb. This was the climb I truly felt my legs, this was the climb I wanted to quit, call an Uber, someone pick up, I was done. I wanted nothing to do with every single turn we took up this road. I repeated that last text from my coach in my head. This is where I dug into the depths of my soul and got my unhappy ass to the top of the climb. Mile 80, 24 miles never felt so long. Thankfully Woody’s (ha), the last climb was the shortest (ha) and easiest (ha). 10 miles to go. It was grueling and literally painful because my legs would not stop cramping and I rather end up in the fetal position on the side of the rode than drink the pickle juice. I just counted pedal strokes until I saw the finish line. I hadn’t felt this accomplished in a very long time.

I was told it would take me 9 to 10 hours to finish. I was told to do 3 Gap, the shorter option, because 6 Gap may be too hard. I was told not to be disappointed if I didn’t finish. I was told by someone that they would be waiting for me a long at the finish line. To these I say thank you for fueling my fire, not only for this ride but anything I decide to do in the future. I finished in 7:40:59. To some that may not be great, to me, I walk away pretty proud. Our group from the flat lands of Miami did pretty damn good as whole. I made the mistake of letting these people in my head, even during the ride for a split second. Well, you learn something new with each challenge you do. I learned not to listen to the noise, you won’t always have supporters, and you won’t always have people who believe in you. Trust yourself and your training. Next stop, states. ~ AddingMoMiles

 

Hello Boulder

It has been quite some time since I put something on here.  Lets just say life has been, well, life.  You get caught up on the day and day, open your eyes one morning and realize two months have gone by.  In order to break the mundane routine, the same training grounds, we packed up bikes and headed to Boulder, Colorado.  This trip kind of came randomly.  I figured, you only live once (yes, that’s yolo) and I was in need of that change. So we spent weeks looking at the Airbnb pictures of the house, anticipating this trip.  I knew it was going to be hard, I knew it would be grueling, but as a girl from the flat lands of Miami, this would be my first experience with real climbing.  Clermont?  Sugarloaf? Pretty much a joke to what we were about to climb.   I pictured, I imagined, and never did I think it would be so….incredible (yet painful).

After a much delayed flight, we made it to the house up on the mountain side, pretty much just in time for sunrise.  We were supposed to nap, but the last thing I wanted to do was sleep.  Hell, I was in Boulder.  So I sat out on the porch, watched the sunrise and light spread on the mountain around us.  What a poetic sap, right?  I’m just getting started.  Some breakfast on the terrace, fancy coffee making and bike building, we were heading on the rocky dirt road for some “light” climbing.  I don’t do well with rocky gravel roads, first thing I learned.  What….the….blame altitude, lack of sleep, rookie experience but 10 minutes into our first climb and my heart rate had sky rocketed.  I could barely catch a breath and felt like I was about to lose breakfast.  This was the easy part of the climb, mind you.  I turned it around, found a safe spot and gathered myself.  I did this two more times until I finally made it up to part that “flattened” out.  By this point I had lost everyone, including my Ziploc (my cycling wallet) with ID and credit card, and what felt like my soul.  After a 30 minute search up and down, one of the guys had found it earlier and stashed in their pocket.  Crisis averted.  So I continued on the road, roaming, lost on a mountain.  I figured at some point, they’d come back down the same road and they did.  The funny thing (but not so funny) about having a house on a mountain is that after a few hours of cycling, you have to climb back up to the house.  Ha. I was barely able to eat much, so my energy levels were at about -5.  I felt pretty awful and did my best to hide it (probably unsuccessfully).  With a little help, showing me how to pace on a climb, made it up.  I don’t know how pace on a climb, second thing I learned.

If I thought day 1 was a struggle, day 2 was, well, I don’t know how to even put into words.  We had an ex Miamian, now Boulder local, take us on what was some well-known climbs.  Mother of god, Flagstaff.  15 minutes, still climbing, 30 minutes, still climbing, 45 minutes, I am still climbing.  The array of emotions you go through.  “I can’t do this”, “man the f up”, “oh look at the view”, “it’s not worth the pain”, “yes it is”, “I got this”, “is that a tear??”, “think of the photo op”, “F that I’m done”, “why am I such a little bitch”, “must keep going”, “when is breakfast” I don’t think I would have made it as far as I did if it weren’t for one of the guys that came back, for what I felt was emotional support and a literal push up the mountain.  He patiently, even though I was not exactly a ray of sunshine, rode next to me, took breaks, until I literally could no longer pedal.  Note to self, unclip quickly or you will fall over. I don’t think I thanked him enough. I made it up Flagstaff and up towards Super Flag (where it took a turn for the worse).  The top of Super Flag will have to wait for the next trip.  It was very disappointing but there wasn’t much to do but just know I have to keep training, keep trying, keep building and getting those #gains.

Wait, we’re not done.  Lets go to a harder climb.  Magnolia.  It has such a pretty name, but it isn’t.  It just looked scary.  I gave it a try and knew I wasn’t making it far.  I turned it around and kept on the highway road we used to get there.  Nothing mattered but that exact moment, not how far I could get up the mountain, not watts, speed, how far I have to go, the disappointment in my performance, cycling gossip, bills, or troubles.  I was on a road between two mountains, absolutely clear blue skies, fresh air, riding along the side of a small river.  It was just a reminder of the joy riding brings, why I do what I do, why I love this sport so much; for what it could show me, for the places my bike could take me. If nothing went right the rest of the trip, it would still be a great trip.

We did some running, hiking and of course more riding the next two days.  Climb by bike and climb by foot.  We did it for the views (pots of gold) and the Instagram post, of course.  We laughed, a lot.  Drank good beer, shared a lot of stories.  A melt down or two and got some really good tips from a cycling veteran.  I could tell you this, the city itself surprised me, but the friends and cyclists I was with, impressed me.  Don’t tell them this though, I’ll never live it down, but their will to keep going on these climbs; their ease making it up, it was motivating.  They are great athletes.  It makes you want to get stronger as a cyclist.  Their love for sport, it rubs off.  They made the trip what it was, pretty memorable.  This was not only a great trip but it opened my eyes to what I want next, what I want to do and put a plan into place to work towards and get it.  You could say I’m excited for what’s next. ~AddingMoMiles

My 29th Year of Life.

So I’ve entered my last year in my 20’s.   Is this where women start flipping out about getting old?  Maybe it hasn’t hit me that I’m a year away from 30 or I’m kind of ok with it.  Who really liked the awkward, broke years of your early 20s?   I read over my birthday post from last year.  What’s kind of scary is how fast the year flew; because I remember writing that thing like it was yesterday.  So I didn’t accomplish some of the things on there, like my pull-up, I feel that will forever be a work in progress.  But my life has changed what I feel is significantly in the last year and god knows I’ve learned a lot.  Some things by choice, some by life’s kicks in the ass. To celebrate such a blessed occasion I packed up and headed up to Clermont with 2 of my favorites.  We celebrated, we drank, we relaxed, we rode, we climbed.  Climbing up Sugarloaf and doing Buckhill repeats gives you a little time to reflect. So now in my 29^th year of life, here are a few things I’ve learned, random thoughts in my old age.

Laugh, laugh a lot.  I know it sounds silly and mundane but I don’t think we do it as often as we should.

Explore, search, and try new things.  I had to stop being a little bitch and try things I usually wouldn’t.  Get outside your comfort zone.  Break the routine.  The bruises and scratches on my leg from mountain biking are proof I’ve started doing this.

Never let anyone make you feel bad about your body, even jokingly.  Don’t let them make you feel insecure.  Embrace your thick legs, cankles, thigh gaps (lack thereof), big booty or no booty. Your body is yours, it’s meant to take your through life, not be perfect.  Find someone that loves every inch of it, even the ones you don’t like.

Manipulation is hidden in many different ways.  Be careful.

Goals are grueling.  Athletic goals are tough.  They take a lot out of you.  You will get frustrated, you may cry, you will want to quit (multiple times).  But seeing progress, reaching your goal, crossing the finish….it is quite possibly the most rewarding feeling.

We wonder why we go through certain pain and hurt.  Sometimes, it’s to prepare you for a greater difficulty.  So that you come out of the other side quicker, stronger.

The best decision I made this year was adopting this guy.  He came at a perfect time and I couldn’t be more grateful.  A little man filled with so much spirit. Thank you for bringing me a perfect balance of madness, chaos and calm into my life.

Only you can dig yourself out of dark holes.  Even being surrounded by so much support, it is your decision and only you can make the changes to get yourself out of it.

It’s ok to ease up on the career goals if there are other things that you are finding more fulfilling.  The corner office isn’t going anywhere.

When it starts to pour, find a kind person who will share their umbrella who will walk you over to get a grand marnier or grey goose slushy and just enjoy the drink while the storm passes.  You can’t change the circumstance, so you might as well find a way to enjoy it.

The wrong relationship is ten times lonelier than being single and a lot more exhausting.

Drink beer, eat pizza, and enjoy the cupcake….all in moderation.

Women are crazy, some men are crazier.  The faster we all accept this, the easier life will be.

Behind every successful woman, is a tribe of other successful women who have her back.  The women in my life have been my rock.

I will take lots of pictures; I will post as many as I want.  I will ride my bike as much and as long as I want.  I will strut my tan lines.  I will curse. I will always be a little bit of a mess.  Accept who you are, be comfortable in your skin.

Live with joy.  Like honest, annoying those that are bitter, kind of joy.

My only goal for 29 is to live more.  That means something different to everyone.  But I can tell you this, no one is killing my vibe.  ~AddingMoMiles.

What the #Fakawi

This weekend I embarked on what for me was a bit of an adventure.  Let me start off by saying I have a perpetual fear of technical trails (hitting a tree) and of starting a ride in mob like fashion.  So it would only make sense that I would agree to join in the festivities of the Fakawi Bike Festival with hundreds of other riders.  It’s a fairly organized, non-official 30 or 50 miles ride through trails and a levee.  For whatever reason, I had an impulse feeling to buy a mountain bike a while back.  I’ve been on it a total of 4 times, including Fakawi and a stroll in the neighborhood.  Meaning I’ve been in the trails a total of two times in the last 2 months that I’ve had the bike.  With my fear of trees, I had refused to put clips on the bike.  Well, the day before I said why the hell, put clips on and bought a pair of mtb shoes.  Kind of having this screw fear, try new shit attitude lately.  So far it’s working out well.

So I show up the morning of the ride and see car after car with fancy mountain bikes.  I’m here thinking, great, totally out of my element.  Little by little, I find more people, friends show up.  Nerves start to trickle away.  Once everyone started to bunch together for the start, I noticed one of the best thing about the ride is the amount of different kinds of riders.  It didn’t matter whether you were a roadie, an elite triathlete, an instafamous triathlete, a die-hard mountain biker, a CX pro, or a weekend recreational rider.  Everyone was there for one reason it seemed, to celebrate riding.

Hundreds of riders starting at the same time, you think there would be total chaos, but it was quite the opposite.  Given, you had your “pro” riders jumping over medians like there was money the line. But boys will be boys.  I had to continuously remind myself I was clipped, tumbling over would have been a little embarrassing. After a few turns, I really had no idea where I was and just kind of followed the crowd, sneaking by barriers, hoping I didn’t miss a green arrow.  It would alternate between easy trails (thank god), rocks, and pavement.  In true Miami fashion, it was hot and humid.  You kind of met people along the way, made friends.  At least I did, mostly because I didn’t take it that seriously. At one point it felt like I was on a first date. Went kind of like “Hi, what’s your name.  What do you do? Ride often? More than I should. Will you marry me? I heard Vegas is kind of nice this time of year.” I left him behind, every man for himself mentality. So Mike, if at any point you read this, I’m still up for Vegas.

I was your usual slow in the trails, but on the road and levee, I would say my time on the road bike came in handy.  I had to start rationing water because I had no computer.  Strava was tracking me from my pocket, so I never really knew how close I was to the 22 mile point, where the rest stop was.  Pretty much just roaming.  Wait, were those inflatable Alligators?  I got there with just enough water to spare, filled up, talked a bit and then headed out.  At this point I wasn’t sure what was going on, I was on a highway.  No idea how I got here.  Figured I just attach myself to a group and draft cause the wind was starting to pick up.   So I got to the point where I see some heading off to the levee and others staying on the highway.  Good thing I stopped to ask what was going because I was on the divide for 30 and 50 miles.  Giving it some thought after, I should’ve kept going.  But I’m perfectly capable of getting lost, so I picked the safer route.  Up on the levee you could oversee the highway, see across to the fields.  It was great view.  Of course this was a perfect photo op moment.  With the exception of the man who didn’t want his ass photographed (it was a pretty nice ass). Before I knew it, I was back at the park, alive in one piece and uninjured.

There were so many reasons this was just such a great ride.  For one, it was way out of my comfort zone.  So far gone out of my comfort zone and it was a total trip.  There was no stress, no computer to track power, no speed to watch or cadence to monitor, no group to keep up with, no wheel to chase down, no dropping, no sprint, no real finish line, no breakaways, no worry of some idiot clipping my wheel, no loud mouth men!! I didn’t know where I was, I didn’t know what my heart rate was.   I could go as fast or as slow as I damn well pleased.  Just the dirt and I.  It was possibly the freest I felt a real long time.  I met new people, laughed with old friends, talked to strangers.  The entire experience was just fun.  Funny what trying something new could do because right now, I can’t wait to do it again. ~ AddingMoMiles.

#TeamThumbsUp

There are some decisions we make that are possibly the most simple, without any thought, but impact our life more than those decisions we find most challenging.  Several weeks ago a friend asked if anyone would be interested in participating in the South Beach Triathlon as part of the ThumbsUp Organization.  It would be the bike leg with an adaptive athlete.  Without any thought, I said yes.  Little did I know how much this experience would help and change me.

ThumbsUp is an organization that teams able bodied and adaptive athletes through different sporting events.  They are expanding attitudes about possibilities one event at a time.  I was lucky enough to witness their first race last year and was left amazed by the experience.  They’ve since participated in different events.  This year would be even better, two teams.  A little friendly competition never hurt anybody.

I met Juan Carlos Gil (JC) and Kerry Gruson at the only practice we had for the bike.  After racing, I now know I should have trained with the carrier a little bit more.  If there’s anything I learned that day was what really went into preparing for these events, that Kerry is the life of the party and a dear woman, JC is a monster athlete and in a league of his own, to make sure your back wheel spins when they attach the cart and that our team was definitely full of so much spirit.

Fast forward a week or two and it’s almost race weekend.  I was more nervous than I wanted to admit.  I didn’t know how it was going to go.  I’ve ridden 20 miles countless times but this was going to be different.  The day before we went for packet pick up, dropped off our bikes, and talked logistics.  Come race morning, we would have to make some surprise last minute adjustments.

This is the earliest my alarm clock had gone off in a really long time.  It’s been a while since I raced in a triathlon.  I waited in transition and remember just watching the pack of blue and yellow roll in and got straight to work setting up everything and ironing out the details.  We had a few minor challenges but as a team, there wasn’t anything that couldn’t get fixed.

Bikes are ready.

 Making our way to race start.

As race start got closer we made our way over to the beach.  This was where I was able to see the true meaning of sportsmanship, comradery, and take in this entire experience.  As soon as we got to the shore, there was nothing but cheers for Kerry and JC.  What I would have done to pause this moment, with the sun rising, athletes lining up; it has always been my favorite part of triathlons.  The true calm before the storm.  You can feel the adrenaline, the anxious nerves, the sheer will and determination of each person.  And Kerry and JC were off!! And I’m not kidding you when I say off; our swimmers were flying in that water! We had to run to transition and get ready to bike!  I still didn’t have my helmet on when they told me JC was out of the water and coming into transition.

We had to take cart and bike out of transition from where we were.  This didn’t go as smoothly as planned.  I’ve never really tried running in road shoes (and I don’t recommend it).  While I was trying not to fall, the bike took a tumble and I tripped right onto my spokes.  Pause, relax, take foot out of wheel.  All I can do was be grateful nothing broke and we were off.  I tried to gather my nerves and get on the course.  I settled into a pace I hoped to maintain the whole ride.  I hit the first bridge feeling good, until I hit the top, changed gears and dropped my chain.  Because I wasn’t nervous enough.  Valeria, who was riding as a shadow, and I couldn’t get it back in place and out of nowhere a man on a hybrid came to help us.  I’m not exactly sure where he came from, we were at the top of McCarther on a closed course but all I can say is thank you!! We made our way from bridge to bridge, each one harder than the last.  The sun was blazing and heat was rising.  With only a bottle of water, I knew I wasn’t exactly prepared and my speed got slower with each mile and my frustration grew.   My legs just weren’t having it.  Valeria and JC kept me going, entertained my mind, words of encouragement even when I felt like I had nothing left.  I was running out of gears half way up the bridges, so I would just put my head down and dig into the pedal, dig in hard.  I wouldn’t look up until JC let me know I was the top (he would count down) or I caught of glimpse of Valeria’s bike from the corner of my eye.  My fear of going down the bridges went away real fast, I used all the speed I could get.

Valeria our gopro pro.

It was hard; probably my most difficult bike to date in a race, but what I take away from it is something else.  I got words of encouragement from almost every cyclist.  I got a constant thumbs up.  As they passed me on the bridge, they motivated us on.  Hearing people calling out “Go ThumbsUp” gave me goosebumps every time.  People I knew calling out my name, edging us on.  Police offers, volunteers, photographers, all of them cheering us on.   It’s hard to translate the experience we had into words.  Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, I came into transition to so much spirit from the spectators; I had to hold back my tears.  I finished that bike drained, beat, exhausted, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Coming in transition.

As Valeria went off to the run with JC, we went over to the finish and waited to help her, the last quarter mile or so was in the sand, with an slight uphill.  Triathlon may be an individual sport, but that isn’t what I saw at the finish. Other race participants on the way to their finish were helping us, not worrying about their finish time.  Spectators joined in to push.  We came in as a team, all 7 of us, but it took so many more than that to get to the finish.  My favorite finish to date.

I am overjoyed by the opportunity that was given to me by ThumbsUp.  I am thankful for those that I met along the way, that I hope remain friends.   I am blessed to be a part of such an amazing organization and I look forward to watching it grow.  I was humbled by the entire experience, it gave me back more than I ever imagined.  I am surprised by how much this has helped me as a person.  It is something  I will always carry with me. #TeamThumbsUp. ~AddingMoMiles

Never Stop Chasing

Oh Clermont, we meet again.  There is always something about this tiny little place that can easily suck the life out of you.  It’s humbling.  With each race I do, I learn just a little bit more.  This weekend we headed up to Race of the West.  Packed the bikes and four bodies (thug life) into one hotel room.  If anything, the weekend was filled with a lot laughs, hashtags, and new found respect for a tub with proper draining.

CLEEEERMONT!

Saturday I woke up with mixed emotions, one was I can’t wait to do this…the other was I’ve changed my mind, I’m staying in bed (child tantrum).  This would be my first circuit so I went with one goal, stay with the main group.  A circuit: a road cycling race that’s several laps in a given amount time, this one was 40 minutes, just in case anyone was wondering.  I didn’t want to be that one lonely straggler.  I didn’t want a DNF.  Worse off, I didn’t want to make a rookie mistake and take someone down.  Setting some realistic goals here people.  So I line up, hands shaking and heart pounding (please don’t throw up).  After a few rules (don’t ever fold your number) we were off…and of course, I can’t clip in (wtf!). After what felt like the longest seconds, I finally get clipped and head off to close off whatever gap had created.  I knew I had to find a way to calm myself down, this kind of nervous just makes you jittery on the bike, which never leads to anything good.  We get into a surprisingly steady rhythm.  The road starts to curve and we take a few turns, nothing I couldn’t handle. Until we come to the last turn towards the start/finish.  This is where I realized more than ever that I can’t take a turn if my life depended on it (great!).  So the rest of the race I knew I was going to be closing gaps. (#thegapclosers).  This is just an unnecessary waste of energy and work.  It’s hard to think of any kind of strategy when you don’t know what to expect (is someone going to attack!?) and you can’t take a damn turn.  Other than sprinting to catch the group after certain turns, the race went at a good pace.  It’s not that it was easy, but when you spend your weekend trying to keep up with some of these boys (key word being trying), you kind of expect that level of intensity.  “1 lap left”, so I was ready for some kind of showdown but it went like any of the other loops.  That was until the finish line was in sight (it’s going down).  I never imagined how much goes on at this finish line.  I come from races where you come in alone.  In this case, you have to worry about those sprinting inches from you, the wheel in front of you (note to self: don’t get behind a girl that’s going to slow down), is there space for you to move forward, is someone going to make a dumb mistake and cut you off, are you in the right gear (this was more of an afterthought).  All while going as fast as possible, giving whatever you have left.  There’s a lot going on and little time to react.  You just get this tunnel vision.  Shut.up.legs. Finito!! Second thought, after holly hell, can we do it again?? After a minor heartache in the guy’s race, some breakfast, the procession for showers, we head to drive the course for the Road Race.  My one thought, I wish I hadn’t.

That’s me…in the back…

The course of the road race on Sunday was 4, 11 mile loops.  With a climb that has been crowned “the wall”.  I’ll leave it at that.  I went in this race with my general attitude.  Small accomplishments, just finish.  I should have gone into this race thinking fight like hell to stay with the group (it’s a learning process). The race starts like all others, steady pace…and then the wall (wait.for.me).  Surprise, surprise I get dropped.  But instead of saying that’s it, I chase down the group.  Pedal like hell on the downhill.  I pass a girl and in true sportsman like conduct tell her to get on my wheel and I start closing the gap, only to realize I was starting to run out of push.  I ease up on the pedal and she starts to pull. With a whole lot of effort we manage to get back with the group. “Never stop chasing, you never know” she tells me with a smile and that stuck with me the rest of the race…and will for the rest of my races (actually, in life).  I got dropped on the next longer climb and worked just to keep the group in sight.  Into the second loop my roommate caught up after dropping the chain and we worked together to catch two other girls.  A big thank you to her for keeping me going, for helping me out when my legs just couldn’t. Wind, climbs, numb legs, snot and other things…we finished together and the second we unclipped took a seat on the grass, there was just nothing left to walk.  I don’t think we’ve ever pushed ourselves this much in a race.  It felt good… ~AddingMoMiles

Race Fun Begins.

First race of 2015, and even more exciting, it was a road race.  We drove up to Dade City, FL for Race for Humanity, two 17 mile loop course.  I’ve had my fair share of run races and obviously triathlons but I’ve had a limited number of cycling races.  By limited, I signed up for one last year on a whim on a weekend riding trip to Clermont and didn’t even technically finish.  So we’ve made progress, I finished this race and didn’t get lapped.  It was only two loops, so lapping would have been kind of hard but let’s not focus on that.  We can say I won my race, no DNF and I didn’t come in dead last.  Now let me tell you a little story about the conditions.

I checked the forecast the night before leaving and it said 60’s and raining.  I figured the forecast was wrong, it usually is.  They were right on.  We wake up race morning to find it raining, 60ish degrees, and winds up to 30 mph (I kid you not, this isn’t a Cuban exaggeration).  If this were a regular riding day, I would have climbed right back into my warm bed.  The plan to ride there for warm up was cancelled; we pack our cars and headed to the race.  We manage to get our chips, put our numbers and stay relatively dry, but no time to warm up.  As we wait for the women’s race to start I couldn’t stop shaking, I couldn’t tell if it’s from nerves or just from being soaked and cold.  Pneumonia for sure.  “It’s the first race of the season, no need to kill yourself on the course girls, safety first” or something along those lines came out of the officials mouth.  Great.   At this point all I could think about is not leaving any skin on the pavement.

As we start the race, my glasses were already covered in water and I could barely see the tire in front of me.  Not to mention, the wind wouldn’t let me hear the freewheeling for the other girls, so I wasn’t exactly sure when they were slowing down.  The only choice was to take off my glasses.  Nothing better than road gunk splashing up into your eyes, but at the moment that was the least of my worries.  My legs felt tight but nothing I wasn’t able to shake off.  We start with a few short climbs, relatively easy speed.  It wasn’t until we came to a longer climb around mile 10 that the group started to pull away.  It was bound to happen on a climb, it isn’t exactly my forte. It beats the last race where I got dropped the first minute (literally) of the race. So now I’m left to battle the winds solo, but the positive was that I didn’t have the stress of being surrounded by other riders on very wet roads.  I finished the first loop without much thought, with exception of the nice 3 climbs heading right into the wind the last 3-4 miles.  On this last stretch, I see a tiny spec ahead, which I had to assume was another cyclist.  My thought was if I reach her we can battle this wind together.  I get to her about 1 KM off of the start/finish, only to watch her not go for the second loop but get off the course.  Really lady!? Even though a part of me wanted to get off with her.

So the next 17 miles were filled with some ups and down and some extreme thoughts.  The first few miles I swore I was retiring, not doing another road race. I pushed those thoughts aside and set a goal to finish under 2 hours.  I start pushing on the pedals, though at some point I swore the bike was having some kind of mechanical failure because it wasn’t moving.  Turns out, the bike was just fine; I was on a false flat.  I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt my fingers or toes. I had to start rationing my water. For some time I thought I was completely lost, nothing  looked familiar and freaked out a little more when the vultures started to circle overhead.  Turns out they were there for the dead armadillo, not me.  I made the final turn towards the finish right into the wind, knowing I only had a few miles left and about two climbs.  Oh look how nice, now the sun decides to peak through the clouds.  Kind of useless now, I may have already lost a toe to frostbite.   I miscounted the climbs, turns out it was more than two.  It was hard to get out of the saddle to climb; the gust of winds would shake your bike.  I fought the wind in each climb, at some point I’m sure I screamed out obscenities.  I was relieved to see the finish line and even more relieved to get out of my soaked cold clothes and put on my hoodie.  I tell you this, coffee and a warm shower never felt so good.  But after I had defrosted all I could think of was the next race.  I know, masochist.

Those were the hardest weather conditions I have ever raced in.  If there is anything this race did was highlight my weakness in climbing and probably my rookie nerves of riding in those conditions.  Both of which will be worked on.  Putting everything aside, it was a great training race with a good amount of climbing.  Something I wouldn’t have been able to do in Miami.  Not only that, I realized how much I really love road racing, the atmosphere, the people.  So I take my learning from this race and on to the next race… ~ AddingMoMiles