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

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.

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

 

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

And Here We Go Again

Well talk about being missing in action. I had to step away from the keyboard.  Blogs can be dangerous, more dangerous than drunk texting…and left over birthday cake.  I’ve been doing a lot of millennial, Gen-Y, finding yourself and what makes you happy type of stuff.  What I discovered?  What I’ve been doing all along is what makes me happy. I didn’t have to look very far (surprise, surprise).  My problem was that I was letting outside factors affect my so-called “inner peace”, because we all know I don’t always lean towards peaceful.  I started to care what people thought or say, which has never really been like me.  I put my happiness in someone else’s hands; it happens more often that we like to admit.  I became focused on what I couldn’t control, which just made you want to control it even more.  It’s a vicious cycle.  It kind of just took away from everything I had worked so hard towards this year.  So I decided I am going to be selfish.  Yea I know, that’s socially unacceptable to say, kind of makes you sound like a bad person. But it is what needs to be done at the moment; it’s kind of my turn.  As a result relationships may grow apart, that’s life.  I am not responsible for someone’s happiness, unless there’s mutual effort.

True.

So in my absence I was offered a work trip to South Asia for two weeks, where it was then snatched away as soon as I got a reservation ticket. I would be leaving tomorrow; needless to say I may be having an extra glass of wine…or two.  It was my escape plan.  I’ll say it happened for a reason, god forbid I got stuck in some kind of tsunami situation.  We all know I can’t run fast enough to escape a towering wave.  I fell off my bike again, yes again.  I’m going to attribute it to the car pulling boat that cut off the group…or my poor bike handling skills, you be the judge.  Either way, I hit pavement and it hurt like hell.  My knee was pretty ugly, a beautiful array of black and blues. We took a trip to Clermont and it was exactly what I needed. I got to watch my first circuit race. Cheer on a few of my favorite’s bike their way to the podium…and I put my big girl panties and signed up for my first road race.  I knew it was going to hurt, it’s Clermont (hills, hills, hills), I knew I was in no shape to do this, and I would have usually said no.  So I signed up and put on my race number. I didn’t technically finish, I got dropped in the first climbed (seriously dropped), children passed me.  In my defense those kids are doping. I got overlapped, almost lost a lung to Ebola, and kept getting yelled at by a coach about being in too light of a gear (I heard you the first time!).  But I had a damn good time doing it and I did it for me. I did it because I would usually say no.

 ❤                      Thanks for the push rooms 🙂                                               A4C takeover.                            

I’ve started picking races for next season.  This is a very meticulous process, kind of like selecting your fantasy football.  Have to make sure they have enough time apart, take a survey of what other crazies are racing, and figure out when you’re actually willing to really start training again.  I’ve just been playing on my bike honestly.   I’m back in training mode though, signed up for Miami Half Marathon.  Started cooking again, I have spent a small fortune on Publix rotisserie chickens and bagged microwavable veggies. This had to stop.   I’m in PR or ER kind of mode with this.  I don’t think I’ve been so focused on hitting a time than I am with this race.  I usually appreciate just crossing the finish line, this time I’ll appreciate it even more if I hit my goal.  Here we go again, let training begin. ~ Adding Mo Miles.

In life, in love, and with your coffee…

Turn Down For What

A total of 290 hours and 59 minutes went into preparing and racing for this Ironman.  Everyone talks to you about all the wonders before your first Ironman, no one tells you about the aftermath.  The soreness, overeating, and that wandering lost feeling.  For most of the year, your life pretty much surrounds this one goal.  You’ve had a strict schedule for months and now you are free to do as you please.  I went straight home after work last week, I didn’t know what to do with myself, I paced around my apartment and even started organizing my accessories (seriously?).  I’m restless.  Lazy Sundays spent on the couch were justified cause you had trained 9 hours that weekend.  Now you feel just that… lazy.  Giant bowls of desserts Saturday afternoon were acceptable, you burned thousands of calories.  Now you just feel like… a glutton.  Apparently doctors have confirmed there is a depression that affects endurance athletes after a race.  But then again, scientists confirm a lot of useless crap.

My mom, with a little too much excitement in her voice, asked if I was done cycling and racing.  My answer to her was, I’m just getting started. She’s never been a fan, and being the woman that she is, has no shame in telling me so.  Apparently most people thought I was going to put away my bike and join in on the societal norm.  Rediscover my party days, and even more absurd, start going out on weekdays.  But contrary to popular belief, I didn’t get burned out, quite the opposite.  I took two weeks to regain some of the sanity I have left, ate a little more than I should and slept as much as I wanted.  I rekindled my romance with my bed.  No workout, no worries…not exactly my thing.  Ironman may be over, the Ironman appetite and eating are still very much present.  So, in order to myself under control I went back to my love/hate relationship with clean eating, joining Jungle Fitness 30 Day Challenge.  Yes, highlight of it all is going back to Jungle Fitness.  I didn’t realize how much I missed it….and needed it! Sometimes, you just want to lift heavy sh*t.   It helps when you’re on the same boat as a lot of other people, all as crazy as I am.  I will miss you apple pie and Saturday afternoon Starbucks treats.

The triathlon season may not be over, but Monica Rosa is done racing for the year.  I think one is enough.  The beauty of it all, is now I can do whatever training I please.  Freedom.  It’s been kind of nice to wake and be like today I will do……weights… manana, I shall ride my bike.  It’s kind of nice to get a little “wild.” And for the next few months it’s going to be all about working on my weaknesses.  Which of course are all three disciplines, my weak muscles, and beer.  I’m very keen lately on doing whatever the hell I want in many aspects and it feels pretty damn good.   And since I love my bike so much, let’s work on that until I can keep up with the big boys, and girls!, of A4C  (one day, far far away).  Since I miss my muscles, lets put in some more hours at the Jungle.  I don’t want to take a break, I don’t want to eat unhealthy, I don’t want to “relax”. I want to be better, I want to be stronger.  Turn down for what. ~ AddingMoMiles

Mission Accomplished

I finished my last post nervous that I would come back saying that for whatever I didn’t cross the finish. Well, I can now say I am an Ironman! Not only am I an Ironman, but I can say it has to be one of the greatest experiences to-date. I know you’re all thinking I’ve lost my mind but I had such a great race.  I finished in exactly 14 hours, about an hour less than I had calculated.  How?  I just kept running.  I ran 1 mile, 26 times. What made it best was how great the entire trip was.  Somehow the race flew by but I soaked up as much of it as I could.  It was genuinely fun.

The most exhausting part of Ironman isn’t always the race but the days and traveling leading up to it.  The stress of work, fitting in training, and making sure you don’t forget anything when you pack.  Traveling an entire day doesn’t exactly result in rested legs but we made our way to Louisville, Kentucky. I hoped for minimal crisis situations but as I’m falling asleep on the plane, it came to me half slumber that I forgot to pack my Garmin.  MY GARMIN.  In true fashion, I flip out.  God bless in flight wi-fi, whatsapp, a teammate who still hadn’t left Miami, and one great friend who sent hers with him.  Crisis 1 averted.  The anxiety leading up to the day of the race, packet pick-up, bike pick-up…and then bike-drop off, bags drop-off, walk here, find food I can eat, test the bike, swim practice.  It doesn’t help calm the nerves when you jump into the disgusting Ohio River and the current is so bad if you stop swimming it takes you back 25 yards.  Sigh of relief though, this isn’t the swim we’ll be facing, the current is actually in our favor.  Big pasta dinner….and it’s race morning.

We made it to Louisville!

Bike Drop Off

Louisville is unique in that it is not a mass start.  Most Ironmen, all 2K plus participants start at the same time.  Sounds thrilling right.  We got to line up before sunrise to stand in line for rolling start.  The cannon went off and 15 minutes later I was on the pier, Katy Perry playing, jumping into dirty water.  The rolling start sounds less nerve wrecking right?  Right up to when I saw rows of green capped muscles heading my way after I jumped in.  The first 45 minutes was a battle I loss with the men.  I was kicked in the rib, may have popped a boob if they were fake, swallowed Ohio River water (I may start glowing soon). I got in a few punches, threw out some elbows. Don’t get me started on the cleanliness of the river.  I made it out alive (slower than I would have liked) and into transition.  Changing tent was less chaotic than expected, changed, found my bike, and off I went.  This is where my fun started.  By this point I just wanted breakfast, cause I was starving.  I settled for a Bonk Breaker and went on my merry way.  Only 112 miles on the bike to go.  No cadence, no problems.  I only prayed to the bike gods for no mechanical problems.  Bike was going smoothly until I made a right for an out and back.  I was hitting a downhill at 40 mph.  The problem with that, what goes down in an out and back, must come up….and up we did.  I kept myself entertained, keeping track of nutrition, calculating times, speed, what mile I was at.  Time passed quickly and I was having fun.  Water, water, water, pills, blocks, yum another bonk breaker.  It was warm, but nothing impossible.  I learned when you gotta go, you gotta go.  There was nothing rolling about those hills, just a lot of up. I saved my legs, and in the last 30 miles, I picked up the pace and headed back.  To the guy that encouraged me, instead of hiss negative comments when I passed him, thank you.  Your words stuck with me to the finish line.  To the lady spectators cheering on us “Ironwomen” in the heat, thank you.  I got to dismount (6:34 bike time, right on target) and got off the bike fearing the current status of my legs.  Wait, what?  I can walk!  They’re ready to run.

I took my time in T2 cause I knew what was coming.  Where I mentally struggle, where I physically struggle and what I knew would be the most challenging.  One the other hand, I was 2/3 of the way.  I may still have had 6-7 hours (or so I thought) left but I was technically almost done.  I had a plan of running aid station to aid station.  Didn’t necessarily matter how fast, just that I didn’t walk it.  I wanted to reach a point that I knew if I walked the rest I would still make it under 17.  So I set on my merry way, taking down water, sticking ice everywhere (yes down my shorts), wetting my head, and eating my blocks (praying my stomach would just cooperate).  Mile 3 passed, mile 5, 6, 9, and I looked down and I was almost half way there.  Wait a second, I can keep this plan and possibly trot the whole thing.  I smiled, I chatted, made friends, I danced.  At mile 17 is when I realized I could get under 14 hours.  At this point, my knees where yelling mercy, my muscles were cramping.  My eyes watered every time I started up after each aid station.  I took an ibuprofen, started having a few pretzels (they saved me) and kept at it.  At aid station 19 I ran into a volunteer who asked me if I was second loop.  He could tell by response I was in pain and walked with me as I drank my water.  He told me I can walk the rest and still be an Ironman or I can keep at it and make it to the turnaround where I would only have 10K left.  “I know you have ran many 10Ks, the faster you get there, the faster you can have a beer” Thank you, I picked up the pace and made it into downtown right under 14 hours.  But nothing would prepare when I would turn the corner and see 4^th street live and two blocks of spectators just cheering you on.  It is more of an emotional rush than I can explain.   The more emotional I got, the louder the crowd cheered.  I stopped right when the shoot started and took it all in.  I admit, I cried, I let out yells of joy.  I honestly didn’t think this was something I would ever be able to accomplish, atleast not as solid, and everything just came out at that moment. By the time I got to the finish line it was too loud to hear my name, but I would never forget hearing “You are an Ironman.”  14:00:06.

1st x Ironman & 3 x Ironman!

I was told to enjoy every minute of it and I did.  The vibe of athletes, the silent nerves, the energy, the uncertainty of the day ahead.   I was told that I would come back a different person and it’s true.  Thank you Ironman for changing me, for allowing to find my real strength, to know I am capable of more…and that it really is your mind that pushes thru the pain.  Thank you Ironman, your training got me thru hard times, got me out of bed when I didn’t want to, made me stronger in many senses.  This race was something I needed to do for me.  Thank you to my training team, you mean more to me than you know and made this experience more than memorable.  To our Kona qualifier, thank you for constantly pushing me, training me, your patience and just being there.  Congratulations. To all those who supported us back home, thank you! To my sister, you were with my every step, love you.  To the hundreds of volunteers and spectators, without you, many of us wouldn’t be Ironmen, thank you.  To all those participants, congratulations, you are an Ironman.  Would I do it again?  Without a doubt! But for now, there are other things and goals brewing.   It’s time to take some time to really enjoy it all.  ~ AddingMoMiles.

Memorable Trip

Cloud 9

Race Week, Really?!

So I sat on the floor last night infront of the pile of race gear, pills, heed, nutrition, sunblock, socks, Vaseline, etc etc wrapping my head (and calming myself) about the race being so close.  Yea, just sitting there.  It felt so far far away when I started training for it back in February.  Ha, jokes on me, cause it’s here.  We’ve been checking the weather more than Al Roker.  Freakin’ out as we see the temperature for Sunday climb.  It’s about 97 degrees right now, you check another site, it tells you 99.  There really isn’t a big difference between 97-99 .  It’s gonna be f’ing hot.  You can’t control it, you can only prepare for it.  And put ice down your pants! Oh believe me, it feels nice.

What I looked like on the floor of my room.

All the talk about heat brings me flash backs of my first (and only) half ironman..PTSD kind of stuff.  It was also in the 90 degrees and it did not go well.  I was slightly traumatized and told myself I would never do an Ironman.  Look at me now.  But I made a promise to myself to train, to prepare and to think differently.  I even surprised myself by sticking to my training plan as much as I did.  There were still hours that weren’t swum, or missed miles on the bike.  I don’t know if it’ll make a difference, nor do I care, what’s done is done. LOUISVILL IS HERE! (typing turrets).  I’ve been told that training for an Ironman is harder than the actual Ironman; I’ll let you know if it’s true, I don’t really believe them.  I trained for this race not on speed, but preparing myself to just keep going.  I’m not fast, but I got my Ironman trot down, even got my speed walking shuffle.  Slow and steady is going to get me to the finish line and it’s the race plan I’m sticking to. The best thing about it being your first, I have no time to beat.  I am nervous, but not about what I can do, but about things that I can’t control.  I have my race plan A, B, C, D and crawling.  I got my nutrition down to the hour. And I apparently need to use the number of times I pee to monitor my hydration; must pee twice during the bike (hopefully no one steals my bike while I’m in the port-o-potty).  I’m prepared, I’ve trained, I am ready.  I rollercoaster between a frat boy LETS DO THIS and a very scared holy crap.

My current status

I leave tomorrow morning for Louisville and that one of hardest thing is doing it without my family there.  They haven’t been to many of my races, but the one they were there for has been my favorite by far.  There are many things I’ll forget about these races, you start to do so many, but one of the few things I’ll keep with me is my sister sprinting the finish line next to me screaming like if I had come in first (far from it).  She’ll be there in spirit and it’ll get me to the finish line, in one way or another she manages to show her incredible support.  But I am blessed with a great training team, even those not doing the race.  Without them, I wouldn’t be doing this race and I wouldn’t have gotten thru a lot these last couple of months.  To them I’m so grateful.  Alright enough mush, I’m becoming a sap, and hopefully the next post will be telling you that I am officially an Ironman.  Actually, it will be.  Next stop, Louisville, Kentucky. ~ AddingMoMiles.