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

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

#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