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.

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

Another Tragic Loss

We woke up Wednesday like any other morning.  Alarms went off before the sun, we sluggishly put on our kits, clipped our helmets, grabbed our bikes and headed for our morning ride.  A row of blinking red lights, the sound of freewheeling, and good morning banter…what we consider a good start to any morning.  We make our way over the bridge and towards Bear Cut only to see an unusual amount of traffic.  “The street is closed, please turn around.” You take the detour without thinking twice…until someone tells you a cyclist was involved.  Your heart automatically drops to your stomach.  Is it someone you know, or worse, someone you love… you call, you text and make sure you’ve gone through the list.  But what doesn’t immediately cross your mind is that your family and friends at home are doing the same thing.  You let your dad know before he sees it on TV, sister tracking you down, friends messaging, co-workers relieved to see you at your desk.  The rest of the day you comb media outlets for updates on names, what happen, anything you can find.  This hit too close to home.  One cyclist dead, the other in critical condition.  The story doesn’t change, drunk driver swerved into the bicycle lane.

For the last 24 hours it’s been the battle of cyclist versus motorist and vice versa.  I wrote about this months ago “Dear Motorist” and it’s sad that it takes such a tragedy to bring to light the dangers of Miami roads.  Every time we walk out the door for a ride, there’s always the possibility of not coming back.  There is always the fear and feeling in your gut.  It’s not something we like to think about, but it’s a reality.  I spent yesterday reading how cyclist shouldn’t be on the road, how cyclist are the problems, how we think we own the road.  All of this on a thread of an article of a father who was tragically killed by a drunk driver.  It was disgusting and sad.  I tell you this; there are cyclists who don’t respect much of anything.  I can say that I’ve taken the occasional red light and rolled thru a stop sign.  But there is the occasional motorist who is texting, who roll thru the same stop sign, and who drive drunk.  They are both at fault for their actions.  But at the end of the day, the car always wins.  So to motorist we ask you to kindly share the road.

The solution for these kinds of tragedies is not, not to ride.  The solution is not to find safer places to ride or select specific times where it is safer to ride.  The solution in my mind is to ride more.  To grow the sport, to teach motorist the appropriate way to pass, to educate on the laws, to have officials impose slower speeds in areas we know cyclist use as their stomping grounds.  On any given weekend morning in Key Biscayne, cyclist and fitness enthusiast alike out number motorists.  City officials have to see this growing problem and reach a solution.  There should be an increase in police presence, but with officers that actually support the law and rights of cyclist.  I’ve had my fair share of law enforcement that honestly could give a damn.  To you, we thank you for “serving and protecting.” Tragedies like this will not stop until there is a change in the mindset of Miami’s population and city officials that cycling is part of this city and that we aren’t going anywhere.  If anything, we are growing in numbers.  Each of those cyclists is a human, a sister, father, mother, and daughter.  Value human life. Think twice before you fly by them inches from their elbow, before you look down at that text, before you get in the car after that 4^th drink.  We have every right to the same road you’re on, we are just using our legs to move us in the same direction you’re heading. How many more cyclist have to be hit and killed before something is done?

I didn’t know Walter Reyes but we all still ride with heavy hearts.  The cycling community has suffered an unnecessary and very sad loss.  My condolences to him and his family.  We hope Henry Hernandez recovers and gets well soon.  This should not be another tragic loss but a wakeup call to cyclist and motorist alike.  Cyclist will not stop riding, we will not get off the road, and we will not pick better times to ride.  If anything we will continue fight for our legal right to be on the road.  Like a friend quoted today, “courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyways” ~AddingMoMiles