Colorado Racing

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

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

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

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

DK100

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

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

First Came The Storm

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

Lions & Tigers & Bears, Oh My!

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

There’s No Place Like Home

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

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.

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