Never Stop Chasing

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

CLEEEERMONT!

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

That’s me…in the back…

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

Race Fun Begins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Not so Resolution, Resolution.

We’re 16 days into the New Year; many of us have looked at our resolutions post and wonder how we already went wrong.  It was a plague of “new year, new me”. I wonder why we wait for new years to better ourselves, but that’s a philosophical question for another post. So in true fashion, I evaluated “resolutions” that I could and maybe should make for the New Year.  I realized that most I will not keep, nor will I try.  I probably made them in 2008, 2009, another attempt in 2011, and failed miserably in 2013.  So in 2014 I focused on two goals, not a resolution.  One was to better my career.  Six months of about 210 resumes sent, 130 e-mails, and about 25 interviews, I am sitting in a job that a genuinely enjoy.  My second goal was to do something I considered really epic.  I wasn’t sure what, but I wanted it to be memorable.  So I signed up for an Ironman.  290 hours of training later and that goal was completed.

Failed resolutions included mundane things like eat less dessert.  Who are we kidding?  Get abs…please refer to previous resolution.  Cut back on coffee, this would never lead to a positive outcome. Religiously get mani and pedi’s (never.going.to.happen.). Call my mother more.  I try, I really do.  Make better romantic/relationship decisions.  But then life would be so extremely boring. Control my sarcasm.  I’ve learned it’s just part of my charm.  Make sure my room is always organized; after all I’m a grown woman. It’s just too exhausting, so some days my bed will not be made.  Curse less, skip out on pizza, drink less beer…just plain miserable.  I’ve learned through my many years of failed resolutions that none of these things make me a better person, athlete, or really help me grow as a human.  Most of them just make me grumpy and possibly less tolerable.

AMEN.

So for 2015, I don’t have resolutions because life improvements started months ago.  So I’ll just challenge myself to do more this year.  Put in more miles, double 2014.  Ride my bike more.  Run more, lift more, climb more, hell do more burpees.  Do more epic shit. Love more, laugh more, and add some  more kindness.  If it scares me, do it.  If I have to seriously deep dig to accomplish it, do it.  If it makes me stronger, do it. If a race is going to hurt, do it.   Stop thinking, doubting, over analyzing.  If it isn’t for me, get rid of it.

This year is a little different.  I am apparently supposed to have all my races for the year selected and planned but that really isn’t the case.  I’m actually kind of torn and have taken a bit of a detour.  I am genuinely enjoying my road bike.  Yes, there are a few triathlons I plan to do but what I’m really excited are road races.  I’m looking forward to learning more, riding smarter, and putting in more time.  New experiences, like the possibility of a Team Betty 2015 training camp and some tough rides.  “Turn the pain into power.”~ 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

What’s another word for tired?

So I have paid for my bike to make its way to Louisville (cost more to get her there than myself…that’s some bull) and got a letter from the Race Director.  Not personalized, generic, but he had his assistant take the time to type it up, that was thoughtful.  You can say things are getting serious.  I took my relationship with training to the next level, I started uploading my Garmin data and started using Strava.  Strava is for kicks and giggles, it’s kind of to see who has the bigger balls and name your workouts funny things.  Social Media for cyclist and runners.  Don’t come at my with the Garmin uploading, yes it took me this long.  I went old school, excel baby.  It’s gotten to that point in training where I’m just really tired all the time.  This weekend I rode my first 100 miles ever and got off that saddle pretty damn proud of myself.  Superman pose style.  Cuase 100 miles isn’t hard enough lets add lightening, torrential down pour, and a pair of dogs.  Seriously though, race day someone release a pack of dogs after me, I definitely got up there in speed.  The next morning, I wanted to throw my bike off the Key Biscayne bridge…and so did my lady parts.  100 miles on the bike was followed by a half marathon the next day.  Really? Like pause for a moment and let that sink in.  I remember when I use to taper and then recover for 2-3 weeks after a half marathon.  Those were the good ol’days of peace and tranquility.  Needless to say, Monday morning I was in serious distress, and let’s not even get into the status of my hair and attire that day.

 Mother Nature making training easier

The result

I’m getting text from my mother asking me if I’m alive, my grandfather was about to put my picture on the back of a milk carton, and my sister is constantly threatening to disown me (not sure that would be so bad).

My friends are planning on these very exciting outings I have zero energy.  They wonder if I’m drunk or exhausted.  Not to mention they make fun of my tan lines.  Mostly things that require putting on clothes again and looking presentable are quick frankly just difficult.

Social and dating life…that’s cute.  I mean honestly, I can barely squeeze in doing my eyebrows and getting my nails done.  I’m starting to resemble wolverine and it’s not pretty.  Really, how can I go on a date with all that going on?  I live in a city where women put on fake eyelashes to go to the grocery store; it’s hard to be out in public like this.  If someone can share with me a 24 hour nail place, I would be forever in your good graces.

I’m hungry, I’m hangry, I want to eat anything and everything.  Sure, I’m burning thousands of calories but a doughnut or French fries still go straight to the mid-section.   So it’s a constant battle not to stick my face in every dessert that crosses my path.

I’m cranky, very very cranky.  My bed looks heavenly and it’s where I want to camp out.  So the fact that I am forced to get out of it early every morning is painful.  My road rage has reached new levels of scary but atleast I get all those words that aren’t social acceptable out of my system.  If another mom tells me “wait till you have kids, then you’ll know the meaning of tired”, I’m trading her kids for my training peaks, lets see how long she last.  My home feels like it’s a mess (lets not talk about my room).  I’m contemplating putting a sign that says “Excuse the mess, we’re training for an Ironman” at the front door to caution visitors.  But complaining aside, and I’m good at complaining, I’m almost there and still enjoying taking all this in. ~AddingMoMiles

 

 

Countdown Begins

 

61 day till Louisville!!! #@%&!!! Now that I have that off my chest…can you tell I’m a little excited. Yes, excited! Surprisingly not nervous, scared or curled up in the fetal position in a corner. I thought at this point in training I would have had some kind of breakdown or sending this race to hell but I’m not. I can honestly say it isn’t going too bad. I would love to bask in the glory that is sleeping in some Sundays and not come close to running a half marathon on a Thursday night that leaves me comatose but in general I’m staying pretty calm and collected. This kind of worries me cause calm and collected isn’t really my thing. I may be making this up, but I’m going to say I feel like I’m finally mentally there; lets light some candles this last until race day.

Life out by Robert’s in Homestead

I think it’s seeing the results that have me in this I will survive moment.  After a lot of frustration, some anger, and a few temper tantrums, my bike is where I want it to be. I’m hitting averages that I have never hit before. They say it’s the borrowed 404’s, I’m saying it’s all my big ol’legs. I’m well on my way to my goal time for the bike in the race. My goal is to cross the finish line but I got a few times in my head to keep me a little motivated on race day. No, I won’t be sharing them. I am genuinely enjoying being on the bike. Maybe not always 5 hours, but I don’t look at it like homework. I was constantly thinking and over analyzing when I would go out on the bike. What if I start to hard and blow up my legs, I don’t like being in the group cause it’s absolute madness sometimes, am I drinking enough water? Screw that. Now I’m getting on that bike, getting all up in the group, pushing myself and it’s a damn good time. If my legs blow up, I just pedal myself back at whatever speed they can go. Obviously this isn’t my race day strategy, but it’s getting me the strength, speed and mental willpower I’m going to need because when you’re 3:30 hours in, you’re legs screaming mercy, and you’re still out there in the middle of homestead, you have no choice but to make it back. My run, doesn’t get a whole soliloquy like my bike (no surprise) but I’m getting thru them. We don’t always see eye to eye but I don’t dread them anymore (progress).

Seriously

There are few things one fears when training more than injury. This past weekend the back of my knee really started to hurt, turns out it’s my calf. So much that I had to take Sunday off. I did bask in the glory that is sleeping in Sunday morning, but it was bittersweet. I wanted to train; I don’t want to put my progress on pause.   But better a few days than a few weeks. I am worried, moments of panic as I limped back to my car when it started to hurt again on yesterday’s run but I’m icing, rolling, and going straight to therapy before it gets any worse. Ain’t no one got time for this ~ Adding Mo Miles

#TRAININGPROBLEMS

I sat in my car this morning and realized that there’s a stench of the jungle. I walked into my room and there is workout clothes, both clean and dirty hanging throughout my room. I open my dishwasher and it’s mostly water bottles and shakers. Not only training for an Ironman, but training period comes with some interesting life changing #fitpeopleproblems you just have to learn to accept. There’s no point in fighting it, it just increases frustration. It’s not only #fitpeopleproblems, it’s #triathleteproblems, #cyclistproblems, #fitgirlproblems, #runnersproblems, you name it…fit people got 99 problems and sometimes a bitch is one. (#haters)

#trainingproblems – your beach towels become towels to cover your car seat from your dripping sweat. God forbid you forget one, cause the next time you sit in the chair, it’s still wet.

#trainingproblems – 80% of your laundry pile is workout clothes. I know those that workout regularly have enough to last like 2-3 weeks but I don’t recommend waiting more than a week cause a nice little stench starts to creep out of your hamper.

#cyclingproblems – I can get up, go out, and ride for hours. But the thought of getting out of bed for the indoor trainer is just too much to bare.

#runnerproblems – No those aren’t calluses on my feet, those are blisters that got blisters on them…and yes I must smear Vaseline all over my feet.

#fitgirlsproblems – I may have calluses on my hands sometimes cause a girls gotta get her lifting in.

#cyclistproblems – Finding a clean and decent way to blow your nose on the bike. Snot rockets may work for men, but they aren’t exactly attractive for a lady. But to be honest, by hour 4, you could care less about being a lady.

#trainingproblems – I have shoes for long runs, races, short runs, cross training, leg day. Yes I need that many running shoes.

#triathleteproblems – I have 5 different colors. I have tan lines from my cycling jersey, my tri top, my racer back, cycling shorts (they all have different lengths), my gloves, my socks, and even my Road ID bracelet. I am a zebra of tan lines. They’re my racing stripes and on most days I wear them with pride.

#trainingproblems – Supplements and recovery. I may need to start selling myself on a street corner to afford recovery, glutamine, whey, powdered substances, electrolytes and my eating habits in general. I spent years avoiding salt, now I am paying for salt filled pills. Ironic.

#cyclingproblems – #dead after a 5 hour ride and your just staring at your filthy bike hoping it somehow cleans itself. Common telepathy.

#trainingproblems – Always assume I’m sore and/or tired.

#triathleteproblems – Compression socks are sexy, don’t try to change our minds.

#fitgirlproblems – I swim, bike, run, and strength train… no, I can’t change my schedule cause you want me to go to dinner at 10pm, meet for coffee during the time you know I go for a run, or talk until 1am cause my alarm is set for 5:20am.

#cyclingproblems – Putting all the gunk on your junk only to open the door and realize it’s pouring rain #fail.

#cyclingproblems – When someone in a meeting points out your chain ring tattoo from your morning ride. Yes I showered but I was running to get to this ridiculous meeting on time and didn’t notice it. It requires serious scrubbing…you wouldn’t understand non cycling mortal.

#fitpeopleproblems – No I don’t want a cupcake, no really I don’t want the cupcake, no I’m not on a diet I just don’t want the cupcake. Would you leave me the hell alone I don’t want your stupid cupcake!!!! Secretly, I want to dive face first into the delicious, icing of the cupcake.

I’m about that life. ~ Adding Mo Miles