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

The Groad To Kanza

It’s here, Kanza week. As I read through all the messages in our Kanza group chat, I can feel my anxiety creeping and my stomach turning.  Too late to go as moral support?  I’m a really great pro spectator.  For months we’ve discussed tire selection, patches, who’s packing what, worst case scenario situations.  I also may have googled how to build a fire, in case I get lost in the middle of Kansas. Someone send help if you don’t see a finisher insta story by night fall.

In all seriousness, since March I’ve been working to get myself into half decent shape for this race.  But it’s also felt like I’ve been preparing for battle or the end of the war. No course signs, no water for 50 miles, rocks that apparently are capable of slashing all your tires open.  Oh by the way, your derailleur may fall off and you’ll need to do the whole thing single speed.  There’s also the possibility of river and mud crossings if it rains.  As I looked through pictures and read the horror stories….

I need new f’ing friends, I keep saying it.

Training for this Kanza did not come without its difficulties.  I was extremely out of shape when I first signed up and slightly overweight.  My poor coach had the daunting task of getting me ready and he very patiently got me there.  Preparing for this race came with some new challenges.  For one, I had a lot of trouble recovering.  I like to blame the fact that everything that surrounds me is rollers and well obviously, mountains, so even “easy” rides could include about 1K of climbing.  But it could be a multitude of reasons (I even gave up weekday wine because of this). The result was sometimes missing key workouts. I also started having major issues with nutrition.  I didn’t grasp the toll climbing for 45 minutes to over an hour took on your body and the amount of calories I needed to replenish.  The end results, bonking and sluggishly making my way back home trying to keep the bike straight.  I’m sure it may not have helped that I was reducing daily calories (in a healthy manner) to try to drop weight.  It’s somewhat hard to manage fueling for training and losing weight without something suffering.  Combine that with still adjusting to the new city and learning routes, weddings to travel to, a trip back home and not having those bike friends live and in person to train with…like I said, it came with its new set of challenges but they were faced, adjusted and moved past.  I also quickly learned how hard it was to lug around a 30+ pound mountain bike through rollers and what not.  So, I upgraded to a proper gravel bike.  Any excuse for a new bike no? (N+1+1+1+1)

If there is anything training for Kanza has done is take me way outside my comfort zone, like roaming gravel roads for 5 hours alone. This is where I want to thank everyone who’s sent me “when animal attack/chase cyclists” videos, it’s really comforting at these very moments.  It’s slated to be 90 degrees and this makes me nervous.  But whatever the outcome may be, the fact that my bike has led me to another new place, another new adventure is enough for me. Even if it is the middle of nowhere Kansas…self-supported….no course markings…save yourself type of adventure. ~ Adding Mo Miles.

Starting From Zero

I took a step away from the bike. It was actually a lot easier than I thought it would be to let it sit there and collect dust.  Don’t get me wrong, it felt very very wrong.  But sleeping in and having all this “extra” time felt very very good. It was the longest I have been off the bike since, well, my first bike 6 years ago. Sure, I’ve probably taken time off here and there, I’m not always the most consistent but this was different, it was probably weeks (moving states included). To the point I swore I would probably not race again (ha, sure).  This is the point where we realize something in life wasn’t going right. Though I wasn’t burnt from training, my coach was actually very good with this, I was burnt out in other aspects and your hobby is usually the first to go when this happens (atleast for me).  It’s like crisis management, you shift your priorities to what needs fixing in your life immediately.  I was mentally exhausted and it seeped its way into my riding. In my head, if I wasn’t training, there was no point in riding.  That is a future post all together.

Well, here I am, trying to get it back and already kicking myself in the ass for taking this time off, though it was probably crucial and much needed. I’m a little fluffier than one would like to be, my watts are at baby levels (yet again) and the thought of racing….well I already feel like a fred.  Trying to get consistent has been a challenge, more because I’m in a new city and I have to rely on myself to get out and going.  Having that group to meet with, even if we weren’t all riding together, was the best motivator to get me out of bed. But over the last couple of weeks I’ve caught myself looking at the Colorado’s racing schedule.  It’s no secret that I also have a 100 mile race in June that I have to get my shit together for.  I miss everything about it though…. training, riding atmosphere and racing. It’s a part of me that has been missing. It’s kind of the missing piece in Colorado, along with my friends and family that I’m secretly trying to convince to move. I took this as a sign that it was about that time.

Amateur athletes, age group athletes, sometimes forget that we’re just that, amateurs. This is not our entire life, we are not pros and occasionally it has to take a back burner to adulting and other ridiculous things…like mental health and career.  We push ourselves to heaving on the side of the road during an interval before we walk into the 9am meeting and then we don’t stop.  Some people can continue this for years without a break, I can admit that I don’t have that kind of strength.  Sometimes, you take a step a back, take a break and prepare yourself to come back stronger.   With any sport, even curling I’m sure, you need to first mentally be there to prepare yourself physically. So, it was kind of about that time, I got my coach, poor guy is stuck with me and dialing in my nutrition with Jungle Fitness. I am well aware that I am late to start training for the season.  I am even more well aware that I am out of shape.  Colorado mountains are very humbling. But I also know that I’m ready to put in the work and I couldn’t force this even if I wanted to previously.  So I may not be where I need to be but I know that I’m ready to get there, wherever the F that may be.  So, here we go, 2018 season. ~AddingMoMiles

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

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.

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

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