This last Ragbrai* post will attempt to answer several oft asked questions.
1. The first question was usually disguised. Why in heaven’s name did you do this? Who told you riding your bike across Iowa the last week in July was a good thing? Did you really think this through? These are all the same question of course, just asked with differing levels of disbelief.
2. “Did you have a good time?” Friends who asked this question generally disguised it as well.
3. “Are you planning to do it again?” The inquisitor usually asked this with a presumed negative answer.
4. A fourth question I would like to answer is one nobody asked. Nobody asked if I would recommend Ragbrai to a friend. Imagine that!
1. Why? Well, Why not? If 10,000 people do it every summer, and you have to win a lottery to get in, and most do it more than once, it can’t be all bad. I made a list of all the things we enjoyed about the ride, but my friend Robert reminded me you can enjoy almost all those things without riding your bike 470 miles, in high heat and humidity.
So I think it all boils down to this, we were looking for an adventure to rival thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail that we could do with a bum knee. And in that, we didn’t come close. We finish with only the satisfaction that we did it.
2. Yes! and No! The bike riding was fun, but then we already discovered that on the training days when we just rode for 40 or 50 miles, stopping to rest, eat lunch, talk to strangers, etc. Riding with 10,000 friends was awesome. Burning 5000 calories per day, I have no idea how scientific that number is but it left room for lots of carbohydrates. Dealing with the heat and humidity after the ride was no fun.
3. Probably not. We have a list of other adventures we would like to attempt before age catches up to us. For those of you who think our adventures are too taxing, I will share with you a saying one of my college coaches used. “Let’s go boys, you can sit around when you get old.” I don’t want to be old yet.
If we do tackle it another year we plan to change some things. We will take our own support driver and either stay in a motor home or motels along the way. I think I would like to try it on a road bike.
4. If something like this interests you, do it. Because of the late spring we got a late start on training and rode about half as many training miles as we had hoped to. We are not seasoned bike riders. Before the first day of Ragbrai, we had never ridden in one day the distance we had to ride every day, 7 days in succession. We were concerned that we might not be up to the task. You can do it, and you won’t be sorry.
*My friend Mark wanted to know if this was Ragbrai or Bragride. It is not my intent to brag, but to inform. Of course this is the same friend who has taken to calling me Herculegs and the other night presented us with trophies to celebrate the accomplishment.
Final saying of the week: In order to increase our chances in the lottery, Steve suggested we join his bicycle club, The big dogs. Jen decided our trail names, as members of the big dogs would be Runt (her) and Mutt (me). She bought stick on letters and posted them on the back of our helmets.
My suggestion for a motto for the Big Dog Bike Club when we ever get bike Jerseys to post them on: “If you can’t ride with the big dogs stay on the porch.”
Monday, August 15, 2011
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Great Bicycle Ride Part 8, Day 7
Coralville, Iowa to Davenport, Iowa and the Mississippi River; 65.6 Miles; 2,363 feet of uphill.
This is going to be a different day. The charter bus that takes us back to Glenwood and our Tahoe is scheduled to leave Davenport at 1:30. Over the last 6 days, we have not finished the ride before 2:00 and this is not a short day. It is actually the third longest day of the week. I looked at my watch yesterday at 1:30 and we still had over 20 miles to go.
When we signed up for the charter we had an option. Instead of taking the Charter bus back to our truck in Glenwood, we could drive to Davenport, take the Charter bus before Ragbrai week, then end the ride back at our truck. If we had done so, there would be no pressure today to hurry. It didn’t make sense though, because we would have crossed Iowa 4 times instead of just twice.
Jen wanted me to set the alarm for 3am so we could get an early start. I set it for 4. We were on our bikes and on the road about 5:30. The temptations to stop were fewer. Farm Boys, Beekmans, Mr. Pork Chop, and some of the other regular food vendors did not set up on Saturday. Pretty early in the day, we were riding together and Jen said. “You better let me go first, I can’t keep this pace up. You are riding too fast.” So I dropped back and let her go first. Zoom! She took off. She increased the speed I was going by almost 2mph and I had to really work to keep up with her. My salvation is the downhills where I am much faster. Thus, without as many stops, and pedaling harder than we had all week, we made it to Davenport by 12:30.
As we cruised into Davenport and coasted down to the Mississippi River the citizens of Davenport lined the street and cheered our finish. We made it across Iowa. We made it with some of the most unusual companions. For example there was one couple whom we passed every day who rode a banana bike. It was two three wheeled recumbent bikes attached together with a yellow air deflector all around it. Another rider forsook a bike altogether and rode the whole week on a skateboard. I heard about a guy who was going to ride his push scooter and another who added wheels to an elliptical machine so he could elliptical his way across the state, but I didn’t see either of them. On day one we passed a runner, I don’t know how far he went that day, and I didn’t see him again.
When we made it to the river, the carnival atmosphere preceded us. All week long the ride along the way reminded us of the state fair. All the food vendors were there. They talked about blue ribbon pies. There were displays of farm equipment, quilts, town histories, and even animals. Some farmers would try to entice you off the road to buy their water, corn, watermelon, cinnamon rolls, Gatorade, etc., by setting up a small menagerie of baby animals. “Come see our one day old pigs” one sign said. You would be at the state fair all day, go to sleep, and while you were sleeping, the fair moved down the road in front of you again. Jen said it was all here but the rides, then she decided the bikes were the ride.
The state fair had made it to Davenport. We really wanted to dip our front tires in the Mississippi even though we were running short of time. Before we boarded the bus, we really wanted to take a shower and get out of the riding clothes. When we got to the place of the official tire dip there was one last line we would have to stand in. We decided against it or we would miss our bus.
We rode down to the river’s edge at another spot. There was a railing between the sidewalk and the river, which was still close to overflowing its banks. We had a brilliant idea. We could put our bikes over the rail and dip the tire in the Mississippi after all. That is what we did. In the picture you will notice I never let go of Jen’s bike. I could just see her dropping it into the Mississippi. There is no telling how deep the water was even right next to the shore.
Now we had to find our charter. We had to find where they dropped our bags and get our clean clothes out. Our bags go on, and under, the bus with us. We have to check our bikes in and they load them on the baggage trucks to take back to Glenwood. We needed to find the shower and there was always a wait for a shower. Our time grew short.
We began to follow the OOS signs. We rode by campsites, other trucks, other charters, and then we began climbing away from the river. Away from the river is uphill. Away from the river in Davenport is steep uphill. We are riding in traffic with no sheriff to stop cross traffic, and we are getting more disgusted by the minute. Actually, disgusted describes my demeanor, Jen was getting downright livid. Thoughts of a shower were fading as the minutes ticked away.
Since you don’t know where you are going you have to follow the signs. At one point we were one block from our destination, but the signs took us 6 blocks to get there. Grrrrrrr! We finally got to the charter a little after 1 pm. We found our bags and checked our bikes in for loading. Our friend Steve asked me, “Is there anything I can do to help?” I told him, “The best thing for you to do is to avoid Jennifer. She is not a happy camper.”
The girl at the check in said we probably didn’t have time for a shower. The busses were due anytime and our departure was scheduled for 1:30. Steve told us where the showers were, promised to take care of our bikes and get our bags on the bus. We hustled off to try to get the shower. When we returned it was about 1:40, the busses were mostly loaded. Steve, bless his heart, we would have been in trouble without him, had taken care of everything for us and even saved a couple of seats on the bus.
When I think of the ways he helped, I need to pause and give a public thanks to Steve Mattern. Without Steve’s help we would have showed up at Ragbrai without the tent fan that made sleeping bearable if not comfortable. We would not have had our lawn chairs with us. He loaned us an extra bag that gave us the extra room for some comfort items. He loaned Jen a handlebar bag, then at the end of the ride gave it to her. Every day when we got to camp he already knew where the showers were, good places to eat, and other tidbits of information. In addition to those, we stayed at his house in Nebraska the day before and the day after. I am sure I haven’t thought of everything, but thanks Steve, from the bottom of our hearts, for all you did to make the ride more enjoyable. Sadly, Steve broke a wheel early in the ride on Friday. He rides a recumbent and his wheel size is not standard so he was unable to get it repaired. He missed the end of the ride. Jennifer and I both offered to let him ride our bikes on Saturday while we rode in the air conditioned baggage truck, but he said he would suffer.
After all that worry and hurry, there were three people missing. They looked for them everywhere. The finally found them on the other bus. The bus pulled out at 10 minutes to 3. When I was finally able to stretch my legs on the bus I fell asleep, and the nap lasted most of the way back across Iowa. We arrived at the parking lot around 8 pm, just as the truck with our bikes were unloading. We got everything transferred to the Tahoe and Steve’s Jeep and after finding some dinner, we went to Steve’s house in Nebraska.
We did it! We rode across Iowa. People would ask me if I was a Ragbrai Virgin. “How many times have you done Ragbrai?” they would ask. My standard reply was, “Not only is this the first time I have done Ragbrai, this is the first road trip I have ever done. I have only owned a bike for the last two years.” Why did we pick this one for the first ride?
In my next post, I will give you some possible answers to that question, analysis of the overall ride, and try to answer the most asked question we get. “Will you do that again?”
Sign of the day: on the back of a shirt. “No Sniveling”
This is going to be a different day. The charter bus that takes us back to Glenwood and our Tahoe is scheduled to leave Davenport at 1:30. Over the last 6 days, we have not finished the ride before 2:00 and this is not a short day. It is actually the third longest day of the week. I looked at my watch yesterday at 1:30 and we still had over 20 miles to go.
When we signed up for the charter we had an option. Instead of taking the Charter bus back to our truck in Glenwood, we could drive to Davenport, take the Charter bus before Ragbrai week, then end the ride back at our truck. If we had done so, there would be no pressure today to hurry. It didn’t make sense though, because we would have crossed Iowa 4 times instead of just twice.
Jen wanted me to set the alarm for 3am so we could get an early start. I set it for 4. We were on our bikes and on the road about 5:30. The temptations to stop were fewer. Farm Boys, Beekmans, Mr. Pork Chop, and some of the other regular food vendors did not set up on Saturday. Pretty early in the day, we were riding together and Jen said. “You better let me go first, I can’t keep this pace up. You are riding too fast.” So I dropped back and let her go first. Zoom! She took off. She increased the speed I was going by almost 2mph and I had to really work to keep up with her. My salvation is the downhills where I am much faster. Thus, without as many stops, and pedaling harder than we had all week, we made it to Davenport by 12:30.
As we cruised into Davenport and coasted down to the Mississippi River the citizens of Davenport lined the street and cheered our finish. We made it across Iowa. We made it with some of the most unusual companions. For example there was one couple whom we passed every day who rode a banana bike. It was two three wheeled recumbent bikes attached together with a yellow air deflector all around it. Another rider forsook a bike altogether and rode the whole week on a skateboard. I heard about a guy who was going to ride his push scooter and another who added wheels to an elliptical machine so he could elliptical his way across the state, but I didn’t see either of them. On day one we passed a runner, I don’t know how far he went that day, and I didn’t see him again.
When we made it to the river, the carnival atmosphere preceded us. All week long the ride along the way reminded us of the state fair. All the food vendors were there. They talked about blue ribbon pies. There were displays of farm equipment, quilts, town histories, and even animals. Some farmers would try to entice you off the road to buy their water, corn, watermelon, cinnamon rolls, Gatorade, etc., by setting up a small menagerie of baby animals. “Come see our one day old pigs” one sign said. You would be at the state fair all day, go to sleep, and while you were sleeping, the fair moved down the road in front of you again. Jen said it was all here but the rides, then she decided the bikes were the ride.
The state fair had made it to Davenport. We really wanted to dip our front tires in the Mississippi even though we were running short of time. Before we boarded the bus, we really wanted to take a shower and get out of the riding clothes. When we got to the place of the official tire dip there was one last line we would have to stand in. We decided against it or we would miss our bus.
We rode down to the river’s edge at another spot. There was a railing between the sidewalk and the river, which was still close to overflowing its banks. We had a brilliant idea. We could put our bikes over the rail and dip the tire in the Mississippi after all. That is what we did. In the picture you will notice I never let go of Jen’s bike. I could just see her dropping it into the Mississippi. There is no telling how deep the water was even right next to the shore.
Now we had to find our charter. We had to find where they dropped our bags and get our clean clothes out. Our bags go on, and under, the bus with us. We have to check our bikes in and they load them on the baggage trucks to take back to Glenwood. We needed to find the shower and there was always a wait for a shower. Our time grew short.
We began to follow the OOS signs. We rode by campsites, other trucks, other charters, and then we began climbing away from the river. Away from the river is uphill. Away from the river in Davenport is steep uphill. We are riding in traffic with no sheriff to stop cross traffic, and we are getting more disgusted by the minute. Actually, disgusted describes my demeanor, Jen was getting downright livid. Thoughts of a shower were fading as the minutes ticked away.
Since you don’t know where you are going you have to follow the signs. At one point we were one block from our destination, but the signs took us 6 blocks to get there. Grrrrrrr! We finally got to the charter a little after 1 pm. We found our bags and checked our bikes in for loading. Our friend Steve asked me, “Is there anything I can do to help?” I told him, “The best thing for you to do is to avoid Jennifer. She is not a happy camper.”
The girl at the check in said we probably didn’t have time for a shower. The busses were due anytime and our departure was scheduled for 1:30. Steve told us where the showers were, promised to take care of our bikes and get our bags on the bus. We hustled off to try to get the shower. When we returned it was about 1:40, the busses were mostly loaded. Steve, bless his heart, we would have been in trouble without him, had taken care of everything for us and even saved a couple of seats on the bus.
When I think of the ways he helped, I need to pause and give a public thanks to Steve Mattern. Without Steve’s help we would have showed up at Ragbrai without the tent fan that made sleeping bearable if not comfortable. We would not have had our lawn chairs with us. He loaned us an extra bag that gave us the extra room for some comfort items. He loaned Jen a handlebar bag, then at the end of the ride gave it to her. Every day when we got to camp he already knew where the showers were, good places to eat, and other tidbits of information. In addition to those, we stayed at his house in Nebraska the day before and the day after. I am sure I haven’t thought of everything, but thanks Steve, from the bottom of our hearts, for all you did to make the ride more enjoyable. Sadly, Steve broke a wheel early in the ride on Friday. He rides a recumbent and his wheel size is not standard so he was unable to get it repaired. He missed the end of the ride. Jennifer and I both offered to let him ride our bikes on Saturday while we rode in the air conditioned baggage truck, but he said he would suffer.
After all that worry and hurry, there were three people missing. They looked for them everywhere. The finally found them on the other bus. The bus pulled out at 10 minutes to 3. When I was finally able to stretch my legs on the bus I fell asleep, and the nap lasted most of the way back across Iowa. We arrived at the parking lot around 8 pm, just as the truck with our bikes were unloading. We got everything transferred to the Tahoe and Steve’s Jeep and after finding some dinner, we went to Steve’s house in Nebraska.
We did it! We rode across Iowa. People would ask me if I was a Ragbrai Virgin. “How many times have you done Ragbrai?” they would ask. My standard reply was, “Not only is this the first time I have done Ragbrai, this is the first road trip I have ever done. I have only owned a bike for the last two years.” Why did we pick this one for the first ride?
In my next post, I will give you some possible answers to that question, analysis of the overall ride, and try to answer the most asked question we get. “Will you do that again?”
Sign of the day: on the back of a shirt. “No Sniveling”
Friday, August 12, 2011
Great Bicycle Ride Part 7, Day 6
Grinnell, Iowa to Coralville, Iowa; 74.9 Miles; 2,681 feet of uphill.
Today is college spirit day. Today’s ride ends in Coralville, right next to Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa. The idea is to get everyone to wear his or her school colors. Each school has a bike Jersey, and many riders took advantage of the day to promote their school. Before leaving home I had checked on a UNM Lobo jersey. They are available, but the price is around 80 bucks. We decided we would just wear lobo wear we already possessed. I wore the cotton New Mexico shirt for about 15 minutes this morning while getting ready to ride before I took it off and said, “this shirt is too hot.” I put one of my Under Armor hiking shirts back on. I did choose a red one.
Lobo Bike Shirt
There isn’t a lot you can say that is different about the sixth day on the road. We pedaled. We pedaled uphill, we pedaled on the level places, we coasted downhill, rising to get our hinders off the seat. We looked for food, water, Gatorade, and shade. The ride was the longest of the week, but by now, given enough time, we know we can do the miles.
A few days back I promised to comment on the headphones rule. It makes sense that putting earbuds in and turning the music up would hinder one’s ability to be aware of what is around them. We accepted the rule graciously, though a lot of the time when we ride, we use one earphone. Usually the right ear is the one away from traffic. On the ride though a lot of people have music. Some are pulling trailers with sound systems blasting their music that everyone around them hears. Called spoolers, they attract their own crowd of bikers who follow them just to listen to the music. Then there are individual speaker systems set up on bikes. You can hear them coming, hear them as you pass, and then as they fade in the distance. In my opinion they cause more distraction than if you were to just use an earbud in one ear. I used my iPod on the two big hills, and then for one other stretch, the day I was having trouble staying awake. Jen decided to use hers a little too.
On the route of the ride there are a number of historical places. Every town would like you to visit their museum, or their historical site but for slow riders like us, we have to keep pedaling. Some of the sites we passed this week were Mamie Eisenhower’s childhood home, Herbert Hoover’s Library and Museum, and John Wayne’s childhood home. So guess, which one of these we did visit.
John Wayne’s family lived for a short time in Brooklyn, Iowa. If you guessed this historical site as the one we visited, you were right. We have a picture of the Duke standing between us in front of the home.
Click on any photo to see it full size.
In the meeting town of Marengo, they had a park full of vendors, both food and merchandise, the Gazebo had a DJ playing music on a big sound system. There was a lot of free water and shade and it came at the perfect time for a break. We purchased some lunch and sat on a park bench to eat, rest, and listen to the music. I noticed a non-riding couple sitting on another bench just watching people. They were probably 10-15 years older than we are and I wondered what they were thinking about the music and the weirdness of the people. I got up and went over to visit. “Are you ready for us to get out of town so the politicians can come back?” was my great conversation starter. The man, grinned and said, “Heck, we would rather have bikers here any day than politicians.” Then the woman began to give me a lecture on their political positions on everything from the debt ceiling to abortion. Since their, rather her, opinions differed from mine in almost every respect, I just listened quietly and determined I would use a different conversation starter next time.
One very interesting rider passed today. He was in his mid to late 50’s, long gray hair pulled into a pony tail. He was buck naked, except for a leather loincloth. I said to Jennifer, “Don’t look Ethel,” but it was too late, she already had a biking moment. A few hours later we came upon a giant water slide. It was a long sheet of white plastic on a hillside. They were pumping water from a pool at the bottom making the biggest slide we saw all week. Just as we were riding past three young girls, about college age or late high school were riding to my left. “Oh look!” one of them said. “That is a big slide. Let’s stop and ride it.” The other two were enthusiastic, thinking that would be a good thing to do. Just then, the old naked hippy went sliding down the slide, now minus even the loin cloth.
“Ewww, gross, disgusting,” were some of the comments from the young lasses. They changed their mind about wanting to stop, and just rode on. But before they were out of earshot one of them made the comment of the day, maybe of the week. She said, “I don’t want to see that, but I just keep looking.” It brought to mind the apostle Paul, “For that which I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15)
This young girl, if she stops and thinks about it, just discovered one of the mysteries of life, that we give in to sin, even when we don’t want to. I am not saying it was a sin for her to look. The distance was such that no detail was available. But the truth that we find ourselves doing the very thing we don’t want to do. All of us have had her experience in one way or another. We give thanks for Romans 8:1, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
The day ended in Coralville. As we rode down a frontage road there were little signs posted, Coralville and the University of Iowa welcome (place name of school here with logo.) The little signs were on both sides of the road. Most of them were on a downhill and it was impossible to read them all. I missed the one that said UNM Lobos although I saw NMSU, Wyoming, UNLV, and many of our surrounding schools. I did see Utah, and stopped and took a picture for all my Ute buds.
When we turned the corner into the camping space, they had built a façade over the road with two entrances. It looked like you were riding in to one of the Midwest football stadiums. When you went through the opening the road was painted green, with white stripes, like a football field and you rode right through the endzone painted with a hawkeye and the U of Iowa colors. On both sides of the road there were bleacher sat up and people sitting in the bleachers waving pennants and cheering us on to the finish. It was quite a moment.
Replica of U of Iowa Stadium
We visited another HyVee supermarked for the grand buffet, spent another evening in a rec center until they closed at 10 pm. Then we crashed in our tent, anticipating the big ride to the Mississippi tomorrow.
Today is college spirit day. Today’s ride ends in Coralville, right next to Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa. The idea is to get everyone to wear his or her school colors. Each school has a bike Jersey, and many riders took advantage of the day to promote their school. Before leaving home I had checked on a UNM Lobo jersey. They are available, but the price is around 80 bucks. We decided we would just wear lobo wear we already possessed. I wore the cotton New Mexico shirt for about 15 minutes this morning while getting ready to ride before I took it off and said, “this shirt is too hot.” I put one of my Under Armor hiking shirts back on. I did choose a red one.
Lobo Bike Shirt
There isn’t a lot you can say that is different about the sixth day on the road. We pedaled. We pedaled uphill, we pedaled on the level places, we coasted downhill, rising to get our hinders off the seat. We looked for food, water, Gatorade, and shade. The ride was the longest of the week, but by now, given enough time, we know we can do the miles.
A few days back I promised to comment on the headphones rule. It makes sense that putting earbuds in and turning the music up would hinder one’s ability to be aware of what is around them. We accepted the rule graciously, though a lot of the time when we ride, we use one earphone. Usually the right ear is the one away from traffic. On the ride though a lot of people have music. Some are pulling trailers with sound systems blasting their music that everyone around them hears. Called spoolers, they attract their own crowd of bikers who follow them just to listen to the music. Then there are individual speaker systems set up on bikes. You can hear them coming, hear them as you pass, and then as they fade in the distance. In my opinion they cause more distraction than if you were to just use an earbud in one ear. I used my iPod on the two big hills, and then for one other stretch, the day I was having trouble staying awake. Jen decided to use hers a little too.
On the route of the ride there are a number of historical places. Every town would like you to visit their museum, or their historical site but for slow riders like us, we have to keep pedaling. Some of the sites we passed this week were Mamie Eisenhower’s childhood home, Herbert Hoover’s Library and Museum, and John Wayne’s childhood home. So guess, which one of these we did visit.
John Wayne’s family lived for a short time in Brooklyn, Iowa. If you guessed this historical site as the one we visited, you were right. We have a picture of the Duke standing between us in front of the home.
Click on any photo to see it full size.
In the meeting town of Marengo, they had a park full of vendors, both food and merchandise, the Gazebo had a DJ playing music on a big sound system. There was a lot of free water and shade and it came at the perfect time for a break. We purchased some lunch and sat on a park bench to eat, rest, and listen to the music. I noticed a non-riding couple sitting on another bench just watching people. They were probably 10-15 years older than we are and I wondered what they were thinking about the music and the weirdness of the people. I got up and went over to visit. “Are you ready for us to get out of town so the politicians can come back?” was my great conversation starter. The man, grinned and said, “Heck, we would rather have bikers here any day than politicians.” Then the woman began to give me a lecture on their political positions on everything from the debt ceiling to abortion. Since their, rather her, opinions differed from mine in almost every respect, I just listened quietly and determined I would use a different conversation starter next time.
One very interesting rider passed today. He was in his mid to late 50’s, long gray hair pulled into a pony tail. He was buck naked, except for a leather loincloth. I said to Jennifer, “Don’t look Ethel,” but it was too late, she already had a biking moment. A few hours later we came upon a giant water slide. It was a long sheet of white plastic on a hillside. They were pumping water from a pool at the bottom making the biggest slide we saw all week. Just as we were riding past three young girls, about college age or late high school were riding to my left. “Oh look!” one of them said. “That is a big slide. Let’s stop and ride it.” The other two were enthusiastic, thinking that would be a good thing to do. Just then, the old naked hippy went sliding down the slide, now minus even the loin cloth.
“Ewww, gross, disgusting,” were some of the comments from the young lasses. They changed their mind about wanting to stop, and just rode on. But before they were out of earshot one of them made the comment of the day, maybe of the week. She said, “I don’t want to see that, but I just keep looking.” It brought to mind the apostle Paul, “For that which I am doing, I do not understand; for I am not practicing what I would like to do, but I am doing the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15)
This young girl, if she stops and thinks about it, just discovered one of the mysteries of life, that we give in to sin, even when we don’t want to. I am not saying it was a sin for her to look. The distance was such that no detail was available. But the truth that we find ourselves doing the very thing we don’t want to do. All of us have had her experience in one way or another. We give thanks for Romans 8:1, “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
The day ended in Coralville. As we rode down a frontage road there were little signs posted, Coralville and the University of Iowa welcome (place name of school here with logo.) The little signs were on both sides of the road. Most of them were on a downhill and it was impossible to read them all. I missed the one that said UNM Lobos although I saw NMSU, Wyoming, UNLV, and many of our surrounding schools. I did see Utah, and stopped and took a picture for all my Ute buds.
When we turned the corner into the camping space, they had built a façade over the road with two entrances. It looked like you were riding in to one of the Midwest football stadiums. When you went through the opening the road was painted green, with white stripes, like a football field and you rode right through the endzone painted with a hawkeye and the U of Iowa colors. On both sides of the road there were bleacher sat up and people sitting in the bleachers waving pennants and cheering us on to the finish. It was quite a moment.
Replica of U of Iowa Stadium
We visited another HyVee supermarked for the grand buffet, spent another evening in a rec center until they closed at 10 pm. Then we crashed in our tent, anticipating the big ride to the Mississippi tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Great Bicycle Ride Part 6, Day 5
Altoona, Iowa to Grinnell, Iowa; 57.5 Miles; 3,202 feet of uphill.
A Family Affair
Today the hills return. One of the things I didn’t say yesterday about riding flat terrain is that in addition to having trouble getting the weight off the tush, you have to pedal every stinking mile. So we are looking forward to the hills. Going downhill, makes up for pedaling uphill, and after all, they are mostly only little hills. Today the talk is about Colfax hill, the “mountain” they call it just after Colfax, IA.
After about 5 miles this morning we are still in a populated area. For most of the trip there have been State Patrolmen or County Sheriff’s at all highway crossings to stop traffic and allow us to continue without stopping. Not so this morning. We have to obey traffic signals, of which there are quite a few. Fortunately we are out before much traffic. Seeing a convenience store, we decided to stop there for our morning coffee. We bought a cup and shared a package of little sugar doughnuts. I had 5 Jen had 1. This is when I discovered that she had been eating a power bar every morning before we started. No wonder she wasn’t as into looking for breakfast as I was.
My Little Biking Chickadee
What Sgt. Shultz would look like on a Bike.
One of the amazing things about this ride is the sheer number of riders. While we are sitting in the chairs outside this little store eating doughnuts and finishing our coffee, hundreds, maybe a thousand riders pass by. A little while down the road, we will ride by a stop or go straight through one of the pass through towns, and pass hundreds of riders, perhaps a thousand or so and get ahead of them again. At one point, sitting in the shade of a canopy, we were talking with some guys from Iowa who do the ride every year. We were watching bikers buzz by and Jen just casually commented, I wonder how long this line of riders really is. One of the guys said, “It is 10 AM. Some of the riders have already reached the end town. There are some who are just leaving camp. So the line stretches for the whole 60 miles of the route.” That gave us a new perspective.
The riding today was better for both of us. We both had good days and just kept pedaling along. At one point in the afternoon I started getting sleepy. You know how sometimes when you are in church, or heaven forbid driving, and your head starts to nod. With a start you realize you just went to sleep for a second. That happened to me twice while riding my bike today. Maybe it was time to find some shade for my nap.
Colfax Mountain was right out of the town Colfax. You had to start up the mountain from a dead stop. It wasn’t really a mountain, but it was a steep hill. People were pushing their bikes up it. Jen said she wasn’t even going to try and pushed up it. I dug out my iPod, put Michael Martin Murphy, “The West is going to get Wilder Tonight” in my right ear, began with the bike in granny, and started pumping. Before MMM finished I was at the top of Colfax hill. It wasn’t as hard as Twister.
In one of the through towns today someone, somewhere must have had little American flags they were selling or giving away. I started seeing them on the back of bikes, and on the ground where they had fallen off. After miles and miles of seeing the flags fairly often I thought to myself, I would like to have one of those. The next one I pass I am going to get off my bike and pick it up. It is not an easy decision to get off your bike when there is not food or drink or shade involved. As you can guess, I didn’t see any more. Later in the day I passed another flag and stopped and picked it up. It wasn’t the stars and stripes though, it was the Zia sun symbol of the New Mexico State Flag. It was the only little state flag I saw the whole trip. I attached it to the back of my bike.
Jen had a Ragbrai license plate attached to her bike that had her name, Salt Lake City, and the fact that she was a Ragbrai Rookie. (I lost mine before I got to Iowa.) It was a great conversation starter. People would ask her about Utah. Some asked if she was Mormon. Most wanted to know if she rode her bike from Salt Lake to Iowa. I told her she should say yes, and make up a story about the trip across the Rockies, and how far it is across the great plains. Our GPS said it was 998 miles from Salt Lake to Bellvue where Steve lives, and another 20 or 30 to Glenwood. That would have been a great story about riding 1000 miles in the two weeks before Ragbrai just to get to the starting town. There is a difference, don’t you think, between lying and spinning a good tale. People are asking because they want to hear a good story; might as well give them one. Well that is my opinion anyway, ministerally speaking.
I was ahead of Jen and at the place I stopped at the top of a hill, a church group was giving out free watermelon slices, while some of the members circulated among the bikers trying to give out tracts. When Jen came by she didn’t want to stop so she just rode on. I grabbed my bike, started to get on when the pedal I put my foot on rolled, my foot slipped and my momentum carried me forward onto my falling bike. I hit the ground. I fell off my bike. “Biker Down!” I heard the shouts from riders coming up. No!, Not me. I didn’t fall. As fast as I could I picked my bike up and got off the roadway to choruses of, “are you ok?” “are you hurt.” Gee, how embarrassed can you get? I wasn’t hurt. I banged my knee just a little but it didn’t even leave a scrape. My ego sagged quite a bit. The one person I could look to for comfort was oblivious. She heard the biker down shouts, later she said she wondered if it was me, but not wanting to lose momentum she rode on. Don’t you love the gift of mercy that girl has?
Seven miles before the end of today’s ride we came to Rock Creek State Park. The route actually took a little detour to take us through the park. There was a nice little lake, lots of grass, and plenty of shade. It was like a through town with booths for food set up. Jen had been having trouble with her gears shifting correctly so while she stood in line at a bike repair tent I went looking for water. All I could find was Gatorade. I bought one for me and one for her, took hers to her while she waited in line but she said she didn’t want it. It was a blue one, I hate blue ones, so I gave it to the girl behind her in line.
The final miles into Grinnell were uneventful, her bike worked much better, and by now we can cruise seven miles without even thinking about it.
Sign of the day: On the back of the shirts of a bike club. “The Trust Me Bike Club” Then there was a picture of a fat cat smoking a big cigar, and below that “the banker.” Some said “the lawyer.” One said, “the realtor.” Jen said to one of them, “I am the Nurse, could I join your bike club? ” “Sure” the man told her, “We accept everyone except politicians.”
A Family Affair
Today the hills return. One of the things I didn’t say yesterday about riding flat terrain is that in addition to having trouble getting the weight off the tush, you have to pedal every stinking mile. So we are looking forward to the hills. Going downhill, makes up for pedaling uphill, and after all, they are mostly only little hills. Today the talk is about Colfax hill, the “mountain” they call it just after Colfax, IA.
After about 5 miles this morning we are still in a populated area. For most of the trip there have been State Patrolmen or County Sheriff’s at all highway crossings to stop traffic and allow us to continue without stopping. Not so this morning. We have to obey traffic signals, of which there are quite a few. Fortunately we are out before much traffic. Seeing a convenience store, we decided to stop there for our morning coffee. We bought a cup and shared a package of little sugar doughnuts. I had 5 Jen had 1. This is when I discovered that she had been eating a power bar every morning before we started. No wonder she wasn’t as into looking for breakfast as I was.
My Little Biking Chickadee
What Sgt. Shultz would look like on a Bike.
One of the amazing things about this ride is the sheer number of riders. While we are sitting in the chairs outside this little store eating doughnuts and finishing our coffee, hundreds, maybe a thousand riders pass by. A little while down the road, we will ride by a stop or go straight through one of the pass through towns, and pass hundreds of riders, perhaps a thousand or so and get ahead of them again. At one point, sitting in the shade of a canopy, we were talking with some guys from Iowa who do the ride every year. We were watching bikers buzz by and Jen just casually commented, I wonder how long this line of riders really is. One of the guys said, “It is 10 AM. Some of the riders have already reached the end town. There are some who are just leaving camp. So the line stretches for the whole 60 miles of the route.” That gave us a new perspective.
The riding today was better for both of us. We both had good days and just kept pedaling along. At one point in the afternoon I started getting sleepy. You know how sometimes when you are in church, or heaven forbid driving, and your head starts to nod. With a start you realize you just went to sleep for a second. That happened to me twice while riding my bike today. Maybe it was time to find some shade for my nap.
Colfax Mountain was right out of the town Colfax. You had to start up the mountain from a dead stop. It wasn’t really a mountain, but it was a steep hill. People were pushing their bikes up it. Jen said she wasn’t even going to try and pushed up it. I dug out my iPod, put Michael Martin Murphy, “The West is going to get Wilder Tonight” in my right ear, began with the bike in granny, and started pumping. Before MMM finished I was at the top of Colfax hill. It wasn’t as hard as Twister.
In one of the through towns today someone, somewhere must have had little American flags they were selling or giving away. I started seeing them on the back of bikes, and on the ground where they had fallen off. After miles and miles of seeing the flags fairly often I thought to myself, I would like to have one of those. The next one I pass I am going to get off my bike and pick it up. It is not an easy decision to get off your bike when there is not food or drink or shade involved. As you can guess, I didn’t see any more. Later in the day I passed another flag and stopped and picked it up. It wasn’t the stars and stripes though, it was the Zia sun symbol of the New Mexico State Flag. It was the only little state flag I saw the whole trip. I attached it to the back of my bike.
Jen had a Ragbrai license plate attached to her bike that had her name, Salt Lake City, and the fact that she was a Ragbrai Rookie. (I lost mine before I got to Iowa.) It was a great conversation starter. People would ask her about Utah. Some asked if she was Mormon. Most wanted to know if she rode her bike from Salt Lake to Iowa. I told her she should say yes, and make up a story about the trip across the Rockies, and how far it is across the great plains. Our GPS said it was 998 miles from Salt Lake to Bellvue where Steve lives, and another 20 or 30 to Glenwood. That would have been a great story about riding 1000 miles in the two weeks before Ragbrai just to get to the starting town. There is a difference, don’t you think, between lying and spinning a good tale. People are asking because they want to hear a good story; might as well give them one. Well that is my opinion anyway, ministerally speaking.
I was ahead of Jen and at the place I stopped at the top of a hill, a church group was giving out free watermelon slices, while some of the members circulated among the bikers trying to give out tracts. When Jen came by she didn’t want to stop so she just rode on. I grabbed my bike, started to get on when the pedal I put my foot on rolled, my foot slipped and my momentum carried me forward onto my falling bike. I hit the ground. I fell off my bike. “Biker Down!” I heard the shouts from riders coming up. No!, Not me. I didn’t fall. As fast as I could I picked my bike up and got off the roadway to choruses of, “are you ok?” “are you hurt.” Gee, how embarrassed can you get? I wasn’t hurt. I banged my knee just a little but it didn’t even leave a scrape. My ego sagged quite a bit. The one person I could look to for comfort was oblivious. She heard the biker down shouts, later she said she wondered if it was me, but not wanting to lose momentum she rode on. Don’t you love the gift of mercy that girl has?
Seven miles before the end of today’s ride we came to Rock Creek State Park. The route actually took a little detour to take us through the park. There was a nice little lake, lots of grass, and plenty of shade. It was like a through town with booths for food set up. Jen had been having trouble with her gears shifting correctly so while she stood in line at a bike repair tent I went looking for water. All I could find was Gatorade. I bought one for me and one for her, took hers to her while she waited in line but she said she didn’t want it. It was a blue one, I hate blue ones, so I gave it to the girl behind her in line.
The final miles into Grinnell were uneventful, her bike worked much better, and by now we can cruise seven miles without even thinking about it.
Sign of the day: On the back of the shirts of a bike club. “The Trust Me Bike Club” Then there was a picture of a fat cat smoking a big cigar, and below that “the banker.” Some said “the lawyer.” One said, “the realtor.” Jen said to one of them, “I am the Nurse, could I join your bike club? ” “Sure” the man told her, “We accept everyone except politicians.”
Tuesday, August 09, 2011
Great Bicycle Ride Part 5, Day 4
Boone, Iowa to Altoona, Iowa; 56.1 Miles; 1,147 feet of uphill.
On paper, today looked to be the easiest day of the ride. It has the fewest miles and the least amount of climbing. In addition there are 8 pass through towns, the furthest being only 13 miles apart. For Jen and I, 13 miles is just a little over an hour. At some point today, we will pass the halfway point of the ride in both miles and time.
Last night before bedtime we had a little philosophical discussion. Our friend Steve leaves early, rides straight through, and gets to the end town before noon. Sometimes a couple of hours before noon. He gets a hot shower, changes to regular clothes, and gets a lunch and a dinner in the end town. Jen is thinking that she might want to do that. My philosophy is the best food is in the pass through towns. The entertainment is there also. There is good shade, lots of water, and you don’t have to hurry. It is more enjoyable to spend the afternoon in pass through towns than at a shade less camp site, under a crowded canopy, where the drinks are limited, the food is far away, and after the afternoon in the humidity you will need another shower anyway.
We have been setting our alarm for 5am and getting on the road a little after 6. She wanted me to set the alarm for 4 am and get on the road a little after 5. To think, I thought after the hard day yesterday she might want to ride the baggage truck. I compromised, set the alarm for 4:30 and told her, I am not starting to ride while I need a light to see the road. We shoved off a few minutes before 6.
Yesterday as the sun broke over the horizon, there was a turn in the road that made riders visible in front of the rising sun. Many people stopped to take pictures, alas, once moving we find it very difficult to stop for a photo session. I took this photo off the Ragbrai Forum and there is a short video of the riders at daybreak at this link. http://ctitech.com/users/chris9//index.htm
Riders at Daybreak
Water was hard to come by at our camp last night. I kept drinking until after 10 pm when the place I was getting water closed. By morning I only had about 2” of water in one bottle and the other was empty. Since there was no place to fill up, we started with very little water. I filled up as soon as possible, but I am wondering if I got a little dehydrated. After breakfast at Farm Boys again, another terrific burrito, I began to feel nauseous. I started looking for a place to give the burrito back. I knew that was a sign of dehydration, but by then I had full water bottles and had drank a Gatorade. I just suffered.
It resembled our hike on the AT. Some days Jen was the hiker and had to encourage me, sometimes I was the hiker and had to encourage her. You just have good days and bad days. This was Jen’s good day, yesterday was her bad day. It was the other way around for me.
Around noon, I forced myself to eat a pork sandwich, although I was still feeling bad, and I began to feel better almost at once. I don’t know what it was, but we mowed down the miles and arrived at Altoona around 2. Flat miles are difficult in their own way. When you are going up and down, you work harder on the up hills, but you can rest on the down hills. Specifically you can stand up a little in the pedals and get your butt off the seat. By now, any pressure off the backside is a blessing.
Altoona is a suburb of Des Moines. We were on the edges of a large metropolitan area instead of a small Iowa town.
When we asked about dinner, one of Steve’s friends told us the best place to eat was the buffet at the grocery store. I could see us standing around deli counters trying to find enough to eat to get full, but he assured us it was a good deal. We went there, and he was right. It was the best meal I ever ate at a grocery store. For 8 bucks, seniors price, we got an all you can eat pass, for the pizza, Italian, salad bar, deli, fruit bar, etc. Plus it was a sit down table, and it was air conditioned. It was the first time we got back on our bikes to ride after we had showered. But it was a mile to the grocery store.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in a rec center. We took our camp chairs down there, set them up, and talked and read until 10 pm when they ran us out into the hot. When we arrived at our tent it was close to the concert venue. Grand Funk Railroad was playing and it made sleeping impossible. After GFR another group played for an hour. I tried the ear plugs, but when I put them in, the ringing in my ears was louder than the rock band. We just suffered until the concert ended. I surreptitiously reset the alarm for 5.
We are over halfway. 256 miles down, 198.6 to go. 4 days down, 3 to go.
Sign of the day, well actually, comment of the day.
Jen to me when I was feeling sick. “Hold it down as long as you can to give your blood pressure medicine time to digest.”
On paper, today looked to be the easiest day of the ride. It has the fewest miles and the least amount of climbing. In addition there are 8 pass through towns, the furthest being only 13 miles apart. For Jen and I, 13 miles is just a little over an hour. At some point today, we will pass the halfway point of the ride in both miles and time.
Last night before bedtime we had a little philosophical discussion. Our friend Steve leaves early, rides straight through, and gets to the end town before noon. Sometimes a couple of hours before noon. He gets a hot shower, changes to regular clothes, and gets a lunch and a dinner in the end town. Jen is thinking that she might want to do that. My philosophy is the best food is in the pass through towns. The entertainment is there also. There is good shade, lots of water, and you don’t have to hurry. It is more enjoyable to spend the afternoon in pass through towns than at a shade less camp site, under a crowded canopy, where the drinks are limited, the food is far away, and after the afternoon in the humidity you will need another shower anyway.
We have been setting our alarm for 5am and getting on the road a little after 6. She wanted me to set the alarm for 4 am and get on the road a little after 5. To think, I thought after the hard day yesterday she might want to ride the baggage truck. I compromised, set the alarm for 4:30 and told her, I am not starting to ride while I need a light to see the road. We shoved off a few minutes before 6.
Yesterday as the sun broke over the horizon, there was a turn in the road that made riders visible in front of the rising sun. Many people stopped to take pictures, alas, once moving we find it very difficult to stop for a photo session. I took this photo off the Ragbrai Forum and there is a short video of the riders at daybreak at this link. http://ctitech.com/users/chris9//index.htm
Riders at Daybreak
Water was hard to come by at our camp last night. I kept drinking until after 10 pm when the place I was getting water closed. By morning I only had about 2” of water in one bottle and the other was empty. Since there was no place to fill up, we started with very little water. I filled up as soon as possible, but I am wondering if I got a little dehydrated. After breakfast at Farm Boys again, another terrific burrito, I began to feel nauseous. I started looking for a place to give the burrito back. I knew that was a sign of dehydration, but by then I had full water bottles and had drank a Gatorade. I just suffered.
It resembled our hike on the AT. Some days Jen was the hiker and had to encourage me, sometimes I was the hiker and had to encourage her. You just have good days and bad days. This was Jen’s good day, yesterday was her bad day. It was the other way around for me.
Around noon, I forced myself to eat a pork sandwich, although I was still feeling bad, and I began to feel better almost at once. I don’t know what it was, but we mowed down the miles and arrived at Altoona around 2. Flat miles are difficult in their own way. When you are going up and down, you work harder on the up hills, but you can rest on the down hills. Specifically you can stand up a little in the pedals and get your butt off the seat. By now, any pressure off the backside is a blessing.
Altoona is a suburb of Des Moines. We were on the edges of a large metropolitan area instead of a small Iowa town.
When we asked about dinner, one of Steve’s friends told us the best place to eat was the buffet at the grocery store. I could see us standing around deli counters trying to find enough to eat to get full, but he assured us it was a good deal. We went there, and he was right. It was the best meal I ever ate at a grocery store. For 8 bucks, seniors price, we got an all you can eat pass, for the pizza, Italian, salad bar, deli, fruit bar, etc. Plus it was a sit down table, and it was air conditioned. It was the first time we got back on our bikes to ride after we had showered. But it was a mile to the grocery store.
We spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in a rec center. We took our camp chairs down there, set them up, and talked and read until 10 pm when they ran us out into the hot. When we arrived at our tent it was close to the concert venue. Grand Funk Railroad was playing and it made sleeping impossible. After GFR another group played for an hour. I tried the ear plugs, but when I put them in, the ringing in my ears was louder than the rock band. We just suffered until the concert ended. I surreptitiously reset the alarm for 5.
We are over halfway. 256 miles down, 198.6 to go. 4 days down, 3 to go.
Sign of the day, well actually, comment of the day.
Jen to me when I was feeling sick. “Hold it down as long as you can to give your blood pressure medicine time to digest.”
Monday, August 08, 2011
Great Bicycle Ride Part 4, Day 3
Carroll, Iowa to Boone, Iowa; 70.9 Miles; 1,787 feet of uphill.
Now we have answered several questions. We can ride 60 miles in a day. We can ride a second day. There is no reason a third, fourth, and fifth day should be any different, at least as far as soreness is concerned. Fatigue may set in at some time though.
This is the second longest day of the ride, and the longest ride we have ever made in one day. It is also the second flattest day. When I mentioned that to Steve he said, “Yeah, but over ¼ of the climb is on one hill. “Twister Hill,” they call it. Bikers in the know have talked about it a lot. It is the monster out there will kill us all. Twister Hill got its name from the movie, Twister. I haven’t seen the movie, but this is the hill that the twisters blow the house down. It is impossible to climb. Most riders will have to push their bikes up this hill.
At 6:16 we begin pedaling. Twister Hill is in the back of the mind. The 71 miles between us and Boone is closer to the conscious thought. Another thought and topic of some conversation about today’s ride is the Karras Loop. Some riders have a desire to have one 100 mile day on the ride. Today there is an optional 30 mile loop that will bring today’s total to 100 miles. That was never an option in Jennifer’s mind, and since I wasn’t going to do it without her, we never even considered it. We can save 100 miles for another day. As I pedal I am thinking, “you know, I am not going to kill myself on Twister Hill either. I am not too proud to push my bike up a hill.” After all, I have to do that quite regularly when riding in the Wasatch Mountains. One ride we have taken several times calls for an uphill push of close to a mile. So with that solved in my mind, I concentrate on the flat miles in front of me.
Breakfast was finally at the farm boys. It was a great breakfast burrito. Actually it was a burrito buffet. You start with a tortilla and you tell them what you want in it. They pack it in, roll it up in a paper cover, and voila!, a breakfast burrito. Of course there is no green chile or pinto beans, but it was a grand breakfast.
For lunch we stopped at Mr. Pork Chop and had a one inch thick pork chop that is served in a napkin. There was a party going on at the farm we stopped at. There was a beer garden set up with a DJ playing requests. A few dancers had legs to give it a whirl. There was a pond with a rope, and others were over there having a great time swinging and plunging. Honestly, I don’t know where they get the energy. They still have to pedal all the miles too. May have something to do with their youth, you think? We ignored the dancing, stayed away from the pond, and after the Pork Chop we took a nap in the grass, then stopped at Beekman’s for ice cream. After yesterday’s mistake, we never passed Beekman’s again. I also told Jen if she wanted ice cream she had to get her own. No more sharing, I was going to eat a whole cup.
We still heard a lot of talk about Twister Hill, it loomed between our present location and Boone. It has to be climbed.
Riding again I saw an interesting interaction between a young couple. They were dressed in the full bicycle garb, meaning matching bike shorts and shirts. They were about 50 yards ahead of me, when reaching the top of a hill she got off her bike, picked it up over her head, and slammed it to the ground. He pulled off with her, bent down and straightened her bike up. She had gone off to the side of the road and was sitting staring out into the cornfield with her back to the road. I rode by just as he sat down next to her and said in an attempt to comfort, “It will be ok. It is not that bad.” I have no idea what she was mad at, or what he was referring to. But I can think of several things.
Today Lance Armstrong passed me like I was standing still. In fact, I was standing still. The only thing I can figure is he passed us while we were napping. This was the only day he rode. He started a couple of hours later than we did and finished earlier, so he had to have passed us. Later I read that the average speed of the majority of Ragbrai riders is between 12 and 16 miles per hour. The faster riders average around 20. Jen and I consistently averaged between 10.5 and 11.5. Lance averaged 27. I wish I would have been on the road when he blew by. The wind would have felt good.
After a water break in Pilot mound we still had 14 miles to go. Twister Hill was in 3 miles. In reality, it is not a hill at all. Twister valley would be a more appropriate name. You first go down into the valley, cross the river then climb back out of the valley. It is a deep and steep valley. Going down, my speedometer hit 46 mph, I was going to get all the roll out of the downhill as possible. Before I started down I put my iPod in my pocket, put one ear bud in my right ear, and put on my exercise playlist. My plan was to go to granny gear as soon as necessary then pedal to the beat of Michael Martin Murphy and Garth Brooks.
The right side of the road climbing out of the valley was filled with walkers pushing their bikes. When I stopped before starting down to start my iPod Jen went ahead. I couldn’t see her. I hit the bottom at 40mph and moved to the middle of the road to avoid the walkers. I got to granny and pedaled to the sounds of the “West is going to get Wilder tonight” and by the time the first Garth Brooks song, “Baton Rouge” was winding down, I was at the top of the hill. Somewhere on the upgrade I passed Jen who was pushing. I know she could have climbed that hill. She is better going up than me, but she obeys rules better than I do, (No head phones allowed) and we had already done 60 miles that day.
(I will talk tomorrow about the no head phones rule, I have an opinion.)
The rest of the ride I began to worry about Jen. She was totally pooped. I had to encourage her to keep going and for the first time I began to wonder if she was going to have to take a day off tomorrow and ride the baggage truck.
Dragging into camp we had no energy to ride again to find something to eat. We took the shuttle to a church where we were told they were serving Lasagna. They actually were serving Gyro sandwiches and grilled chicken, pie and ice cream. We spent about an hour talking to the Pastor and his wife, trying to encourage them. They are serving in a hard church. Then we sat on the curb for about an hour waiting for the shuttle back to camp. It was the one and only time we trusted the shuttle.
It was bedtime when we got to camp. We hit the tent, happy this day was over. Jen had said nothing about not riding tomorrow, and I wasn’t going to suggest it. We will see what tomorrow holds.
Sign of the Day: on the shirts of a bike club from Truckee California.
The Donner Bike Club: We eat the slow ones.
Sunday, August 07, 2011
Great Bicycle Ride Part 3, Day 2
Never too much waterAtlantic, Iowa to Carroll, Iowa; 65.4 Miles; 4,719 feet of uphill.
I set the alarm for this morning 30 minutes later, 5:30 and we were still able to get on the road at 6:15. We had enjoyed the riding yesterday and were looking forward to riding again. I would describe my legs as something between tired and sore. At 62 years old, how hard was it going to be to recover? The second day stared us right in the face. Today’s miles were going to break the record, established only yesterday, for our longest ride.
Steve gave us a biker hint last night. He said when he first pulls into the end town he stops at a convenience store and drinks a bottle of chocolate milk. The milk keeps the tannic acid from building up in the muscles. Jennifer gagged a little at the thought. It sounded like a great idea to me. I love chocolate milk and it has been off my diet for all of 2011.
We started today’s ride by going back down the same hill we pushed up last night. That topped off the bitterness we felt last night as we climbed the hill. For what? An ice cold shower, a shade less tent spot, and a crummy hamburger.
For the last 40 years my day begins with a cup of coffee. As we begin the bike ride, I search the signs for a place to get a cup. It is 14.7 miles to the first town where breakfast will be available. That’s ok, but can I make it that long to coffee. Once on the road, there are signs advertising the places that are serving. 5 miles to Breakfast. 15 miles to Mr. Pork Chop. Water, Gatorade, cookies, watermelon, bagels, bananas, etc. for sale up ahead.
Yesterday we had pancakes for breakfast. Jen thought a breakfast burrito would be a better choice. So we scanned the signs for a burrito. There was a sign for The Farm Boys advertising a breakfast burrito. When we got there, the line was looonnnngggg. We kept going. Besides bike riding and sleeping, more time is spent on Ragbrai standing in line than doing anything else. More than once I heard someone ask, “What is this line for?” Across the street from Farm Boys was a food stand selling brisket sandwiches and fries. There were only three people in line. That made a pretty good breakfast.
Our concern about legs proved to be unfounded. After a few minutes, the kinks were out, the stiffness gone, and we could pedal. The one part of the anatomy that got worse day by day was the back of the lap. We learned to stand on the pedals when going downhill to relieve pressure on the butt. We were wearing two pair of biking pants with padded rears. I began to wonder if a third pair would help.
I ride a little faster than Jen does, especially downhill. Gravity pulls a little harder on me. We tried to find a system that worked for us. If I was in front, I would slow at the tops of hills and let her catch up. If she was in front I had to ride my brakes a little which seemed the wrong thing to do. On this second day, we started letting her get a head start then I would ride til I caught up.
We were using this system when Jennifer passed up Grandma’s Pies advertising fresh fruit pies and ice cream. She just zoomed by without stopping. If I stopped without her she would get so far ahead I would never catch up. To make things worse, she passed Beekman’s homemade ice cream. She could claim she just didn’t see Grandma’s, but there is no way she couldn’t have known Beekman’s was there. You can hear those ice cream makers from a mile away. So we changed the system. No more letting her lead. She thinks a sliced apple with peanut butter on it is enough of a treat that you don’t need pie or ice cream. This ride is only 7 days long. I want to eat as many carbs as I can while I am burning them off.
When the day warmed up, people who have homes along the route would turn their sprinkler on and face it to the road. What a refreshing treat to ride through the spray. Sometimes kids would be standing by the road with their water guns shooting at passing riders. Some towns rigged a waterfall you could ride through as you entered town. I never missed a chance to get wet while riding.
We made a little better time today, mainly because we didn’t take a nap. (and because we passed up pie and ice cream.) The campsite today was before you actually got to town. It was in the yard of a church. The showers were in a semi-truck in the parking lot rigged up for the purpose. The water was warmer than yesterday, or perhaps a better way to say it, it was less cold. Once again though, we were too far from the main event to go in for a meal so we settled for the chicken dinner at the church. At least they had pie and ice cream.
Because the camp was before we got to town, we didn’t get to try the chocolate milk idea. Steve said he didn’t get his chocolate milk either. Maybe we will try that tomorrow but by then the Tannic Acid will probably already be ensconced in our muscles.
Tomorrow is 71 miles. Everyone is talking about a monster hill, “Twister Hill.” It is on tomorrow’s route. Tomorrow is also the day there is an optional 30 mile loop to give riders the opportunity for a 100 mile ride. If you look at these towns on a map you will see that so far we have been riding mostly north. Tomorrow we turn east.
Sign of the day: on a hillside as we left Atlantic, “We are not a one night stand, please visit again.”
Friday, August 05, 2011
Great Bicycle Ride Part 2, Day 1
Glenwood, Iowa to Atlantic Iowa; 59.5 Miles; 4,298 feet of uphill.
Our plan was to begin biking at 6 am. I was confident that we could bike 60 miles, although the furthest we had ridden was 53. I was not as confident of the second day. We had never ridden long distances two days in a row. First day first though.
The other uncertainty we faced was the hills. The 4298 feet of elevation gain had to be different than riding in Salt Lake City. The ending town was less than 200 feet in elevation higher than the beginning town. With every foot uphill, there must be a corresponding foot downhill. And looking at the elevation chart, I couldn’t see any climb higher than 200 feet. We had trained on a route that had a 500 foot climb in 3/10 of a mile. It was 180 foot climb from our house to the Cotton Bottom intersection that we rode most days while training. How hard could this be? Then you do the math. If all the hills were 200 feet tall, there would be 21 hills. They would be spread over 60 miles though. It was thoughts like this dancing in our heads as we tossed and turned, sleep mainly avoiding us.
One last stop before we hit the road. The traditional beginning of Ragbrai is to dip the rear tire of your bike in the Missouri river. 7 days later, a dip of the front wheel in the Mississippi river completes the ride. Unfortunately the flooding along the Missouri forced the authorities to close access to the river. A pool of Missouri river water was provided for the rear wheel dip. The picture is our wheel dip. Now to the road.
Wheel Dip
The rivers of bikers forming up and blending in to make the ride amazed me every day. As we left our campsite, bikers were merging onto the main road from every side road, every intersection, coming together to head down the highway towards the first town we would pass through. It was really like rivers, headwaters turning into creeks, creeks into rivers, and the river rolling along.
Then we were out on the highway, out of town, riding in the relatively cool morning, between fields of corn stretching over the horizon in both directions. Bikers in front of us, bikers behind us, faster bikers passing us on the left, and an occasional slower biker we passed on their left. “Yippee,” I yelled out loud as we pedaled along; only 450 miles and 7 days to go.
The first pass through town was Silver City, Iowa. Here is where you begin to get the idea of the number of bikers. The streets are so full it is impossible to ride through town. You get off and join a long line of people, all pushing their bikes through town, stopping to eat, drink, rest, or use a porta-potty, called a Kybo. (Keep your bowels open) The next two pictures are of Silver City, the procession in front of us, and the one behind.
For breakfast we enjoyed pancakes and sausage. For lunch, we found a sloppy joe and finally, a piece of pie. Out on the lawn we took a nap before restarting. The morning had remained cloudy but about noon the sun broke through and the mugginess hit full strength. The temperature rose to 102-104 depending on which bank sign you believed.
Rounding a curve in the road we discovered Beekman’s homemade ice cream. Berkman’s has quite an operation. With about 7 single stroke gasoline engines turning homemade Ice cream cranks, he makes a terrific treat for hot afternoons.
Berkman's Homemade Ice cream operation
Around 4 pm we finally pulled into Atlantic. Following the signs to our campground we got the first taste of end city itus. We just kept going and going, and discovered the 59.5 miles was from city to city and didn’t count the miles you rode to your campground. Finally we came to a long, steep hill we had to climb and were absolutely destroyed. Neither of us could overcome the defeat, we got off and pushed our bikes up the hill to the campground. It wasn’t a physical shortcoming, but a mental one.
Steve met us as we came in. He had begun to worry about us. He is one of those riders who leaves early and rides straight through. He had been in camp since 10 AM. Showers were in the Middle school. We paid $5 for a shower, $1 for a towel. The shower was so cold it was impossible to get in it. We were too tired to go anywhere for dinner, so we bought a hamburger from a school wrestling team, waited until the sun went down, and went to sleep. Sleep came easier the second night. Worry about the ability to ride a second day with tired legs would have to wait until tomorrow.
Sign of the day. Posted in one of the pass through towns; “Chuck Norris never rode Ragbrai.”
Our plan was to begin biking at 6 am. I was confident that we could bike 60 miles, although the furthest we had ridden was 53. I was not as confident of the second day. We had never ridden long distances two days in a row. First day first though.
The other uncertainty we faced was the hills. The 4298 feet of elevation gain had to be different than riding in Salt Lake City. The ending town was less than 200 feet in elevation higher than the beginning town. With every foot uphill, there must be a corresponding foot downhill. And looking at the elevation chart, I couldn’t see any climb higher than 200 feet. We had trained on a route that had a 500 foot climb in 3/10 of a mile. It was 180 foot climb from our house to the Cotton Bottom intersection that we rode most days while training. How hard could this be? Then you do the math. If all the hills were 200 feet tall, there would be 21 hills. They would be spread over 60 miles though. It was thoughts like this dancing in our heads as we tossed and turned, sleep mainly avoiding us.
One last stop before we hit the road. The traditional beginning of Ragbrai is to dip the rear tire of your bike in the Missouri river. 7 days later, a dip of the front wheel in the Mississippi river completes the ride. Unfortunately the flooding along the Missouri forced the authorities to close access to the river. A pool of Missouri river water was provided for the rear wheel dip. The picture is our wheel dip. Now to the road.
Wheel Dip
The rivers of bikers forming up and blending in to make the ride amazed me every day. As we left our campsite, bikers were merging onto the main road from every side road, every intersection, coming together to head down the highway towards the first town we would pass through. It was really like rivers, headwaters turning into creeks, creeks into rivers, and the river rolling along.
Then we were out on the highway, out of town, riding in the relatively cool morning, between fields of corn stretching over the horizon in both directions. Bikers in front of us, bikers behind us, faster bikers passing us on the left, and an occasional slower biker we passed on their left. “Yippee,” I yelled out loud as we pedaled along; only 450 miles and 7 days to go.
The first pass through town was Silver City, Iowa. Here is where you begin to get the idea of the number of bikers. The streets are so full it is impossible to ride through town. You get off and join a long line of people, all pushing their bikes through town, stopping to eat, drink, rest, or use a porta-potty, called a Kybo. (Keep your bowels open) The next two pictures are of Silver City, the procession in front of us, and the one behind.
For breakfast we enjoyed pancakes and sausage. For lunch, we found a sloppy joe and finally, a piece of pie. Out on the lawn we took a nap before restarting. The morning had remained cloudy but about noon the sun broke through and the mugginess hit full strength. The temperature rose to 102-104 depending on which bank sign you believed.
Rounding a curve in the road we discovered Beekman’s homemade ice cream. Berkman’s has quite an operation. With about 7 single stroke gasoline engines turning homemade Ice cream cranks, he makes a terrific treat for hot afternoons.
Berkman's Homemade Ice cream operation
Around 4 pm we finally pulled into Atlantic. Following the signs to our campground we got the first taste of end city itus. We just kept going and going, and discovered the 59.5 miles was from city to city and didn’t count the miles you rode to your campground. Finally we came to a long, steep hill we had to climb and were absolutely destroyed. Neither of us could overcome the defeat, we got off and pushed our bikes up the hill to the campground. It wasn’t a physical shortcoming, but a mental one.
Steve met us as we came in. He had begun to worry about us. He is one of those riders who leaves early and rides straight through. He had been in camp since 10 AM. Showers were in the Middle school. We paid $5 for a shower, $1 for a towel. The shower was so cold it was impossible to get in it. We were too tired to go anywhere for dinner, so we bought a hamburger from a school wrestling team, waited until the sun went down, and went to sleep. Sleep came easier the second night. Worry about the ability to ride a second day with tired legs would have to wait until tomorrow.
Sign of the day. Posted in one of the pass through towns; “Chuck Norris never rode Ragbrai.”
The Great Bicycle Ride
Our First Camp
Our Friend Steve Mattern
Called Ragbrai, it is the Registers Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa, and I am not sure how we got involved in this. It is a 7 day, 450 mile ride during the last week in July each year. This year was the 39th ride. When asked, “why are you doing this?” we have no real answer. We are not bikers. Until Ragbrai, our longest ride was the 53 miles we rode the last weekend before we left for Iowa. (When I was in my 20’s I rode my 10 speed 100 miles from Bryce Canyon to Zion Canyon with a friend of mine.)
We joined a bike team, The Big Dogs, invited by an old friend who has ridden six or seven times. “It increases your chances to draw out,” he told us although Ragbrai insists that it does not increase your chances. Yes, permission to ride across Iowa in July on the Ragbrai route comes with a lottery. We won, or lost, the lottery depending on your viewpoint, and had credentials to ride.
We drove to Omaha where we spent Friday night with our friend. Steve Mattern was a member of our church in New Mexico. He was the first to tell us about Ragbrai. “Of all the people I know,” Steve told me, “You are one of the last I would have thought would call about riding Ragbrai.” Steve was very helpful, gave us some good advice, loaned us some equipment, and showed us a trick or two. Steve is the source of the information that it is easier on the bottom to wear 2 pair of biking shorts. Very helpful! After riding a week, I wonder if 3 pair would work even better.
On Saturday, we drove to Glenwood, Iowa. This is the starting town. We went to the OOS campsite. OOS stands for Out of Staters. This is the charter company that Steve recommended to carry our baggage from town to town and then give us a bus ride back to our car after the ride. We dropped off our tent and baggage and took the Tahoe to the long term parking. There we paid the fee, parked the truck, and rode our bikes back to the camp. On the way back we stopped for lunch at a roadside vendor. We had a rib eye steak sandwich and a bottle of Gatorade. (The first of many bottles of Gatorade we consumed over the next 7 days.) The sandwich was to die for. Wow!
After an afternoon of looking around at the displays, setting up the tent, getting our credentials in order, and sweating like pigs, we were alarmed by a long loud siren. The tornado signal. The sky had darkened, a breeze came up, and we had no idea what to do. Eventually there was a little rain, it happened while we were in the theater watching the safety video. Then the skies cleared a little and we ventured out to look for dinner.
On the town square there were a lot of food vendors. We walked by them all looking for our best choice. We finally chose a Mexican food vendor, partly because the line was some shorter than the others. Jen and Steve chose a taco salad. I had a walking taco. Back in New Mexico we called them Chili Frito Pie, but basically it is a single serving bag of Doritos, lightly crushed, with the chili poured into the bag. You walk around and eat your taco out of the sack.
I had been promised pie, pie and more pie and so far I had found, no pie. I settled for a cupcake with Ice Cream and we headed for camp.
To say it was hot and humid in the tent is an understatement. One of the things Steve clued us into was a tent fan. It would have been impossible without the fan. While lying there we were sweating. We were sweating because of the humidity, and we were sweating as we thought about the ride beginning tomorrow. There remains an element of doubt. We have never rode this far before, we have never rode in this kind of weather, and we have to ride 65 miles tomorrow.
Outside there was a celebration going on. Fireworks, auto horns, people yelling. The two people in the tent next to ours could be heard having a regular conversation. We feel like we have been on Ragbrai for almost a week, and we have yet to ride one mile.
Lying in all the heat and commotion, thoughts of adventure mixed with a little doubt, Jen says out loud, “Don’t touch me!” Understand, we are in our backpacking tent. It is only 4 feet 4 inches wide. “You are touching me!” she says a minute later when our arms touch. I am thinking this reminds me of when I was a kid, sharing a bed with my brother. “You are on my side!”
This could be a long week.
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