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.
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