Glenwood to Atlantic, IA

With less than an hour of sleep, I crawled out of my sweat box feeling like death-warmed over.  I stumbled over to the house and sat in line with the rest of the weary peeps to brush my teeth before quickly hurrying back to tear down the tent and choke down some energy gel. 

I was so scared that my hands were shaking.  I was afraid that everyone was light years more talented than me.  I was afraid everyone had infinitely more stamina that I did.  I was scared I would get lost or get a flat tire or just flat out not be able to make it.  What was going to happen then?  How was this all going to unfold?  What on earth made me ever think that this was something I was going to be able to achieve?  With a shakey voice, I bravely told Katie that she could go ahead without me if I was holding her back.  She nodded but reassured me that we would stay together.

We started slow. I was doing it.  My bike wheels were moving and I was pedaling.  I had scared myself into certain immobility yet my wheels did infact spin.  I saw other people biking around me.  I could do this.  The crowd was massive.  Thousands of people were sharing the road at once and biking within inches of each other.  It was awesome and the early morning sun with the fog and the backdrop of corn fields was something I wanted to breathe into my soul forever.  I felt like I was in a dream.  This was beautiful.

But only a few minutes into the ride, we saw the first hill and it was a beast!  I was feeling strong and went for it excitedly.  With my angel hair noodle legs though, I quickly realized that hills were not my thing. We rounded a corner and saw a dozen more, each one bigger than the next.  Katie was starting to pull away from me and my legs were already getting tired but thankfully, she waited for me to catch up every couple of miles.  We must have only been about 10 miles in and I had at least 60 more to go. 

The further along the route we got, the worse the hills were getting.  I had never seen these kind of rolling hills before.  They were more like mountains.  Katie and I stopped around mile 20 and ate pancakes.  The break was awesome but it was hot as balls outside.  We knew we had to hit it in order to avoid the intense heat of the afternoon. 

We stopped for lunch around mile 30; our bodies screaming for calories. I was starting to get a handle on things.  It was tough, but I was really loving the little towns with all the food vendors and more than anything, I was enjoying the people of Iowa.  They were all so sweet and so awesomely supportive.  People would line the roads to watch us and to cheer us on with decorated posters.  All the grandmas had made pie and baked goods for the riders, and everywhere you went, you could hear lawnmower engines that had been turned into homemade icecream makers. I was totally in love with Iowa.

But when we got back on our bikes this time, my leg muscles were so tight and the hills weren't stopping.  At the next town, it was even worse.  I was done.  My legs were starting to quit on me, and all I could do was encourage them to hang on.  It got to the point where you didn't even want to stop for fear that you might not be able to start again. 

Katie got a flat tire that day too.  I was so impressed that she was able to change it all by herself.  I documented the moment by taking pictures.  We stopped at one last town for more massive calorie consumption and to see the world's largest bicycle.

Eventually, we made it into Atlantic.  My hams were shredded and I needed a walker.  I laid on the grass for awhile just to try and regain a normal body temperature although with temperatures well over 100, I didn't know if that was even possible. All I wanted was a shower.

The showers were a problem.  For $5, we got to stand in line for well over an hour, sweating our ass off, only to have less than five minutes under a hose behind a tarp that flapped in the wind.  There was almost zero point to getting clean since you'd immediately start sweating profusely again in the intense heat.  And without any makeup, those Iowan farmers probably felt the need to shove a stick up my ass and use me as a scarecrow.

That night we stayed on the lawn of a retirement home and they offered a lasagna dinner for $5 which was awesome since we didn't have to walk anywhere.  We sat in the dining room for hours just trying to stay cool in the air-conditioning.  We stalked the outside of the building for an outlet to charge our phones.

I was so tired that falling asleep in my oven of a tent, wasn't going to be a problem.  However, there was no way I was going to be able to get up at 5:30am and do it all over again (let alone for 6 more days in a row).  I started panicking.  I knew that physically, I just couldn't make it.  Thankfully, because of the extreme heat and hills, a large group of riders on our team felt the same way that I did and asked to skip Tuesday's ride.  I gratefully signed up to skip that day too.  I was so relieved that I could have floated away. 

I slept like a (sweaty) baby that night.

The First Night

So, eventually the tornado passed and the rain slowed to a light mist.  Thankfully, one of the bike mechanics on the team was nice enough to put my bike back together.  I was still majorly shell-shocked and trying my best to internalize my anxiety. Katie knew a few people on the team from the year before, including her brother, so our tiny group left camp and walked to the downtown expo.

It was really cool, although downtown Glenwood consisted of not much more than a clock, a bank, and a bar.  There were, however, dozens and dozens of local food vendors lining the square.  There was also a stage with a karaoke-sounding (at best) 80's cover band.  Katie and I immediately went for the grilled corn stand which was probably my favorite thing that I ate during the entire trip!  (And we ate some awesome stuff!)  It was sweet, and juicy, and better than any corn I'd eaten in my entire life. Amazing!

We left early, all of us pretty edgy about the start of the ride in the morning (Me, possibly on the verge of fashioning a noose out of my bicycle chain.) so we could get a good night's sleep.  In theory, camping always sounds kinda cool.  Earthy. Outdoorsy. One with nature-y.  But in reality, it always sucks.  The insane heat, questionable wildlife noises, bugs, a constantly damp pillow and sleeping bag, falling asleep in a pool of your own sweat, the slight slant of the hard ground... not to mention, having to pee in the middle of the night.

Our team (70 people) was given use of the host family's basement bathroom, which meant a huge backup of people in line for the potty. This bathroom could have been off the set of 'That 70's Show'.  Brown walls, reddish-brown shag carpeting, and a toilet in an oversized sectioning-off of the basement. I snuck out of my tent and up to the house so many times during the middle of that night, just so I could sit on the bathroom floor, and try and cool off in the air-conditioning.  I was way too nervous and too hot to sleep.

Sitting on the bathroom floor, I wanted to cry.  I was over this shit.  Where the hell was I?  Who's house was this?  (Are they murderers?)  How did I get here?  How is this my life right now?  Why did I think this was a good idea?  I had actually put myself in this position and paid lots of money to get myself to this point - this bathroom - in Bumfuck, Iowa.  I was dumbfounded.  Every minute seemed like an hour.  I missed my babies.  I wanted to go home. 

Bus Ride to Glenwood, IA

We met the rest of the team in a highschool parking lot the next morning after a luxurious night of sleep in the rat trap. Unfortunately, it was raining and getting our bikes and gear loaded into the trailers and bus wasn't fun. Everyone kinda shrugged off the tornado-producing storms that dotted the entire state because basically, we were in this thing regardless of weather conditions. I tried to dismiss it as well, but to be honest, I was nervous as hell and very uninterested in camping in the rain.

The bus ride was cold and we watched Mall Cop three times in a row. Shoot me. People were sharing newspaper pages to use as blankets. No one wanted to seem ungrateful for the last few hours of air-conditioning we were going to have for the next seven days, so no one complained. While I swaddled myself in the sports section, I took in the Iowan countryside and enjoyed seeing all the corn and soybean fields.  I was in absolute awe of the giant windmills up there. Oddly enough, they almost seemed majestic to me.

It took all day to drive across state to the starting point in Glenwood, IA and towards the end, it became a race against the sun to have enough light to set up camp. I was already having heart-palpitations from the anxiety of the situation. Who the hell are these people? What did I sign up for? Did I train enough for this? Where the hell am I? And the more and more I looked around, the more I realized that I was in a thick crowd of some very serious cyclists.

So, you can imagine my state of mind when not two minutes after we got our tent set up, tornado sirens started blaring indicating a tornado was in the area and we all needed to take cover. My house was a tent. I wanted to shit myself!

Oh! And five minutes before that? A stealth bomber was circling our campsite. Talk about a surreal moment! I'm pretty sure I had forgotten my own name at this point and could only foam up a few spit bubbles.

And while we all filed under this busted ass covered deck for "our shelter" (tornado sirens blazing) - are you effing kidding me?! - we were calmly briefed about tomorrow's ride into the next town. No one seemed to flinch about the funnel-shaped cloud in the background. I was deperately scanning the crowd for Ashton Kutcher popping up and screaming, "You've been punk'd!" but he never showed and the rest of the pro-cycling team didn't seem to be bothered in the slightest.

Did I mention that my bike was still in a box, on the front lawn, completely disassembled, with many tiny parts, and I had never even learned to pump my own tires?!  Someone needed to hold me, sheild me, sweep me away from this evil doom and gloom! But I was there all by myself. It was clear that I was in WAY over my head!

Road trip to Davenport from St. Louie!

I should actually blog about RAGBRAI before I forget all the fun stuff.  My problem is that I hate my blog right now.  Pretty much because Tony died and I didn't want to ever admit that by writing it down... sort of like a strike on moving forward with my life since I never wanted to live without him. 

But, maybe I can try to write about Iowa since I've at least acknowledged the elephant in the blogroom.

Wow, Iowa was such a life experience!  I expected it to be something that I would always remember and hoped that I might walk away from it feeling accomplished, which I did, but in a whole different way than I ever would have expected.

So, I flew into St. Louis to meet up with Katie.  I had never been there so I was pretty excited to see what the town was like and also of course, to catch a glimpse of the "gateway to the West" - the arch.

We pigged out on sushi and tried to fully appreciate one of our last nights falling asleep on actual beds with air-conditioning.  We got up early and got massages before road-tripping it up Route 66 to Davenport. 

The tri-cities were tiny!  We stayed at a flea bag hotel that night just because it was only one of two hotels in the entire city and the other one was worse.  It was great though because we met a portion of the Pedaling for Parkinsons team there that night and all hung out in the lobby chatting it up and chowing down on some pizza.  It was awesome just being able to experience such a different part of the country.