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!