Guest View: Colorado RAGBRAI rider shares experiences of Iowa

By Karen Long, Denver, Colorado

It’s January. Your husband mentions RAGBRAI.

“Would you be interested in doing it again this summer?”

In the bleak midwinter the idea of flying on your bike down the hills of Iowa is easy to romanticize.

And it’s a crazy Iowa pastime — 15,000 bike riders of all sizes and abilities riding their bikes across the state in the heat and humidity of the deep Iowa summer.

Late July was a long way off. You say “sure.”

Before you know it, July is here and you are trying to cram as much bike training in as possible. I felt by the time we were loading up bikes for the trek across Nebraska to Sioux City (our one motel room for the night before the ride) that I had trained enough to have a fighting chance to have fun on the ride.

Everyone on Team DM-D (Des Moines-Denver) was pumped (teammates: John, Joel, Lisa, Cyndee, me and sometimes Randall, Troy, Justin, and Tyler).

The mystique of RAGBRAI is the love, peace and ‘we’re in this together’ vibe. It’s a wonderful way to see the state of Iowa and its generous, down-to-earth people.

And don’t believe it when you’re told that Iowa is flat. Au contraire! There are killer hills — killer.

Traditionally, the small towns (some of these towns have less than a thousand residents!) chosen to be on the route gear up for the horde of biking locusts heading their way, seeking fuel with food vendors, church group meals, port-o-potties, beer tents, entertainment stages and on the day the ride goes through their town, … well, it’s wall-to-wall cyclists for hours.

Cars are off the roads. It’s hard to get across the street as the bikers yell “slowing, stopping, biker off’ and dismount next to another 150 bikers doing the same thing. Chaos reigns!

Team DM-D decided that male members preferred to camp and the females would need housing (showers, beds, YES!) It was my responsibility to work through RAGBRAI to scrounge up strangers to keep us women off the streets at night.

It really isn’t possible to find hotel rooms within an hour drive of the overnight towns and each overnight town works hard to get as many residents as possible to open their homes or allow camping in their yards.

For those who want to party hard and sleep in tents surrounded by thousands of other riders (AKA crazy people), there are huge campgrounds with showers and port-o-potties for the campers.

Fortunately, we managed to have places to stay every night, which is a miracle considering the 15,000 riders involved. Thank you, Iowa.

It’s a centering experience to get up each morning at 5:30, pack up and hop on your bike knowing you’ll be pedaling for the next 5 to 8 hours.

We had ideal weather — in the 80s, mostly blue skies for six out of seven days. The mornings were crisp. Sometimes there was fog settling in the green valleys of the lush farmland as we energetically started our days.

Our faces tanned as we rode directly into the rising sun day after day.

Every day I rode there was a cool breeze that helped keep me relatively comfortable as I pedaled. But even so, our bodies were salt licks and covered with a fine coat of road grime by the end of the day.

We female DM-D riders really lucked out with great people opening their homes to us. Ruth was the consummate hostess — she’s supported RAGBRAI many times over the years thanks to her bike-addicted son, Jeff. Everything was spotless.

She set out a table full of delicious homemade snacks, had enough showers and was so gracious. I wanted her to adopt me!

Mike, Kris and Pam opened their party house nestled on Clear Lake, took great care of us and made us so at home — even providing a pontoon boat outing as the sun was setting.

Scott and Sandy had the beer and wine ready for us after the longest day of riding and treated us to a breakfast of the best carbonara ever.

“Carbo-load,” insisted Scott, and he was right. That stuff was GREAT and I thought of it fondly as I rode the next day in the wind!

Jeannine was courageous enough to open her new home to strangers — her first attempt at RAGBRAI hosting. The guys even came in and slept in her very comfortable basement with soft carpeting that night to avoid some rain.

And she got us at our worst after being rained on and riding in mud and grit that whole afternoon. She did not blink. Her showers and towels felt like we were in a palace! We even got to wash and dry our destroyed biking clothes!

Another night Carol took us in, turned us onto a tremendous (with huge portions) lasagna dinner her church was providing and sat around with us, entertaining us as we watched lightning bugs into the night.

The last night was extra special for me as my cousins, Judy and Jim, opened up their farmhouse to our crew as well as their son-in-law (Vic) who was riding solo (and daughter, Lori, who was the driver), an entertaining great-grandson, Harry, AND two “Joel relatives,” Glenda and Doug.

They herded us all to the family restaurant in St. Olaf for the biggest tenderloins I’ve ever seen.

I don’t think I’ve been to that farm since I was 12 and they’ve made some real changes. The wrap- around porch and lush yard were lovely. So good to see them.

Since there were about 10 of us crashing all around their home (in tents, in RVs, sofas and air mattresses) when Judy asked what time we’d like breakfast, I said, “No, we do NOT need to be fed as we’ll be up and try to be out of here by 6:30.”

At 5 a.m. I heard someone creeping down the stairs. Obviously, Judy feels no need to listen to her city cousin. Breakfast was AMAZING!

The ride was everything I hoped. I provided support (drove the truck) on two days — and they were the right days. Steepest, longest hills one day and the longest distance the other. It was the right call.

Even so, I rode a long day of 68 miles, pedaled up (slowly, so slowly) 10-11 percent grade hills, flew down hills going over 30 mph (and stopped looking at my little computer in self-defense at that point as you realized you were still picking up speed even while fluttering your brakes — yikes), rode through pouring rain, managed a day of side winds (awful when it shifted to head winds and wonderful when it shifted to tail winds but mostly pounded us from the side), and melted when I got off my bike in the heat of the day to find something to eat.

The camaraderie with the team as well as the riders flying shoulder-to-shoulder conquering the day together provided the energy boost I needed.

The entertainment of watching unicycles conquer the hills, a guy in a wheelchair climbing the hills and hopping, yes hopping, aboard a wide skate board, wheelchair and all, to hurtle down the hills — you don’t see this stuff just anywhere.

Kids, seniors, fancy bikes, 3-speeds, tutus, feather boas, people in spandex who shouldn’t be in spandex, … it’s a circus!

And then there’s the food. I consumed (this is just a partial list): bagels; peanut butter; walking tacos (bottom half of a Doritos bag with a layer of Doritos, a bit of ground beef, some shredded lettuce, salsa and cheese, grab a plastic fork and dig in); a platter of ribs; ham balls (no, I hadn’t heard of that, either); cookies the size of Frisbees; peach pie; a root beer float for breakfast one day; breakfast burritos; candy bars; Bing energy drinks; chips with guacamole; KFC; an ice cream sandwich using snickerdoodles; hot dogs; pancakes; sausages.

What can I say? There is a reason you gain weight while burning 25,000 calories a day!

So that’s my RAGBRAI experience. It’s an accomplishment.

I only fell over once when I was trying to get back on my bike to join the writhing flow of riders snaking past a food stop in the hills.

I looked over my shoulder, yelled “rider on” and then somehow tried to pop a wheelie. Landed rather unceremoniously on my derriere and was proud when the woman standing close by turned and said, “Definitely a 9 out of 10”. Not bad.

One more RAGBRAI under my belt. Pedal on!