Five days on RAGBRAI XLVII: A retrospective

There we were, playing bingo at a small-town public library with the heir to the Moon Pies empire.

My uncle and I rode five days of RAGBRAI XLVII, from the start in Council Bluffs to Fairfield—318.1 miles and 11,823 feet of climb through the Hawkeye State. It may not have been the whole week, but it was challenging, exhausting, enlightening, and fun. It was also redemptive, exorcizing the doubts and uninspiring experience I had when I rode the entire week in 2015. It was five days of therapy and communion on two wheels, a much-needed break from life.

MY PEOPLE
As we weaved our way through the maze of tents at the RAGBRAI campground in Centerville, my uncle and I passed through a discussion between two twentysomethings. They were debating whether to go downtown for that night’s festivities. One was unsure if he wanted to ride his bike after the 84.3-mile route from Indianola. The other was eager to get back on the saddle.

“There’s a shuttle that picks people up,” I offered, hoping to be helpful.

“But what’s the fun in that?” teased the eager one. He had a huge smile on his bearded face, a sparkle in his eyes, and a skateboarding helmet strapped to his head.

“Alright,” I said, flashing an understanding smile. “If you got the legs, use ‘em,”

“Oh, I don’t have a leg left,” he said with a laugh, “but that’s not going to stop me from torturing them.”

I laughed with him as I continued to my tent. When I turned away, I thought, “These are my people.”

ROUGHING IT
We did something I partially did in 2015: We camped at the main campground and used the RAGBRAI baggage trucks to transport our gear to the next overnight town.

I camped in 2015 but had the luxury of being on a team with a support vehicle. My gear was transported to the next town by our amazing support driver, who always had snacks and coolers of iced Gatorade and water waiting for us at the end of each day’s ride. We also had an awning for shade and lawn chairs to lounge in. I had none of those things this time.

My uncle was roughing it for the first time. He stayed in hotels during RAGBRAIs past, camping only twice during his first river-to-river ride. He did not mind camping this time, but he said that staying in hotels is “the way to go.” I disagree, probably because I like camping. However, I am willing to give it a try to compare—especially if someone else pays. (Camping at the main campground and using RAGBRAI’s baggage truck is the cheapest option since it’s included in the registration fee.) A guaranteed hot shower and soft bed every evening is very appealing. However, staying in a hotel means one misses the camaraderie of the campground and, likely, the festivities in the overnight town. The evening events were something my uncle never experienced until this year.

Yes, cold showers suck (The cold shower I took at the swimming pool in Atlantic is something I hope to forget.) Yes, packing and unpacking a rain/dew-soaked tent sucks. (My waterproof bag kept everything dry from becoming wet ... but everything wet from becoming dry.) Yes, the campground can be noisy. (Karaoke at a fair building in Winterset did not end until 11 p.m. despite the 10 p.m. “quite time” rule, and a nearby party in Centerville blasted music after 2 a.m.) But you deal with it because it’s better than working. Every time I felt uncomfortable or annoyed, I thought to myself, “At least I’m not working.”

THE BIG CHAINRING
The only time I used my small chainring during the 318.1 miles I rode was in Atlantic on the morning of Day 2. I used it to climb the steep hill leading into town from the campground.

That was it. A quarter mile or less and probably 200 feet of climb.

Did I mention that Leigh, my Raleigh Merit 3, has only two chainrings?

Much like I vowed not to walk any hills in 2015 (and didn’t!), I vowed not to use my small chainring in 2019. I did it that one time and regret it. Could I have ascended that hill with the big chainring? Probably. But it was first thing in the morning, the first mile of 68.1, so I wanted to pace myself. Maybe next time I will ride the whole week with the big chainring.

I swear I’m not a masochist.

My vow to use the big chainring only is the reason I want to get a Tour de France polka dot jersey, because I was the king of the mountains on RAGBRAI.

I destroyed hills. I ate them for breakfast. The sight of an upcoming hill put a smile on my face. I loved passing riders uphill who raced past me downhill. I really wanted to say to one of them, “Not so fast now, huh?” Most of them would not have been able to respond because they were huffing and puffing so hard.

Hills are my jam. I dominated them in 2015, too. Back then I thought it was because I had a bigger range of gears on my hybrid and that people had no clue how to shift or use their bikes properly. Those may be part of it, but I now think many RAGBRAIers do not do enough training on hills. I don’t have that problem and don’t want that problem. The hills of Iowa City and Johnson County are great for training, for preparing one’s legs for Iowa’s rolling topography.

I admit that hitting hills hard and using my big chainring exclusively (except once) took a toll on me. I felt it in my hamstrings and calves on Day 4. (My uncle asked me if I ever shifted because he always saw my chain in the middle of the cassette. I do shift, but apparently not as much as others.) My legs were tired, but I powered through it. I could have done the last two days if necessary, but I was glad to be done.

ALL AGES, SHAPES, AND SIZES
My uncle and I passed two parked team trucks while returning to our campsite in Indianola. Between them was a man with a huge beer gut wearing a form-fitting Captain America cycling outfit, loading a plate with food spread out on a collapsible table. He did not look like he rode a bike much, or exercised at all. But there he was on RAGBRAI, testament that people of all ages, shapes, and sizes participate. Riding alongside each other are hardcore racing cyclists and people who ride their bike one week every year.

It is inspirational and a curiosity. I wondered about everyone’s training, exercise, and cycling regimen every other week of the year. How many cycle regularly? Who trained less than, as much as, and more than I did? It was hard to say—except on hills. Regardless, many put in the work to go the distance no matter their age or physical condition.

JUST THE TWO OF US
My uncle and I rode and stopped together the entire time. Though we did not always ride side by side, we rode within sight of one another except twice (I unknowingly rode far ahead and waited for him in the next town, and he waited for me when I made a pitstop in a corn field).

Being with my only teammate made the ride in 2019 much more enjoyable than 2015, when everyone left me behind and I rode and stopped alone. (That sucked, though I understand nobody wanted to keep the slow poke on the hybrid company.) Riding with a teammate was something I got a taste of last year, when I rode Day 6 with Cover and Bobblehead. It makes a big difference.

IS THIS FUN? YES, IT IS
On Day 3, as we sat in the shade of a tree at the Iowa Craft Beer Tent location, enjoying beers and watching the stream of cyclists on the highway, I asked my uncle, “Do you think this is fun?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “Kind of.”

I was in low spirits after a sleepless and thought-filled night, and whether or not I considered RAGBRAI fun, whether or not it could be fun, had been on my mind a lot. Many others appeared to enjoy it, so did I? I wanted to check what my uncle thought, what he experienced.

“Do you like it?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I like the physical challenge. That’s why I do it. That’s why I like it.”

I did not have fun in 2015. It was a worthwhile experience, but I was determined to survive and finish—not have fun. My one-day ride last year was enjoyable, so I was curious to see what another multi-day ride would be like. Could and would I have fun?

Fun is a relative term because we have fun in our own unique ways. However, I have a bad habit of defining fun with its most noticeable and outward examples. That’s not who I am, not how I have fun, yet that is what I always think I should be doing, think I need to do to have fun. It’s the definition exemplified and imposed by extroverts, and it has become indelible despite its poor fit for me. I felt like that’s what I needed to do to have fun on RAGBRAI. But I realized this year that’s not the case.

We arrived in Indianola around 1:30 p.m. after the short ride from Winterset. We pitched our tents, cleaned up, and walked downtown to the festivities with a lot of time to kill. (The slogan for Indianola’s celebration was, fittingly, “The shortest ride to the longest party.”) We ate an early dinner at a church (church dinners are the way to go), where I found black raspberry pie for the first time (not that I’ve been on a desperate search my entire life, but I love black raspberry). We checked out the food options and vendors, had a beer, listened to a band, and found a quiet, shady spot under the ash trees on Simpson College’s campus to make calls and chill out. My uncle took a nap while I stretched and tried not to think about the next day’s 85-mile route. When my uncle woke, he stood, stretched his arms, and said, “So. Bingo?”

He had seen a sign along the road advertising BYOB bingo at the public library and said it would be a good way to pass the time. I was open-minded and willing to check it out. Why not? In a large activity room at the library, we found seats among forty other riders and a free outlet to charge our phones.

That’s when the fun began.

I never knew bingo could be so enjoyable. It was amazing! Everyone was tame and shy at first, but we all loosened and developed camaraderie. We feted winners with cheers and chants. Everyone laughed and agonized for each other.

We chatted and got to know our tablemates. Among the prizes were boxes of Moon Pies, which I had never seen before. I asked what they are and one of our tablemates described them. “My dad owns Moon Pies, so I’ve had a lot of them,” he said nonchalantly. Everyone was amazed by the revelation.

“Tonight was fun,” I told my uncle afterward as we returned to the campground. “That was fun.”

The bingo game changed RAGBRAI for me. It made me realize I could have fun, too, in my own way. I did not need to be drunk or loud. I looked forward to a church dinner each night and discovering the overnight towns from then on. I savored the homemade pies (though I did not find black raspberry again). I admired the unique town squares, the ornate county courthouses, and the well-kept homes with big front porches. The ride became more than the physical challenge, the quest to conquer every hill (except one) using my big chainring. It became a physically demanding holiday, something I enjoyed.

When I told my boss’s boss that I was taking four days off and described RAGBRAI to her, she joked, “I’m beginning to think you don’t understand the whole vacation thing.”

I disagree.