RAGBRAI 2019- The Stories of Iowa

I will tell the story of RAGBRAI 2019 as all stories are told, from the conclusion.
Over the week we rode for 553 miles and climbed for over 21,000 feet. We had five bike mechanical issues requiring shop stops on the way. We had 14 and 13 beer stops, one pork chop, a wood fired pizza, countless pies, cinnamon rolls, pancakes and sausage, cheesecake, cookies, cobbler, homemade icecream, bbq, tacos, BLT, noodles, fresh sweet corn, gyros, pickles, french toast, and I am sure a few other things I am forgetting. We listened to two lines of about 200 songs (and sang the rest of the songs...well I did). We saw cows, horses, kittens, rams, goats, donkeys, rabbits, and one golden retriever (a half mile from the Mississippi). We threw over 20 milkweed balls. We encountered hundreds of people with stories and laughter. We thanked officers and paramedics and nice old church ladies. Well, that's the overview; now for the stories!!!

USAF cycling team- out to help!

Please note the stories may not be told by day- because this is RAGBRAI!!!! (If you don't understand let's go to Iowa the last week of July and bring your bike.)

BIKE SHOPS ON THE ROAD
RAGBRAI is a traveling city of support, including traveling bike shops. These shops manage everything from flat tires (because yes, people on a 500 miles ride forgot to learn how to change a tube or to even bring a spare tube) to broken bikes (no seriously, "here are the three parts of the bike and this piece that is hanging off. Can you fix it?"). No matter what was brought to them the bike shop staff were always smiling. We know this because for the first four days we became friends with the guys at Bike World and then the next three days we rode by getting "hellos" and waves, while they asked about our bikes.
It all started on day 1!! This was our gravel day and the first day we met Brad. Oh Brad!! We were about five miles out from the overnight town when we stopped at a small pass through town on a big hill. After a quick stop I picked up my bike and suddenly it won't roll down the hill. This is not even me being on the bike pedaling, it won't roll down the hill. In this moment Patrick says the best line of the day (maybe the trip)-- "It is operator error or is something wrong?" The look I gave him at this moment I am sure said a bunch of curse words that I won't type out here, but "are you kidding me right now" would have also been communicated in the moment. So I did what any person who has been riding a bike for ten hours would do; I handed Patrick my bike and said here you roll it down the hill. When it stopped and refused to move for him too, he confirmed it was in fact not operator error. Oh good, because I was worried this was going to be a long week of me not knowing how to use a bike (please read that line in the most sarcastic tone with eye roll.).
This led to us going back up the hill with what ended up being a broken spoke. Turns out the gravel may have jostled more than my internal organs. This was when we first met Brad. Brad who was putting back together other bikes with "brake problems", "derailer problems", and "I don't know what happened problems", smiled as we stood there waiting our turn. Brad then looked at my bike and confirmed, again, it was not operator error. Then he proceeded to fix the problem.
Now you might be thinking "great job Brad, way to fix that issue." But this would not be our last encounter with Brad or Bike World and one other bike shop I don't recall the name of, sorry. Nope Brad would go on to fix Patrick's chain and adjust his cables for better shifting up hills; Bike World would go on to sell me a tire (not a tube, a tire-- this will be important later), an the other bike shop would also sell me a tire and fix my bottom bracket making my bike no longer sound like a paint can rattling up hills.
Every time we needed help they were there (or close enough) and they were light hearted with positive words and smiles. We laughed through being close to tears each time we stood at their tents.
And Brad-- you ROCK!!! And I am glad you got to see your mom during the trip and got a good home-cooked meal!!!

GRAVEL
Holy crap super fun day!!!! I was in love with riding the gravel loop the moment my tires hit that slightly muddy, somehow dusty, all bumpy road. However, my riding buddy was not feeling the same way. This was day one of riding and seriously trying not to die or end up with serious injury on day one was a HUGE concern on this 18 mile loop. At about 3/4 of a mile into the gravel course and Patrick announced he was done (there may have been curse words; correction there were curse words). I was now between a gravel road and a tough place, like the end of our adventure on day one. I stood at the top of this little hill, looking at the bigger hill, while Patrick wrestled his demons. But lets be fair I stood there like a three year old with a five dollar bill outside an icecream shop. I am pretty sure I was trying not to smile and bounce and yell, "This is F-ing awesome" (ok so to be honest I may have yelled that)!!!
This moment was not about me; I was ride or die and there was honestly a chance at death since this was a new riding type for us. Patrick agreed to go up the next hill which would put us about a mile into the 18 mile ride and maybe 200 feet of the 1500 feet climbing on this loop done. At the top of the next hill we stopped (me still in three year old  "Can we PLEASE do this" mode). To my excitement Patrick now announced that while this was clearly a bad idea, maybe not our worse idea but a bad one, he was game to go!!! Pretty sure I was fist pumping the air and yelling "they can't take our freedom" as I headed down the hill full speed.
We would stop a few more times at the top of hills with Patrick shaking his head and me bouncing on my dirt packed cycling cleats. We would also make it about five miles from the end of the loop when the rain came back. This added a new component of mud to the course. I was told on several occasions to be careful, even by the ladies at the patch stop (Pottawattamie County, the highest county in Iowa, yeah that wasn't on the description). It seems people know that look in my eye of "I live for danger" and they all try to help Patrick to control this behavior in order that I may not find out where the nearest hospital is in Pottawattamie County (I can tell you it was not going to be on the gavel road we were riding).
We made it safely to asphalt again and Patrick's death grip on his handlebars loosened, high fives were given, and oh yeah, tires were changed (tires that I would carry on my bike for the rest of the day-- I honestly didn't mind the attention, because "hell yeah we did the gravel").
For the rest of the trip any gravel on the road was met with Patrick yelling "gravel" in his best Clint Eastwood raspy voice. Because when you overcome the gravel loop you announce that this is old news to you and you are invincible (well, except for that broken spoke mentioned earlier).

MILKWEED BALLS

Patrick is attracted to oddities (I mean he married me, you have to know this statement is true). So when he saw a tent with butterflies and heard the words "do you want balls" he couldn't deny the intrigue.
Turns out Milkweed Matters is an Iowa group who puts together milkweed balls for cyclist the throw along the roads of Iowa in an effort to grow more milkweed to help the monarch butterflies to thrive in Iowa.
Here's what you do-- you pick up milkweed balls, which are designed with "clay" as a no till natural tilling seeding method, you put them in your pocket, you ride your bike along the roadway, you find an area where other wildflowers are growing, where there is no mowing and no crops, then you toss them out there. That's it! Each day the tents are located on the route and you pick up more balls to throw. (You do get told not to eat them and not to take them out of the area, as this milkweed is specific to growing in this area.)
A few notes- throwing things from your bike is awkward (for me) and you get dirty looks from those who don't know. I explained on more than one occasion that I was not throwing trash on the roadway, I was throwing milkweed. To which the most common response was a roll of the eyes. (Look people I am saving butterflies here. Does someone saving butterflies litter? No, no they don't. They save the fucking butterflies!!!)

JERSEYS THAT BIND US

In cycling events what you wear matters. Things like shorts, padding, gloves, helmet, all very important; but your jersey cements who you are in the minds of those passing or being passed. This is your calling card, it is the story you will tell for the day-- for one day, maybe one mile, but it will forever define you for that person. This is why the jersey is a very important choice.
Jerseys bring out the conversations in people. They are easy talking points- "oh you have a jellyfish on your jersey, I was once stung by one"; "Oh your jersey has an anatomically correct heart on it, does it mean something (the answer is no, it just looked tough)". The conversations go on like this. But there are these jersey conversations that also stick out.
Patrick was wearing his Escape from Alcatraz jersey. We had done the race a number of years ago. This jersey was noticed and remarked on often during the day. We were standing around in a pass-through town when I guy came up and mentioned that he had done the race back in the late 90's. He told of how much we liked the race and visiting California. he then said, "Yeah, I did the race because when I was a kid we were visiting Alcatraz when the escape happened. I remember the sirens and the commotion." At this point all Patrick and I could do was stare at the guy who didn't lead with this part of the story; no it was a casual second thought. I am pretty sure I questioned the guy, "You mean you were in San Francisco when the escape occurred?" He looked at me like he shouldn't have to repeat himself, but very nicely he said, "Yeah we were there on a family vacation looking at the island when it all happened." Then he said the following, "Well, you guys have a nice ride."
Wait!!! What just happened???? Patrick and I just stood there for a minute as this guy walked on to talk to other people. Then I am pretty sure we just started laughing. This is what happens on RAGBRAI, you meet people, they tell you something cool or unique or unexplainable, and then they are gone. 

WE STOP FOR BEER-- WELL, IOWA CRAFT BEER TENTS
RAGBRAI is a drinking game.
We found out from a friend (Thanks, Kevin) that on the route would be these white beer tents- IOWA CRAFT BEER TENT (a mix of Iowa breweries)- and you could get an armband. This armband was the gateway to a free tshirt at the end of the week. Here are the rules-- Get a band; Buy a $5 craft beer or root beer at the tents; You must buy at least ten beers and you have 14 stops to achieve the goal; Only one beer per stop will count towards your total.
The second set of rules that you have to follow is how to get your beer-- Have your money out; pick which beer and learn its number; get in line; walk to your beer's number; grab beer off the table; walk through, handing your money to the staff at the end of the line; scan your armband; find a shady place to sit and drink. It is a super easy process, except for on the first day when you didn't read the sign about having out money, this gets you a few dirty looks that say "bless her little heart". Patrick will tell you the process was slightly different, because for him he walked through the line and told the money taker "she's paying for me." To which I always answered, "I don't know him." And then the money taker took my $10 without any gesture to give me change. 
Now, those are the rules, but the game is really-- "What can Teresa drink and still ride and then what can Teresa drink and not feel that weird pain in her left ankle?" GAME ON.
Each day there were two stops, three on one day and only one on the last day. We made a plan to stop at each stop starting on day one. This was a good plan because the beer stop on day one was after the gravel, a celebration beer for sure.
For the most part the last beer tent was about 10 miles outside of town which gave me a great opportunity to have a dark beer and still be able to get to the night town safely.
We never had a bad beer. A few "not my favorites" but never a bad one. In fact the day I had to drink before 9am (because it was short course day) I had a blueberry pancake beer which was the perfect breakfast!!!
Mostly at the first stop I had a root beer or a cider (because fruit mid morning does not bring about judgement). 
The IOWA Craft Beer Tent would also play a vital role in the State Trooper Story found later in this post.

BUGS OF IOWA

On the first night in Iowa I got bit by a bug on my ankle. I'm from Florida so I get bit by bugs all the freaking time. But this REALLY hurt. The following day my ankle was hurting on the ride, like really hurting. By the following day my ankle was swelling and bruising-- and hurting every time my shoe touched it (which is a lot over 70 miles a day).
Moral of the story Iowa has bugs that belong in Australia!!!!

PIE

I know it is a photo of icecream.

One does not talk about RAGBRAI without talking about pie. Honestly, it is one of the reasons to love RAGBRAI and if you don;t understand this this you missed the point of RAGBRAI. The best pies you will find will be the pie stands with 7 year olds or 70 year olds handing out the pies. There is only one rule in RAGBRAI- eat pie, eat pie often!


A TIRE, A GIRL, AND A COP WALK INTO A BEER TENT
The final story I will tell about RAGBRAI 2019 is a story about the greatness that is the Iowa State Patrol. It was day four (of seven) Patrick and I were set to do the Karras loop which puts the ride miles over a century ride. We had finished the loop and all the hills required to get there. We were ready to get another fruit smoothy and a beer before we checked this day off the list.
During the loop my bottom bracket started to sound like a paint can rattling with every push. I knew I was going to be stopping again at a bike shop tent to figure out this sound, because one thing was for sure it was not a "happy" biking sound. Not to be out done Patrick decided to get a flat tire. Not just any flat but a full tire blow out. This would be his second in the week (we are on day FOUR)- the "other" tire. I am pretty sure at this moment my actual words were, "You are fucking kidding me?" Patrick shook his head, "nope". Then many more curse words got said in that moment.
Given that my bike actually could be ridden I decided to ride ahead to scout out a bike shop tent. Well, there was not one at the first town down the road. I can back to let Patrick know that I was going to rid on till I found the bike tent and I would bring back a tire for him. He was to sit under the tent at Tom the Turkey and get a fruit smoothy. Funny enough he had "ride friends" there who had been on the course and at this stop with us previously.
I rode up about 10 miles and found the bike repair tent. I told the guys about my bike and the paint can noise. "Sure we can look and fix it, but it is going to take a minute." Great, well you see the other problem is my husband needs a tire and is ten miles that way (pointing back down the road). The bike shops guys could not leave and pack up yet and only had the shop truck. I looked around and saw a state trooper vehicle. I asked the bike guy if he knew where the state trooper was located. He pointed up the hill near the beer tent as he handed me the tire I needed to get to Patrick. I told him thanks and that I was going to be back for my bike after I got the tire to my husband. The guy yelled "good luck" as I marched up the hill.

Actual photo sent to State Trooper. Patrick with a bag of unmarked medication.

 

The State Troopers were walking away when I stopped them. They turned around and the only way I can explain this is they looked like "Super Troopers"- mustaches and aviator sunglasses in place. I smiled, I did not laugh. I told them I had a situation. I then explained that they could either take me and the tire to my husband or they could take the tire to my husband. Yep, you heard that right- there was no option to tell me no. They noticed that too and looked at each other like I was a unicorn asking for directions. After a few moments of repeating the request, officer one tried to tell me they could not do it but officer two said they had to call their supervisor. I told them I would wait. Officer two walked away, I swear he looked like he was pretending to dial. Officer one just started at me. I looked over my shoulder to see the bike shop guys watching and smiling. Officer two walked back up shaking his head- not at me but as his partner. I was grinning so big when he told Officer one that the supervisor had given the go ahead to take the tire to my husband.

Loop patches.

As Officer one stood there astonished at the response. I began to tell the Officer two what my husband looked like and where he was located. This took much longer than I intended, as it seems the officers were not familiar with the area. We played a game of"who's on first" when I was telling them I had no idea what the two name was but that I knew he was as the Tom Turkey tent and that said tent was ten miles "that way". The officer rolled his eyes at me. I never lost it wanting to yell at him, Dude I am from Florida. DO you know where Florida is? A hell of a lot further away than your house." But I didn't, nope I took a deep breath and explained one more time where I left my husband.
Oh wait it gets better. The officer asked for my husband's cell number. The issue here is that my husband's phone died earlier in the day and is in my pack on my bike. In full disclosure I told the officer this information. Officer two looked at me dumbfounded and officer one I am pretty sure threw up his arms in a "are you fucking kidding me" gesture. Officer two, after a few deep breaths, looks at me and says, "You know you are making this very difficult for us?" What I didn't say was "if you had left fifteen minutes ago when I gave you the details you would be there by now and not standing here dealing with me." Instead I told him "I know. And I promise I am not trying to but let's be honest cell phones aren't working out here anyway." Then I told him that what I did have was a photo of my husband form earlier today. I actually had a photo of him sitting in the exact spot that he would later be found in!! I also gave the officer a friend's phone number. A friend who I knew was still out of the road, and who I also knew was more than likely not near Patrick, but it was my best chance (the cops never called Kevin).

Kevin and Kelly- TEAM AWESOME

What would follow was 45 minutes worth of me texting with the officer, who turns out gave the tire to his supervisor to take up the road. I am pretty sure the man was irritated in giving me his number but he answered each text with updates. Until the final notice that Patrick had the tire in hand. I thanked the officer for his help and that the people of Iowa, him included, were amazing.
In the meantime, I had gone back to the bike repair tent. I was greeted by laughter form the guys who all talked over each other in disbelief that the officer took the tire from me to go in search of my husband. The guys were nearly done with my bike, so what was there to do but o grab a beer (before the tent closed for the night).
There I sat, with my fixed bike, on the side of the road, drinking a root beer (yeah, I know my limits) as first Kevin can riding up. When I said "Hi" and then "did a cop call you" the rest of the story got told with laughter following. As I glanced over the left at the road left behind, there he was, riding up the hill with a huge smile on his face. We both started laughing as he rode up. "I guess the State Trooper found you?" I asked him. "Yeah, he did. How?" It was a story told again from the bike seat as we traveled the rest of the way to town, laughing at how a girl got an officer to take a tire up the road by the power of demand.
Let me say this in closing of this story- Thank you to the State Troopers who helped us out and kept us safe for not only this one moment but for the whole ride. The officers were amazing being there with support, blaring music, and a helping hand.

There are many more stories to tell of RAGBRAI. Stories of lighting bugs, sunrise and sunsets, award winning cinnamon rolls, water slides, rock bands, and holding hands. But for now this is RAGBRAI!
 
RAGBRAI 2019 has come a gone, but the stories will live forever!!!