RAGBRAI, Day 7, The Finale (Down to the Water Line)

RAGBRAI, Day 7, Saturday, July 25, Mount Pleasant to Burlington, 43.2 miles

 

 

 Take me to the river. Dip me – or at least my rear wheel – in the water. On the final day of RAGBRAI, the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa, the hills are always less steep, the weather is always the most pleasant, the crowds of townspeople cheer louder than ever, and the wind is always at our backs.

 

Or at least it seems that way because the final day is always filled with mixture of relief that a nearly 500-mile roll across Iowa is over, as are the storm-wracked nights passed in tents and the never-ending search for clean toilets and fresh water – but also sadness that this great thing – this collection of 10,000 cyclists treated to the utmost in Iowa hospitality – is coming to an end for another year.

 

Today, though, the winds truly were at our backs, and the roads were smooth ribbons of pavement calling out to our skinny tires.

After breakfast, my riding partner and I split up and I rode the fastest 30 miles of my life. Aided by that following wind and fueled by the excitement and adrenaline of its being the last day, I cruised at 25 to 27 mph, hit more than 42 at one point, and rolled into Burlington, the Mississippi River town that ended this year's RAGBRAI, at 32 mph.

 

 

The week of riding, alternating some hard days with some easier ones, had made us all stronger. And the results of the past few days made all that training worthwhile, though remember, the training is really conditioning for a healthy life, not just to feel comfortable riding RAGBRAI.

 

As always, townspeople cheered us on from lawn chairs and from porches, from Main Street and from the side of the road. They rang cowbells – I sometimes felt like I was at the Trop! – they clapped, they whistled. Cheerleaders chanted, and little kids gave us high fives and slapped our gloved hands as we passed. I had to ride without hands coming into one town, as one volunteer pressed a bottle of water into my right hand and another helper slapped a banana into my left. And other little kids kept notebooks to document where riders had come from. "Where are you from?" they would squeak out loudly, pencil and notebook at the ready to record the news, as we flew past. They were excited and would giggle to hear that they had found a rider from faraway St. Pete, Florida.

 

Burlington is built on high bluffs that descend steeply to the river. As we turned the final corner to the Mississippi River, we were given a chance “to rattle the snake,” to climb an incredibly steep and narrow brick drive that zigzagged (hence, the name “snake”) up to a higher level. Here’s a view of what it looked like (this is looking down from above, with the zigs and zags running left and right; I'm the rider who is standing on his pedals in the center).

From there it was a quick dive down the Mississippi for the traditional end-of-RAGBRAI wheel dip, and the completion of another chapter of the RAGBRAI experience. For me, it combines the best of  health (in the truest sense of the word – as in, a healthy, hearty attitude toward life) and fitness. It gives me a goal each year and motivation to stay fit. And it allows me to see some of the best in people, the good folks of Iowa, who turn their state into our home for a week and make us feel so welcome.

So, more cowbell? How ‘bout more RAGBRAI?

 

--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer

RAGBRAI, Day 6, the penultimate day

RAGBRAI, Day 6, Friday, July 24, Ottumwa to Mount Pleasant, 75.5 miles, 2,841 feet of climb
 
We officially love Miss Iowa, Anne Michael Langguth, 22, of Iowa City. She is riding the entire week of RAGBRAI on a tandem. She is the stoker, the back-seat pedaler. And the person in front in the driver's seat is her father, Brad. Not only is she riding across Iowa, she is a fan of Politifact.com, the St. Petersburg Times' Pulitzer Prize-winning web site. My riding partner and I passed the tandem this morning and saw a young woman with a tiara atop her bike helmet and started up a conversation. She saw my Politifact jersey and asked some questions. She said Politifact has lots of followers at Harvard -- from which she just graduated (she knows a lot about political science and government). After her stint as Miss Iowa --and who knows? -- maybe Miss America, she will go to medical school at the University of Iowa. She plays the violin. So what's not to like?
 
It was like Old Home Week today. Last night in Ottumwa, my friend and I stayed at my cousin's house, and she fed us great food, we showered, did some laundry, played cards, and then she made me use her bed -- and herself spent the night on her pullout sofa bed.
 
Along the route I've seen lots of Florida folks. We ate breakfast at the farmstead of C.D., a cattle auctioneer who had set out 2x8 planks on hay bales for people to sit on. He had the big voice to pull riders off the road to eat breakfast at his place. But just in case, they rolled their '64 Impala classic car out of the barn to attract people.

We had biscuits and gravy and ran into a guy from Valrico. I've also met a fellow from Tarpon Springs, who was wearing a Spongers jersey, a couple from Dade City on a tandem, a young man from Fort Myers, a guy wearing a Hurricanes jersey and several who were sporting Gators jerseys.
 
In Brighton, a passthrough town, we ate lunch at Tyson's, and ran into Sherri and Sue, the two women who saved me last year when my rear tire's bead snapped and blew off the rim. I can't thank them enough for how much they helped me last year. My riding partner quipped that the Tyson chicken people saved my bacon. Here is a photo of Sherri and me this morning.
 
On the roads we've learned to be careful about the maps. They list towns that exist in theory, but which in pratice are slightly wider spots in the road. The sure sign of a real town is the appearance of a water tower and often a grain elevator on the horizon. That gives us a point to ride toward. My riding partner, Dave, calls the water towers "silver spheres of salvation," beacons calling out to us, rising high above the plain. And Iowans deal in compass points, not left and right. That makes sense if you know where, say, north is. But if the sun isn't out, it's not so easy. So next time, note to self: Bring a compass.

It was the warmest day of the week, which was fine by me, the Floridian, but other people were suffering. In watching thousands of cyclists this week, I've seen those who know what they're doing in everything from hydration to pedaling mechanics and some who could use a lesson or two.
 
The main things I've noticed are these: A good cyclist's legs move in a perfect vertical plane. The knees should not bow outward. I've seen lots of riders this week with their knees sticking far out to either side. That is asking for problems. I've also noticed that a lot of riders flop their upper bodies this way and that. A good rider should have a quiet upper body, with little to no movement. Only on tough uphills should a rider be swaying at all, and then any movement should be dedicated to increasing forward motion. On most of Iowa's hills, I've found it best to sit and spin. My upper body is still and quiet.
 
But most important of all is the simple and basic skill of "holding a line." It is important to go in a straight line and not weave, not on the flats and not on the hills. A rider should be able to grab a water bottle, pull a map or a snack out of a jersey pocket or even look back without deviating from his or her line. Weaving leads to crashes. And we saw the aftermath of a bad one this morning. A rider who had been part of a ragged pace line went down and was being attended to on the side of the road with the ambulance screaming to his rescue. Another tip: Don't ride in a paceline unless you know what you're doing, and the other riders are either friends or have allowed you to join. Never just jump on. And if you do join one, you are responsible for the wheel in front of you. But on RAGBRAI, why bother? Isn't it better to see Iowa than to watch someone's rear wheel?
 
The day itself was a nice, easy recovery day after yesterday's big 110-mile effort. Our tires hummed along the roads and our drivetrains whirred, creating a zen-like peace.
 
Tonight, we're in tents in a campground at the threshers' park. Back in the day before combines and modern farm equipment, steam-powered engines (they look like locomotives on huge rear metal wheels) would run a belt to power threshing machines, which separated the oats from the chaff and straw after the reaper had bound the bundles -- called shocks -- in the fields. In the town square at least two steam engines are fired up and running and whistling today. They are burning wood to make steam.
 
That's it for today. Tomorrow is the finale. We'll end at the Mississippi River.
 
--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer

RAGBRAI, Day 5 (The Century Day!)

RAGBRAI, Day 5, July 23, Chariton to Ottumwa, 110 miles (for me) and who knows how many feet of climb?

 

I've never had as much fun on a bicycle as I did this morning. It was "century" day, so riders who wished to ride more than 100 miles were allowed to take an extra loop and add to the day's standard mileage of 76.9 to get to 104 (or in my case, 110; I'll explain that in a bit).

 

We broke camp after a hard night of thunderstorms and lightning. We pitched our tents in Chariton's Railroad Park, which is apparently named for the trains that still run through the city all day .. and all night. They announced their passing with louuuud whistles. So between the trains and the storms -- you start to wonder "so what does happen when lightning strikes a tent and you're sitting on an air mattress?" -- we didn't get great sleep. Guys who were snoring oh-so-loudly in two or three adjoining tents didn't help too much either. And when we woke up, at 4:50 a.m., it was pouring. I broke down everything and packed up inside the tent, and then sat and waited for the weather to break. It finally did, we piled our stuff on the truck, then I lubed my chain, aired up tires, put on a rain jacket and packed arm warmers and we set off.

 

The karma of the bad night made for a great day. It was a rosy-fingered dawn, the kind that Homer described in the Iliad and which must have greeted Achilles or Odysseus when they sailed for Troy. Streams of beautiful early-morning light cast a rainbow of reds and oranges on the fields below. We pedaled 8 or 9 miles to eat breakfast at Farm Boys -- a yummy and filling breakfast burrito -- and then my riding partner and I split up for the day. I decided to do the century loop, and he chose to ride the regular route.

 

Keep in mind how changing the Iowa weather is. In addition to rain gear and arm warmers, I packed sunscreen because, basically, you never know. That became obvious quickly when on the roadside, it looked as if someone had dumped out their ice chest. Then it looked as if MORE people had dumped out their ice chests. Actually it was hail that had hit the area hard and still remained frozen on the roadside, looking for all the world like a spring snow melt. Some of it was easily the size of grapes -- and this was hours after it had fallen, stripping leaves from trees and from the stalks of corn.

 

Our ending destination was Ottumwa, and because my father was born here, I decided to honor his memory by hammering all day to go fast in an effort to be passed by absolutely no one. I didn't mean this to be competitive -- after all, RAGBRAI is a ride, not a race -- but I wanted to compete against myself, which is one of the keys to setting personal health goals. So I set myself up for an exhilarating day, and it turned out to be even better than I thought.

 

Soon after I made the turn for the century loop, I was absolutely alone. There were no other cyclists in sight. It was as if RAGBRAI and the Iowa state patrol had closed the roads for my personal use. I can't describe the feeling. I rode along Rathbun Lake, a pretty body of water with a road running atop a dam. From that perch high above the water I could look out on the scenery and take it all in without worrying about cars or even other cyclists. Ten thousand riders, and I was all by myself for about 27 miles. It was really good for the soul -- time to reflect and to think, to pedal fast without worrying about a wrong move that could cause a crash.

 

When I finished the loop I ended up back on the main roads with the more typical crush of cyclists. In fact, because so many were doing the loop, I followed the main group without thinking and starting doing the loop AGAIN. Only when someone asked why I wanted to do it a SECOND time did I realize my error. Hence, the extra mileage.

 

I finished with an average of around 20 mph, which I was happy with, given how many crowded towns require you to slow to a crawl or even walk the bike -- and that counts for the average speed. On my best century ever, I averaged 22.6 mph (sorry; cyclists tend to keep track of these things), but I doubt I'll ever be that fast again.

 

Which brings me to this point: Why do I ride? For anyone who exercises, the "why" is an important question. Without an answer, no one will ever stick with an exercise regimen.

 

For me, there are two reasons:

 

1. I ride because I love it. I love being in shape, and I love the bicycle's ability to let me travel long distances at some speed completely under my own power. I love the human scale of cycling. You pass by things and can smell them, see them in detail and remember them.  It's great recreation, and it can be a great way to commute. But cycling is only one of many forms of exercise. Find something that YOU love. Otherwise it will seem too much like hard work and it will be hard to stay motivated.

 

2. I also ride because my family has a history of diabetes -- my father died from its complications, as did a cousin and an uncle who died before I was born. I am now 50 years old, so I think about these things a lot. I've never been out of shape, but I want to be as fit as reasonably possible to do what I can to avoid it. That was one of the reasons I was motivated to ride hard today in my father's memory.

 

So that's it. Sorry for the long post. I'll write shorter tomorrow.

 

--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer

RAGBRAI, Day 4, Wednesday, July 22 (the rest of the day)

RAGBRAI, Day 4 (the rest)
 
After my last post just 15 miles from today's end in Chariton (pronounced "Share-a-ton"), my riding partner and I split up to complete the day at different speeds. The fog burned off while I was writing my last post, so with clear, sunny conditions, I turned on the gas a little bit, and with the benefit of a bit of a tailwind, cruised home at 25 or so mph. That was a lot of fun. It's been cool enough that I haven't faced any of the hydration issues that Florida presents, although sheer time on the bike and in the sun means that I need to be careful about using enough sunscreen (an altogether different health issue).
 
We're camped on the edge of town next to a nursing home and the railroad tracks. The trains, we're told, run all night long, so we'll see how well we sleep. There is a hose connected to perforated PVC pipes, so we've got reasonable running water, enough to take a shower, more or less. We ate lunch, an all-you-can-eat buffet at the Carpenters' Hall, in order to load up with carbs for tomorrow's century day. We sat next to a celebrity of sorts, the mother of Don, as in "Don's Jons" from the portable toilet post of a day or two ago. (And I stand corrected. The company name is "Don's Jons," not "Don's Johns." Turns out, he wanted to do something different with the spelling, his mother said.) They have hundreds of portable toilets, and as you can imagine, the logistics of moving them from town to town are something else.
 
The company is based in nearby Lucas, Iowa, home to John L. Lewis, often considered the most colorful labor leader in American history. He was a major force in the United Mine Workers. Lucas was a mining town back in the day, but its high-sulfur coal fell from favor, so it's not anymore.
 
By the way, our technical difficulties are solved, so here are a few snaps of me at that covered bridge in Madison County and also of the balloons at last night's cool flyover in Indianola. This photo is looking straight up inside one of the balloons overhead. That photo of the handprint in the cement is Indianola's attempt to make the Guinness record book by having the most handprints. Apparently there is no record, but they want to set one and put the bar high enough to keep it for a while. My riding partner and I were numbers 1,472 and 1,473. By night's end they were near 5,000, we were hearing.
 
--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer

RAGBRAI, Day 4 (mostly)

RAGBRAI, Day 4 (Wednesday, July 22) , Indianola to Chariton, 44.4 miles, 2,182 feet of climb

 

Leaving Indianola at 6 this morning, cyclists flowed like small rivulets that became streams, that grew to creeks (called "cricks" here), then small rivers, then one large inexorable current of cyclists moving east toward the Mississippi come Saturday. It's hard to describe the feeling of seeing so many cyclists becoming one, having the roads to themselves, with everyone looking out for them -- and more than happy to share the road. It gives us all a sense of the possibility of the bicycle as a fitness tool and a mode of actual transportation, if only everyone would let it happen.

 

Last night in Indianola showed the heart and soul of RAGBRAI. After a morning slog through the rain, we were treated to a bright, sunny and warm afternoon and evening. After a great dinner at the Indianola firehouse -- the best spaghetti I've had in a while, AND they gave us seconds for free (key for calorie-burning cyclists) -- we looked around town. At the beer garden, a cover band that lit up the crowd at last year's RAGBRAI made a return appearance, and they were really good. The front man had all of the riders raise their beer bottles into the air and sway back and forth to their version of "My Girl." From a hard ride during the day to a beer at night captures the proper spirit of RAGBRAI. A song or two later, the bass player did a dead-on version of "Billie Jean," and a cyclist jumped up on stage and moonwalked without embarrassing himself.

 

The town square was crowded. The Air Force cycling team, some 130 strong, was honored, and then came a flyover of two F-16s from the Iowa National Guard. That was fine, but nothing special if you've ever seen the Thunderbirds or the Blue Angels. But ... what was special was the hot-air balloon flyover. Indianola is a national spot for balloon pilots, and they managed to fly over the town square, heaven knows how. I counted at least 11, and there may have been more.

 

I haven't spoken too much about the actual fitness aspect of RAGBRAI, and since this is the "Personal Best" blog, I thought I should say a word or two. Some of us train really hard for this, and like to ride some of the days as fast training rides and then take a few days easier. Or we'll mix it up a bit on the same day. Others, and this is the real story of RAGBRAI, are out here against all odds -- by rights, they're too sick, too unfit, too old or too infirm to be out on the route at all. But they're out here anyway and they make it from town to town. They don't have the latest racing bikes or the latest gear, but they are achieving their own personal best. There's even one ultra-marathoner who apparently is attempting to RUN the route. We've seen her a few times and called out this morning, "Are you really running the whole route?" And she answered, "I was in the hospital yesterday." But she was back on her feet, running down the road, today. That's RAGBRAI.

 

I've seen one fellow walking his bike to the start point wearing cut-off blue jeans and tall tube socks. His fat tire hybrid bike wasn't going to win the Tour de France, but it was going to get him to where he wanted. I've seen people on old single speeds, people on hand-cranked bikes, a guy with a sail on his bike, and another with a stars and stripes fairing on his low-slung incumbent. I've even seen several people stop for a water break and light up a cigarette. Go figure.

 

As we left town this morning, the fog hung so heavily in the air that the sun looked white -- like a featureless moon -- rather than a red sun. We actually had to slow down because we couldn't see far enough ahead to ride safely. I had water -- condensation from the fog -- dripping off my helmet. But it's a fun easy ride. It's not quite over. I'm writing this in Lacona, about 14.5 miles from today's end town. There was an Iowa Telecom trailer with high-speec internet by the roadside, so I grabbed the chance. All for now.

 

--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer

 

RAGBRAI, Day 3

RAGBRAI, Day 3, Tuesday, July 21, Greenfield to Indianola, 77.1 miles, 4,470 feet of climb

As we got on the road this morning at first light, the flashing taillights of scores of cyclists stretched down the ribbon of road, looking like a line of fireflies, blinking in red instead of yellow.

After a long night of on and off rain, the morning dawned cloudy but dry. But the weather didn't hold. The rain fell on us for the first 50 miles as we tried to be deliberative in every move, whether braking, shifting lanes or even climbing to avoid skids and crashes.

We stopped in the small town of Orient (population 400 or so) for breakfast and ate pancakes at the grain elevator. We were served inside a huge Quonset hut-type structure that appeared to be a grain storage facility during harvest season. We ate standing at hay racks (they are also called hay wagons, depending on where you grew up). But to be served, we had to catch the pancakes as a funny, stout older lady named Evonne would yell out "hep," which was your signal that she was going to flip the 'cake into the air and expect you to catch it.

The pancakes were made courtesy of one of those marvels of Iowa ingenuity by the Orient Men's Club (they were raising money for scholarships). A big metal hopper full of batter ran on rails down the length of a huge griddle. The chef would pull a lever and the batter for four pancakes would drop out on to the griddle. He would shift the hopper down a foot or so and do it again. Then Evonne would start flipping flapjacks on to customers' paper plates. That sort of ingenuity abounds on RAGBRAI. Need to refill water bottles? A fire hydrant would be hooked up by PVC pipe to several spigots or perhaps perforated PVC pipe that squirted several streams of water. Need to park your bike? A rope stretched between two tractors is a perfect bike parking lot. Just hook your handlebars over the rope.

During the rain, we stopped for our daily free banana, courtesy of the Iowa soil conservation folks. They had put up their stand for the day at the house of a retired man by the name of Gary. He has joined a nature conservancy initiative to return some land to its natural state. He has planted five native varieties of prairie grass on 11 acres and hopes to establish a native wetland. The goal is to make a happy habitat for pheasants once again.

A word about hygiene. Last night was the low point of the week. It was cold and rainy, and the camp shower (bags we fill with water) were too cold to use. So we had to rely on baby wipes (I always carry a supply just in case) for what passed for a shower. At best, I smelled like a gamey baby. At worst, who knows?

Another word about hygiene. Given the fairly primitive conditions many people share, the courtesies are common in an empathic way. Coming out of the KYBOs -- more on that in a minute -- people would announce whether or not they still had toilet paper and whether or not they were about to overflow. Better to know both of those things going in. ... KYBO is the Iowa name for portable toilet. Some say it is a back formation of the phrase "keep your bowels open," but nobody really knows. Some of the companies that install them in town after town won't settle for commonplace names. So along the route we've seen companies that have called themselves "Don's Jons," "Party Poopers" and (I'm not making this up, but I wish I were) "Turd Toters." They even have a web site.

Tonight in Indianola we are staying at the house of a friend of a friend, so we've done laundry, taken a hot shower and even shaved!

Despite the rain, today's route was a lot of fun. We rode through Madison County, as in "The Bridges of ..." and we stopped at one of them. We took pictures, but technical difficulties are preventing me from showing you the proof. Before Madison County, we pedaled through Adair County, which made me think of Bill Adair, our Washington bureau chief and the brains behind our (shameless plug) Pulitzer Prize-winning Politifact.com operation.

We had lots of climbs again today, but the climbing practice (using headwinds as hills) really prepared me in St. Pete to face the hills here. It's actually kind of fun. I seldom stand except to change positions. The hills today weren't quite as steep. I use one basic measure of the gradient: How fast do I descend without even really pedaling? The past two days it was easy to surpass 40 mph without pedaling much at all on the downhills. Today that no-pedal speed dropped to about 30.

Tomorrow is a much shorter day, and the forecast is for heat and sun. Just like Florida. It will be welcome.

--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer

RAGBRAI, Day 2

RAGBRAI, Day 2 (Monday, July 20), Red Oak to Greenfield (72.6 miles, 5,096 feet of climb)
 
We spent Sunday night in a hayfield, and it could have been bad. But thanks to Roxanne, a volunteer at the adjoined Montgomery County Historical Society's museum, all was well. Running hot water and rest rooms are soooo important to riders. And so Roxanne took it upon herself to stay all night at the museum to keep the doors open for all of us and let us in to use the rest rooms and to wash up. This morning she was sitting in a rocking chair wrapped in a quilt. It seemed a perfect live tableau for a history museum.
 
This photo shows the sun setting over our tents with a windmill and barn that are part of the museum in the distance. That log cabin from the earlier post is part of the museum, too (though the volunteers wish the owner would call them back so they could open it for tours!).
 
There was some excitement at the campground when a whirlwind or vortex or something lifted four tents up into the air like kites. One person counted three tents up the air and said they bounced up and down like kites, perhaps reaching 60 feet in altitude. Weirdly, it was perfectly calm everywhere except where the tents went whoosh! One really big tent came down right on top of a nearby church steeple. It was one of the Air Force riding team's tents. So I guess you could say there it went, off into the wild blue yonder. (Sorry.) The fire department had to bring out its ladder truck to get the tent down, and had to rip it to get it off the steeple. I don't have a photo. Other people had photos, but we couldn't figure out how to get them to a place where I could post them.
 
 
The ride itself was marvelous. Lots of climbing, but it wasn't too bad. I showed a lot of love to my lowest gear (I think it's a 39x24), but none of the climbs were that tough. And, we had a tailwind a good part of the day, which makes you feel fast even if you're not. I looked down at my cycle computer and was routinely going 28 mph, which is not my typical cruising speed, I assure you.
 
We passed through proud-of-its-Swedish-heritage Stanton, which has a water tower designed to look like a Swedish Coffee Pot (it could hold 640,000 cups of coffee). And it was the birthplace of "Mrs. Olsen" from the Folgers coffee commercials.
 
Then we went through Villisca, a nice little town that was the scene of the unfortunate mass ax murders back in 1912. Eight people were killed as they slept, and even nearly a century later, the crime has not been solved.
 
On a more current, happier note, we rode past Katy and Bob, Iowans who just got married and are spending their honeymoon riding their bikes across the state.
 
We're camped at the fairgrounds tonight, not far from the swine barn. Storms are expected tonight. So let's hope the tent doesn't leak.
 
--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer
 

RAGBRAI, Day 1

RAGBRAI, Day 1 (Sunday, July 19), Council Bluffs to Red Oak, 52.6 miles, 3,684 feel of climb.
 
We saw our breath when we woke up early Sunday to start the first leg of RAGBRAI. The rain fly of the tent was dripping wet. This part of the Midwest has had a few days of record cold, but still I don't think the temperature dropped below 52. Cold enough for a person from St. Pete.
 
It was a beautiful day of rollers (up and down and up and down hills). As we dipped into valleys, we passed through cool morning mist that hovered over the low-lying areas. Riding into the sunrise was simply glorious. There was no wind, so the day was a joy.
 
As a Floridian, I confess to starting the day in arm and leg warmers, but the day warmed quickly and was a great day to be on a bike. We passed by terraced fields of corn and soybeans. Really nice.
 
A few words about Council Bluffs. The Bare Naked Ladies performed at the RibFest Saturday night, and my riding partner and I busted our self-imposed curfew to watch. They wrote two impromptu songs to honor the RibFest and RAGBRAI, though the front man claimed to be suffering from a meat coma after sampling every rib joint's fare, and they also wrote a quasi-rap about RAGBRAI itself. It was a lot of fun, but we left at 11 (we get up at 4:50 a.m. each day), so we missed my favorite song of theirs -- "If I had a million dollars ..." -- which they performed to close the concert. That was all great. But my friend and I dropped into one of the various casinos, which proliferate along the Missouri River because I had never been in one before. Lights! Sound! Action! The place was full, but it was the loneliest crowd I've ever seen, everyone absorbed in their own world of gambling electronically. I was glad to get back to the business of riding. And no, I didn't try my luck at any of the games.
 
Sunday morning we stopped after 17 miles to eat breakfast in Mineola, where a smart restaurateur has begun a Thursday night Taco Run, where cyclists ride along a new bike path (it goes 59 miles down to the Missouri border) and come back for tacos. The breakfast -- it was french toast, not tacos -- was good, but I was actually shivering by the time we had finished. My body heat disappeared after we got off the bike.
 
We had a nice run into Red Oak, which I'll talk about in my next post, though here's a photo of a historic log cabin there as a little preview. It's just down the hill from our camp site.
 
--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer

RAGBRAI: Ready to ride

  We're in Council Bluffs, Iowa, on the Missouri River and ready to start riding across Iowa first thing in the morning for the 2009 edition of RAGBRAI. Our tents are pitched, and we visited their rib fest for lunch. We ate at a place that won St. Petersburg's Rib Fest, so we assumed it would be good. It was.

We crossed the Bob Kerrey pedestrian bridge into Nebraska to do the traditional wheel-dip in the Missouri to start the ride. And then we dropped into the visitor center to learn a little about the bridge (it shares a design with the Sunshine Skyway) and the history of the area (we were at a place that Lewis and Clark crossed).

The internet connection is coming and going so I had better close while I can. We ride a short day of a little more than 50 miles tomorrow. I'll check in then.

--Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer

Training for RAGBRAI: The taper

After the hundreds and hundreds of miles and before the big event always comes the taper -- taking it easy for a few days to hold a peak fitness level and yet allow the body to recover to take advantage of all that training.

In readying for RAGBRAI, (the Register's Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa) I don't taper by kicking back on the sofa. I relax with a few days of low-effort rides of 15 to 20 miles. Doing nothing is a shock to the body, so it's important to stay on the bike, just to take it much easier in the final few days. I had my last day of hard training on Saturday, trading shorter miles (I rode 50 instead of 84) for quite a bit of hill work (I rode 6 miles of climbs using repeats of the Misener Bridge as my "hill"). Then I rode easy recovery days on Monday and Tuesday. Tomorrow I fly to the Midwest. I may check in one more time before RAGBRAI starts to roll across Iowa on Sunday.

-- Jim Verhulst, Times staff writer