As we laid down for bed in Storm Lake after a physically draining day 1, I was doubtful we’d be able to proceed as planned. My husband was in bad shape, and I wasn’t sure how the girls’ spirits would be in the morning. None of us ate dinner because frankly we were too sick to stomach anything. Day 2 was supposed to be less intense at 59 miles and 1,875 feet of climb, and I awoke early with a nervous belly considering our options, including the idea of doing it alone with my youngest who was adamant we continue. Sleeping in to the lazy hour of 5:30am, she peeked her head out the tent window and asked, “Are we going to ride today?” We surveyed the entire family and everyone agreed they wanted to press on. My husband woke up feeling rested and filled with electrolytes thanks to the Gatorade we forced him to drink the evening prior.
Because of the shorter mileage, we left camp closer to 7am and pedaled our way out of beautiful Storm Lake and back into the cornfields. We had a plan to eat early and to seriously consider “Sagging it” halfway through if anyone felt the slightest bit desire to stop.
We made decent time the first 18.2 miles to the first pass-through town of Early. Learning from our mistake the day prior, we waited in line for breakfast bowls and recharged in the shade. Our bellies were full, but we also knew we were running low on cash. Most all the vendors were cash only (we knew this would be the case) and had plans to stop at an ATM during the day’s travels. What we didn’t anticipate was that the crowds of riders before us were emptying the ATMs long before we arrived. To put these small towns into perspective, the town of Early had a population of 584 during the last census. Ragbrai multiplied their population by more than 50 times that during the few hours the event rolled through- often depleting them of both food and cash.
With only four (soggy) dollar bills left in our pockets, we refilled our water bottles and moved on to the next town with a prayer we would find $$ along the way. These are the moments that as a parent made me feel uneasy.
While making good time, the heat of the day quickly caught up to us. With temps in the 90s, we made a pact to stop every 7 miles to make sure we were hydrating. We rested in a stranger’s yard who was selling water out of a cooler. Now desperate and starting to get a bit panicky about the money situation, I asked the family if perhaps they had Venmo – if they had $20 in cash, I could immediately pay them back on the spot via modern technology. But they looked at me blankly – two teenagers appeared to not know what Venmo or PayPal was! An older gentleman was standing nearby and without hesitation opened his wallet and handed me a $20 bill. I was adamant for an address – Venmo, snail mail, anything to repay him. He was insistent I take the money and refused reimbursement. I cried right there on the spot and explained to him the peace of mind he had just extended. I promised I would pay it forward, and we chatted a bit longer with our angel from Iowa, who’s name I don’t remember, but I know served in the navy for 22 years. Thank you, Sir.
In this same yard, we also met 4 women from Chicago who we would continue to ride with for many more miles ahead. They referred to us as their “Pennsylvania friends,” and at the top of a never-ending climb we shared a silly moment together as we pressed our bodies up against a cold tank that riders uncovered earlier in the day. “I’m so hot,” we laughed. “I just want to put my face on it. What’s in this thing? Do you think it’s water or toxic chemicals?” Like the riders that came before us, we shared the tip with others as we yelled “biker on!” and continued our journey to Lake View, population 1,120, where we found grilled cheese sandwiches, frozen pickle pops, and a stocked ATM.
We always started off feeling like we were making good time. The kids really wanted to get into camp at a normal hour, but as the sun blazed, we seemed to slow significantly. The most brutal part of the day was a long, flat stretch with little shade and a strong headwind that I would later learn threatened heat stroke on my dad – on his 65th birthday nonetheless. You might recall that my parents joined us on this adventure with more ambitious plans to complete the whole week. With better bikes and experience, they were often several hours ahead of us. Their first day was also brutal, but they felt well so it never crossed my mind they might struggle.
By the time we made it to the town of Breda, we were overheated and giggled with excitement when we saw signs for a community pool. A $15 donation later, my daughters and I jumped into the water clothes and all! After a few runs down the slide, we got back on our bikes and kept going.
Somewhere along the way, we made up a song inspired by The Song that Never Ends. “This is the ride that doesn’t end. The hills go on and on my friend. Some riders signed up to do it, not knowing what it was and they’ll continue doing it forever just because….”
Now remember our plan to SAG (or the struggle bus as the girls called it) halfway through? Kids didn’t want to do it. When I tell you they were rock stars, they were more determined than my husband and I. By the time they started to lose patience, we had only 7 miles to go. After 11 hours of riding, we cheered when we entered Carroll, IA at 6:15pm and found our Pork Belly campground at Fairview Elementary school. Unlike the previous night, we arrived earlier and in ok-condition. “How are you guys?,” my parents assessed.
We were good. But we were also done. And I’ll tell you about that tomorrow.
The Mommy Briefing 