Wednesday, June 19, 2024

Tight Butts And Sweaty Nuts

cheryloreglia

June 19

"It's not the hills that are bad, it's the heat. It's not the heat that is bad, it's the wind. It's not the wind that is bad, it's the rain. It's all good on RAGBRAI!" Evin Thompson

Life is challenging. I don't mean to be a party-pooper, but as Seth Godin notes in his recent blog, there is a massive collision between what we believe will happen in life and what actually happens; to make matters worse, we're not even sure how to talk about it.

I get it. That's why I write.

For example, Larry and I have been training like maniacs for an upcoming RAGBRAI ride (RAGBRAI stands for Register's Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa), which will be happening in mid-July. RAGBRAI is the largest cycling event in the world (I could be exaggerating, but it's pretty big). This is when 20,000 registered riders and 10,000 wannabes with day passes show up and ride 500 miles across Iowa in 8 days. And this year is the 50th anniversary.

What could go wrong?

A collision of expectations for one, and that's just me and Larry. What about the 30,000 other people who are expecting nothing more than a rolling party? RAGBRAI is expected to have a record number of cyclists this year, with people participating from all 50 states and 20 countries.

"When you have that many people coming to a certain area, there's going to be crashes," Phippen (RAGBRAI director) said. "It's just how it is. There are just too many people around." Lovely, I'll be sure to bring bandaids.

Let me colorize the picture for you. You might want to keep one of those air sickness bags handy, just in case.

So, after 10,000 miles of training rides over the last 6 weeks (it's why I haven't read your posts, failed to respond to comments, and my hair is always dirty), my skin is turning a curious shade of brown dotted with patches of orange freckles despite all the sunscreen, and I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm back to consuming large quantities of bacon, butter, and cheese. It happens.

Larry and I (when I say Larry and I, I mean Larry, of course) will dismantle our co-motion bike in a few weeks and pack it into two large suitcases, which we'll fly with us to Kansas City, along with our sleeping bags, disposable towels, inflatable pillows, biking shorts, biking shoes, and biking shirts. We will also bring helmets, gloves, and rain ponchos. Our gear can not weigh more than 30 pounds, which seems disturbingly unfair because the bike bags get 50 pounds each.

At some point, we'll reconstruct our co-motion, dip the back tire in the Missouri River with the hope that we will prevail against all odds, and be able to dip the front tire in the Mississippi River at the conclusion of our ride. It's a thing.

For those of you who are on your game, yes, we'll be camping—in tents—in July after riding between 50 and 80 miles a day. How long could those shower lines be? Oh, and as a bonus, there is no way to dry your hair, wash your clothes, or arrange for an air conditioner to come with our tent. I might have to shave my head and sleep naked.

It would be cooler...

I'll admit this to you, but let's keep it between us. I'm a little worried about the sanity of this entire escapade. If it wasn't for my cousins, Mike and Gail, from Missouri, and their adorable daughter, Ellie, joining us for this monumental adventure, I might just throw in the towel and write off the losses.

This whole thing got rolling, so to speak, through a discussion about bucket lists a million summers ago up at the lake. I believe it was Larry and my cousin Mike who started hatching this crazy idea of riding across Iowa during RAGBRAI. Gail, Mike's wife, and I were going to be strictly support people. Then Larry got a wild hair up his butt and decided I should ride in tandem with him one fine morning while we were having breakfast (link here if you missed it). He went so far as to redefine the meaning of success, and somehow, I bought into the whole idea. You know, when it was just an idea. Now, it's a reality.

To make matters worse, they named our team Tight Butts and Sweaty Nuts. I know. I'm not sure they realize that I don't have any nuts, but I believe it is symbolic of one's mental capacity, as in implicit, not explicit. This is the slogan that will be stamped across my chest for a week on our custom-made bike shirts.

It just keeps getting better and better.

Now, Larry is claiming that he never redefined success, that he never intended to use the sag wagon when I got tired, and that if we have to, we'll die trying. Collision, right there, and it's a nasty one. Understanding how someone is going to behave is a survival mechanism, which might be why my distant relatives, the Neanderthals, died out.

Yes, prayers are encouraged, maybe a nightly rosary and sacrifices to God on my behalf. Thank you in advance.

Bicycle Bill says of RAGBRAI, said, "Just because I slept with you last night doesn't mean I have to ride with you today." I might keep that one in my back pocket.

I think it's going to be one of those events where you just have to lower your expectations if you want to have a good time. It begs the question, how low can you go? I'll be the one sipping the pinot grigio infused with CBD on the back of our tandem singing, "Bye, bye Miss American Pie…," at the top of my lungs.

They say that RAGBRAI is more than just a bike ride—it's an epic eight-day rolling festival of bicycles, music, food, camaraderie, and community. We'll be pedaling across the picturesque state of Iowa, from its western to eastern border. How bad could it be? Hell, this might be the best thing we've ever done. See what I did there? I'm redefining my reality one word at a time.

Albert Einstein said, "Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and I'm not sure about the universe." Bahaha. But I prefer Oscar Wilde's views of the world. He says, "To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." So we are going to sleep in a tent for a week, pedal our way across Iowa, and do the rarest thing in the world—live! It's crazy, I know, but if the size of an accomplishment is measured by the obstacles overcome, then this is an epic opportunity to become overachievers in the span of a week.

I just hope our collision of expectations will have merged by the conclusion of the ride, and after we dip that front tire in the Mississippi River, we find a hotel room with an air conditioner, a shower, and room service. When you accomplish something difficult, it changes you as a person. It's permanent and irreversible, like getting up after you've fallen down, admitting when you need help, or doing something that others think is impossible. Hey, sometimes it takes a good fall to know where you stand. Here's to RAGBRAI, 2024.