RAGBRAI - Cycling Across Iowa

No bike computer.

No heart rate monitor.

No defined workout or schedule.

Just riding bikes for the pure and simple love of pushing pedals.

A true critical mass, riding 10,000 strong, the 2009 RAGBRAI (Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa) rolled out of Council Bluffs on Sunday morning.  Like nothing I had ever before witnessed, riders of all shapes and sizes on steeds of every kind dominated the landscape spreading out before me.  Framed only by blue sky and fields of corn and soy beans, the 500 mile ride, 7 day ride had begun.

 Day 1: Council Bluffs to Red Oak - 52.6 miles, 3,684ft of climbing

 Day 2: Red Oak to Greenfield - 72.6 miles, 5,096ft of climbing

 Day 3: Greenfield to Indianola - 77.1 miles, 4,470ft of climbing

 Day 4: Indianola to Chariton - 44.4 miles, 2,182ft of climbing

 Day 5: Chariton to Ottumwa (Karras Loop at Rathburn Lake) - 106.9 miles, 3,388ft of climbing

 Day 6: Ottumwa to Mount Pleasant - 75.5 miles, 2,841ft of climbing

 Day 7: Mount Pleasant to Burlington - 43.2 miles, 1,145ft of climbing

The days seem to run together as I attempt to recall the specifics of each sunrise; by mid-ride I had actually lost track of the days of the week.  When I made this realization, I celebrated; I was embracing vacation.

I often laugh when I say, "When I grow up I just want to write and ride my bike".  For one week in July, this became my reality. 

Waking up each morning, our trusty Hubba Hubba covered in a think layer of dew, knowing riding was the only thing on the agenda bought me back to our mornings on the PCT when walking was our only responsibility.  Only on RAGBRAI, there was food a plenty and showers available just about every night.

Our team, the Sigourney Weavers, was compromised of 15 riders, 4 tandems, 1 chariot trailer and the kind of positive energy that can do nothing but lift your spirits.

Traveling with people with a great affinity to good java, each morning started with freshly brewed coffee and foamed milk; the makings of the perfect latte and a great day.

After loading up the Big Pink School Bus that moved our tent city from town to town each day, we saddled up and rolled out, leaving one town and heading toward another. 

Along the way, the Farm Boys Breakfast Burrito Stand might call to our growling stomachs or perhaps we would push on toward the next Church Basement Fundraiser to enjoy a homemade slice of strawberry rhubarb or berry pie.  Roadside Pork chops, Turkey Legs and Meat-on-a-Stick popped up every few miles along with the occasional ice cream or watermelon stand.

Bikes filled both sides of the two-lane back roads and the lone car just had to wait.  If sitting on a corner in a small town on the RAGBRAI itinerary, you could watch bikes for hours, a steady steam of squeaky chains.

The left side of the road was unofficially reserved for the faster riders and Ben and I most often found ourselves there.  If was only on rare occasion that we were not the passers as we flying by people riding cruisers, mountain bikes and recumbents.  Pace lines, including strong tandem pairs, formed along the far left reaches of the asphalt, making the miles tick by in quick succession and forcing me to push the limits on the downhills as I desperately tried to hold on to the wheel of a 47 pound tandem.  Unknown to most, Iowa is not flat and the short, steep uphills forced me to stand and sprint, watching as the flat-landers virtually moved backward. Unending fun was had cresting roller after roller and flying down the other side.

Afternoons were filled with long breaks under  shade trees or meeting the High Country Kombucha van, with ice cold Kombucha on tap.  Leaving the route and rolling into town where we would set up camp for the night, smiles would not leave our faces.  Snacks, brews and slack lining occupied our evenings, along with a stroll into town to witness the nightly RAGBRAI party and find the local HyVee Grocery Store to load up on staples for the following day.

Day 7 marked the end of the West-to-East journey across the great state of Iowa and our arrival at the Mississippi River.  The finish to this year’s ride included the Rattle Snake Challenge, a steep cobblestone street with 6 or 7 switchbacks.  Cheers came from the crowd that lined the way as we completed the last stretch of our inaugural RAGBRAI ride.

Huge thanks go out to Team Sigourney Weave, Rosie (the bus driver), all our host families, the great citizens of Iowa and to Toby from Mammut for providing hours of evening entertainment complements of the Slack Line.

Ragbrai – Registers Annual Great Ride Across Iowa

Sitting in Sigourney Iowa, I get my first look at the 2009 Ragbrai Particpant Guide.
Pecan Pie Hunter reads the front graphic.
My plan of going on an All Pie Diet seems to be on right on track with the sentiments of the event.
7 days, riding bikes and eating pie….. I am ready to get underway.

We left Bend Thursday night, driving over the pass to Portland to sleep on Kacy’s back deck and making it to the airport for a 6am flight Friday morning.
It is now Saturday morning; we are still in route to Council Bluff, Iowa…. Making stops in St. Louis, Sigourney, and Des Moines in the Pepto-Bismol pink school bus to pick up the members of the 15 person Sigourney Weaver “RAGBRAI team”.

In a bus equipped with a two couches and an internal bike rack system built to hold 16 bikes, we pull into Council Bluffs, the start of Ragbrai 2009.
I am ready to get off this bus.
I am ready to ride.

High Desert Omnium - Race Report

An unfamiliar feeling for me; going to sleep in my own bed the night before a stage race.

Unfamiliar, but welcomed.

My sister, Kacy, brother-in-law, Andrew, and nephew, Max, came over from Portland for the weekend, partly as a "get-away" and partly to see what this bike racing thing is all about.  A bit of pressure; the home town crowd, my family and Ben standing on the sidelines; I had better put on a good show.

Having spent Friday night relaxing with my family, eating at Jackson's Corner, and playing with little Max, I woke up Saturday morning refreshed and ready to ride.

Stage 1: Criterium – 35 minutes

I set the alarm for 8am, woke up just after 7am and felt like I had slept half the day away. My race didn't start until 11:15am; plenty of time for a walk to Backporch for coffee, enjoy breakfast and warm-up. No rushing, just fun.

By 10am, I was on the trainer, on the back deck, trying to get my heart rate up and flush out my legs. Already sweating, I looked at my watch, 60 minutes till go time. Funny when the warm up for the race takes long than the race itself.

I rolled over to Summit High School, arriving just a couple minutes before the course was open for pre-riding. I looked around and didn't see many women; I had expected there to be a larger field. Coming around the last corner of my second warm-up lap, people were already lining up – I don't know where they had been hiding, but the field was definitely large; strong women, lined up and ready to race.

The bell rang and we rolled out. One girl attacked right off the line and while the rest of the group fumbled with pedals, she got just a little gap on us. That quickly closed, but I got stuck toward the back of the pack for the first couple of laps.

I didn't like being back there. I wanted to move up, but intimidation got the best of me for a bit.

I have no business being toward the front. Get over yourself, this is a race.

I worked to move up, staying wide on the corners and gaining ground with each turn. Soon I found myself 3^rd or 4^th wheel. Safe. Good. Then another attack, followed by a counter attack. I did what I could just to stay on and keep a good position. It was a constant battle. If I wasn't moving up, I was moving back.

The bell rang with three laps to go and the pace slowed……. On the back side of the course, an attack, then a corner and the group got back together. I got out on the front at one point, and quietly moved back into the pack. 2 laps to go, the lead pack was smaller now, but still good sized and everyone was fighting for position.

As we crossed the line with 1 lap to go, I expected an attack; a lightning fast final lap, but this was not the plan of the powerhouses controlling the race.

I knew position would be key going into the final turn and I tried to move to the outside, but I got boxed in on the back side corner and couldn't move over.

Work with what you have Bishop – be safe.

I took the final corner tight, sitting in about 12^th position. With 200 metes to go, the sprint started. I shifted and stood up. My selection gear was not hard enough. I shifted again.

A couple of girls blew past me and ran out of steam. I passed them and couple others, the line was right there, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a girl on the far left pass me at the line. I finished 8^th or 9^th overall, 4^th for the Cat 3s.

Not bad. Safe, fun, and smiling.

Back to the house; food, water, and rest. A walk to the river for cool dunk of the legs. Hanging out with my sister, talking about the crit. She was inspired, she wants to ride bikes.

Stage 2: Time Trial

My starting time was 4:12:30; about 3pm I started thinking about racing again. Aero bars; check. TT helmet, check. Back on the trainer, this time in the heat of the day. I found the only semi shading spot on the deck and started spinning – OUCH. This whole warm-up thing hurts. It seriously hurts. But only for about the first 10 minutes, and then I am so glad to have done it. It hurts, but it helps. Seriously helps.

I road over to the start of the TT, on Skyliners, and had about 15 minutes until my start time. Did I mention how awesome it is to warm up on my deck and then ride to the start of a race. 2^nd time in one day – sweet! I did a couple of sprints up the Summit High School Hill and rolled to the starting line. The count down began, 15, 10, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Stand up, get some momentum and then into the bars; big gears. Heart rate jumped to 184 with in 30 seconds. Only 9 miles, 4.5 out, 4.5 back – just like the 20 minute test.

With my bike computer set to distance and my watch set to HR and time, I could keep a good eye on where I was in the race and how hard I was working. At mile 1 I realized I might have gone out too hard. Too bad, you dealt the hand, now play it.

I passed my 30 second girl within 2 or 3 miles; she was the first to go, so no more carrots for me. Too bad, suck it up, ride harder. I climbed the first steeper pitch feeling good; it was when the road flattened out that my legs started screaming. 12.7mph – on the flat, unacceptable, lets go. I was turning my legs over as fast as I could, they just wouldn't go. Work through it, come on.

After about 20 or 30 seconds, I got my legs back, shifted and stood up, settled back into my aero bars and picked up the pace. One more little rise and I could see the turn around point. I made turn (much too slowly), and headed down hill for home. I got as aero as I could and held on. With 2 miles to go, the road flattened out. This is where I wanted to make up time. I pushed the pedals, legs burning.

With 500m to go, I went to for it. Biggest gear I could manage, head down. I crossed the line; Ben and Kacy were there. I wasn't sure of the exact time, but I knew I was somewhere between 24 and 25 minutes. Now I had to play the waiting game.

Kacy, on my mountain bike, Ben and I took a cool down lap through Tetherow. Talking about bikes, teaching Kacy how to shift, and laughing; this was turning out to be an excellent weekend.

By the time we made it home, my legs were flushed out, the cold river was sounding delightful and Kacy had ridden about 10 miles…. She was loving it.

When the results were posted later that evening, 1 second made the difference between winning the tt and 2^nd place. I was 1 second too slow. 2^nd place gave me 13 points.

I now stood in 3 place overall.

Stage 3: Road Race

Fueled by an amazing dinner Kacy prepared (now to be my first choice in pre-race meals), I woke up Sunday morning with racing on my mind.

Crazy thing about an Omnium Race versus a Stage Race; people who haven't raced on Saturday can race on Sunday. They may have fresh legs, but I had on my racing cap…..

The field would be bigger today and as I drove up to Edison Snow Park with Kerry and Lisa, I got just a bit nervous. I was racing with the big girls now; girls that raced in the Pro1/2 field at Mt Hood, girls that just return from racing in Italy, girls that were preparing for Cascade Cycling Classic.

Today would be a challenge, but I knew the course. I rode it just last weekend. I would be smart, hold the wheels I knew were strong, and try to make the break.

At 10:40am, the Women's Pro1/2/3 field rolled out of Edison Snow Park and down hill toward Sunriver. The pace wasn't too fast, people were being conservative and no one wanted to make a move on the down hill.

We made the right hand turn onto Road 40, and the attacks began. They weren't attempts to break away; but instead steady increases in speed to tire out the legs of some and drop a few. I stayed toward the front, attempting to stay on the wheels of the few women I knew would be strong in this type of race. As we turned left to circle around Crane Prairie, I felt good, continually drinking and being a bit more aggressive about sticking on my wheel of choice than I have been in the past.

A few break away attempts occurred on this long, flat stretch; but with a little organization, they were reeled back in. I tried not to work too much, but took my turn when necessary. The head wind was fierce in spots, making the thought of being out there alone for too long very unappealing. Each time we climbed a rise, the pace picked up, then settled down again once everyone was back together.

I was hanging in, so far so good.

As we cruised along Cascade Lakes Highway, smooth pavement beneath our wheels, the pace increased as the hail began to fall. A couple of girls launched an attack that I was a little nervous about, but I looked around and all the top contenders were sitting tight. I did the same. The wind helped the pack bring the attack back in and as we passed the feed zone and turned right back onto Road 40, I could sense something was going to happen.

Girls were jockeying for position as we approached the start of the climb, mile 40 of the 60 miles race. I sat tight on a wheel I knew could climb and spun my way up the first steeper pitch. A couple of women were out front, working hard to pull the group up the first hill, but as the grade faded, so did they and they slipped back as my wheel and I went on through.

Teri and Becka shot off the front.  Now the real work began.

Everyone knew that if those two got away, they would stay away and no one was willing to let that happen. A short descent began and I held on tight to the group in front of me. I was not going to get dropped on the downhill…. Again.

We started climbing again, reducing the gap between Teri & Becka and ourselves, soon catching them. It was then that I realized the chase group was only about 10 or 12 girls.

I had made the break, now I had to hold on.

Pace lining along the flatter sections and each man for themselves on the steeper pitches, we rolled back toward the Sunriver cutoff at about 25mph.

I looked around me. I couldn't believe I was riding next to these girls. Stupid strong women I had watched kick ass and take names all season.

As we made the final left turn up toward Edison and the finish line, I was nervous that the chase group might catch us, but no else seem too worried. Follow their lead.

The head wind slowed our pace considerably; working together we were only going 13-14mph. I took my turn in the rotation, everyone taking short pulls as we made our way up hill into the wind. I felt good, strong and comfortable. We continued to rotate through the pace line until about 2 miles from the finish when I pulled off left into the front and no one was behind me to take over.

I looked over my shoulder and motioned for someone to come around. No one did.

I slowed down a bit, hoping that would encourage someone to help out. Failed tactic.

I moved from the right side of the road to the left. Nope, nothing. No help at all.

I sat up, going pretty slowly. Still no luck.

The photo motorcycle was just to our left, I moved into its slipstream (probably highly illegal) but that didn't last long; a whole 10 seconds of relief before it sped away.

At this point, I was unsure what to do. With 1 mile to go, I was still up front, not where I wanted to be.

I knew Teri was behind me and the only thing that gave me comfort from my own stupidity was that I might be helping her.

Still out front, we approached the 200m sign; I shifted and stood up; trying to accelerate into the wind.

At about 50m, the inevitable happened. Of the 10-12 girls in the break, 7 of them past me. I stood up, turning over the pedals as fast as I could. I couldn't respond to their speed. I crossed the line in 8^th place.

I wasn't sure who in this group was a 1/2 and who was a 3, but it didn't really matter, I had made the break. Finally.

I didn't know until late Sunday night how I had finished; but for once it didn't really matter. I had hung on with the big girls; I had pushed myself; I had made the break. I didn't let myself get dropped on the downhills, I stuck to the wheels I planned to and had ridden strong.

No, High Desert Omnium isn't a huge race, but to me, it was a huge accomplishment to race well. And to race well at home.

When the results were posted, I learned I finished 2^nd for the Cat 3s in the rode race; behind a women in a Poplollies Kit I had never seen before. The little disappointment I felt for not having won fled when I learned I had won the overall.

I think it was sometime in April that I decided to set a goal for myself: To race Cascade Classic next July as a Cat 2. Until this weekend, I wasn't so sure it was possible. Now, I am pretty sure it is.  

Thanks to everyone that has given me so much support this season. To Sunnyside Sports, Don, Damian, the girls of BBNS, and most of all to Ben, who puts up with me each and everyday.

As the road season comes to a close for me, I have cyclocross on the brain. Mud and cowbells – and Cyclocross Nationals, only 5 months away.

Frustrating, torturous bliss.

There is always a point when you could have gone harder. 

You make a decision; How much do you want to hurt? 

A split second in time that you won't let yourself forget. 

It is this brief, but vivid memory that keeps you stepping up to the line, race after race, to ride hard once again.

And every time you reach that point in the race, you push yourself a little further, the comfort boundary expands, you are willing to hurt more. 

With each step forward, with each acceptance of more pain, you realize you could have gone harder, endured more, pushed the boundary just a fraction further.

It is a learning process.  You can read about it in books, you can talk to friends, you can watch it on Versus, but until you are in it, it can't be understood. 

The more you experience the feeling of being on the verge, the more you crave the opportunity to step further over the edge. 

It is addictive, some would say masochistic; but for those of us who race because we crave that feeling, it is bliss.  Frustrating, torturous bliss.

High Desert Omnium Race Report Coming Soon........  

Pedaling; the newest wonder drug.

It was a big weekend. A lot of time in the saddle. The first 90+ temps of the summer. A load of emotional turmoil.

Life; when rubber meets the road and the only way to get it out is to pedal harder.

Pedaling; the newest wonder drug.

Good from your heart and your soul.

Smooth circles, for hours on end. You find the rhythm that has you moving along effortlessly, your breath controlled, your heart rate steady.

The tempo changes. You are working hard, digging to hold the wheel that always seems to be pulling away, your legs ache from miles logged on the previous two days; the brilliant sign of a long weekend.

The wheel fades back and it is your turn to pull. The road is flat, the gear is big, and 23 mph seems comfortable.

Amazing the energy you feel in the front; pulling along in silence. You know they are back there, focused, steady. It is your job to do the same. Take a drink, settle back in. This is going to be a long day.

The road turns upward, you are now only two. Holding onto to that wheel is your only train of thought. A single focus, don't let it go.

The road flattens, the wheel accelerates, you don't respond. It is gone. It was faster than you, it deserved to get away.

A brief bout with self-pity quickly fades. Head down, in the drops, you ride. 15 miles alone.

You turn uphill and see that wheel, clad in pink and black. They are slowing. You reach them.

Have any water?, I'm out.

Nope, Out too.

The conversation withers, mouths dry and hot.

The only thing you crave is ice cold Coke as you climb up crackling asphalt.

You can see the blue cooler, full of ice and red aluminum cans, sitting in the back of the van. Parked at Edison, 2 miles back, locked.

You don't mention the Coke, neither do they. You offer food. The offer is declined.

Food won't quench this kind of thirst.

2 bottles, 5 hours, not enough. Dumb.

The van whizzes by. Arm gestures are made. Panic, the van doesn't stop. There goes the Coke. Didn't even know I liked Coke.

One last climb and then it is downhill, keep thinking about the down hill.

A turn in the road, climbing, thirsty. And then the van comes into sight.

They stopped. The best teammates in the world. Water, ice cubes, and Coke.

With the sound of the can opening, I laugh. It goes down easily.

Instant energy – sugar and caffeine – powerful stuff.

I would have paid $10 for that 12oz can; that was all I had in my jersey pocket.

Thanks are exchanged, bottles topped off, the sound of shoes clipping into pedals means we are on our way.

We ride on, happy. The remaining red can is opened and shared as we coast by Miessner. Completely refreshing.

I mean commercial worthy kind of refreshing.

A few miles of flats. I pull in front. Legs tired, but strong.

We roll through town and onto Ogden Ave. Like visions of sugar plums; berry smoothies, a cold shower, a soak in the Deschutes dance through my head.

It is hot. I am tired. But I smile, the wonder drug prevails again.

A tour around the Strawberry Mountains…………

The weekend's plan was to ride a 100 mile loop around the Strawberry Mountains, camping some where in the middle.

The weather could not have been better, warm and sunny – just hot enough to know it was summer.

I was riding the Yeti, Ben on his Lemond; each of us pulling a Bob trailer. Brad and Dana were cruising on their fully loaded Long Haul Truckers, built specifically for touring and their upcoming 7 week New Zealand bike tour. I have to admit there was a hint of jealously here; beautiful bikes built for the long haul……

How many bikes can one person have?
X = (Current # of Bikes) + 1

Day 1:

Early Saturday morning we loaded up and headed out, driving east toward John Day. Brad, Dana, Ben and I were ready to roll, literally.Bikes, trailers and smiles, we rode out of John Day, Oregon just after noon and headed east toward Prairie City.

The first 10 or 15 miles were along Highway 26 toward Prairie City; amazingly good riding. Wide shoulder, little traffic, and the energy you have when you first get on your bike after a long car ride.

Our first small-town-stop was in Prairie City for a cold drink. No, we didn't really need to stop, but that is the fun of touring; you get to stop when ever and where ever you want. No time limit, no bike computer, no heart rate monitor. Just a paper map and a group of friends; riding along for the sake of riding.

Leaving Prairie City we turned south, off the main road and onto paved forest service roads. Narrow roads with few cars meant we could ride 2 abreast and chit-chat as we made our way along the John Day River.

The chit chatting stopped when we started to climb… and climb… and climb.

Another beautiful thing about bike touring and only having a road map is that the topo lines are almost non-existent so determining the grade and terrain is near impossible.

Note: I describe this as a beautiful thing, others might disagree.

The grade flattened out a bit as we approached Trout Farm, a campground maintained by the Malheur Country Forest Service. Hoping to find water, we were pleasantly surprised by a piped spring providing fresh, cold libation. Filling our water bottles and checking the place out, we discovered why they call it Trout Farm. The lake at the far side of grounds was filled with huge trout; jumping, swimming, and thankful Ben had left his fishing pole at home.

The climb continued and got much steeper as we got closer to Prairie Summit. Well worth the climb, Prairie Summit was true to its name, open fields, wild flowers and fresh air. By the time we descended the 1000 feet into Logan Valley, we were ready to rest for the day.

After reaching the Big Creek Campground and finding it full of RVs and ATVs, we ventured a short way down a gravel side road, finding an ideal camping spot; sheltered from the sun and covered in pine needle duff. We unloaded the trailers and got back on our bikes – we had spotted a swimming hole down the way and weren't about to miss the chance to take a plunge into the icy water.

Dinner: Pasta all around.

Dessert: Tea and Chocolate.

Sunset: Unbelievable.

Life: Grand.

Day 2:

Sunday morning I went to church. My church. The church I share with all outdoor lovers who get high off fresh air, open space, and riding bikes. And I rejoiced!

Continuing through the Logan Valley, the cows are already awake, the horses were grazing and the sun felt amazing as it warmed my back. The roads were empty, save 4 cyclists adorned with smiles and the miles ticked by too quickly. Another climb, although not as tough as the one previous, ended in a sweeping decent that had me laughing and grinning ear to ear. I tried to keep up with Ben, and succeeded, finally figuring out the trick of going 30+ with a trailer in tow.

The plan was to stop in Seneca for a second breakfast and a coffee…. Sure they must have a café. Seneca was in bold on the map after all.

Lesson Learned: Maps can be deceiving.

Seneca turned out to be a one-shop town, a rickety little convenience store that sold ice cream sandwiches, a lot of meat, and Powerade. After picking up a few essentials, we found a picnic table in what looked to be the city park and enjoyed the dregs of our cheese, crackers, and peanut butter. A true feast!

Tip for the road: When carrying cheese on a bike tour or backpacking trip, wrap it in a brown paper bag before putting it plastic. You will be glad you did.

We left Seneca and the road turned up as we climbed out of one valley, headed toward another. We crested the next summit, Brad and I pushing each other as we reached the top, before starting the best downhill I have ever ridden. I can't wait to go back. In fact, it would be worth climbing all the way back up to experience it again. The views were breath-taking; the Strawberry Mountains to our right, the John Day Valley up ahead, the vegetation lush and green, the air was fresh. When the road flattened out and we regrouped, we were all smiles.

The ride through Canyon City and into John Day was right along the river, between canyon walls, among friends.

It was Sunday afternoon, there was no other way I would have rather spent it.