Ragbrai - 2000 -- The first day began at Council Bluffs, we assembled our bikes and pitched our tents amid thousands of others. The next morning we headed out en masse, and I mean masse. As far as you could see, ahead and behind, there were riders astride all manner of machines. Every state was represented along with 18 foreign countries. There were all ages and sizes: a 300-pound Dubuque hog farmer, a 90-pound Los Angeles grandmother, a 10-year-old boy from Cleveland. Navigating the route is simple enough; just follow the 5,000 people ahead of you. We camped mostly in small towns, overwhelming their parks and school athletic fields. It reminded me of locusts on the move, eating everything in sight (fortunately, there was an ample supply of food). By 6:00 each morning, we’re gone again, and the thousands of tents are on the way to the next site. Every town has a theme. In one it was "Christmas in July"––its main street was decorated accordingly, and Santa and the populace turned out to wish the cycling hordes a Merry Christmas. Another town, decked with paper palm trees, was “Hawaii” for a day. We rode through Newton, of Maytag washing machine fame. I stopped at the town square to meet the "lonely Maytag repair man" but he was out to lunch - (probably spinning tales with the Whirlpool guy).

Ragbrai - 2001 About 10,000 riders choked Iowa's country roads. The range of riders was amazing. Quite a few looked like they had no business riding a bike 505 miles in a week. There were riders wearing thongs, loincloths, sawed-off jeans. They wore sandals, hiking boots, street shoes, knee-socks. Some guys were shirtless. Some women might as well have been.  -- If you didn't have something like a plastic porpoise or cobra sticking out of your helmet, you were in the minority. Iowa isn't flat, and contrary to the popular putdown it isn't all cornfields; -- there are plenty of soy bean fields, too! Small towns are linked by a rolling ribbon of road that looks the same no matter where you're going. Now add an easterly headwind to slow the pace every single day. It blew so hard, at times I had to actually “gear-down” and peddle down hill.-- RAGBRAI's final day was a short ride, only 49 miles into Muscatine on the Mighty Mississip'. People love RAGBRAI and do it for reasons besides the actual pedaling. RAGBRAI means: vacations, reunions, socializing, eating, drinking, partying, and tradition. For many people it's their life's greatest physical accomplishment. Perhaps the sign on the side of a bus summed it up best: "If you're not having fun, lower your standards."

Ragbrai - 2002 -The 30^th anniversary this year. We cycled from Sioux Center in the west, to Bellevue in the east; covering 480 miles in a week. This year’s weather was very good, with the exception of the last day, (which I'll get to). The ride started hot, but then we were in between storm fronts with cooler, overcast skies and rain only at night. We also experienced tailwinds, headwinds, and 2 miles of gravel. After last year’s longest, hilliest route ever; the route this year was made to please.- Day 4 was “9-11 Tribute Day.” Red, white, and blue was everywhere. Many towns’ streets had U.S. flags for their entire length. A huge banner filled with RAGBRAI signatures was sent to the NYC fire stations. I was in Rudd, Iowa when I was startled by a F-16 fighter roaring by overhead. That night in Charles City, we had an excellent program of fireworks and nostalgia. The next day, we saw the “Little Brown Church in the Vale”. This church is probably runner-up only to ‘Vegas in marriages. DAY 6’s route was smooth, flat, and tending downhill. It was also - fast!! - All day!  We breezed into Anamosa, past the home of artist Grant Wood, famous for his “American Gothic” painting. -- THEN, there was “day-7” - It rained all night. Everyone slept in; it kept on raining. We slowly got ready - it kept on raining; finally, people began to ride off; (still raining). My brother and I left.-- I have never ridden in rain that hard. Water ran down through my helmet and inside my eyewear, into my eyes; down through my clothes, through my underwear, and into my shoes. It was actually more helpful to have no eyewear. It rained more than 2 inches in two hours of riding. Strangely, by 11:00 am, it cleared, turned into an excellent day, and we cruised down to the Mississippi River.

Ragbrai - 2003 - This year RAGBRAI started in Glenwood and followed a southern route through Shenandoah, Bedford, Osceola, Oskaloosa, Bloomfield, Mount Pleasant, and ended at Fort Madison. We rode 7 days and camped 7 nights, including Saturday night in Glenwood.  R’brai is a phenomenal ride -- bikers ahead of you, bikers behind you, all day long, anywhere on the route. Iowans treated us and greeted us all along the route. There are fund raisers all along the way, and I think I spent about twice as much as I had planned on. Many places advertised free Kybos. (if you have a clue as to what a Kybo is).  I ride with “Pork Belly Ventures”. We have become somewhat of a “family”, with everyone looking forward to seeing their favorite “Porker” each succeeding year. A good group provides encouragement and support.  Support as in - transportation to the starting city and back from the finish.  Support in terms of having a good place to pitch your tent every night. Support as in getting us close to food and drinks and carrying your baggage

Ragbrai - 2004 - “Iowa is not flat, Iowa is not flat”. That was the refrain I repeated as my fiancé, Cecelia, and I chugged up some of Iowa’s hills. True, there were plenty of miles-long flats on the 2004 RAGBRAI route, probably more flats than hills.  But there were some steep, long, “sumbitch” hills.  Ragbrai has a reputation as a Mardi Gras on wheels, and every town along the route closed off its Main Street and set up booths selling food, souvenirs, and beer. The route changes every year; and this year, it was 490 miles. There were 12,000 cyclists, from every state and from a dozen or more foreign countries. RAGBRAI has a reputation as being a ride where you hang out, see the small towns, meet people, and “pig-out” on food. The daily rides ranged in distance from 62 to 78 miles, and the scenery was truly spectacular. Admittedly, there are no Grand Canyons or Pike’s Peaks or Mount Rushmores; but there are plenty of rolling hills with sleepy silos off in the distance, where corn and soybeans are ruffled by the breeze. The only disturbing thing about the landscape was seeing pro-Bush campaign signs on people’s lawns, not as infrequently as I would have liked.

On the third day, I rode with my “troops”, Chuck Regan and Tom Sorensen. Early in the morning, we came into Eagle Grove, Iowa, - where there was a beautiful classic car parked in practically every driveway. Food was never difficult to find – there were roadside vendors who set up every day of the ride and had acquired a reputation for "American-quality" food:- Mr. Porkchop, - Pastafari, - Farm Boys Breakfast Burrito, - Cup-A-Joe, - Gimme a Sammich, and my personal fave… Beekman’s Homemade Ice Cream.  Actually, these were fairly sophisticated operations that served thousands of cyclists on the fly every day. To the contrary, however, were the church-suppers in the evening, which seemed to serve only mediocre, somewhat leathery roast beef – or spaghetti. (Yuck)

The campsites were usually big fields out in the open – a ball-field, high school yard or state park. In Onawa, we were at the county fairgrounds, sandwiched between a horse track and railroad tracks, with lonesome locomotives wailing every other hour. In Lake View, we were at a state campground on a lake.  Fort Dodge found us on a grassy lawn outside the high school football stadium, and Iowa Falls found us on a rugby field a good two miles out of town. In Marshalltown, we camped on the grounds of the Iowa Veterans Home. In Maquoketa, we were on the back lawn of Maquoketa High. In Clinton, we were next door to the Y. (To this day, when I see open fields, I wonder how many RAGBRAI tents could fit there.)

The weather was better than anyone could have imagined. Iowa was having a cool, wet summer. The first several days were bright, sunny, cool and dry, which made the riding easy and fun. According to a bank time-and-temperature sign we saw in Onawa, the temperature at 6:30 a.m. was 50 degrees; which was hard to imagine for Iowa in July. Thursday however, it started raining. It rained every morning, the rest of the week. My survival strategy was to stop, have a “serious” cup of coffee, and let the caffeine propel me forward at a fast enough pace to stay warm. That worked great until we hit a two-mile stretch of what would have normally been dirt road, but that day was -- mud! Everyone looked like they had done a particularly nasty mountain-bike ride. Iowans, true to form, set up signs offering the use of their garden hoses to wash off. 

Clinton - was the last town. The route weaved its way through downtown, and I couldn’t help thinking of Paul Robeson singing “Old Man River,” since I was about to visit the majestic Mississippi River once again. I sang a verse or two out loud.  “Body all achin’ and racked with pain” – that certainly described the state of my butt. Really, it was a wonderful moment, though tinged with sorrow, as a great week was coming to an end. -- If any of you reading this think it would be a good idea to do RAGBRAI, you’re absolutely right!  Please do train for it, and make sure your shorts don’t chafe, or else your butt, too, will be:- all achin’ and racked with pain. And don’t forget to say “hi”. Wave to Tammy, and Pete, and Chuck, and Tom, and Cecelia, and Bill, and…well, any other RAGBRAI riders you meet.  And, just once, have a large cup of Beekman’s Ice Cream and see how it feels to ride your bike the RAGBRAI way.