In Which Heat Forces Morning Rides

Morning sun on early bike ride, Aug. 22, 2023. Seen from mountain bike trail off of the Boyson Trail.

Aug. 22--Mountain bike trail off of Boyson Trail.

Mountain bike trail Tuesday morning.

Mountain bike trail.

Morning sun.

Something new happened to me on my two-wheeled journey across the planet this week. I’m a year-round biker in living in Iowa, and, if it’s dry, any temperature from whatever down to about zero will find me on my bicycle. To me, it is a more pleasant way to get from here to there and enjoy my transit of this life to sit on a bit of molded metal rather than be encased in it.

And yes, I am not athlete, but I do enjoy using my body and consider biking to be a bit of body maintenance. So, promoting that corporal existence is also part of my biking brand.

Which leads me to this week, when something unprecedented occurred.

When it’s icy, snowy or even raining, I tend not to ride (with the caveat that sprinkles don’t always count as rain and flurries aren’t real snow). And it can get too cold—when either the actual temperature or the wind chill gets below zero Fahrenheit, when frost bite is possible in less than 25 minutes (my commute time), I won’t ride.

Heat? It doesn’t normally beat me. I wear appropriate clothes, hydrate adequately and slow down, but I can keep rolling no matter how hot.

Until this week. A heat dome formed over the middle of this continent, and the combination of humidity and heat produced air like none I have felt before. It was only going to be in the mid-90s Tuesday, but will feel like the 100s. And Wednesday and Thursday, the actual temperature was in three digits.

I rode some hot days on RAGBRAI this year but my team decided, partly due to a cold virus, to skip the hottest days. Nonetheless, in my second RAGBRAI, which was about 10 years ago, I rode in triple digit heat.

I was younger then. I hope I’m smarter now. I decided the start of school this year, I would have be doing something I don’t normally do—driving to work.

It’s that hot. I guess I’m learning that 0 to maybe 98 or so is my current biking range, with the caveat that the range is growing slightly narrower over time. I’m not getting any younger, and your body being less tolerant of temperature extremes is one of the prices you pay for survival in the long run.

Tuesday morning, the day before classed start, I did go for an 8-mile ride in the morning before driving to work.

Deer crossing Lindale Trail, seen Aug. 22.

Flowers in woods, seen from mountain bike trail Aug. 22.

Deer peeks out from undergrowth.

Turkey seen from Lindale Trail.

Morning sun seen at C Avenue Pond Aug. 22.

Creek trail on morning of Aug. 22.

The ride Tuesday morning was a little breezy, but nice. I saw a group of turkeys and several deer as I rode on the Boyson and Lindale trails. I was riding the Fancy Beast, so I used the mountain bike trails off of the Boyson Trail, and was pleased to see that a downed tree which had been blocking the “hard” trail has been cleared.

It was a short ride, and I stopped several times to make images, but I liked being out on two wheels, and I liked cheating the heat just a bit. And I liked drawing a picture of a whale:

And by Friday, the heat dome was breaking down. It got to 91 in the afternoon—but guess what. I rode to work and to home in the heat. 100 will put me on four wheels. Nice to find out the 90s won’t.

So far in August: 179.3 miles. Year to date: 2,373.85 miles. My birthday is coming up at the end of this month, but the birthday ride may be on Labor Day Weekend. Lord willing and the creek don’t rise (and the heat dome doesn’t reform). I will be aiming for 65 miles this year!

In Which Priscilla and I Teach Life Lessons

 

Back of my bike.

 So, the week before last week was RAGBRAI.

I am part of a RAGBRAI team called “Team Joe” (named by two of my sisters in a clearly successful attempt to keep me riding along with them). We have our own support vehicle and trade off driving duties, so it was never in the cards that I would ride all of this year’s route.

Still, I hoped to achieve something like half the miles, maybe topping 250 miles for the week. Mother Nature and fate had other plans.

Saturday in camp at Morningside University--Team Joe has donned our RAGBRAI wristbands and are ready for the week.

First life lesson: I am not the center of the universe, and sometimes I have to play the cards I’m dealt rather than the ones I wished I had.

On July 21, I packed up for the long ride, and on July 22, my wife and I embarked on the drive across the state to Sioux City. The rest of Team Joe, my two sisters and a brother-in-law, were to drive from Des Moines.

My wife and I arrived first. It’s an old rule of life that whoever is coming from the farthest often arrives first. We used GPS to get the to park listed as the main camp site, but when we arrived, all we found near the parking lot were lots of “no camping” signs.

GPS on Google leads me here in Sioux City, to the park listed as the main campground. Something is missing.

Now, I know that the park was probably a large one that stretches along the Missouri River, and I’m sure there was another area we simply couldn’t see from where we were that was used for RAGBRAI camping.

But, in the meantime, we discovered online that Morningside University was listed as a camping area, too, and we assumed (correctly) that it may be less crowded that the main campground anyway, so my wife and I drove there and I picked a shady spot and pitched my tent.

After lunch in a nearby Dairy Queen, my wife left for the drive home, leaving me on my own. Not for long, I only had a short wait until the crew from Des Moines, driving the support vehicle, arrived.

It was a comfortable camp spot, despite the motorcycle group that cruised by repeatedly at night. Supper was at a decent Mexican restaurant and we were in our tents, asleep, by soon after 9. At 5 a.m. Sunday, my sister Cate and I arose and began prepping for the ride. We were the first riders of the first day, while my other sister, Brigid, and her husband, Eldon, were the first drivers.

Cate and I knew we were in for a climb because we were going through the Loess Hills, a hilly region of western Iowa where the majority of the more than 3,000 feet of climb set for that day would take place. We hoped to leave camp by 6 a.m., but peddled off about 6:30.

Second life lesson: Most things take longer than you think. It applies especially to two old night owls early in the morning.

We had a 5-mile or so ride to get to the park where RAGBRAI was to start. And when we did find it, we almost regretted finding it. Camping vehicles were attempting to leave the park using the same road that was clogged with bikers. Bike traffic was chaotic and heavy, and it was a hairy cruise getting out of the park. Once we were finally in the city proper, we had to dodge traffic cones that Sioux City inexplicably lined the whole route with. I suppose it was to try to squeeze us into one lane, but given the crush of riders (this we a difference RAGBRAI, the 50th ride, and there was far more biker than in most years) that was impossible.

The crowd was so large that several walking “scrums” formed in the first few miles of countryside, something unusual on RAGBRAI. A scrum is normal in a town. In a town, there is usually a point where bikers have to dismount and walk for a few blocks, but such is not expected out in the countryside.

Day one, walking scrum in the countryside. Walk Across Iowa.

We were expecting to find breakfast on the road. But there were very few vendors in the 29 miles to Kingsley, where we finally were able to stop to eat. And they were hilly miles.

However, there was good news. While the week would turn hot, the early days, particularly in the mornings, were pleasant. And while the graph of elevations made this first half of the first day look very daunting, it turned out many of the hills were “rollers,” where one hill is followed by another in such proximity that the downhill momentum from the first one helps you climb the second.

Our breakfast involved a nice waffle in Kinglsey, but a long wait in a hot line to get to food. Crowded RAGBRAI.

Day 1 ended for Cate and I in the tiny hamlet of Washta, the “meet town” where Brigid and Eldon had parked “Chuck” the Honda Pilot that was our support vehicle (yes, named after Chuck Yaeger because it’s a pilot …). We used an app called “What3Words” that gives detailed coordinates to any location, and it worked well to share the location of the support vehicle.

Scene from Monday ride.

Sunday’s ride ended in Storm Lake. On Monday, the ride was to Carroll. The route was to go through Early, a tiny town I lived in during the 1990s, and I was kind of looking forward to riding through there. But we had a host couple who lived on a small farm near Sac City, and their gravel road abutted the route just south of Early, so on Monday my ride began there.

On Monday, Cate was to hang out with the college pal who was our host while I, Bridgid and Eldon rode. Cate and I had missed pie the first day—we only passed through two towns, after all. On day 2, the pie drought ended in a big way.

We merry band had eaten breakfast at our host house, so we passed through the first town, Lake View, and headed on to the second, Breda. And at Breda, the Lions Club was selling pie. It was apple, cherry or peach—a slightly narrow selection by RAGBRAI standards (no rhubarb!), but it looked good. “And we have a shady area for you to sit,” one of the ladies said. Sold.

I carried my pie to a shady table. I was the quickest of the team to pick my pie (peach) and as I sat down, another sweet lady said: “We have a flusher inside, and would you like a cup of coffee?”

A free cup of coffee served in an actual mug and a bathroom with indoor plumbing? It was some kind of RAGBRAI pie nirvana.

We also enjoyed a stop in Mt. Carmel, where we each ate a great BLT sandwich and checked out the huge, fancy Catholic church in the tiny town. The church volunteers all dressed as angels, which was a cute touch.

Brigid and Eldon, half of Team Joe, ride their trikes in front of me.

The afternoon was growing a bit warm as we finally entered Carroll for the end of day two, just a taste of what warmth was to come.

And my throat was getting sorer. I started to notice a scratchy throat on Sunday, and it was worse on Monday. By Monday night, I was feeling really under the weather. Foreshadowing: If you are in close proximity with your RAGBRAI teams, sadly, it’s not likely your personal virus will stay all that personal.

We stayed that night again with our Sac City host, and took off in the morning. The host was taking Cate and Brigid to the start of the route, while Eldon and I were to leave Chuck in Rippley, the meet town.

With the packing up and drive (the driving route maps RAGBRAI posted were terrible), it was late morning by the time we got to the meet town. We were in for a hot ride. It was miserable in town, but improved a bit when we got out to town and got a bit of a breeze.

Eldon assists another biker for part of the ride.

It was 22 miles to Luther, but lunch at a local barbecue joint, Whatcha Smokin BBQ, was excellent. Another long line, but worth the wait. It’s one of the nice aspects of RAGBRAI that can keep you coming back—the opportunity to discover aspects of Iowa towns you weren’t aware of, whether you’re from here or somewhere else.

Third life lesson: Everybody everywhere are living interesting lives, and every place has its own story to tell.

The ride ended in Ames, where we had an adventure getting to our kind hosts’ house. It’s fortunate that Cate and Brigid, my sisters, went to ISU, worked there, and still have contact with an ISU mafia that can house us on RAGBRAI.

Anyway, the host lives on the north end of Ames, while we entered town from the south. To get us there, Google decided to give us a tour of the ISU campus, which was both weird and kind of nice (it’s a very pretty campus). We skipped the stadium ride, because, honestly, why do non-sports fans like us care?

We knew that Wednesday would be a hot day. That night, we would be at Eldon’s and Brigid’s house, so they volunteered to drive. Cate and I got a fairly early start, hoping to beat the heat.

Because our hosts had again fed us, we planned to keep cycling past the first town. But shades of day 1—the crowd was so intense that the walking scrum for Slater, the first town after Ames, formed almost a mile from town. The Great Walk Across Iowa once again appeared.

In Slater, town one on road from Ames. Scrum forms early.

Thus, we entered Slater slowly, and walked our way for a while. Near the edge of town, the county conservation department had set up a nice stop featuring water and free bananas—but despite our early start, all the bananas were gone by the time we got there. Yes, we had no bananas.

We watered up and continued our stroll across Slater. After the vendor area, we got to the mount point, started to ride away, but suddenly stopped.

A Lutheran church. A long row of tables with no lines. Pies. And yes, strawberry rhubarb was an option, which I think we both chose.

They didn’t have free coffee, nor a designated shady sitting area, but it was so unbusy that the retaining wall of the church provide pleasant, shaded seating.

It was already feeling warm. As we rode on through the morning, it kept getting warmer and a warmer.

Polk City had a bright idea—they opened some fire hydrants to spray in the air. Since they weren’t horizontal, they didn’t have the force to knock you down, but a hydrant provides a very intense, cooling shower, an appreciated and maybe needed shock to the system.

And the corn growers were there, too—free sweet corn! We did the obligatory corn promo truck tour, managed to fish out a fact to earn both corn and a corn necklace, and also purchased a “biker brat,” which was a bun-less bratwurst. We bought a Tailwind IPA, the official RAGBRAI brew, at another booth and enjoyed the quintessential RAGBRAI lunch.

And then we rode off into the increasingly hot day. It was afternoon now, and as we approach Ankeny, the heat was getting brutal. When we left lunch, our intention was to ride all the way to Des Moines, but as we approached Ankeny, our intentions quickly changed.

We texted the rest of Team Joe to come get us. After a hot ride across Ankeny to a pickup point, we rode into Des Moine in the comfort of Chuck’s AC.

See the first life lesson.

Cate rides ahead of me on Ankney bike trail as we seek pickup point beyond RAGBRAI traffic.

Our plan was to enjoy a night in a house in Des Moines, and ride to Tama-Toledo in two shifts for our final night of camping for RAGBRAI 2023. I would then ride part of the day to Coralville and be delivered home on Friday, while the team would continue to at least Muscatine on Saturday.

But again, fate decided to take a hand. The minor virus I had brought to the team was starting to spread. Cate was starting to feel a scratchy throat that night, which by Thursday morning was very uncomfortable.

I slept later than expected Thursday, because they did not wake me. The mood was serious when I awoke, “we need to meet” someone said. Hmm. And there were COVID tests on the dining table.

The day was expected to be even hotter, and the team had lost the will to camp on a hot, hot night. With the onset of Joe’s Disease, which I was mostly recovered from, Cate had also lost the will to bike. Brigid had a job interview scheduled for the week after RAGBRAI, and was feeling like being rested and healthy was a priority.

We did the nose swabs and took the tests. We didn’t really think it was THAT virus, and the negative tests seem to back up that impression. But the team didn’t want to bike any more. And I don’t blame them, in the context of all the factors, it felt like the right decision.

A kid handed me a new bike bling as I rode past on final RAGBRAI ride.

And I had family visiting this week, visits scheduled without regard to RAGBRAI based on other plans. By returning home Thursday rather than Friday, I got to at least briefly see a daughter and her daughters that I would have otherwise missed.

They were in town from Minnesota because my oldest son, who lives in San Francisco, was visiting. And he was partly in Iowa to fulfill a life goal. A pig roast had been planned in California, but did not take place—and the trip to Iowa provided another opportunity to feed a crowd by roasting a whole hog.

My children are, for some reason, into food and cooking, and the oldest son was determined to fulfill this life goal. He arranged to buy a rotisserie, rent a large barbecue to put it over and purchase a whole hog.

And, on top of all that, he decided to ride the final day of RAGBARI with some college friends who live in the area. Another ISU mafia.

His ride didn’t completely go as planned—yadda, yadda, life lessons, etc. What with one thing and another, including an early flat tyre, he got home later than expected Saturday, and we had prep work to do for the big post-RAGBRAI hog roast, set for Sunday.

Set up the unit. Discover that it was good Amazon had by accident delivered two different units, because one had a piece welded on upside down, which made it impossible to assemble.

And get the pig out of the fridge, clean it, inject marinade, and rub it with spices. My wife and I acted as the support crew, and after staying up till close to midnight Saturday, we were up again around 5:30 a.m. Sunday to help our oldest son get the pig going.

It took some time and several loads of charcoal, but before 7 a.m., the hog was on the spit, being turned slowly over smoldering charcoal.

Image make by Cate--Priscilla has been roasted, my oldest son and I are getting ready to remove her from the cooking area to the carving table.

One of my daughters-in-law, the wife of my younger son, came out early in the morning, and we were the fire crew who prepped new loads of charcoal using a chimney starter and applying them to the bed of coals.

It was Stefanie, the daughter-in-law, who helped name the hog. Jon, the oldest son whose pig roast this was, determined that the animal had been female, and it became Priscilla Hogsley.

Jon’s young son, who speaks primarily Spanish, had an interesting set of observations. I speak a little Spanish, but it was handy to have Jon to translate. “Why did the pig have to die?” my grandson inquired. And in the next breath, “I’m hungry for the hog.”

Fourth life lesson: Food we eat comes from somewhere. If I’m going to eat meat, I have to be prepared to make peace with the idea that something died so I can eat.

I sacrificed some sleep for a post-RAGBRAI celebration. My wife sacrificed more—not just the sleep, but while I was mostly sitting in a lawn chair arising now and then to light or pour coals, she was very busy, cooking up a storm in the kitchen to have a mountain of side dishes ready. And, of course, Priscilla sacrificed the most.

My biker sister in town, another sister who had planned to be a support driver for the final day which we didn’t ride and my son plus his riding friend and his family, as well as more of my kids and grandkids, enjoyed a fine feast Sunday afternoon.

Priscilla’s sacrifice was not in vain.

And so, we close the book on RAGBRAI L. It was an L of a ride. Enjoyable, but way more crowded, and the size of the ride seemed to overwhelm the new crew that was organizing it. In total, I rode 157.5 miles in four days on RAGBRAI, short of the over 200 that I had planned, but it was still a good ride. I had more than 500 miles in June and, at the end of RAGBRAI, 2,227 miles for the year.

Bike bears bands of many RAGBRAIs--not all of them, I rode a hybrid bike on several early rides.

But wait, there’s more. Two more life lessons.

I’ve gone on several rides since RAGBRAI, the most eventful being Aug. 2. The weather was nicer, warm but not brutally hot, and continued dry. I decided to enjoy some riding on The Fancy Beast, my mountain bike. A park a couple of miles from my house, Noelridge Park, includes some natural flower areas, and one has a grassy walkway. I circle that area often on bike rides, and on this day, I decided to ride the grassy part on the Fancy Beast.

That part of the ride went well. And I returned towards home and rode down the Lindale Trail to the Boyson Trail. There are mountain bike trails there, although one was blocked by a fallen tree from the thunderstorm that had blown through before the final day of RAGBRAI.

I thought that was the glitch of the ride. But just like the movie Apollo 13, the minor problem wasn’t the major problem.

Tree that fell in storm blocks mountain bike trail in Marion. As it turns out, one of the final images I made before a bike accident claims this camera.

I was ready to head home, and decided to use a side trail I don’t normally ride since it’s slightly rough limestone. It’s a piece of cake, or so I thought, on The Fancy Beast.

And just ahead of me on the trail, a whole group of wild turkeys and a deer were fetchingly crossing the trail. I was zooming along and wanted to stop to make an image.

A bit of bike knowledge. When you brake, you either have to brake only with the rear wheel or with both wheels, never just the front wheel. But I was distracted and not paying adequate attention and I am also left (front-wheel) handed. So, I squeezed with my left hand first, not simultaneously with my right hand.

Big mistake. I knew it was a possible hazard, but had never personally experienced it in more than five decades of bicycle riding.

Fifth life lesson: If you stop the front wheel of your bicycle too abruptly, you can flip a bike end-over-end.

It’s not a maneuver I recommend. I realized what was happening as I flipped dramatically into the air and had some time for speaking choice cuss words before the inelegant, rough landing.

Luckily, I let go with my hands, which meant I extended my arms as I flipped and didn’t land on my head. In fact, my left knee took the hardest jolt as I ground my heavy body into the planet through a rough limestone surface.

Ouch. Way ouch. But not as ouch as it could have been.

Sixth life lesson: When it goes wrong, I should count my blessings that it doesn’t go wronger.

Sure, I had just had one of my rare accidents. Sure, I was stunned, scratched, out of breath. Sure, the small Cannon camera that had recorded all of my RABRAI experiences fell out of my pocket and got broken on the hard trail surface.

But I was more OK than I thought I was. I was scratched but not bleeding badly. I had a sore knee but zero broken bones. Head and neck and face were all intact. The bike lost all of its lights (luckily none of them broke and just had to be clicked back into place), but was otherwise undamaged.

I stopped to collect myself and send my wife a text—I didn’t need rescue, but was wasting a bit of time to ensure I was OK. Then, I mounted The Fancy Beast and pedaled, slowly, home.

It turned out by next day my knee was quite painful, but I was intending to go to campus to work, and of course, I rode a bicycle there. And had my second fall in two days.

Quite a rarity for me—I still think I would need only the fingers of one hand to count up all of the falls I’ve had over the years.

Anyway, the Aug. 3 fall from Argent, my road bike, was way less of a deal. I was stopped at a stoplight, and it was cloudy enough that I thought riding with lights made sense. I went to hop off the bike to turn on the lights, and, partly because my knee was acting up, didn’t quite clear it with my leg and tumbled into the grass beside the sidewalk.

Luckily, only my ego was injured in this second mishap. In fact, in the ensuing days, it turned out the knee injury was minor—I know from experience that a banged knee can be very sore for months, and I was lucky this one was only sore for days.

All in all, I would have some advice for the new crew running RAGBRAI now—such as do a much, much better job on maps and don’t force everyone to use an app for maps—but I enjoyed the ride. And the hog roast.

Can’t say I enjoyed the tumbles from the bikes—yet, even most of those rides went well.

And I like to think that I learned some life lessons. Maybe that’s all we can ask.

In Which There is a Lull Before

Airing my tent out in the backyard July 20. It's my second RAGBRAI tent, much smaller and simpler than the first. Less complex is sometimes good.

I had not really planned it that way, but Wednesday was my final bike ride before RAGBRAI.

On Monday, I had gone to Des Moines to visit my youngest son, daughter-in-law and grandson there. The daughter-in-law has a new bike given to her for her birthday by my son, and it was a momentous gift, marking her foray into the world of biking. She never learned to ride a bike as a child, and just last week they went to Gray’s Lake, where she glided around for a while on my son’s bike, and then started pedaling.

He shot a video. She pedals by him, saying something about blessed excrement. It turns out, in your 30s, if you're motivated, it's possible for your body and brain to learn the subtle balance needed to keep moving on two wheels.

So, we brought our bikes to Des Moines and pedaled along the paths near Gray’s Lake Park with them. Our speed was pretty slow, dictated by a very young grandson who waffled between riding in a trailer (faster) and zooming along on a glider bike (slower).

On a trail near Gray's Lake, Des Moines, newest rider, daughter-in-law, leads the way.

Still, it was a pretty day, it was fun to enjoy a ride with a new adult biker, and we did also stop at a playground, always fun.

Tuesday, I only did a little riding, going to campus and back and doing a minor amount of work there.

And on Wednesday, pre-RAGBRAI riding reached it climax. I got my mountain bike out of the garage that afternoon, planning to ride on some grassy walkways through a prairie flower garden at Waldo's Rock Park in Marion. It was a fine, warm afternoon. On the way, I encountered a group of turkeys crossing the Lindale Trail, and made some images of them.

And when I got out to Waldo’s Rock, there was a pelican at the pond, which was cool to see.

Pelican (above and below) leaving Waldo's Rock pond.

Pelican in the pond.

Turkey (above and below) seen on Lindale Trail.

Turkeys (above and below), Lindale Trail.

The final ride was thus already a win but it would get even better. I was headed back west, intending to ride the mountain bike trails by the Boyson Trail, when I ran into my wife riding the other way. We decided to ride on the Boyson Trail together. We went out to Menard’s and then turned back. When we got to the mountain bike trail, I took it and she stayed on the main trail. By pushing pretty hard, I managed to finish the mountain bike trail in the same time that she rode the main trail. We rode home together.

She rode 10 miles that day. I rode 17.4 miles. The miles this week were far fewer—deliberately so, taking it easy the week before RAGBRAI is a time-honored strategy to have your body well rested for the long ride.

And it’s shaping up to be a long ride in at least one way. A heat wave is expected, with temps approaching triple digits by mid next week. Hot weather riding—well, I have done that before. Was it 2012? It was my second RAGBRAI, and it began in a heat wave. Temps that year soared to more than 100 degrees.

The strategy was clear—begin each day as early as possible and ride as far as possible before the heat really kicked in. Take hydration seriously. Any time you felt a bit off, stop, find some shade, rest a while. It was a tough RAGBRAI, but I got through it.

I was younger then. And my style of RAGBRAI riding has evolved. During that ride, the goal was to ride every mile. Now I’m on a family team where we share driving duties, and so I have the choice whether to ride a full day or half day.

The hydration and rest strategy will be in place. The start early strategy is also important. The let the ride be what it will be and don’t fuss about riding all the miles idea is new. I plan to enjoy the ride as best I can, let the weather be what it is and roll with it. In the RAGBRAI spirit.

In July so far, I have pedaled 346.9 miles. Year to date, 2,035.9 miles. And more miles next week as I roll most of the way across the state. See you on the other side. My RAGBRAI will probably end Thursday, my plan is to ride 5 days and then be home to see visiting family members.

Good luck to you if you’re doing the ride this year. And next week on RAGBRAI, start early, take it easy and drink—water. Lots of water.

In Which Team Joe Faces Heat

What a hot ride does to bikers. What hot bikers do to cats.

At the end of the ride, to celebrate, we had bottles of “Not Your Dad’s Root Beer,” which I should get a kickback from for product placement, but it’s been the official drink of Team Joe for a couple of years.

The Des Moines crew was kind enough to bring the six pack, but when it arrived in Cedar Rapids it was only a four-pack. The Des Moines crew looked away and let the silence grow slightly awkward.

Anyway, Team Joe met for its traditional pre-RABRAI summit—this year on Independence Day. There are four of us, two of my sisters, my brother-in-law and me. We had a nice breakfast at Riley’s (product placement) and then met at Cate’s house to start our ride.

We first headed over to Lowe Park. The visitors from the west were suitably impressed by both the flower meadows and the rusty buffalo being stalked by gardeners.

Although, from a distance, they also thought the Lowe Park art performance amphitheater looked like a statue of an alien from the movie “Alien.”

The morning was sunny and humid, and already quite warm by the time we got to Lowe Park. I was in the lead, which was nice because I do have a tender knee and it ensured that the group moved at the glacial pace of gimpy CR Biker. Eldon, who has a hamstring injury, said he did not mind the slow pace.

After Lowe Park, we headed over to the Boyson Trail, mostly to visit the facilities at Thomas Park.

After the break, while we were on the Lindale Trail, Eldon noticed a leak in one tyre, and for a while, there was some drama as we waited to find out if the sealant in his tubeless tyre would work. It took its time—we speculate extreme heat may have been a factor, and Eldon aired up the tyre several times—but in the end, the tyre held and the ride went on.

It went on through gathering heat. On Facebook, Brigid called the ride “hot and squiggly.” We were recreating my earlier slow quest for flowers, mostly because the Des Moines crew had not seen Lowe Park before.

But Noelridge again stole the show. We wandered over to the Monarch hatching area, and saw several of the majestic insects flitting about the milkweed there. And, of course, oohed and ahhed  at the cocoons.

A Monarch, upper left, takes off to avoid the press at Noelridge Park. Fortunately, the cacoons, below, can't flee as easily.

We then headed east and down to the 42nd Street Parlor City (product placement) on the Cedar River Trail for ice cream. After that, to finish the ride, we went north to side trail that leads to the Robins City Park (technically, South Troy Park--product placement).

Finally, we rode to Cate’s, drank our root beer and had our team meeting. Which basically consisted of: “Brigid has a driver’s schedule planned,” and the rest of us saying “that sounds like a good idea.”

We somnolently watched a hummingbird feed, some turkeys and other wildlife (note the importance of commas in the preceding sentence so that a hummingbird was not feeding turkeys and other wildlife--and no, Des Moines writer, no Oxford comma). One of Cate’s cats wondered onto the sun porch where we were lounging, and reflected the mood by itself lounging.

Nothing like a hot summer ride to turn at team of bikers into boneless kitties.

The ride will put a biker to sleep. The promise of root beer will wake them up. And there had been a hummingbird at this feeder (below), I have witnesses. Wildlife was being elusive on this hot day.

Anyway, we agreed that an early start each day is a key to RAGBRAI. We agree on that every year, and we’ll see how the execution of that idea goes. Our track record is a bit mixed. But our ride totaled over 30 miles (some dispute about how much over, there were minor computer problems, but I know my miles totaled close to 40 for the day—but include several solo miles to and from the ride).

It was a good pre-RAGBRAI ride. And it may lead to a crazier ride yet this week. The trail to Waterloo closes next week, so Cate and I are thinking … why not ride there Friday when the weather will be cooler? And if we can ride to Waterloo, what is there to keep us from riding back beyond sore knees and common sense? We sometimes try at least one pre-RAGBRAI century practice ride—and it’s 102 miles there and back again from the Hiawatha trail head.

Stay tuned, biker fans. There may be more pre-RAGBRAI adventures ahead. May your RAGBRAI training go well, too—and may you avoid melting in the Iowa summer heat.

I arrive home for family feast the afternoon of the fourth, and snap image of flag on my front stoop. Happy treason day, fellow colonialists!

In Which 20 Hot Afternoon Miles Pass OK

Otis Road, headed home from Prairie Park Fishery. This bare stretch of road is a tad toasty on a hot afternoon. I was grateful for the clouds, which provided occasional slightly shadier conditions.

I took two bike rides today, and overall I would say it was a good day.

This warm morning began with a hill climb on Brentwood Drive. Then, I rode to campus, with a loop on the Boyson Trail first. On campus, I climbed the MMU hill four times. That morning ride totaled 10 miles.

Victory selfie with Sister Frances on MMU campus after four morning hill climbs.

My goal today was to make a preliminary plan for the Fall Faculty Series at MMU, and do some other work. I never did get to the “other work,” but planning the series was rewarding. It’s good to look ahead to an exciting event, whether it’s RAGBRAI or our fall series this year on immigration.

I left campus a bit before 3. It was hot, but it was my plan to get some “hot” miles in today. Riding safely in heat is a key RAGBRAI skill, given that the ride is during the hottest part of an Iowa summer. In June, there aren’t likely to be that many days with a temperature over 90, so today was an opportunity.

I took advantage of the heat by riding to the Prairie Park Fishery. Despite it being over 90—a bank thermometer on the way home read 94, and by then I think it had started to cool, just a bit—the ride wasn’t so bad. When it gets over 100, any breeze can make things worse by blowing hot air over you, but if the air temperature is below body temperature, even just by a few degrees, moving air helps, and the air was moving today.

Cedar Lake. Water a bit choppy and conditions a bit windy, but some hardy person is out on a kayak. I was eating a bag of nuts at about 4:30 p.m., taking a break. That's one key to hot rides--ride for a while and then rest awhile.

Bank thermometer near my house.
40-minute ride from Cedar Lake.

I deliberately took it easy. I’m normally not a fast biker, but I was lazing along, even for me, and ensuring I took drinks at least every 15 minutes. I felt a little bad about 5 miles into the ride, but honestly felt better after that—I think my body adjusted.

Anyway, the afternoon ride added another 20 miles, so I hit 30 for this very hot day. I still haven’t done a 60-mile day, and want to do that soon—but I’ll save that for a day when the bank thermometer isn’t reading 94.

In Which The Friday Heat Makes For A Slow Ride

On C Avenue, headed north, my 55th birthday, Aug. 30, 2013. Note how grass is losing it's green, and some young trees are brown. It's still pretty, although you might not think so if you were out on a bicycle in the relentless sun on this broiling hot day.

I hoped to head home a bit early Friday—it was my birthday, and there was a family party planned, complete with grandkids, and CR Biker loves partying with the grandkids.

Anyway, what with printing a set of papers from a freshman class, it was after 4 when I left campus. I got a text from a daughter, and the message stated “Mom wonders where you are.” Well, I was on my way, more than halfway there by the time I got the message.

It was a slow afternoon ride. Not terribly slow—I’m sure I made it in around 30 minutes, which is about par. But I sure was not pushing. I slipped into higher gears and peddled easily.

It was hot. Not a little warm. It was full-on, Iowa summer max, egg frying on pavement, hot. We’ve been dry for weeks, and the plants look pale, and now the dry is punctuated and accentuated by heat. Grass is turning brown and many trees are shedding leaves.

In the afternoon, bikers move slowly. I was thinking of a line from "To Kill A Mockingbird"--"it seemed hotter then," and retorting, "no it didn't. It's hotter NOW."  I don’t need it—it is less than a 5 mile ride, for goodness sake—but I do take and sip some water along the afternoon journey.

When I got to the corner of C Avenue and Blair’s Ferry Road, the battling temperature signs (one on a drug store and one on a bank) displayed their random readings. The bank, which seems to at least be in the neighborhood, said 93. It felt much hotter—I suspect the bank was under-stating by 5 degrees or so, and the heat index was well over 100. The drug store? I don’t even remember, but I know from experience that, for temperature, it just displays random digits. In heat like this, it would typically claim something ridiculous, like “85.”

Well, I made it home, safe and sound and feeling very hot. That CR Biker, he’s so hot right now. Next week will be cooler and there is a slight chance for rain over the weekend.

May we get some. We need some. And the cooler temperatures will definitely make the bicycle journeys much more pleasant!

All My Bags Are Packed, I'm Ready To Go ….

Cate at Parlor City Pub.  We are in the cop corner.  And even saw a bike cop on the trail.

Well, not really. I have some final prep to do in the morning, including tagging all my stuff.

CR Biker will be on vacation next week, so no blog updates for a while. Despite the triple-digit heat, I'll be on RAGBRAI. Wish me luck, blog followers, but I am acclimated to the Iowa summer, and promise to drink lots of water and electrolyte solution and to be careful out there.

Did the final long prep ride Thursday with my sister Cate. We were exchanging data about our home town. She requested a tutorial on changing a flat (she has had her first flat in recent history, whereas I am a regular flatulent rider and have lots of tire-changing experience, alas). (And yes, I know, a fart joke is low humor, but I hope you chuckled.)

So I showed her how to put on a new tube and then we rode the Boyson Trail and then down to Prairie Park Fishery, neither of which she had been on before (well, I'm sure she has been on the older parts of the Boyson Trail, but not the new ones that opened this year).

My lunch, the "Jucy Lucy" with sweet potato fries.  Very good, but the menu warned "the first bite will be hot."  Maybe they meant literally hot, because it was just a very good burger, not really spicy.

For lunch, she offered to take me to the Parlor City Pub in the New Bohemia district. The pub is just one block off the trail, but I had not known of it before. I highly recommend it. I had an excellent burger and sweet potato fries, and plan to take Audrey there soon—partly because the food and atmosphere are fun, but also because it's next door to a book store I have not been in yet.

Cate's lunch.  She says the pulled pork had a nice tangy sauce and was very good.

Well, Thursday night I had pretty bad leg cramps. 40 miles with my sister did something bad. But leg cramps, while they can be really, really painful, are also really, really nothing in terms of long-term problems—I would much rather have the cramps than, say, a swollen and sore knee.

All in all, I look forward to RAGBRAI with some trepidation. You can never say you've done enough miles when you hit that road. I'm flying more solo this year, without a Microsoft cohort to keep me company and schlep my bags.

But, I think I'm ready.

Stay tuned, blog fans. CR Biker will not be updating for a while, but when I do, I'll tell you all about my hot time on RAGBRAI.

Old Blackie, now tuned for RAGBRAI, in bike rack at Parlor City, a biker bar in New Bohemia.  It's chained to Cate's bike.  Catty corner from Parlor City is a motorcycle bar.  We wisely chose the bicycle biker bar.

Mad Dogs and CR Biker in the Mid Day Sun

Egret in Cedar River today.  I volunteer to wade in the polluted waters too.  It was hot, hot, hot!

Come a little bit closer, you're my kind of bird, so cute and so tall.

A closeup. From the lion bridge, so we're zooming a lot.

How hot was it?  Well, I’ve never web-enabled my not-so-smart phone, and although my bike computer has a thermometer, I don’t know how to use it.  The actual temperature today was in the upper 90s, but the heat index, taking humidity into account for the mischief it does for human comfort, was in the three digits.

Did I ride?  Well, I can’t control the weather during RAGBRAI, so, yes, I did.

Slowly.  I’m usually slow anyway.  Today, I must have seemed glacial.  I snailed along the trail, taking my time, drinking my wine.  It was white and alcohol free wine, made exclusively of two parts hydrogen to one part oxygen (amounts not given by weight).

Anyway, I did about 30 miles total today in 3 rides, one of them in the hottest part of the afternoon.  Hit it, Noel:

The ride was hot, windy, and fine.  As was the case during RAGBRAI last year, I found myself surprisingly uncomfortable but otherwise OK in the heat.  This year, the techno bike jersey helps, so the ride was doable.  Good practice for any especially hot RAGBRAI days that I hope don’t happen because they would really suck.

The most uncomfortable part of by body was the wettest.  My head.  The helmet is good at building up a storage of liquid so that when you pause and take it off, you go EWWW.  Maybe I should shave my head for RAGBRAI?  Naw.  Sunburn.

The heat in my head had a poor impact on my brain, I think.  Anyway, I had ridden on the downtown trail, and was headed back toward campus to say hi to Audrey, when I was stopped by a train at the construction site of the new central library.  I could have gone north on streets, but that would have violated my strict “take it easy in the heat” biking rule, so I parked Old Blackie and was idle while the train snailed by (it seemed to be taking it easy in the heat, too—maybe the whole world was).

As I enjoyed the hundred-degree heat, I idly inspected the artist’s rendition of the new library.  It was amusing to me partly because it was exactly backward from my point of view, but OK.  Anyway, as I looked at the image, I started to have questions.

On a sign at the site of the new library, what the other side of it will look like.  Weirdos on the roof.  Depressed pedestrians.  A woman in yellow so confused she's air fishing at a piece of art that resembles a giant, mangled bike chain (clearly an homage to nearby trail).  A spooky sitter hiding behind the tree.  But, most spooky of all, what is that man/woman in the skirt/kilt next to the giant pile of art?

Why do so many people hang out on the roof of the library?

Why does that pedestrian look so depressed, shoulders hunched, watching the ground as he walks along?  Did the library not have his favorite Bill Bryson book or the second installment of “The Hunger Games?”

From a distance, a school girl.  But on second thought, a burly Scot in a kilt,
and he looks neither harmless nor happy.

And then there was her.  Or him.  At first glance, a school girl in a plaid shirt.  But a rather large, burly looking school girl, who the more I looked at her, she became “him.”  A rather muscular Scot kilt-wearing psychopathic murderer, looking for the next victim whose eardrums and brain s/he can shatter with his pipes of death.

No wonder Mr. Pedestrian is depressed.  With Jack the Mac Ripper nearby, he’s not expecting to get out alive.

Finally, the train moved on and so did I and the handful of other Mad Dog Englishmen bikers who were out on this scorching day.