Things Cyclists Love

During my RAGBRAI training, I've come to accept, and often love, the cycling culture. It's a group of people unlike any other, who have some surprising similarities within their diverse levels of commitment. Here are just a few I've become rather fond of as well:

Taco stands: I have been participating in the Twitter event “Bike School” with cyclists from all over the country. Inevitably tacos come up. We like soft shell, hard shell, beef, chicken, fish… I had a turkey taco today. If there’s a question a cyclist doesn’t know, they answer it with “Taco!”. It’s like in Sunday school when the kids don’t know the answer… they just answer Jesus. Most of the time they’re right.

In fact, one of my bike buddies Sam is the proud founder of Tacopocalypse: A Taco stand that will be making an appearance at the Downtown Farmers Market this summer.

Fancy beer and PBR: From my experience, bike snobs tend to be beer snobs. Beer snobs that like Pabst Blue Ribbon… I went to a meeting for my RAGBRAI team, Team Skunk, and when I arrived someone quickly informed me that the biggest issue we were covering in the meeting was, ‘Who’s going to get the beer, and what kind they should get’. Apparently last year there was a mix-up and someone bought bad beer, and the beer that was there had to be rationed.

Hats with tiny brims: I am still working on my T-Chart of the pros and cons of a hat with a tiny brim versus a hat with an average sized brim. If baseball caps are good enough for baseball players, why do cyclists need these special tiny brimmed hats? There’s nothing going on 45 degrees above the horizon that we need to be able to see without moving our heads… Tiny brims are irrelevant… But I want one SO BAD.

Spandex: There’s nothing like a helmet and a padded, spandex onesie to tell the world you’re a serious cyclist.

Get Lost

I mapped out a route Saturday for an hour-long 12 mile trail ride. I’ve been riding the stationary at about 12 mph, so I figured I could get it done if I really pushed it. I had to work at 1:00, so I headed out at 10:30 with plenty of time and plenty of sun.

I parked at a little park in Windsor Heights and jumped on the Des Moines trail system headed toward the Greenbelt Trail.

I rode up to Raccoon River Trail around Clive and I started to get nervous. I had stopped a few times to look at my map and make sure I was headed in the right direction, even taken a few wrong turns and had to double-back, and I knew I wasn’t riding 12mph around the curvy, crowded trails.

The trail finally pointed toward Douglas and I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew where Douglas was on a map. However, I parked at University and 69^th… I was at Douglas and 142^nd and it wasn’t getting any earlier!

I rode on Douglas for quite a while, passing 80/35 and giving an empathetic smile to a man with a “hungry” sign. I sure was hungry too, but I didn’t have anything to share and the water level in my bottle was dwindling.

Finally, the trail crossed over Douglas and left the road at Walter-Johnson Park. No sooner did I give a little fist pump than I realized the bridge was out. I did an about-face and headed back to Douglas.

The trail met back up by the Urbandale Library. I remember thinking to myself at one point in time, ‘I have no idea which way to go at this fork… I probably just picked the wrong direction.’ But I brushed it off and kept trucking. It was getting close to noon and I had to shower and get to work.

This photo shows the path I took in red, and the path I should have taken in green…

I wound up at Ashwood and Bryn Mawr. An intersection the GPS on my phone refused to acknowledge. I stopped for about 20 minutes turning my map around and around, trying to figure out which direction was north, and which was south, and wondering why this trail just ended

I rode up to 72^nd and realized I knew exactly where I was! But I still didn’t know if I was going north or south. I rode down a hill, got to Bucs arena but thought I should have gotten to University… So I figured I went the wrong way. Turned around, rode up to Douglas. Upon reaching Douglas, I contemplated calling my mom and crying. I was flustered, making bad decisions, it was 12:55, I had 5 minutes to shower and get to work, and I had just ridden down and up a huge hill for no reason.

But I pulled myself together, rode down 70^th, knowing I was just one block west of my destination, and headed in the right direction.

I passed a DQ, swearing that if I had time I would have stopped there. Finally back to my car, I rushed home and showered and got into work 45 minutes late. Thankfully my weekend work schedule is VERY flexible… plus I was there ‘till after midnight anyway.

So that was my 18 mile, 2 ½ hour initiation into “long rides”. My little 6 mile downtown-Grays Lake loop paled in comparison to this adventure. Yes, I’m calling it an ‘adventure’… it sounds much better than a ‘disaster’.

I am also adding this little gem for your viewing pleasure. I had a jacket on that I had rolled up to about ¾ length. My SPF clearly only lasted about an hour of that ride.

Is This Heaven? No, it's Iowa.

This is my RAGBRAI training blog. Follow me as I get to know the trails of Iowa, put in some saddle time on county roads and get to know other cycling aficionados. Check me out on Twitter at @alisa_who.

After graduating from Iowa State, I moved away to Chicago for almost two years. I lived a few exits away from what they called the Loop in downtown Chicago. The loop is the home of most of those skyscrapers in the beautiful Chicago skyline.

I always got a fuzzy feeling when I was driving into the city. I would look at the skyline and have to pinch myself. I remember a few times saying, out loud in my car, “I can’t believe I live here”.

I moved to New Orleans and had a similar feeling, looking at Jackson Square, taking part in Mardi Gras… I wondered, “What kind of person gets to live like this?”

Well, today I had that feeling. I woke up and put on the spandex, threw my wheels over my shoulder and walked them down the stairs. I got on my bike, just like every other ride, and headed down the hill. I rode down Locust past the Y, along the lake, past Principle Park. I turned a corner to cross the river, and BAM! There it was!

It wasn’t the Chicago skyline… It was the Des Moines skyline. And, while not quite as grandeur, this skyline slowed me down a little bit. I looked around and saw people fishing off the bridge, I rode down a quiet street, I said “good morning” to every single passerby, even when I got to Grey’s Lake and it was a little ridiculous saying hello to EVERYONE.

My ride turned into a homecoming. I was back home for this season in my life, and Iowa was welcoming me with open arms. Nowhere else in the world could I be training for this ride quite like I will here. And RAGBRAI is unique to Iowa. Not only is it only held here in Iowa, it showcases the best about Iowa.

This cycling niche I’ve fallen into defines Iowa and there’s nothing to complain about when I’m on a bike. Outsiders don’t always understand, but I live in Iowa, and I’m pretty lucky.

What is it about Iowa that makes your heart skip a beat? And can I give a little shout-out to Mother Nature for this little slice of heaven pie in the shape of an 84 degree day?