RAGBRAI.

The Registry Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa. RAGBRAI. They’ve been doing it 52 years. Dip your rear bicycle wheel in the Missouri River that bounds the west side of the state of Iowa. Seven days later dip your front tire in the Mississippi River that bounds the east.

I’m not exactly sure how it first came to my attention. Maybe the seed was planted by the salesman at the shop where I bought my new bike last autumn. That seed quietly germinated in the back of my mind as I plowed the Carmel bike trails during the cold Indiana winter. It was nurtured by my friend Damian, who had once watched the RAGBRAI caravan roll through his town when he lived in Iowa—a bucket list item for him.

Come spring, when my weekly cycling tally hit 100 miles, what if became why not? Applications were submitted, plans were drawn up, and commitments were made. And when the weekly tally reached 250 miles, there was no doubt, We were doing it! After all that hard work, all those hours in the saddle, imagining it for so long, it’s hard to believe we’re finally on our way..

Aside from an inconvenient flat tire—quickly patched up by a very friendly auto shop in Dubuque—and a string of frankly unwelcome work calls, the seven-hour drive was uneventful. We headed west through Indiana and Illinois, crossed the mighty Mississippi, and rolled into Iowa.

Our destination was Guttenberg, a town of about 1,800 people nestled on the west bank of the Mississippi. It stands guard at a massive flood protection barrier and alongside a large lock that raises and lowers ships to navigate the river. Towns across Iowa compete for the chance to host the 20,000 RAGBRAI cyclists—a significant boost to their local economies. We’ll pass through many such towns this week.

We parked right beside the campsite, situated on the levee in the middle of town—just a stone’s throw from the river—and within minutes, the tents were up! I felt an unexpectedly large surge of pride—perhaps my greatest achievement of the week. After all, it had been over 40 years since I last pitched a tent!

The town of Guttenberg had, well, gone to town! Bands and food trucks were set up to feed and entertain the crowds. There were more than enough port-a-potties, and parking lots were ready for the surge of vehicles. They even opened the high school gym for showers. It felt like every one of the town’s 1,800 residents had volunteered—everyone was so friendly and eager to help.

Yes, we were quite taken with Guttenberg. Eeeexcept for one teeny-tiny little problem. The ships passing through that impressive lock—and the freight trains trundling along the tracks across the river—went on all night. Not ideal when we had a 5 a.m. alarm set to strike camp and catch the bus that would take us clear across the state to Orange City, the starting line.

Despite the cozy comfort of my little tent, I managed precious little sleep as the relentless rhythm of Mississippi commerce carried on through the night. By 4 a.m., I gave up and started taking the tent down.

It was probably for the best, anyway. A strong Midwest storm hit Guttenberg shortly after I finished packing up. We loaded the bus in a torrential downpour, flashes of lightning cutting across the still-dark sky, with thunder rumbling all around us.

We later heard that the cyclists who had gone directly to the start line and camped in Orange City had fared worse. The storm had been far more intense there, and the campsite had to be evacuated to the safety of the local high school.

I had been worried that my legs wouldn’t carry me the full 430 miles this week. But thanks to all the training, I’ve managed to put that fear behind me. Now, my biggest concern is the weather. Severe storms—or perhaps even worse, cycling through heat indices in the 100s—would be a real challenge.

Still, we’re hoping that this morning’s storm was the worst of it. The ten-day forecast isn’t perfect, but it’s looking… okay.

God willing, Guttenberg will welcome us back next Saturday when we reach the finish line and dip our tires into that awe-inspiring river. That moment alone is motivation enough—if any more were needed.