Afterword

To be honest, I think I oversold RAGBRAI. I had pitched it as a physical and mental challenge on par with climbing Everest. But to be fair, considering where I started my preparation from, it was my Everest. Over 400 miles in the sweltering Iowa summer was a daunting prospect.

Physically, though, it wasn’t as difficult as I’d expected—certainly nowhere near the mountain I had built it up to be. I’m glad I trained for it—at my peak, I was doing 250 miles a week, which in hindsight may have been overkill. Still, I shouldn’t underestimate how valuable that investment was on the tougher days—when the wind howled, the heat soared, and the hills stretched endlessly ahead.

Many of our fellow riders looked like they were on a bike for the first time that week—seemingly no training at all—yet somehow always reached the next town before us, fresh-faced and sweet-smelling, while we rolled in a sweaty, dusty mess. Some, I suspect, treated the SAG wagon more like an Uber than an emergency back-up. Others may have found more creative ways to ease their journey.

But we can proudly say we completed the entire route—from Orange City to Guttenberg—without once dismounting or calling for support.

My brother-in-law once rode from LA to Boston. Over 3,000 miles. He completed every inch of it and has a small tattoo on his ankle to prove it that reads “EFI” — Every fucking Inch. While my accomplishment doesn’t quite match his, I might get one too.

I was also thrilled that, for the most part, both man and machine made it through the week unscathed. The noisy crank on my bike—expertly patched mid-ride by Bike Tech Matt—may still need a proper replacement, but it held together when it mattered. My troublesome hip, a remnant from years of soccer, gave me no issues at all—the steroid injection I got two weeks earlier worked like a charm. I might start scheduling those on a regular basis.

My right hamstring did raise a few concerns on the steeper climbs, but the massage therapists traveling with the Pandas took care of it during a couple of evening sessions and kept me strong throughout.

Even the camping turned out to be surprisingly tolerable, considering it was my first time under canvas in many, many years. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it was actually fun—at least for a short while.

That said, I can’t deny that I was grateful—no, relieved—actually, let’s be honest—overjoyed—to finally arrive at a long-coveted, gloriously air-conditioned room… with a flushing toilet.

As with similar experiences—like my World Cup adventures—the real highlight of the week was the people of RAGBRAI. I doubt I’ll see many of them again, if any, but those brief encounters and spontaneous conversations will live with me forever.

People have asked if I’d do RAGBRAI again. The answer is an unequivocal “yes.” The better question is when. I’ve definitely caught the cycling bug and am already yearning for more adventures. I’ve since learned that many other states—and even countries—host similar rides, and I’d love to explore a few of those before returning to Iowa.

So, I’ll put this here, in writing, in the hope it spurs me to action: I’ve got my eye on the famous Land’s End to John O’Groats ride, from the southernmost tip to the northernmost point of the UK. Early research suggests that Iowa’s hills are mere bumps compared to what lies ahead on that route.

Then again, I did oversell the challenge of RAGBRAI. And, like mountain climbing, there’s always another Everest to conquer.