68 Day 5 Mason City to Waverly: Are We There Yet?

Springs, Rocks, Greene, and Clarks

I was just about to drift off to sleep, lulled into the void by the sounds of some awful hair metal band ricocheting off the buildings of Mason City and echoing up to the distant YMCA, when I suddenly realized, I forgot to call Jake!

Who is Jake, you ask? Great question. He's our newest beaver. Jake and I met through a former student of mine. Former Student and Jake ride bikes around Newton, Iowa and they invited me to join them. On this particular ride, I forgot one sock, and when I mentioned it Jake very politely that he had noticed it but didn't want to say anything. Anyway, he's a former beer distributor, now a lawyer. He's also a hunk and very polite and loves bikes. I mentioned that he would be welcome to ride with us on the ragby and he took us up on the offer!

But I had been so swept up in the fun of the day, I forgot to call him. I sent him a late night message and he got it. He was downtown, having fun, but he would find us in the morning. I should mention that Jake is completely self contained, so he can sleep in a ditch if he wants. He'd be a fabulous Wheelman. Tiger, take note.

In the morning, we woke, said goodbye to Pochy (it was so sad to see her go. She had so much ragby spirit) and set out towards Nora Springs. It was a pretty ride and the route took us circling into the old and slightly forgotten downtown. We found the fire station, selling beer, and set up camp in the beer garden.

Round 2, Too Much!

We did some kybo-line dance partying and some blabbing, and then Jake found us! Huzzah! He's just so easy going and mild mannered that I knew he'd be an excellent addition.

I am going to be honest. I don't remember Rockford. Zero recollection. 

I do remember Marble Rock though. We very smartly skipped the beer garden party on the outside of town and went downtown. We parked the bikes and wandered around the small downtown area. First, we met this awesome guy who built these crazy fishing boats that can go anywhere. He explained them to me, like how cool they were, but I don't really have a mind for mechanics. It did strike me as the kind of boat that would be fun. He also built crazy logger splitters. I don't need log splitting, but these were also quite impressive. I got his business card.

Ranger Dave and I take to the seas.

Then we headed to the "party." And boy it was set up for a party. They had tents, sandwiches, beer aplenty. They had a dj, bloody marys, and, of course, a slip-n-slide. Steven and Too Much, of course, had a go. 

And, when I sneaked inside to use the bathroom (men's. There was a line for the ladies), I noticed this:

What is behind that door?!

Which is sad because it was closed and locked (I tried), but good to note we were in a friendly zone.

Outside the day warmed up and the party continued. I love this bar so much, I tried to see how close were were to Des Moines. Could I come back here?

It didn't hurt that there were hunky men with 'staches wearing merino. 

Eventually, and it took a long time, we packed it in and rolled out. The Deb was going to meet us in Greene. The ride into Greene was pretty great. The Mayor and Too Much and I got into a nice little line and pulled through to Greene. Later Too Much would tell me that he noticed that my wheel was not true, but that would not be for a few more days, when we were standing in line to have it fixed. 

We pulled into Greene, grouped up, and found our way downtown. The Deb hadn't arrived yet, so we found a spot by the river. Beavers and all and watched the boats putter by. It was lovely. Then, we looked up and saw the Deb driving across the bridge into town! Huzzah. We got the bikes and went down to meet her. There we ate lots of delicious treats and drank beer in the shade of an alley and peed in some semi-public places. Oh well. 

It is important to note that the Dale was already done. Yup, he had finished riding, showered, and joined the Deb meeting us in Greene. Oh, that guy. By this point, I could tell that my mom was really loving the ragby. She walked up and down the row of us sitting in the shade and brought us food and beer. Nice work, Deb! 

I will also note that I was getting tired. Not just tired from this day, but like long term tired. I'd been riding my bike every day for 9 days, almost in a row, and I was weary. We still had another 20 some miles to Clinkard and Clinkerville and I was kind of over it. 

I don't think I was alone because when we were riding out of town, I ended up paired up with Steven. There was a bit of a climb out of the town and I remember hearing Steven grumbling and huffing and making all the hilarious noises that mean, essentially, "that's it. I'm going 7."

"C'mon," I said, laughing, "I'll slo-mo pull you," and she hung on for a bit. Then, it got quiet. She'd fallen off the back. We regrouped at the top of the hill, panting and laughing and grumbling and finding it all so hilariously painful and silly and ridiculous and fun. This is one of the things that I love about Steven, and riding bikes from her. She suffers. She suffers mightily. There's some pretty strong evidence she doesn't even like riding bikes, but she is funny about her suffering. She's got this ability to both be in the suck and also above the suck, looking down on the suck and the silliness of this whole stupid fun week and just laughing. It really is a skill and a treat and when I am not feeling it, I love to ride with her. 

Soon, though, we got to talking and the miles started ticking away. I was talking about things that were going on at home, and how not great they had been, and how I was worried and stressed and lost. Looking back from February, I can see even more clearly how lost I was and how much I was working through. Ragby and the ride out was all a bit part of that, and I was so grateful to have Steven there to listen with compassion.

Soon, the route swung south and we were headed to Clinkard, but when we got there, we realized there wasn't any there there. It was just a couple of grain silos and an empty looking house or two near a rail road track. Bummer. No food or really anything. But, I did see the Dirty Lemonade stand. I'd remembered seeing it before, or Too Much told me about it, and I wanted to stop, so Steven and I pulled over. I bought us dirty lemonades (extra dirty, he heh), and Steven did the beaver-look out. It wasn't long before Masinga rolled up.

"Is this the town?" She asked, with just the slightest hint of desperation in her voice. 

"I think so," Steven said. 

Masinga didn't say anything. She put her bike down. It was clear she was over it as well. I handed her a lemonade. "I'm just going look at the trees," she said, facing away from the ragby. 

Steven and I agreed that it was a good idea, especially when you are over it. 

Poor Masinga. A few tears started rolling down her face as she sipped her lemonade. I can't remember exactly what she said, but the gist was she was over it. 

Steven and I chuckled, compassionately!, lord knows we had both been there. I'd remember my first ragby, and how overwhelming, and daunting, and a complete mind-fuck it had been. I remembered the day it rained and how scared I had been, riding next to all those people, zooming down hill in the rain, shaking from the cold and PTSD flashbacks of my helmet cracking on the pavement just days before. 

I thought about my third ragbrai when it was so hot and dry and stupefying that my brain felt like a car engine that wouldn't start, when I couldn't tell if it had been me or the heat rising off the road that made me feel so dizzy, and I was so scared because it became clear, almost immediately, that the Tiger didn't ragby the way me and my friends ragbied, and how would we ever build a life together if we couldn't even ride ragbrai together? 

I thought about my ride out and how lonely it had been and overwhelming and scary and beautiful.

And all the times I'd suffered on a bike and felt like crap and it wasn't even about the stupid bike, it was about me, and all the things on the inside that are so hard to keep inside when your nerves are shot and you haven't been alone or slept in a bed or eaten a vegetable in six days and you are just done, done, over it. 

I don't know what Masinga was going through. Everyone's got to ride her own ragbrai, but I had been there. Even though we were in this stupid town where there was not even a there there. 

And, I chuckled and Steven chuckled because we knew how she felt, and we knew that these were the moments that made the whole thing worth it, settings so that all the moments of fun and silliness could stand out like jems, and that these were the moments we remember. Of course, it is hard to explain all of that, wearing spandex, sipping dirty lemonade, standing in the gravel while other people in brightly colored spandex whiz by. And they all seem like they've never had a bad day in their lives, because they are always smiling and laughing and never get tired and "actually train" or whatever. Who cares?

Soon enough Masinga dried her eyes and made a bold expedition into the weeds and trees to pee. Then, we regrouped, because sometimes you need a good regroup, and rode on, up the hill where we met up with Too Much who'd been hanging out for like forever. We all rode into Clarksville, not noticing, that behind us, in the west, a storm was brewing.