82 Guest Blog: Masinga-Week Part 5

A Note from Norman: we have reached the climax of our little beaver's journey into her own personal heart of darkness. Thank you Masinga for your honesty! We are so proud of you!

ENTRY 5 - CRY #3

Saturday – The last day.  The whole week as my mental and emotional capacity was deteriorating, I couldn’t help but think, I can’t say I rode my first full week if I skip a day.  I was going to make it up these hills, one way or another.  I was feeling okay about some of the climbs.  I could do it.  I think it was the next to last town.  That’s where I blew up. 

I think my problem with RAGBRAI is the booze.  You get so full from drinking beer after beer that there isn’t any room for food.  I was hangry.  I was 400 miles in.  I did not want to climb out of this town.  I really didn’t want to go down the hill to a bar.  Let’s just get on the road and finish RAGBRAI.*

This is how she was feeling towards Too Much.

This I do remember.  Too Much yelled at me.  I was one of the most angry people he had ever met.  I yelled back.  Not everyone can be happy all the time like you.  I stormed off.  I was hurt.  I stuffed my feelings down, in the form of a sandwich chased by a Gatorade.  I rode down the hill to the bar.  I drank my beer in silence.  I rode up the small steep hill on my way to a ginormous hill.  I was angry.  I made it up the giant hill, only to discover we had to go back down.  I knew there were more hills to come.  I ran into one of my friends while in Garber, she informed me there were two really big ones left before we went down into Guttenburg. I rode my own RAGBRAI; let's leave it at that.

When I got to the top of the last big hill, on a flipping US highway that was not closed to traffic, Normie and PBear were waiting for me with a tiny beef stick.  I was super excited to see them.  And I broke down.  It was my final cry.  I cautiously coasted down the hill into Guttenburg.

We rounded up the Beavers and took one more Beaver Shot down by the river.  I was spent.  We got drunk in the Beaver Ark during the ride home.  My parents had to drive me and my gear home. And I slept in my clean fresh sheets. I survived the riding portion.  I struggled with the mental game.  I didn’t ride fast enough.  I wasn’t fun enough for my fellow Beavers.  I didn’t buy as many rounds for my fellow Beavers as I should.  Somehow I felt extremely alone, surrounded by a sea of cyclists.

I really did feel as though I was coerced into riding the entire week instead of making that conscious decision for myself.  I couldn’t understand why I didn’t walk away from my first full week loving every minute of it. Maybe I don’t have to love it.  Maybe I can just be in like with RAGBRAI.

In the back of my mind, I understand I will never be the driver again; The Deb has filled that role and she’s really good at it.  I don’t know that I can be a co-pilot; anyone who has ever been on a road trip with me knows I’m not a good passenger, ever. I’m not sure how I fit in to Team Beaver and the RAGBRAI experience. It has taken me many months and however many days of the Ragby recap to be reminded that somewhere along the way, I had fun.

Made it.

What I do know is that I have decided to try again.  

*This is the problem with virgins. They just want to finish too soon.