117 And Now We Reflect Part 1: Laughing Alone

I have been dreading this blog entry, or blog entries, for so long. Well, longing for it, and dreading it.

I think, dare I say it, we have reached the conclusion of my ragby blogging. Of course, as soon as I publish this, I know I will think of some hilarious story that I forgot. Or, someone (Too Much?) will send me more blog entries. And, of course, we will include them.

The last blogs, though, means that I need to do some reflecting. Not only do I need to reflect on the meaning and lessons learned from our ragby adventures from last year, but I also feel the need to reflect on the other epic journey, the journey of writing and curating this blog for the past 117 days.

Both have been journeys: long, sometimes tedious, profound, challenging and stupidly fun.

So, here goes. For those of you who are big on narrative, and not so into the sentimental and cheesy blah-blahing of a narcissist, these are not the blog entries for you.

As I look back on last year's ragby, as the routes and towns and playlists of this year's ragby start to reveal themselves, I can see how much I was going through and now ragbrai and the ride out let me process some of that.

Riding my bike seems to give me some mental space. I'm working and paying attention to the road, but it sort of quiets down all the humdrum thoughts and just lets me be with myself. Sometimes, alas, my self is not someone I want to hang out with. Sometimes I am mean, and grumpy, and whiney, and self-pitying. Sometimes I say the most retched horrid things to my self. Things I wouldn't dream of saying to anyone else.

But sometimes, if I work very hard on it, (and I have been working very hard on this), I just sort of let go, look around, and feel overwhelmed with gratitude, not just to have the luxury of doing something as fun and rejuvenating as riding by bike, but also to be on this planet, where red wing blackbirds sing in the ditches and roads, whispering promises, stretch out straight for miles.

I think back to the ride out, after so many long miles riding west, I finally got to turn north and pick up that glorious tailwind. I remember being all alone on the road, not a car or animal or person for miles, and I stuck out my arm and signaled that I was turning right, laughing out loud at my own joke. The sound of my voice sounded so foreign in this empty expanse of farm field, but yet, also, so right.

And, if I can hang on to that feeling, just the pure, lucky, happy joy, well, then I know I'll be alright, both on and off the bike.

Ragbrai, this year, gave me that moment, and I hope to cling to it like a tailsman, because that girl, the one laughing alone on a big pink bike, signaling to no one, just to make myself giggle, is who I hope to sometimes, always, be.