Dear Mayor

Dear Mayor,

Last week, when we chatted via g-chat, I confirmed you are not dead, which is good.  I was starting to worry.  Not only have we not seen any updates in your g-doc for the Mayoral Race, I have noticed about a 25% drop in my readership. 

I realize that you have been busy.  I've heard rumors.  You were sick, which is why I wondered if you were dead.  And, Steven and the Small One were sick.  And, when I was FB stalking you, I noticed you had company for Thanksgiving.  Also, you've been sending me those gloating text messages with pictures of the superior beer you have access to out there: that takes time.

Hey, I totally understand. 

But, listen, we've only got 16 days of the Mayoral Race left.  And, despite some setbacks, I think we need to make them good.  Otherwise, next July, while I am sitting in the shade, waiting for you to deliver my victory beers, I might feel the slightest pangs of guilt. 

Of course, because you haven't been updating your charts, perhaps, I will be the one delivering the beer.  Maybe you've been dropping pounds like it's hot and logging in 500 mile a week.  I don't know.

What I do know, is that after a crazy November and a December that has become the 12 Days of Excuses (on the first day of December, my excuses gave to me, one muscle spasm, two late nights at the High Life, three ill-fitting pants) I need a kick to my widening back-side.

That kick is you.

Therefore, I challenge you to the penultimate Mayoral Debate!!!

The Winter Beer Extreme Race! 

Ride your bike as much as possible between tomorrow, December 15th, and Sunday December 25th.  For every beer you drink while riding (the trainer, obviously), you get to add 5 miles to your total.  For every winter-style beer you drink (i.e. not Coors Light) while riding, you get to add 10 miles to your total. 

Most "miles" wins. 

Love, Norman

RAGBRAI Stage 5: Altoona to Grinnell

Only 183 days until RAGBRAI.

On this freezing January afternoon, I want to think about how hot and sweaty I was all those weeks ago in July.  So, there's another RAGBRAI blog.

Thursday morning, we woke up in Altoona, and the Mayor's sister and Steven drove us to Bike World campground.  My bike had spent the night with my personal mechanic, Little Buddy, in an attempt to attempt to fix my jankety computer.  It was all alone, on a tree, in a parking lot when I arrived.  The Bike World boys had already rolled into Grinnell.

We bid Steven adieu.  Doesn't she look nice in her Team Beaver t-shirt?

Beaver sighting!

Apparently, Thursday was Banana Day.  Unlike most days when there were just a handful of bananas, Thursday, there were hundreds of bananas, along with a Chiquita girl and a monkey.  They even had a banana sound off. 

Bananas dotted the rolling hills towards Mitchellville. 

Easy-E and I had been to Mitchellville not too long before.  We had done the Altoona "Tune-Up" with her friend Nick, also known as Nasty, a delightful, slightly-geeky young lawyer.  Nasty had ridden the Tune-Up on an old hybrid, so I insisted he borrow the Tiger's Midnight Special for RAGBRAI.  I'd only seen him once, while in Boone, but he had been getting along just fine. We also sold him an Icebreaker jersey that had been a bit too "New Zealand" cut for the Tiger.

Banana Time Lapse 1

Because of the Tune-Up, E and I were familiar with the establishments in Mitchellville.  It didn't take us long to locate a breakfast sandwich from a very friendly bar and pull up a square of concrete to watch the parade.

BTL 2

Then, the bananas rolled in en mass. 

BTL 3

Then, there were more bananas.

BTL 4

And more bananas. (I love the RAGBRAI).

But we couldn't sit around watching bananas all day.  The barkeep said there might be rain.  We saddled up and headed out of town.

Then, something magical happened.  The Mayor started singing the opening to the song "In the Jungle."  You know the tune.

But, this wasn't your normal a Capella version of "In the Jungle," it was a special Mayor version, and there is something in the way his voice lilted and trilled that filled my soul with joy and my legs with go-go juice.  It became not just a goofy thing to sing while riding along in the hot sun, it was a rallying cry!  A cheer!  A hymn for awesomeness!  A weem-a-way, a-weem-a-way.

And, so cheered, we rode into Colfax.  This little stretch of RAGBRAI was the only time I remember heading on a gradual downhill and with a tailwind.  It was most certainly one of the only times on this ride I hit 20 miles an hour under my own power.

In Colfax we wandered aimlessly, rounding up foot and beverages, until finally settling in under a tent when it started to rain.  From there, we watch a motley crew of drummers who, we were told, used drumming as a way to recover from addiction or cure a troubled youth.

Just outside of the fun in Colfax was old "mount Colfax" a short steep hill.  It surprised me so much, I didn't have any time to complain about it.

From there, we cruised along the roads that I cross or drive during my new daily commute to Newton.  (I see the water tower on the top of Mount Colfax every day).  My students come from Colfax and Baxter, so I felt a familiarity with the region.  As usual, our little crew got separated and then it started to rain.

At one point, I passed an amazing slip and slide, but the rain had just started and I didn't imagine the Mayor or E would have stopped.  I was wrong.  I waited a beaver's year for them in Baxter.  While I waited, I got the voice mail from the Thunda that he had dropped out of the RAGBRAI, one of the casualties of a hot day, proximity to home, and a 110 pound bicycle.

We were sad that we hadn't been there for him in his time of need, to sing him the jungle song and tell him to suck it up, it's not that hot, he's from Australia for f-sake, and he already rode his bike across America!  But, we didn't get a chance to make any of those arguments.  He was gone, back to the comfort of air conditioning and his main squeeze.

You can't see the guy's mustache, but it is amazing!

In Baxter, we found some amazing barbecued pork sandwiches and a grassy shady beer garden behind some bar that I vaguely remember being named after a goat. 

I knew, from my regional recon, that those it looked like there was a good break in between Baxter and Grinnell, the "last town" was really just a State Park.  There wouldn't be much there, so we drank up in Baxter and planned to make an out-of-town pit stop at some point.

E, speedy as she is, picked a stop for us at a non-Beekman's ice cream stop.  There, we found Nasty.

I actually trade the use of the Midnight Special for a week for a free lawyering the next time we need it.  So, Nasty here is on retainer for the Tiger.  Nasty thought that was a pretty good deal, until he met the Tiger. 

Doesn't he look cute in his $150 merino wool jersey and tennis shoes? 

E then announced he would roll down the hill.

Then, she did.

The last "town" was a pit-stop at the Rock Creek State Park.  Provisions were a little low.  There was no water to speak of and only one kind of Gatorade Powerade and no food.

If you look close, you can see brave RAGBRAI swimmers.

The lake was lovely.

Mayor frown: sad.

But, morale was a bit low. 

I am not on a bike ride.  I am texting.

E still hadn't really gotten into the spirit of RAGBRAI.

Why so sad Rice?

And, for the second time, I documented myself with an angry puss.

And, though that was the end of the photographs I took, it was hardly the end of our adventures.

Shortly, we rode into Grinnell.  The boys had set up our tents conveniently near the kybos. 

We showered and walked to the bus that would take us to downtown Grinnell.  Along the way we passed the Livestrong group.  They were crowded around a tent, facing us.  A nearly bald man, with his back to us, in a lawn chair, held their attention rapt.  We think it might have been the Lance.  Maybe. 

Then, we went to town, literally.  We found a restaurant serving huge and inexpensive bowls of pasta, along with cookies and soda and garlic bread. 

Then, we found the Bike World boys, who told us they would pack up around 9 and we should come and visit them. 

Then, we went and listened to music and drank some Coors. 

Then, we rounded up the Bike World boys. 

Then, and this is where the train came off the rails, we drank a lot more Coors.  Coors tallboys to be exact.  We drank so many Coors tallboys, we drank the beer stand out of Coors.  We had to switch to Coors Light. 

There was a lazer light show.

Little Buddy and Mark "the Beard" regailed us with tales of wrenching for the unwashed masses.  They told us about the jokers that had rolled into Grinnell at some ridiculous hour: 9 am perhaps?  They were just setting up their tent.  The jokers had told them, they had to "beat the heat."  I wish this blog was as funny as Little Buddy*** and Mark "the Beard," alas, it was not. 

And, all of a sudden, it was 11pm, the latest I have ever stayed up on the RAGBRAI.  We to find the shuttle and make it back to camp.  How we found camp and how we all made it there is not something I am able to discuss, because my memory wasn't clear. 

Suffice it to say, I was drunk.  Back at camp, we lurched into our tents and attempted to sleep.  But, it wouldn't be long, 4 hours perhaps, before the jokers we were trying to "beat the heat" were up and at 'em, slamming kybos and talking in those forced hushed whispers that aren't really quiet at all. 

Friday would be a very long day indeed. 

***Little Buddy, if you are out there, please tell the tale of what happened to you, Thursday night after we left!  Amazing.