I am part of the problem!

Compare and contrast day: snickers versus baby ruth. Harkens back to Mr. Schaffer's class. Don't worry, I am not partaking.

Seriously?!?

You can't even walk through the hallway without an assault by the Cupcake Conspiracy!

Add to this the cookies at our Department of Ed equity visit and the HUGE bowl of M&Ms on our administrative assistant's desk.

Did I just not notice all these treats when I was actually eating them? Cookie here, free hall cake there. It adds up.

Get Behind Me Delicious Looking Homemade Cookies

Argh! My Achielles heel! Chocolate chip cookies!

In other news, I worked out this morning. Stairs and some body weight moves.

Get Behind Me Various Treats!

Since I started not eating the treats and documenting said treats, it is clear why I have a problem. Near constant avaliablity + zero will power = continental size booty.
Also, I had an ecumenical question this morning. My mom answered it. Lent started 2.13 and ends 3.30. It is supposed to be 40 days. That's 45 days. What gives?
Sunday's don't count. The Sabbath is a feast day, no matter what. So, for Catholics, Sundays are free. Not sure how this information will fit into SecuLent.

Weekend Update: Indulgence, Lumbardization, and Whoops

Indulgence Day

Friday was my first "indulgence" day of my Secu-Lent challenge.  We had planned to go the Des Moines Opera's Wine and Food Gala Friday night.  This event is Ah.Maze.Ing.  It is like the State Fair for fancy people; I had to give myself a break (though, one of my friend Chris's friends who goes apparently brings her own $50 bottle of wine, rather than partaking in the wine samples.  Weird).  

Rather than go nuts all day, I tried to keep things in moderation until 5:30.  This plan went so-so.  I ate a hearty egg filled breakfast at home and bypassed the donuts we had at work.  Friday was an in-service day, full of meetings.  What is it about meetings that makes you want to nosh?  I focused mainly on the fruit, and, I am sorry to say, the Valentine's Day M&Ms in the bowl on my table.  

For lunch there was a choice of lasagna or Culver's fish sandwiches (for real Lenter).  I went with the lasagna, a small-town salad, and roll, and a German chocolate brownie.  They were all yummy.  And, then I had another roll.  And, another half-piece of lasagna.  Sigh.  

I stopped in at the Cheese Shop to talk about a bridal shower I am planning and I had nothing.  Go me.  No beer, no wine, no cheese, no fancy ham.  Go me.  

I quickly rode my bike and changed for the party.  The Tiger got home.  Jessie arrived, and Chris picked us up to go to the party.  That's when the fun began.  Wine and beer samples, mini cupcakes and tacos, mini-lambburgers and cheese of every land stretched out across the ballroom.  Everyone got full and everyone got silly.  

Splash provided octopus in stained class: actually, not so good, but pretty.

When they kicked us out, we headed to the Greenroom for some music and dancing, and some High Lifes.  The band was The High Crest, and they were awesome!  Finally, we left, but not before stopping at the Library for a night cap.  Glorious.  

I woke up exhausted and full, and I am pretty sure I got the booze and sugar-cravings out of my system.  At least for 24 hours.  

Lumbardization 

So, my back still hurts.  Less and less, but I am still feeling pretty stiff.  I have mentioned this to a few friends who gave me quizzical and worried looks.  One kind soul, I am not going to name names, suggested I might have a slipped disc.  Well, there's no point in walking it off when you are obsessing about a slipped disc, so on Saturday, I went to the clinic.  

The doctor, a wise old man with snowy white hair who seemed better suited to being the town doctor of Deadwood in the 1890s, poked and proded me.  "Do you know what the best exercise is?" he asked.  

"None," I suggested.

"No, Tai Chi.  It works your range of motion, there's no jarring on your joints, so you don't end up in the clinic, and people who practice it are less likely to get Alzheimer's."  

"Do you practice Tai Chi?"

"No, I read about it in a journal."  Ah-ha. 

Then, I got some x-rays, after a pregnancy test.  Not pregnant.  Whoop-whoop.

Ole' Doc Tai Chi took me to check out the x-rays.  "See this?"  the doc asked.  

"Uh, sure," I lied.  X-rays don't make sense to me.  

"Well, you can thank mom and dad for this," and he pointed to the vertebrae just above my  hips.  

Turns out I have "lumbardization of the s1" vertebrae.  Which means, I think, my bottom vertebrae is jacked, so the joints are not held in place real good.  If I were to get pregnant, I would have back pain, and vacuuming using causes injury in women.  So, no babies and no more vacuuming.

I wish I was more like H-Bomb over at Some Girls Prefer Carnations, but alas, I don't got enough science to make you any graphs or charts.  

I got a raft of prescriptions to break the "pain and spasm" cycle.  Moist heat, not dry heat, and I am good to go.  Just be careful, and except to  have to deal with this for the rest of my life.  

So, all-in-all, worse than nothing, but better than slipped disc.  And, I think this might help me re-prioritze my fitness-life.  More weight loss, less weight lifting, more core strength, etc.  There's a new pilates studio opening in Beaverdale...

Whoops

I forgot to ride my bike yesterday.  It just slipped past me.  That's 2!  Which is a semi-bummer.  But, I am glad to acknowledge that I haven't missed two days due to laziness or lack of willingness.  I have ridden my bike when my throat was so raw, I cried a bit after.  I rode my bike my when back was so sore, I wasn't sure I was going to be able to dismount.  It's a bit of a bummer, but not the end of the world.  

I keep wishing for warmer weather.  Even a nice 40 degree day, to take the bike outside, but I guess there's a blizz headed towards Iowa mid-week.  Sigh.

If You are Thinking About Talking...

Don't!

An existential gym crisis is brewing.  Totally incoherent semi-recycled mainly ranting blog post here.

Last Thursday, it was just me and Goldie at the gym, along with the Great and Powerful Ed.  

The Great and Powerful Ed has changed his schedule.  Now, he gets up at 3 in the morning, works out alone, and then trainers/coaches/monitors the rest of the team while we working out to help us with our form.  

This new regime is not going well for Goldie and me.  For one, Goldie is the whipping-gal of the group.  If someone needs to be made an example of for not keeping her back straight it will be Goldie.  She's been there the longest.  

Frighteningly enough, it turns out, I have been there the second longest.  Off and on since August of 2011, when we started Beav-X-90.  I am also in trouble.  I can't squat.  

Apparently, my form breaks when I squat.  I don't keep my back straight and I tend to tip over forward.  The solution to this problems is that now, I am banned from lifting any real weight, and I have to sit down on a box when I squat and then get up again.  

Also, front squats require that you jam the barbell into your throat, so you feel like choking.  Otherwise, you are not doing it right.  

The other reason that Goldie and I are in trouble is some sort of combination of not-focusing and talking back.  When the Great and Powerful Ed gives us some instructions, we respond with questions.  Which makes Ed feel as if we are not listening.  And, he doesn't have time to answer our questions.  He's busy.

H2K doesn't seem like "functional" fitness anymore.  It feels like (dis) functional fitness.  Doing the move "right" = injury.  Doing the move "wrong" = potential injury.  WTF?

Before, I was thinking, well, I'll show him.  I will be silent AND awesome.

Then, I got hurt.  Now, the longer I am away from the cult, I am thinking:

a) I don't really feel safe at the gym anymore.
b) I don't want to spend 5+ hours a week with people who treat me like crap?

Also, I am still hurt!  And, it sucks.  It hurts to sit down!  That's the worst.  I hate being injured.  I've been on the injury recovery workout plan: 1.5 mile walk with the dog in the morning, 1 mile slow trainer ride at night.  

To prove my love...

And devotion, I bought these for my sweetie, and I am not going to eat then.

Get behind me red velvet cupcakes.

Get behind me bake sale!

The student activities club is having a bake sale today, of course.

Get behind me cake!

Secu-Lent day 2. The cupcake conspiracy is at it again.

Get Behind Me Bread

First temptation of my secular Lent.

Back Attack, Break Up?

Years ago, I dated this guy.  I am pretty sure he was crazy.  And, I knew it wasn't going to work out.  That was fine.  It was a cold, snowy winter and he had a warm house and lots of bootleg movies.  By spring break, it was pretty clear he didn't want to see me anymore, which was fine.  He stopped calling.  I stopped calling.  I figured it was over.

Then, just before I was headed out on a Memorial Day weekend backpacking trip with my lady friends, I got an email from him that read something like, "As you know I have been sick lately," (he was sick during spring break), "and when you are sick you get a lot of time to think about things..."  The email went on to break up with me, very nicely and gently.  As you can imagine the sincerity and the timing were the focus of many evil giggles around the campfire.  And, when I got home from the wilderness, I wrote him back and said, "that's fine.  I figured.  Best of luck."  

Why am I bringing this up?  Well, yesterday, I threw out my back at the gym.  It was a little tight when I started, and we did a ton of squat cleans, hang squat cleans, hang squat clean squat cleans, back squats, back squat double sow-cows, etc.  I knew I should just hang up my weights for the day, but I was too bull headed to quit.

For the last few weeks we have been focusing on form.  And, for the last two weeks, my back has hurt.  Ironic as it seems, I never got injured until I was forced to spend so much time worrying about getting injured.  Now, I am laid up, and just like that boyfriend of long ago, I know I am going to have some time for some soul searching.  

The other day, Goldie and I got a serious dressing down at the gym.  We were scolded like children for "talking back" and "not being serious."  We were shocked.  We've been going to the gym for years, Goldie longer than me.  It became clear during our scolding that what we saw as "asking clarifying questions" was seen as "talking back."  And, talking back would not be tolerated.  Goldie and I chit chat a little during our workouts, but usually, it relates to "what number are we on?"  Also, not allowed.  I do make the occasional joke, but when you are doing the kind of workouts we do, every day, at 5am, a little humor is what gets you through.  

Lately, the gym has gotten this weird vibe.  Like super competitive, and I don't really feel welcome anymore.  See above.  

Then, the Facebook campaign begin.  The great and powerful Ed started posting links to youtube how-tos along with Facebook memes that said things like, "silence is better than bullshit."  Subtle, I know.  

When I started at H2K, we did a lot of "functional fitness" kind of stuff--sandbag get ups, box jumps, bear crawls, etc.  Lately, though, we have been doing a lot more Olympic style powerlifting and I am having a hard time seeing the connection between doing a hundred hang cleans and my day-to-day functionality.  Especially, today, when it hurts to sit down.  

Now, that I have some time to think, I really have to decide if this is what I want.  Do I want to do power lifting?  Do I want to go to a place where I am not respected?  

Is this gym, these workouts going to get me where I want to be?  I am not sure.  I like being strong, but is there a limit?  Muscles don't make you faster on a bike or climb the stairs faster.  I want to drop some pounds, climb those stairs for the Mayor, and do my triathlon with Goldie!  I don't know if this is getting me there.

But....I did like a lot of the workouts.  I liked that they were grueling.  I would never do that stuff myself.  I like the little community we have down there (most of the time), and I like the convenience.  I can get a hard workout in and be home and ready to walk the dog in 85 minutes, round trip.  With my schedule and commute, it is hard to fit it all in, and this makes it possible.  

And, if I am not doing the H2K anymore, well, then what?  I am cast off into the world, moor less and directionless.  I will have to be my own boss.  Can I do it?  

I have tried to break up with the gym so many times.  My friends are sick of me talking about it.  I am like an addict.  I am Tina Turner and the gym is Ike.  I am Rhianna and the gym is Chris Brown.  It beats me up, I go on Oprah and say I am done, and then, I go back for more.  Pathetic.

For now, I am going to power clean some ibuprofen and focus on my Lenten promise of clean and accountable eating.  (Though, I am annoyed by the fact that when you have a back injury, the last thing you want to do is go to the grocery store or cook.) I am going to keep riding my bike everyday.  Getting on and off the bike last night was super-painful, but I eeked out a mile on the trainer.  

Hopefully, by the time my back stops freaking out, I will have come to a super-impressive and wise conclusion.  Stay tuned.

Live and Let Lent

As many of you know, I am a recovering Catholic.  My mom converted our family to Catholicism when I was in junior high school.  I went to Catholic school for two years, and went to mass with my parents during college, but then, I sort of drifted from the religion for lots of reasons.

But like any good-bad Catholic, there were some things that I liked about the religion.  I love Latin.  I love the theatricality of a good high holy day, and I liked Mardi Gras/Lent.  Living in New Orleans, I got much better at the Mardi Gras than the Lent part.  

Lent, for those of you who are not acquainted is the 40 days before Easter.  It follows "Fat Tuesday," with "Ash Wednesday," and it asks good Catholics to live humbly--pray more, fast, go to church, no meat on Fridays, and give something up.  For some reason, even when I was a cafeteria Catholic, I always loved the 40 days of sacrifice.  

One year during college, I gave up TV.  I remember missing the Oscars, when all my friends were hanging around in the dorm at Iowa.  But, I felt inspired by remember that Jesus went out into the desert for 40 days without food or water.  If he could do that, I could miss an awards show.  It felt great, really.  

Since then, I have tried to incorporate a span of time of trying something new or giving something up into my work.  I taught my Composition 1 class as an adventure where my students had to challenge themselves to do something for 30 days and blog about it.  It had mixed results.  Students didn't love blogging, go figure.  

Today though I can't help think about the Febulationatory Event happening out west.  The walking despite over-work-related exhaustion and the giving up beer!!!  Those are some impressive sacrifices.  I was also inspired by the fact that the Febulational Period grew out of the idea that sometimes January is just too busy to really get going on a resolution.  

Lent starts next week, February 13th.  And, despite not really getting down with the spiritual elements, I think I want to give it a go on my nasty eating habits.  It's scary, but it is only 40 days, right?  

I am going to clean up my eating for Lent.  I am thinking a sort of modified Paleo-esque diet: lots of lean protein, lots of vegetables, some fruit and nuts.  Limited dairy.  No beer.  No booze.  And, I am going to keep track of what I am noshing, in my phone and with Goldie (she is such a good friend and inspiration).  And, I promised Billy, that if I fall off the wagon, I have to get right back on the next day.  No giving up.  

However, I am going to give my self a few "indulgences."  You guys remember Western Civ, right?  These are one of the things that made Martin Luther so mad  In medieval Catholicism, Catholics could buy indulgences that would allow them to "get out of jail free" with God and get into heaven despite sins.  

I am going to give myself 4 indulgence-days:

*The Opera Food and Wine Gala--February 15th--it is like the state fair for fancy people.

*True/False Film Festival Saturday with Martha and Matt in Columbia--March 2.  

*St. Patrick's Day--February 17th

*The Birth of the Tiger--March 24

Here's the big problem, though.  Even as I am writing this, I am doubting my ability to hold fast and complete this challenge.  I am psyching myself out even before I start.  Part of me just doesn't believe that I can do it; that it will be yet another great start that fizzles out in the face of stress and temptation.  I am not saying this because I am trying to elicit sympathy or encouragement.  I just need to acknowledge my crazy.

One thing that does give me encouragement, though, is that I have been riding my bike every day!

30/31 days in January
7/7 days in February
37 days of bike riding.  Some of have been short.  Some have been ugly, but I have done it.  And, I am excited about that fact.  The idea that I need to get some sort of bicycling in to my day, even if it is not much is becoming part of my routine, which is awesome.

If I can manage 37 days of bicycling, I can manage 36 days of clean eating, right?  There are a lot more complications to clean eating--the shopping, the cooking, the lunch packing, and the re configuring social time with my friends.

But, the benefits could be outstanding.  I don't want to be the weakest link on RAGBRAI.  I don't want to blight Jessica's wedding pictures with my chunk.  And, despite the fact that my cult makes me crazy, I do want to fulfill the potential people see in me (more on this later).

What's the worst that could happen?  

Happy RAGBY: Sad RAGBY

Well, it's February.  That means a few things.  

1. The RAGBRAI route is posted, and I think it is awesome.  

2. I have wrapped up the blogging regarding the previous RAGBRAI, so I am cleared to think about the future RABRAI.

3. I am pasty white, and the weather, is making me sad and mad.

But, there was a time when I wasn't so pasty, and that time was and will be RAGBY (I can't be bothered to hold the shift for an extra two letters anymore.  Blame February.)

Thinking about the RAGBY is what gets me through the February.  And, here's what I am thinking today.  

After blogging about the most challenging RAGBY of my 3-year-RAGBY career, and, naturally, comparing that RAGBY to the prior RAGBYs, I came to an important and foregone conclusion.  

Happy RAGBY is a slim RAGBY.  

Sad RAGBY is a fat RAGBY.  

That's it.  The fatter you are, the sadder you are on a bike.  Except, when there are headwinds, when everyone is miserable.  And, except when you are going down hill, but I am scared to go down hill, so that cancels out.  

Here's the evidence: 

Happy RAGBY

Despite the road rash and a pretty severe case of rain related bicycling anxiety, RAGBY 2010 was RAGBY heaven. 

Sad RAGBY

And here I am, in 2012, quite a heavy chuck heavier.  Sad RAGBY.  Tears RAGBY.  I-am-never-leaning-over-for-a-picture-again RAGBY.

Don't get me wrong, I still had a blast, but it wasn't as magical as it could have been, if it has been a slim RAGBY.  Perhaps the distinction in these images is not apparent to folks that are not used to assessing varying degrees of chunk, but let me assure you, 2012 offered quite a bit more rolling resistance.  

So, here's what I am thinking.  This year we make our triumphant return to the town where it all started for me, that magical land on the Missouri, that oasis on the prairie, the town that put the oess in Loess, Counciltucky.  

That summer, I was fresh off the Juice challenge and losing the RAGBY Royalty challenge.  It was a good time in Half the Rice land.  I need to get back there.  Back to my original RAGBY weight, at least!  

But how?!?

Over at Run Teacher Run, the Mayor gave up BEER!  And Steven started the epic Febulaton, of walking every day.

I need to get me some of that!  But I missed the start of the Febulationiation, so, instead, I am going to do something for Lent.  Forty days of weight loss!  (Okay, 38 days.  The Opera Gala and St. Patrick's Day are in there).  See mom, Catholic school wasn't a total waste of money!  

But, what should I do for Lent, readers?

Paleo Diet?

Low-carb?

No baked goods?

No processed foods?

No booze?

1,500 calories?

Juicing?  

Tap worms?

Why am I quibbling here?  Because, I am lacking in confidence.  I don't know what to do, because I have zero confidence in my will power to stick it out.  Because, I have yet to be good at sticking things out, except, back in 2010.  

I can tell the Tiger is getting frustrated with my plan-waffling, with Fat Tuesday only a week away.  RAGBY is only 165 days away.  I need advice!  Comments, please!  

RAGBRAI Stage 7: Anamosa to Clinton

Here's what Steven and I learned on Saturday.  Maybe I shouldn't speak for Steven, so here's what I learned.  The idea of sagging is much more rewarding than the actual act of sagging.

It is sort of like summer vacation.  Thinking about summer vacation, warmth, a break from school, sun, sand, bicycles, cut offs, is better than summer actually turns out to be.  Not that summer isn't great, but it is more fun to inhabit the mental space than actually do it.

Saturday morning dawned, dewy and lovely.  The Mayor packed up and hit the road.  So after, he was followed by the Tiger.  We vowed to meet up with the Mayor in Charlotte, then ride to the penultimate town, Goose Lake and on to Clinton.

After packing and drinking coffee and eating cookies for breakfast, we finally loaded up the truck with Kelly and headed towards Charlotte.

Riding with Kelly was really fun.  We chit-chatted and learned a lot about his business.  And, I have to say, besides being a totally awesome driver, Kelly is a really inspiring person.  He has survived a lot, endured a lot, and he really knows what is important: family, laughter, friends, and beer!

We stopped at a gas station for some food about halfway to Charlotte, and Steven took a little nappy in the back seat.

Post-Nappy

After negotiating our way into Charlotte, to avoid the chaos of the route, we unloaded our bikes and grabbed a couple beers: why not!?!  We left the bikes in the shade and went and stood on the corner to see if we could spot the Mayor.

It didn't take long for his characteristic stand-on-the-pedals-jog to stand out and soon we were reunited.  The Mayor, we learned, did not approve of this pre-sag.  Though, I got the feeling that he didn't realize how much he didn't approve of the pre-sag until he thought about it.  Now, we know.

Then, we were on our way again, headed towards Goose Lake.  What a name.  And, I remember the stretch here to be really lovely, great swooping hills, lots of trees and fields, and just lovely weather.

In Goose Lake we found a bar off the route with a "patio" out back.  We grabbed some drinks and started making friends.  Soon, Wisconsin rolled in.  Then, The Tiger!  Then, even Easy-E and Hammie were there.  The whole gang was there.  The Tiger told us about his adventures and smoked with Wisconsin, we had a couple cheap beers and relaxed.  It was the last second to last town of RAGBRAI.

Note the facial expression.

Note the similarities.

We continued on to Clinton.  Those mean old RAGBRAI planners love to spoil our fun and make the last stretch of the last day a good 14 mile ride on some pretty crappy roads.  But it was still just lovely.

Reunited and it feels so good.

Finally, we were on the last down hill and headed to Clinton.  We found the end of the route, but none of the virgins wanted to dip their tires so we rode through town to find Kelly and Eric O in a parking lot.  We got changed, loaded up the bikes, and took a team picture.

It had been a long week.  In the car, we drank beer and chit-chatted.  Or yelled.  I remember some yelling.  We stopped in Iowa City to eat some Steak and Shake burgers, so delicious.  Then, we rolled back to DSM, where the Tiger and I went with E.O. to drop off the van.  Everyone dispersed.  And, another RAGBRAI was over.

Sigh.

RAGBRAI on the Front Porch

I am not going to like, 2013, RAGBRAI XL had some painful moments, some tears, some heat stroke, some realizing that my sister is always going to be sneaky and get the best seat/sleeping space/fan/piece of pizza, etc.  And, it was a building year.  We have new folks that feel they need to do RAGBRAI their way, ahem, and we learned how to self-support, with the help of the world's best driver.

The Beavers

But, it was still RAGBRAI.  It was still riding around Iowa, seeing the sights, hanging out with friends, drinking cheap beer, chuckling at really odd jokes (dick punch anyone?).  It was the RAGBRAI.

And the next one is only 166 days away.

RAGBRAI 13 Stage 6: Cedar Rapids to Anamosa

Cedar Rapids to Anamosa: 42.2

Cedar Rapids to Anamosa was a magical little day.  Everyone and their grandmother was out on the road.  The highway was chocked with day-trippers out to enjoy the RAGBRAI.

Still sour at the Tiger, I really stuck it to him by agreeing to ride "his style" rather than with my pals, Steven and the Mayor.  After eating some delicious breakfast, courtesy of their friends, I watched, grumpily, as Steven and the Mayor rode off into the cool, early morning mist.

I waited around for the Tiger and the Thunda, who was riding for the day, to round up their stuff and hit the road.

Then, we rode out of Cedar Rapids, which was pretty cool.  Lots of townsfolks were off to see us out of town, and we had a great, long, fast downhill out of town.

The ride to Mount Vernon was pretty magical.  Lots of swooping hills and woods and fields.  Mount Vernon was a hot mess of folks, jam packed into the adorable town square trying to eat and mingle.  Easy E and Hammie and the Tiger found some huge catfish sandwiches, and we reunited with Steven and the Mayor.

I believe this is an image of Easy E climbing a tree.

The ride to Springville was lovely and I started coming out of my grumpiness.  There were some great hills, and way too many people, and some lovely Grant Woodsy countryside.

Classic Steven.

In Springville, we hung out at a Casey's in the lawn and watched the crowds go by, then we hung around in the beer garden for a bit.  The nice thing about hanging out with the Thunder is that he is easy to spot in a crowd.

Classic Tiger.

Classic Thunda'

Classic Mayor.

We left Springville and headed toward Viola.  We were determined to make the most of this easy day.  We stopped in Viola,which wasn't really a town.  It was a just a school house, but they had craft beer, which was pretty awesome, and some RAGBRAI-ers took the trailer/stage and rocked out for a bit.
Somewhere in here I think there was a free beer stop, with free beer or Gatorade in a yard, where we ran into the Nada, getting his ass handed to him by Team High Life.  They drink a lot and ride fast.  It had been a long week for the Nada.

Beer Garden Daze

Cool kids in cycling caps.

When we left Viola, and headed just down the road to the next stop.  One of the rules of Team Beaver is that no free beer stop can be skipped.

And, that's when I noticed the smell.

Well, not smell, but a Taylor Lautner cardboard cut out that said "free beer" and pointed towards a scraggily little yard.  We were headed downhill at quite a clip, so we had to turn around and go back for free beer.

Well, free isn't how I would describe it.  Meth house is how I would describe it.  The homeowner was a man wearing a tshirt that said, "The only job I want is a blow job."  And, they were offering "bike washes" in the back yard.  Steven and I snuck back there and, I have to tell you, if any RAGBRAI-ers went missing that day, I know where they are buried.

The Only Job I Need...

We went back to the front yard, and the witnesses, and drank our free beer awkwardly as the Mayor made small talk with the 56 people living in the trailer.  We also petted the recuisit mangy mutt hanging around the yard.  As soon as we drained those beers, we did the old "beaver leaver" and go out of there.

Next stop: just about a mile down the road in Fairview, where we found the happiest place on RAGBRAI, the Rainbow Supper Club.  It was a Wisconsin-style supper club, with fried cheese and beer.  We got some food and started drinking and were having a good time.  I even ran into Gwyn, my old trainer!  I was so excited to see her that I picked her up and spun her around.  I love that lady.

After we left Fairview, we were riding along, excited to get to our homestay, a friend of mine from the Outdoor Industry, who welcomed us to her yard.  But, then, of course, we saw another free beer stop, so we had to pull over.

Come to find out the the beer was "free" but there were some pushy little cub scouts milling around asking for "donations."  Bah!  Being on RAGBRAI is like being a two-wheel benefactor.  We coughed up some money and taunted the other groups at the table.

Then, as it was getting to be evening, and we had only ridden like 35 miles, we really had to push on.

So, we rode on.  It didn't take long before we arrived at the turn for our home stay.  I was with Steven and the Mayor.  We turned on to a gravel road.  First warning sign.  As we picked our way down the road, on skinny tires, we bumped into Lexi and our hostess Jen, who had a cocktail, who were on their way into town to rescue someone, but they promised to come back for us.

The Mayor had ridden ahead.  For some reason, Steven and I started walking our bikes.

Then, we rounded a corner, and found that in our future lay Mount Gravel-A-Mosa, a huge hill, that looked like it went straight up into the heavens.  The Mayor was about half-way up the top, but he was so tiny, like a distant mountain goat that we couldn't tell if he was walking or riding.

I just started laughing.  This was hysterical.  How much more could this RAGBRAI really dish out?  Honestly?

We plodded on, and soon Jen and Lexi returned with the Tiger, I believe, in the car and his bike on top.  They told us to leave the bikes and that someone would come back for them.  Rather than keep slogging up Mount Gravel-A-Mosa, we agreed and piled into the car.

At the top of the mountain, we found ourselves at a gorgeous house with views into the lush valleys and forests all around.  Big houses dotted the landscape and the windows went on for miles.  We hopped out of the car and said hello to everyone.  Then, we found a beer, and as we were standing around in the yard, I looked up and noticed a truck coming up the lane.  Behind it, bouncing over gravel and rocks, being held up by the handlebars, was about $10,000 worth of carbon fiber.  Steven looked up and noticed and went visibly pale.

But, they made it to the top, so, f 'em

Then, the mayhem began.  Jen's husband, who was a riot and already pretty toasted, insisted that we go check out his buddy's man cave.  From there, Steven and I noticed a pond at the bottom of the very steep hill (I am serious, this area is like little Austria, the hills were alive with drunk cyclists singing music).

Of course, we had to pond.  So, we schlepped down the hill and got into the pond.  Up, above us, as if on the rim of a volcano we were watched by the crowds at the "ultimate man cave."  We slid into refreshing water, and swam out under the fountain.  We were having a lovely time, bouncing around on the slimy bottom.  The only time we heard shouts of disapproval was when prepared the launch the canoe.  Soggy, we walked back up the hill and to showers.

Somewhere along the line Steven and I decided that we should sag the first part of the day.  See, here's the thing, Saturday of RAGBRAI makes me so sad.  It's the end of the week.  And, because you have to hustle to get on the road and get back to civilization, you have to hurry through the route, so there is less to do, less adventure, less beer.  Everyone has pretty much checked out of the RAGBRAI spirit and has started thinking about all the things they have to do when they get back to the real world.  So, it's like the last day of summer camp and a "real bike ride."  Not so fun.

To solve this problem, and the problem of the RAGBRAI route planners making the last day obscenely long, Steven and I decided to sag, so we could stay up late, drink lots of beer, sleep in, and just try out sagging for the day.

With that in mind, the party began.  There was lots of beer drinking, as we realized how small of a dent we really made in our cache of beer.  There was dancing.  Camp fires.  Pizza eating.  We made friends with the other RAGBRAIers, and then we hung out with our own peeps.  Lexi was there to pick up Matthew and drive him home, so that was fun.  There was a group of hard riding, hard drinking doctors.  It was chaos.  It was glorious.

When I finally went to bed in the cool of the evening, a large contingent was still up.  The Tiger told me later that he and the doctors were dancing in the field to 90s rap music until all hours.  Oh, RAGBRAI.  

Uh-Oh

Oh no.  This whole blog is a bad idea! 

I was watching some Ted Talks this morning, while enjoying a homemade cinnanmon roll thanks to DMACC Newton Super Bowl Tailgate day, and I saw this video.

Apparently, we shouldn't be announcing our goals.  We should keep them secret!  Otherwise, we feel like they are accomplished. 

Taking this concept to the next logical conclusion, which is if we announce a goal that is the opposite of our real goals, then we won't do that opposite-land goal, but rather do the opposite which is our actual goal (follow me):

I hereby announce that my goal for the year 2013 (wink, wink) is to exercise as little as possible, eat all the crap I can (here I come little smokies!), and gain, oh, let's say, 25 pounds. 

Derek Sivers is right!  I do feel like I have already accomplished that.  No, I don't really have to do it. 

Thank you work of Pop Psychology!

My sister also told me yesterday that eating while you are stressed leads to a totally jacked up metabolism thanks out our evolutionary biological make-up, so my other new goal is to only eat when I am feeling stressed.  In fact, I am going to get less than 7 hours of sleep every night and eat refined sugar when stress gets to me. 

Whew. That's better.