R15 62 Slacker Sunday: A Bunch of Rando Pictures from Tuesday

So in the blogging for this week, I didn't include some of the photos from Tuesday. Mainly because I didn't realize where they were taken or what they were for. 

Just on an existential note, as the team grows, I think this blog is going to become more and more tricky. When it was just me, the Mayor, and Steven, or when it was just me, the Mayor and the Ranger, etc. it was easy to recap the main events. Now, with a hefty team, there is a lot of fun stuff happening I am not present for, nor can I blog about. 

What to do? Should the future of this blog be more of a wiki-style group project? Should I just blog from my own personal perspective and everyone else can lump it? Should I just ditch the whole thing? Just something I am pondering on this Slacker Sunday. 

First free beer, I think.

Pochs finds her cocks!

Cock shot!

Deep lunge PP

I think this was a scavenger hunt...

RAGBY 2016: The Route!

Well, it's out, beavers. The route. The route is out, and so I am taking a minute in addition to my ragby recap to offer my wise and thoughtful insights on the expo, the party, and the route. I am only a week behind!

After an eventful dog-walk with Pochy, Masinga and I went to the Bike Expo at Hyvee Hall. There we wandered the aisles of bike goods, chatted with some of our bike-friends, and waited to meet up with FOB. (We also made several stops at the Firetrucker stand). 

I have this theory that the expo has clues as to where the route will be going. Whatever cities are there to promote themselves, that is where we are going, so we had a few clues. Shenandoah and Washington. The thing I love about the expo though is there are always people with "insider information" who swear they know the route. And, they never, ever get it right. I don't know how they keep it so secret, but somehow they manage. And kudos. 

I did come across a few lovely products that I want. 

First, I want to get Funkier, bike shorts that is. They make an amazing bike short and theoretically they make it in PINK and they make my size. 

Yet, I have struggled with the online store. Once again, even after you have shrinked it and pinked it, a gal still can't get no chamois satisfaction.  

I also got some samples of Evening Shade Farm products. Whoa, those are really nice, really organic, fancy pants products. I bought two bars of soap and got a bunch of samples. I wish they made a chamoise creme. 

I also want some new "ragby shoes." Maybe these. They'd match the MoTro.

Anyway, about an hour after he texted us, we spotted FOB. It's pretty easy. Then, we worked on the project of selling our extra tickets. Somehow Masinga #masingaed it and sold both my extra table ticket and FOB's extra ticket. Nice! 

Then we went home to get ready. The Beavers were coming to the #cits for a bit of a preparty. And soon we were all enjoying beverages and cheese and waiting for our UberXL. 

The Expo was in the new Capital Square atrium, which was okay. It was kind of loud echoey. When I talked to the Captain, he kept saying, "it was so bright in there. Why was it so bright?!" 

There seemed to be more free beer this year and less free food...all in all, not sure the table was a good investment. We paid an extra $10 to have a place to put our coats, but there was a coat check...but it was nice to have a location so all the new "fan girls" could find us. JK's husband distinguished himself in his efforts to put a TB sticker on every person in the joint. 

And then it was time for the announcement. Ta-Dah! 

So, we have a southern route. I have yet to be on a truly southern route, but I have always heard they are hot and hilly, punctuated with towns that are pretty poor, under populated, and not exactly excited to see the Spandex Festival.

Though, I love the spin control ragby tries to do. 

Check out this blog post. 

"Don't let the perceptions fool you." Ha! I know what that means. Let the perceptions fool you. This is going to be a beast. 

Oh, it's short, they say. Great! That means more feet per climbing over mile of ride, aka steeper. 

And I love the "it's the 24th flattest" ragbrai. Uh-huh. Well, considering that there have only been 43 ragbrais, that's not actually that flat. Kinda in the middle, hmmm? 

None of this bothers me, though. The routes no longer really phase me. And, deep down, I really do love climbing. And I am getting better at descending! 

I am already trying to get Steven pumped for the #rideout. 158 miles of Steven and Norman time as we the cross the expanses of southern Iowa. 

Now, it's time for logistics and fitness, and, of course, more blogging. 

R15 61 Guest Blog: Crashing and Sharing Means Caring

Hello there, Beaver Nation.

Anyone notice that I never get a Normie intro like the other Beavers?

I am here to recount the hazy and meat-stick filled adventures for our faction of TB as we rolled into Eldora. I have no pictures or ways to spice this up -- so hold on to your Beaver britches!

There is one unmistakable sound in cycling. The sound of someone crashing. Carbon fiber against pavement...cell phones skittering across pavement...helmet scraping on tiny roadway pebbles...and a muffled "Oh, Shit!" or "Fuck!"

Leaving Klinkerton, I was riding with Normie and we began to continue our debrief of the non-Spazmatic evening tussle -- this time with more fervor and an added bonus of generalizing the fight as a description of our personalities. Suffice it to say, things went downhill. There was yelling, there was silence. I am not proud of the situation, but Normie and I arguing is part of the RAGBRAI fabric. We pulled into the downtown area of Eldora and I knew the route I had made in the Beaver TALE (get it right, people!) took us through downtown before turning left to head towards the state park. I, however, did not want to ride through the downtown shenanigans. So, I shouted and took a hard left. I knew B was behind me and I heard him follow.

Then, I heard that unmistakeable sound of a crash. I stopped and turned around to see a bloodied Mayor standing over his bike trying to retrieve his belongings. He had hit a crack and gone down, hard. The Mayor and I have been together for 16 years (as of yesterday!) and I have witnessed a few of his crashes. It always amazes me how quick he is to pop right up...but what is even more interesting is that even though he is upright, he is still knee-deep in a post crash haze. It is kind of odd because I always go to the "are you all right? What happened? Do you need help?" place...you know, because he is upright within milliseconds of falling and I take that as a sign of recovery. But really that is just a sign of the RAGBRAI automaton that is the Mayor. He was in a major daze. In fact, some might just classify his daze as a concussion. So, of course, we just kept riding.

We went up a huge hill and chatted...well, I chatted. B continued to breathe and stay on his bike. I may have ranted a bit about the fight with Normie. The Mayor responded monosyllabically. Ma.Sing.Ga was up ahead of us and I saw her turn onto a road and then turn back. We felt lost (we actually were not lost at all). We were parched. Some of us were bleeding and unresponsive. And...there...like and oasis...was a golf course -- with Beer! So, we obviously stopped.

I would love to know what they thought of us as we walked in -- B was bleeding, I was gritty and dirty, and Ma.Sing.Ga was talking about her biscuit. We grabbed some beers and headed to the covered deck area out back. And ran into a huge clan of Upper Iowa Peacocks -- all showered and peppy. Yikes. Once B had fed his concussion with a beer, we decided to head out and keep riding to find our campground. Eventually we did and rolled into what was obviously some Beaver chaos. There was a bit of awkwardness and people seemed pissed.

I couldn't go on anymore. I just couldn't continue to emotionally and mentally process anything else. I was sick of the Llama Drama. So, I did what any person would do...I sat down and ate an ungodly number of meat sticks. I talked with Deb and sheepishly recounted the fact that I had yelled at Normie. She encouraged me to apologize. Normie was coming back from the shower and so I ran to her, meat stick in hand, gave a good ol' Boss Beaver Bear Hug and said I was so sorry. She replied, "Thanks, buddy, and what the fuck happened to the Mayor?!?!" We both looked over to see B wandering around the campsite setting things down in random places. "Oh, him...he's just a little concussed." B got some medical attention from a nearby nurse that was camped next to us -- he almost mistook "be sure to drink water" with "be sure to drink," and I headed to the shower.

Ma.Sing.Ga. and I were waiting for a while and making small talk with some people around us. The lady in front of us took FOR.E.VER and when she came out, both Ma.Sing.Ga. and I had the same thought at the same time. We both thought that maybe if we showered together it would be faster and more considerate of the other people in line. So, we bucked up...got nakie together and made it happen. We talked about a lot of different things, loudly...so, when we were done, we got to walk out to face all the people that had heard everything we had to say. Apparently, they had found humor in our shared shower shenanigans.

I headed back to the Ark, ate some pizza (?), and crashed for the night. I did wake up a few times in the night to nervously check on B, but was so thankful to have a great night's sleep to recover and recharge my "Yes Woman" battery.

So -- there you have it. Crashes, ranting, beers with peacocks, meat stick appreciation, concussions, and quality naked time with a team mate. A recipe for the shit show that we call "getting into town."

R15 60 Guest Blog: Too Much Has a Bit Too Much

PDBA: Today, we get Too Much's account of the arrival in Eldora. I would say the second funniest events and stories of the evening. The award for the best story, I am going to bet, goes to the Smiths. Who should be submitting that blog any day now...

Leaving the Best Dam Party in Alden, I somehow lost the Beaver pack. Did I stop for a visit to the cornfield? Did I ride too fast or too slow? Did I get caught behind a pack of recumbents? I honestly can't remember but any of those are possible. 

I do remember the turn-off to Buckeye. It was a Class-1 jam-up, with confused riders everywhere. People leaving Buckeye were shouting to the incomers that the town was closed, so I (wrongfully) assumed that the Beavers would have passed by and pressed on ahead. I rode on.

I got to Back Pocket and it was easily the worst one of the week. Just a big hay field with a giant tent and not enough shade or places to sit. I know the Team Beaver Charter, so I dutifully waited for more Beavers. And waited. I think I drank a Coca-Cola, hoping some sugar would help me escape my midday come-down. Alas, it wasn't working. 

At this point, I was too hot, too tired, a little too drunk, and I hadn't seen my team in 10+ miles. I was going down, fast. I decided to ride on. 

Thankfully, I had my Beaver Tail so I knew where to find the Ark. There's no photo record of my solo ride to Pine Lake, and I can't tell you anything special about the ride. I found Pine Lake, I found the Ark, and I found . . . no Beavers. Still too hot, tired, and hangry, I found my air mattress, lay down on the ground, and took a nap. 

Slowly, the Beavers began to show up. I think Grandpa was the first, and Linda Linda Listen, and then Dale and The Deb. Eventually we were reunited with the team and ate a delicious dinner of Casey's Pizza.  

One other story from Pine Lake: we were staying at the State Park, with a common shower facility in the middle. I walked down to take a shower and found a line forming to use one of the three showers. While waiting in line, a pair of recumbents rolled over. (Sidenote: I really dislike recumbents. I think they're stupid, I think they get in the way, I think they create an unsafe situation on the road, and I think they tarnish the sport of cycling. /endrant) 

Naturally, my Beaver instinct is on high alert. And then these two recumbents completely confirmed all my prejudices by regaling the shower line with bad jokes (at least a few of which were racist and sexist) and by insisting on SITTING IN THEIR STUPID TOILET BIKES WHILE WAITING IN LINE. Beavers, I shit you not. Had the door frame been 6" wider, I have no doubt that they would have rolled the dumb little tricycles right into the shower. 

The moral of the story: don't lose your team, especially when it's past midday and you're on the back end of a Beaver Bender. And never, under any circumstances, trust a recumbent.

Beaver readers, let me assure you that Too Much's rant about those recumbents waiting in line in their bikes was the funniest part of Tuesday, and perhaps, for me, the whole week. In fact, my new favorite hobby is to send SnapChats of any recumbent I see to Too Much. He's so cute when he's riled up. 

R15 59 Guest Blog: Masinga Adores Eldora

PDBA: Greetings beavers! Well, we rocked the Route Party, as expected. And, of course, I want to offer some commentary on the expo, the party, the after party, my cute Uber driver, but I am not up to it today. Stay tuned! 

Today, I offer Masinga's arrival and evening in Eldora. You will see she has a different, though equally hazy, take on the evening. Enjoy! 

Here’s how I remember pulling into our overnight site in Eldora. 

(God bless Steven for her hard work finding the Beaver way from the official route to the temporary Beaver den in each town. In a cloud of Caucasians and #CITS Beaver wonder a few weeks ago, I may have volunteered to take on the overnight Beaver den location to official route in the mornings. Yikes! I hope I can live up to the expectations.)

[You see that? We have it in writing.]

I had my share of fun. I was actually telling Norman and Pochs that I don’t remember much of Ragby 2015. I hope that’s a good thing. I think I was riding in with Steven and the Mayor. Or maybe I was riding with FOB. [He hadn't arrived yet!] Heck, I could have even been by myself. Who knows? 

Somehow I found a sign for the state park, but I clearly missed the sign for the trail to ride in. I followed the road through the park, winding up a GINORMOUS hill. My biscuit was burning. I was ready to be finished. Ooh, that lake is gorgeous! But where am I going? I think at one point I rode up a gravel hill looking for a campsite, it turned out to be a private drive. Oops. I continued to follow the road, thinking that I was actually leaving the park. Someone had to be telling me where I was going. I

vaguely remember seeing a Beaver jersey on the horizon. It turned out to be Steven and the Mayor. They decided to turn into a golf course, which was advertising to RAGBRAI riders, I think, but it seemed like a relatively hidden location. I had to pee. I was hungry and kinda drunk. Of course we pulled off for a round of drinks. We bought cheap beer. We considered food options that were available. We may have even charged a cell phone. But I know we made some friends. Because he’s the Mayor! I feel like we sat there forever. Or at least as it was getting a little darker and maybe a text message came through to continue on that road. 

So we hopped back on the bikes and meandered a little further until lo and behold the sign for the campgrounds. We coasted down the hill. We probably made loud noises. We found our Beaver Den for the night. That was until we found out that we couldn’t pitch all the tents we wanted (hee hee). Why in the sam hill hadn’t someone been figuring out how to fix this before the entire team got there? Maybe they had and I just didn’t give them the time of day to explain. Being a Beaver Wrangler is hard. Being the driver is hard. The team has so many expectations and you don’t want to let them down.  It reminded me of that one time in Fairfield. Sure it was remembered by Steven as the most fun she ever missed. I remembered it a little differently. You can read about it here. It was a major test as a driver, and for me it was terrifying. I was pretty ticked off.

Back to Pine Lake and what I can “recall”. I do remember being LIVID. WTF! There was no way Pochs overlooked the campsite regulations when she made this arrangements. There were clearly empty sites. There were clearly people breaking rules. Why were these asshat rangers (sorry Ranger Dave & Lady Ranger) making such a big deal out of this one team asking for a little sympathy? Is it because we were loud? Is it because we were proud Beavers? Did we look like trouble? We went round and round with the rangers. I even went so far to visit other RV sites and asked them if they wouldn’t mind having a single tent pitched on their site for the night (hee hee). I managed to secure room for all the Beavers in our colony. They weren’t moving. I was a little confused as to why they didn’t seem to be concerned with this. I stormed away. I will own that. I was pretty ticked off. 

Bless Poch’s husband (yet to be nicknamed) for finding another campground with plenty of room for the dam overflow, but I was hell bent on staying at this site with my team. I walked over to the rangers’ station and calmly asked if there was a single campsite remaining that was maybe a cancellation they had overlooked. After reviewing their books, they did locate one site that could accommodate 2 tents for the evening. I filled out my information, handed over $13, took my carbon copy, and stormed to collect my belongings for the evening. I grabbed a couple of cold beers and pitched my own tent (not that hard for this lady, hee hee). The fellas in the site next to me were lovely. So friendly. They were from Chicago I believe. We chatted as I huffed and puffed and threw my stuff around. I recounted my story. They took pity on me. 

Happy Beaver

I may have gotten some food once I got settled in , but I do remember waiting in line at the bath house with Steven (and THAT’S a story for another time). I believe I washed the pissiness down the drain in that bathouse. I ended up sleeping in my tent as a solitary beaver temporarily (self) isolated from the colony. I slept in peace, with the faint snores of the gentlemen in the site next to me. I woke up ready to meet the new day and overall I was grateful.

R15 58 Guest Blog: Fall Out Boy Arrives

I asked the rest of the beavers to recount their arrivals in Pine Lake, and Fall Out Boy took some time out of his busy schedule, serving as the Chief Legal Beaver, to send his whole guest blog and some great photos. The best! 

FOB's view as he writes this post! This is why we do the recap in the winter, to give us all those warm ragby fuzzy feelings. 

The Arrival: Pine Lake x2

For me, RAGBRAI 2015 started when I was dropped off on the outskirts of Eldora in the twilight hours of Tuesday.  Trying, and failing, to remember Norman’s FaceBook directions to the campground led me around the South shore of Pine Lake where I found cabin and a sign sternly stating no alcoholic beverages or RAGBRAI services beyond this point.  This definitely didn’t seem like a Team Beaver habitat (I ventured a little further and found I’d stumbled upon Pine Lake Christian Campground) so I continued cruising the backroads of Eldora.

Then I spotted the familiar pink and grey of Team Beaver jerseys dashing out of a country club bar.  It was Masinga! And Steven!  And the Mayor!  Despite a disconcerting amount of blood caked to the side of the Mayor’s head, the four of us rolled into Pine Lake Campground (the correct one this time) and I was surrounded by more familiar faces.  The Deb said hello with a Corona and a slice of Casey’s pizza.  She was much more welcoming than the Iowa Department of Natural Resources, who greeted me with a hardy “Get the Fuck Out.  No, seriously, like now.  GTFO”.  It seems there were too many Beavers on a single campsite and a few of us were going to have to crash elsewhere for the evening.

My salvation came in the form of Pochy and her husband.  In a shining example of the RAGBRAI spirit, two wonderful people I had met exactly three minutes prior, offered me a ride to their reserved campsite several miles down the road by Steamboat Rock!  Folks, it was amazing.  A roaring fire and several beers (and chocolate turtles) later, we heard that some liberal types were putting on a bluegrass concert out of the back of a moving van.  A bearded man gave me a plastic cup full of rye whisky.  A bearded woman gave me a bag full of popcorn.  Sometime after 1 a.m., we were sitting by the fire when an old man approached us.  Was this another cranky DNR employee here to tell us to shut up or get out?  Sort of.  It was the campground host…but he was just looking for drinking companions.  Ducking off every now and then to refill his Big Gulp of “whiky” and piss in the river, he would return and regale us with tales of growing up near a quarry.  Yes, RAGBRAI 2015 was off to an excellent start.  

Breaking Beaver News!!! The O2016TBFC!

Breaking news little beavers. Pochy and Too Much have cooked up a fitness challenge for us for RAGBY 2016. Check it out! 

Hello Beavers! The RAGBRAI route has been announced and there will be hills! That means it is time to get motivated, get fit, and get ready to ride! 

We are starting the Official Team Beaver Fitness Challenge early this year and we are making a few changes to help everyone participate. The challenge begins TODAY (January 25) and will go through Friday, July 22. The Official Awards Ceremony will be held on Saturday, July 23.

Miles on Bike + (Minutes of other activity ÷ 4) = Total Number

Are you doing an hour of yoga tonight? Great! Take that 60 min ÷ 4 and you've just added 15 to your total number! Basketball? Crossfit? Keep track of that time! If you are riding a trainer, you can either keep track of total miles, or time ÷ 4, but not both.

We will have a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd prize this year. Winners will be determined based on having the highest total number. YOU CAN WIN FABULOUS PRIZES!

Of course, the O2016TBFC follows in the fine tradition of many, many fitness challenges. Shall we review? 

In 2010 there was Ragbrai Royalty Challenge. 

Then in 2011 there was the Super Boobs versus Super Beaver Challenge. Also known as the Super Friends Challenge. 

Then in 2012 there was the highly existential Awesomeness Challenge.

I don't think we had a challenge in 2013...but I did attempt to do the famous SecuLent.

Pretty sure by 2014 we had just given up on challenges...but I had a few mini-challenges with the Mayor and Kelly Needles.

Then in 2015 I got the grand notion to start the FEBER challenge. Which worked out great, just not for me.  

So, as you can see, we have had a long and fine tradition in fitness challenges, though, the results have been mixed. 

And, I have to say, as a veteran of fitness challenges, I like this one. It seems both a) profoundly simple and b) profoundly fair. And I do have to admit that it might just inspire my competitive nature...

Though, I do have to tell you that when Pochy initially proposed this challenge to me, the way you participated was "miles on the road" and minutes spent doing yoga, which would have only been really do-able for the members of the team who do a lot of yoga and have fat bikes...(hey, wait a minute). But Pochy was receptive to my feedback, and I have to say, she's hinted at some mind-blowing prizes. 

So, go forth, little beavers! And ride!

And thanks to Pochs and Too Much for keeping the spirit alive! 

R15 57 Pain and Suffering in Pine Lake

PDBA: After Slacker Sunday, comes Downer Monday! Enjoy. 

By the time I arrived in Pine Lake State Park, and found the beaver ark, I was absolutely shattered. 

After 216 miles, one billion beers, an emotional break down, and a long lonely ride into camp, my ass and my heart had given all I had to give. 

I sat down on the picnic table and ate a beef stick. In fact, I went into a bit of a beef stick coma. People came and went. Ragby was at it all around me, and I just stared. 

Eventually, and very slowly, I dragged my tired ass into the ark and started getting ready for a shower. 

Inside, it was just the Deb. I set my bag on the couch and started to scrabble around in my clean clothes. 

"You know," the Deb started. "I wish you would get your shit out of the way." 

I looked at her. Blinked. A bit startled. "What?"

"Your shit. It's in the way. Why don't you put it outside in one of the cubbies?" 

Blink. Blink. "Because all the cubbies are locked. Every cubbie I try to open is either locked or full. Which cubbie do you want me to use?"

"There are cubbies you could use, you just have to look." 

Blink. "Okay, I'm sorry, but I just don't see the problem. There's plenty of room in here." 

"Well," the Deb said, "maybe I want to sit down."

I looked around the room at the 4 empty bench seats, 2 empty captain's chairs, and 1 empty arm chair. "You can't sit down anywhere else?" 

"I want to sit on my couch, okay?" she yelled. 

I looked at her again. Where was this coming from? She'd been dancing, and hollering at us to hurry up and get to town so we could party, and living it up for the last three days. Why was she being so mean to me? 

"What is up with you?" I asked. 

"I'm in a lot of pain, okay?" Oooooh yeah. The pain. 

If you'll remember, the Deb had broken something before ragby, but couldn't get into the doctor until after. Bravely she had decided to join us anyway, and a broken leg hadn't stopped her from walking, dancing, setting up tents, drinking beer, making friends, and because of that I had kind of forgotten that she was in a lot of pain. She had done such a good job hiding it from us, that she had actually hidden it from me. And because she doesn't ask for help, even when she needs it, eventually, she reached a breaking point. Alas, that breaking point was my "shit" in the camper. 

Of course, just as I couldn't see that she was in pain (and no other seat than the one I was temporarily using would do), she couldn't see that I was absolutely wrecked. 

"Fine." I said. "Fine. I'm almost done." I finished sorting my stuff, threw my bags out the door, and walked down to the shower. 

Thankfully, I was the only person in line, and I managed to keep it together. But when I got in to that little stall and pulled the cord, I cried. Sad, self-pitying tears covered up by the sound of the campground shower. Why couldn't anyone just give me a fucking break? Why couldn't they see that I just needed a break? 

Back at the campsite, I put up my tent in the shadow of our neighbor's RV. They had extra space for a tent and had very kindly offered us the space, so we could get around all the rule breaking. I sought out Too Much and asked him if we could have a safety meeting, which was just what the doctor ordered. 

While the rest of the team arrived, ate beef sticks, sought medical advice, plotted the demise of tandem riders, I stared into space and ate, pizza? Luke arrived with the pups, which was a treat. And Fall Out Boy arrived too. 

As I stared, safely, into nothingness, the Deb came up to me. "Smile, [Norman]." I knew it was her attempt to be nice and apologize. I stared at her, too tired and too sad to even turn the corners of my mouth up.

Everyone seemed to find a place to put their tents and settle in for the night as the sun was going down over the hill above us. 

As I contemplated my day, I thought about why it is so hard for me to see what is going on with people. Why was it so hard for me to remember my mom was still in a lot of pain, despite her brave face? Well, she hides it really well. And, maybe I'm doing the same. I just assume that sitting around, dead-eyed, like a stunned mullet, is a clear indication of emotional overload, but maybe not. Maybe Masinga and Steven, are on to something. Maybe when I am rocked, I just need to own it and put it out there, and, gasp, ask for help, when I need it. 

Or maybe I just needed a bloody mary. 

R15 56 Slacker Sunday: The Road Boss

Whew, what a party! What a route! Can you believe it! We're going to?!?!

Just kidding. I am writing this in the past, on Wednesday, to be exact, so I don't know what happened at the party. Commentary will come shortly, but I wanted to give you beavers something to gnaw on while I am sleeping off the killer party of the RRAP.

So here's your Slacker Sunday update.

One of the fun things about getting your friends into cycling is getting them into the terminology of professional road racing. I don't love to watch sports, and I don't follow a ton of sports, but I do enjoy watching, and following to some extent, professional road racing.

Mostly because there are some hilarious commentators out there:

And some hilarious teams: 

And some hunks!

Oh Cipo!

And while you are watching you learn some helpful terms. 

One of my favorites is super-domestique. 

A domestique is a road bicycle racer who works for the benefit of his team and leader. In French, domestique translates as "servant".^{[n 1]} The use of the term dates back to 1911, although such riders had existed before then.

There is a hierarchy among domestiques; the more accomplished, often called lieutenants or super-domestiques, are called upon during critical times. The lieutenant(s) stays with the leader as long as possible during demanding periods . 

There's something charming about domestiques, who work for the glory of others! And, I think they are the most bad-ass. In a lot of ways, they work harder than the team leader.

There's even a tshirt!

Initially, I dubbed Too Much our super-domestique. With his fitness, his tallness, and his never-grumpiness, he manages to shield the rest of the team from both the wind and the occasional drama that we encounter. He doesn't bring us water bottles, but he often shuttles beers to us.

Just like this!

But I think Too Much's role is going to have to change. We already have a "boss" on the team, and no one is questioning Steven's bossness. Not only is she a great and fearless leader, she also does a ton of work to get the team ready for ragby. And she brings an institutional history, having ridden more ragbys than almost anyone else on the team. 

But. 

And, there's a but. A big one. 

Steven is a great boss. And we have long leaned on her as our "lead us to our home stay" address boss. She puts all the addresses and directions into the beaver-tail. She's the most familiar with the maps and directions. And she's smart, and a good leader, and bossy. 

But, there's a new Boss in town. And she's drunk. Steven is no longer a no-gal. She's not even a yes-gal. She's a FUCK-YES-Gal. And, when we arrive in town and are looking for the home stay, well, at that point of the day, we have reached critical Steven-drunkenness.

We are looking for the directions, trying to figure it out, following Steven, but sometimes getting lost, and then sometimes, just sometimes, there are some melt downs and some yelling and some zooming off and some bike tossing. 

And, for me, well I don't usually realize when other people are drunk. So when I figure this out, well, it's a bit too late. 

And so, the Team Beaver Road Boss concept is born. During the day, Steven will sport an arm band that says, "Road Boss." And she's the boss. We defer to her judgement (beaver help us). But at about oh-shit-o'clock, that arm band gets flipped over (the actual band is still in construction, so I don't know what the flip side will say). 

Too Much, on the other hand, will also have an arm band. At oh-shit-o'clock that arm band will be flipped over to read "Night Boss." 

And he, or any other beaver who is prepared for the role, will take over leadership responsibilities. 

Of course, if Steven is still up to the challenge of bossing at oh-shit-o'clock, she can remain in control, but this way we have an organized and efficient way to mutiny. 

R15 55 Guest Blog: Pochy Takes Pine Lake

PDBA: Happy Route Announcement Day little beavers! Tonight we will know where we will be going next July.

Apparently, I am not the only person just dying to know the route.

Nice try, losers!!! heh, heh, heh.
Want to know my guess? Klinker City, to Klinkersburg, to Klinger Rapids, then on to Klingerton, followed by Klinger Falls, and then ending up in Klinkerport. But, we'll see!
Look for us tonight during the live coverage of the Ragby Route Announcement Party, during which we will definitely be video-bombing and dancing our tails off. I'd like to promise live beaver tweets and snapchats, but it is hard to text and dance!
If the route is temping enough, I hope we can flush some reclusive beavers out of the their distant dens: Mr and Mrs Ranger? Regardless of where we go, you know the beavers will have a dam good time.
Of course, what we learn tonight will send us on a months long journey to find places to stay. And it's not always easy. Today, Pochy describes her adventure of arriving at Pine Lake State Park outside of Eldora and the many problems when people don't follow the rules. 

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Last spring, Team Beaver was unable to locate a home stay in the overnight town of Eldora.  I didn't think this was a problem because we could just camp at the local campground.  I found out the exact date that reservations could be made at this campground, set my alarm, and at midnight I woke up and reserved a campsite.  

I made sure to get a site that was not on a hill, close but not too close to bathrooms, with sufficient space and electricity for the RV.  No problem, right? 

Wrong. 

State Parks DO NOT follow RAGBRAI Rules.  In my mind, being on RAGBRAI meant that we could fudge the numbers a little bit when it came to how many people and tents we had at our site.  The Iowa DNR did not agree.  They were going to be sticklers for the rules and that meant that our campsite did not have enough space for all of Team Beaver. 

To add drama to this situation, this was the day that Luke was planning on driving up to Eldora to camp and have a great time with Team Beaver.  Earlier in the day (while I was drinking vodka, mechanical bull riding, dancing, who knows) Luke had arrived at the campground, expecting to stay and have a great time, only to have the Deb ask him what his plans were... his plans were to stay with us, but apparently that just was not possible. 

In the brief amounts of time that my cell phone was actually turned on and functioning, I spent a large part of the day talking with Luke about what he was going to do, when he could expect me to arrive, how stressed out he was, etc. 

Ultimately, Luke found a county park (no reservations accepted) that still had plenty of room and was also offering a live concert, showers, free funnel cakes and popcorn!!

While the rest of the Beavers stopped at yet another Backpocket stop, I continued on ahead to spend some time with my increasingly frustrated husband.  At one point I had to salmon up a hill and then take to the gravel to be able to get to him and the county park - but finally - I was there! 

​

When we got to Luke's campsite, I was a little bit stressed, but that was quickly alleviated with a rum and coke, beef jerky, some time with Luke and the two best dogs in the whole world, and a shower.  After a while, we tried to head over to the State Park to wrangle up some of my stuff (I was wearing Luke's clothes at this time because I had showered and then realized I had nothing to change into). 

We went to the state park with the intention of solving the space problem.  See, at the county park, there are no restrictions on how many people can be at each site, so we thought that maybe some of the Beavers would like to load up their stuff and hop in Luke's truck and then spend the night at the park with the music and free food... but when we arrived at Beaver Camp, it became clear that there had been some drama.  I thought Norman was just really overwhelmed about the camping situation - I had no idea what other events had taken place that evening. 

Fall Out Boy, who had just arrived that evening, was the only Beaver to join us at the county park, and that was okay.  He hadn't ridden yet so he was still fresh and well rested... well rested enough to stay up until 3:00am drinking whiskey with Luke and their new best friend, the campground host.  Meanwhile, I tried to get a tiny bit of sleep before another day of riding.  I think Norman has provided some insight in the past about how difficult it can be to sleep in a tent with a boyfriend and a dog - I experienced the same thing.  Try sleeping in the back of a truck with a whiskey-drunk husband and TWO dogs, only to have to get up and meet the team at dawn.  

I have two important lessons from this day: 

1) State Parks DO NOT follow RAGBRAI Rules. 

2) Your non-RAGBRAI friends and family will have a hard time understanding why you couldn't arrive in the overnight town earlier in the day, why logistics can be so difficult, why you are grouchy and tired by 7:00pm.  Apparently it is really difficult to meet up with someone on RAGBRAI. 

R15 54 Into the Woods

PDBA: I got another text from Too Much. 

Too Much: "What's my jersey budget for this year? Will our beavers defect if I make another $90 jersey?"

I told him that there might be some griping from Chief Financial Beaver, The Mayor, but, let's be honest here, he has to have something to gripe about. As we go through the next couple of blogs, I am going offer some teasers about new beaver products that are coming online this year! So, start saving your dollars little beavers! 

Alas, I won't be able to match the team. Nope, because no one has stepped up to take the 10th seat at the ragby route party tomorrow night, so old Stormin Norman is out $61 bucks. I guess I'll just take a sleeve. You guys have fun matching without me. 

Al.Most.There

Beavers struggle with locating our dam at night. It is HARD. It's the end of the day. We're tired. We're drunk. Everyone else is running around the town. Towns rarely make sense, nor do they ever seem to match up with the google maps. Steven does an AMAZING job with the Beaver Tail, but getting us directions to our home stay is a nearly impossible task. 

On this night, however, I had a sense of where we were headed. We couldn't find a home stay in Eldora, so we were staying at Pine Lake State Park just to the east of town. I knew that if we just stayed on this highway, we'd get there. 

But as we were coming into town, and coming down from our emotional conversation, Steven, Pochs, and the Mayor all took a hard left before we got to the square. "Where are you guys going?" I yelled at their rapidly disappearing backs. But they were gone. 

So, I thought, as I often do, "eh, fuck it" and kept riding. 

I rode through the square, through downtown, and then down a massive hill. About halfway up the corresponding hill, I found a sign for a bike trail that lead to Pine Lake State Park. 

Boomski. 

I was on my way. 

And all of a sudden, I was off the dusty highway and winding my way through the hills and trees of this lovely state park. I found myself alone, in the trees. At one point, I rode past an empty beach, and looked out across the water. Just quiet. Pine trees. A silent lake. And I was alone. Alone, alone. No team.

I kept riding. More trees. More curves. More lonely woods. Was I going the right way? I started to get nervous when I bumped over a wooden bridge and could feel the mosquitoes biting away as I creeped up a long hill in the woods. 

And, then, I was spat out into a busy campground. Cement loops of RVs and tents creeping up the hill. Bikes, and campfires, and children all around. I climbed and looped. Climbed and looped looking for the beaver ark. 

Then, there it was. And who should be sitting on the picnic table, staring into the void, whilst munching on beef sticks, but our beloved Too Much! 

I'd never been so relieved to the calming and solid presence of Too Much. Little did I know, I would need his help again that evening. 

Note: I am hoping the rest of the beavers will send me their accounts of their arrivals in Eldora/Pine Lake. There were some amazing and heroic and scary stories, and the narrative can't really move forward until those details are fleshed out. I wasn't there, so anything I recount would be hearsay. Beavers? Please! Send me your accounts of arrival on Tuesday. 

R15 53 Heart-to-Heart

PDBA: I got a text message from Too Much the other night. It read: 

"Hi Norman.

1. Sorry I won't be joining you for the announcement party.

2. I recruited a new beaver!

3. Mcmbw"

I am excited to welcome "Kyle" (nickname still needs to be earned) to the team. Some of his skills are "beer-through-straw" drinking, problem solving, and beaver wrangling. He enjoys "anything but tequila," claims affiliation with both PEN15 and Team Awesomeness, and is a downtown-goer. 

Welcome to the team "Kyle!" We can't wait to haze welcome you to the team and to ragby 2016. (Too Much, will you add him to the FB group?)

In other news, issue #1 is still an issue. We have 1 or 3 tickets available, but not 2. Please  join us. I am already lamenting the state of my fun budget. You know that Janis Joplin song, "Oh Lord, won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz?" Well, all my friends have fat bikes, and I must make amends...

Highway to Emotional Hell

Picture it. The sun starting its path down the western sky; corn fields baking in the afternoon heat; long, hills stretching up and down to the eastern horizon. Two gals. In gray and pick jerseys. Riding towards that horizon. Friends since girlhood, through ups and downs, high school debate to the birthing of babies, boyfriends and breakups, adventure and beer. 

"Sooooo...." Steven finally says. She always starts a heavy topic with a heavy "soooo." "Can we unpack last night?" 

And so we did. One of the problems with being a bit mid-day hungover and a lot exhausted is not having a crystal clear memory of conversations, or events for that matter...I should retire. 

So, Steven told me about how she had felt the night before. She reminded me of her feelings in 2013 when in her mind we were all "fit and happy and having fun." 

She often cites this as the critical image. But I didn't feel fit!!!
Exhibit A) look at that gut.
Exhibit B) I had just hauled ass alone the last 20 miles because there was no food in Minburn and all I had in my gut was coffee and whisky. And if I didn't that pie into me that MINUTE I was going to murder everyone.
Exhibit C) Party Ninja was running us ragged. 

She explained all of that, and she reminded me of how that year I had sent her a text telling her that the problem with the 2013 ragby was that we didn't have any No-people. We only had yes-people and they were destroying my soul, and my liver. 

What I was trying to say was that we missed her and her bossing us towards slightly more sensible decisions. What I was NOT trying to say was that her no-personing is not fun. Or that I was having a great time because no one was stifling me. I don't think that at all. AT ALL. In fact, I think when we don't have anyone to offer a bit of a "no" now and then, the train goes off the fucking rails, and then we don't actually have fun, we just have a sh!t show, like we did Monday afternoon. No-ing doesn't mean no-fun, it just means a different kind of fun, or fun that we didn't realize we weren't having because we were so sloshed. 

I guess that message wasn't communicated, because Steven decided--and I applaud her--to become the ultimate YES-Girl. She decided to really rock her fitness. She looked fantastic. She had quick eating sugar and Diet Coke, and she was ready to really rock ragby. That mean, drink more and say YES! And in typical Steven fashion, turn that simple YES into a FUCK-YES-IM-DOING-THAT and because she's the boss AND-YOU-FUCKERS-ARE-COMING-WITH-ME mentality. 

So she was ready to eat this ragby for breakfast and also second breakfast and then later like a walking taco, and she was determined to recreate the fun of 2013. 

Alas, I was not. It had been a rough, rough year for me. And my bike riding and fitness had gone to the backburner. And yes, I had wanted to go see the Spazmatics. And I probably would have gone to see the Spazmatics, if we hadn't already had the craziest, drunkest, off-the-chain-i-est day of ragbrai all day long. 

They say with home renovation you can have fast, cheap, or well-done: pick 2. I think we ragby you can have day, night, or happy: pick 2. I knew that I couldn't do day AND night and also be happy.

But I wasn't trying to stifle anyone else's fun. I just did not have the energy to be the party-momentum that Steven wanted me to be. There's the rub. 

She was ready to go, and I wasn't, and I had let her down, by not being able to keep up. 

So, I think that was the gist of our conversation, which I have to say, really got us into Eldora in record time. There were some tears. There was my charming reaction to emotional conversations where I just shut down. We really got into the heart-to-heart.

I think it was a productive conversation. I think we grew in understanding and friendship, but as we were riding into Eldora I was utterly exhausted. Physically, emotionally, metaphysically. 

And, then, I found myself alone...

R15 52 Late Start to Wednesday

PRBA: Sorry for the delay, beavers. I was out of town over the long weekend and didn't spend my usual Sunday afternoon of blogging. Expect delays all week until I can get caught up this weekend. I know some of you are morning readers, so, apologies! 

Also, we still have 1 (or 3) tickets left for the Team Beaver Ragby Announcement Table Party on Saturday. Tell your neighbors, friends, family, Tinder dates, whatever. The pleas will continue this week, and grow ever more passive aggressive, until we find a 10th. 

Lastly, a few blogs ago, I mentioned the epic The Registers Great Annual Bike Hike on the road to Beavertown. Pochy found some photographic evidence! 

Single File, All 10,000 of you! 

Straight Road, Turn for the Worse

We left off on the road out of Buckeye, zig-zagging across the strange traffic pattern that found us in Buckeye and in deeply indebted to Crazy Eyed-Jeff and his strange brew.

The wind picked up and we had a long slog into Eldora. I decided to stop being such a lay-about and help with the pulling, so Steven and I grabbed the front of the lines and lead those beavers onward.

We hadn't seen Too Much since Alden, but we still had Masinga, Pochy, Grandpa and the Mayor. I was not feeling great, nor was I at the peak of my fitness (ragbrai is not the time to get in shape, after all) and this pull felt just about at the top end of what I was able to manage.

But I was definitely getting into that negative head space and self talk. Why hadn't I trained more? What was wrong with me? Why did I suck so bad? I'm letting the team down. Also, there was probably some mid-day hangover emotions starting to build up in there.

But the pulling was helping. I was doing something. I was just along for the ride the whole week. And that made me feel a bit better.

So Steven and I were chatting and pulling and having a great time, when lo and behold: our saving grace! Backpocket!

It wasn't a great Backpocket stop. Just a mowed field, with pokey grass and hay bails and only tents for shade, but there was beer! And we needed some. So we pulled the team over and got in line.

I wasn't really sure whatever one else was up to, but we didn't see Too Much. I am pretty sure Steven was getting into some shenanigans, and the Mayor was talking to some folks that he knew. Mostly Masinga and I just wandered around the tent, looking for a place to chill.

I did run into one of the hunky middle aged dudes from the YMCA who wanted to chat. He gave me a team Stop-A-Lot coozie and seemed like he wanted to chat, but I was so out of it, I kept doing the "well, time to wrap this conversation up" thing. I think I did to to him about 3 times, but then he just kept talking to me.

Finally, it was last call which meant it was time to hit the road.

We tried to do a beaver-leaver, but somehow when we got back on the road, we got a bit scattered. Soon, I found myself riding side-by-side with Steven, and we all know what happens when an emotionally frazzled, slightly drunk, dehydrated Norman and Steven get together...

R15 51 Pochy's Take on Tuesday on Tuesday

PDBA: Well, it's MLK weekend, which means I am out of town. If all goes according to plan, in beautiful LaCrosse, Wisconsin, where I am watching show choir and drinking myself silly with El Capitan. Thankfully, I've got Pochy to help keep this blog rolling over the long weekend. Thanks Pochy. 

Note: I have to say, I am impressed with how fearsome we have made ourselves out to be to our junior members. I don't think they have yet realized that the consequence of fiddle fucking is, well, uh, nothing. Except maybe for some beetching and moaning from the Mayor. 

Also, I love Pochy's spelling of chamois cream! It sounds some much better with her spelling, I am going to adopt it permanently. 

Take it away, Pochs!

Pochy's Tuesday recap: 

On Monday night we had a home stay in Fort Dodge.  The lady was really nice and I even spent part of the evening sitting on her living room floor watching The Bachelor with her while other beavers showered.  One of the best parts about having a home stay (aside from the ability to shower with hot water) was that we could charge all of our devices for as long as we wanted!  

I made the mistake of letting my phone charge all night.  I had this delusional idea that I would wake up at the same time as all the other beavers, even though I had not set an alarm.  I thought that the sound of other beavers rustling would wake me.  Well, it did... but here's the thing... I woke up to the sound of other beavers taking down their tents.  This meant that by the time I got up, got dressed, and took down my tent, I was the late one.  I was scrambling.  I was scared that I would be accused of fiddlefucking and I just could not get it together.  I still had to put air in my tires.  I still had to refresh my supply of stickers.  I was in such a rush, that I didn't even seek privacy when applying chamoise butter. 

My beaver mentor, Too Much, must have noticed my frantic and panicky state, because that morning, he did the nicest thing that anyone has ever done for me (I may be exaggerating, but emotions run high on ragbrai).  He gave me a bottle of vodka.  

This was the day that I stopped drinking beer on ragbrai and officially switched to hard liquor. 

Adding some Beaver flavor!