RAGBRAI: Day 4

Day 4 done. And really, seriously, the morning is my favorite time. In the first two hours, I sit there exalting on my bike seat. I feel that I love biking, love RAGBRAI, and love life. I'm reminding myself of that right now. By noon I am ready to be done and sit lounging around at camp the rest of the day.

Today was fairly short, but quite hilly. Tomorrow promises to be equally hilly. It seemed that every hill we finally get to the top of inevitability leads to another hill. This is supposed to be the sixteenth flattest route. I have to wonder what the hilliest one was like.

I'm probably being spoiled this RAGBRAI. The weather is beautiful, the routes are short. Actually, a few days ago I had an unpleasant encounter with an enthusiast who thought the same thing. On Day 2, the longest day and the longest ride I had ever been on, I was exhausted and in line for the showers. A circle of chairs had been set up for the line and every time the person in front was called, everyone would move up one.

"I'm too tired for musical chairs," I grumbled out loud.

"Well, then you shouldn't be doing RAGBRAI, that's the way I see it, sister. This your first time?"

"Yes."

"Oh, you would have never have made it last year."

"...thanks."

Thanks to my rather curt answers, she stopped talking to me and turned to talk to the guy next to her about how much last year sucked in a rather one-upper way.

Yes, last year would have been miserable. I worked at the oil change place then and I would go out the door in the morning and start sweating and would roast all day in the bays and pit and not stop until I went back home ten hours later, showered, and actively avoided anything that might make me perspire for the rest of the evening. It would have been hell to ride RAGBRAI then. But seriously, a brand new rider is tired but victorious after the hardest day and it's all you can do to tell them their accomplishment is nothing? To make them feel bad for not being more miserable? It really ticked me off and both Mom and Dad told me to ignore it and one-uppers are insecure and so on. But really the sting was taken out by Dad turning it into a running joke. I say it seems like after every hill we went up, we'd go down and then up again. He then says, "It's nothing compared to last year." Which he didn't go on. It takes me a second and then I'm like, "You punk!" in a friendly manner. "Last year," he continued, "every time we got to the top of a hill, there'd be another hill and we'd have to go up again."

Right now, chilling out under the big tent Bike World sets up with chairs for people to relax in. Mom's giving me a massage cause my shoulder muscle was acting up and the massage-er was booked. We're waiting for the sun to go down so we can be in our tents without getting hot and go to sleep. Early days here.

Tomorrow, more hills. Of course, nothing like last year.