Surviving ‘Survivor’
By Michael Schmidt
Tom called it an “adventure.” I wasn’t sure what to call it: Mike and Toms’ Excellent Adventure; The Continuing Adventures of Mike and Tom; Adventures in Bicycling. But the first word that came to my mind was definitely not “adventure.” The more I thought about it, the more it sounded like “Survivor.”
When the RAGBRAI route was announced early this year and the start city was Sioux City, I was sure that I wouldn’t be able to participate. It was the logistics: How would I get there? Where would I stay? How would I get home after my usual one day?
I told Tom of my concerns and that I would probably have to beg off this year. That was the last I heard from him until early July. He sent me an email that simply read: “Sioux City is calling.” And then the plan: We would set out from Glenwood early Saturday morning, ride to Sioux City, stay with former Glenwood resident John Wilson and his wife, Kim, ride the first leg and then Connie, Tom’s wife, would pick us up in Mapleton some 50 or 60 miles south of Storm Lake.
An intriguing plan to say the least. I did the numbers: at least 120 miles to Sioux City; 68 to Storm Lake and another 50 miles or so to Mapleton for a grand total of about 250 miles for a two-day total or roughly two 100-mile days in two days.
My goal for my first one-day RAGBRAI Ride was to ride my first Century. The goal for my second ride was to conquer the hills that lead to Henderson. This was my third RAGBRAI, and I was expected to ride two centuries in two days? That would be new.
As July 25th got closer, people started asking me if I were going to ride RAGBRAI this year. When I shared the plan, the reaction I got was pretty much the same. There was the simple interrogative: “Are you crazy?” There was the exclamatory interrogative: “ARE YOU CRAZY!?” There was the declarative: “You’re crazy.” And the exclamatory: “YOU’RE CRAZY!”
I admit it might look that way at first, but there are clearly different kinds of crazy.
One definition of crazy is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting a different result. Since this was my first bike ride to Sioux City and my first attempt at riding two 100-mile days back to back, clearly I was not crazy because the only result I could hope for was to complete the trip.
Even if the motion of riding a bike—peddle, peddle, peddle, shift, peddle, peddle, peddle, shift, brake, stop, start, peddle, peddle peddle… seems repetitious, the result is always different; I always end up some place other than where I started if not in the physical sense, then in the metaphorical.
Then there is the kind of crazy that you see on Tru-TV’s “World’s Dumbest”: “ World’s Dumbest Criminals;” “World’s Dumbest Stunts;” “World’s Dumbest Drivers” and so on.
Do these idiots really think they can steal an ATM machine from a convenience store by driving a 4X4 through the store front?
Do these idiots really think they can ride a skateboard while being towed at the end of a long rope and not develop a serious relationship with the pavement?
Do these idiots really think they can outrun the police in a high speed chase forgetting that 1) they cannot stop for gas and 2) the police have more cars they can use?
Texting while driving, a baby not in a car seat, and standing on the top step when the ladder clearly tells you not to-- now that’s crazy.
So being among 20,000+ bicyclists from all over the state, the country and the world, wearing padded spandex shorts, riding in the same direction on the county roads of Iowa under safest conditions possible, and living life for a week in tents, campers and communal showers doesn’t seem crazy at all. It’s just a bike ride. At the same time, there was something a little scary about it. Over 200 miles in two days is not something that I do on a regular basis, so this time I would have to prepare in a very different way.
Tom made a very key observation several days before we left. I was thinking it, but he put it into words: This is a marathon—not a sprint. Surviving it would require doing everything right over a very long time.
It would require eating, drinking, resting at the right time by listening to the engine that powers the bike: is it too hot, is it hungry, is it thirsty, does it need some rest? There are no replacement parts for the engine—only recovery: A broken chain can be replaced faster than an engine with heat stroke can recover; a bent rim or a blown tire can be fixed faster than a broken collar bone can heal. How is the fuel supply? Just as a car needs fuel to run, so too does the body. I calculated that in 17 hours of saddle time, I used over 11,698 calories in the two days of riding—almost three times the amount I would need on a daily basis. Using too much energy one day might leave the gas tank so empty that the engine wouldn’t even turn over. You know: the kind of day after the day you’ve spent moving and using muscles you didn’t know you had. Where the only thing that doesn’t hurt is your eyebrows and ear lobes.
It would require keeping my mind on the ride (very helpful at 45 miles per hour on a downhill) and staying focused for hours at a time knowing what’s ahead, who’s behind and to the left and right. Sometimes it is easy to get lost in Carrie Underwood singing in my ears.
This marathon would require adjustments to how I felt. If I felt thirsty, then I waited too long to drink. If I felt hungry, then I waited too long to eat. It would be like waiting until the low gas light comes on in the car, but you have 40 miles to go and only 30 miles left in the tank. It is much better to keep the tank topped off by re-fueling a little bit at a time. So during those 20 mile stretches between towns, I made friends with bananas and Gatorade. (Interesting thing about bananas: they are loaded with potassium to keep nerves and muscles functioning the way they are supposed to. Even a half of a banana and a few sips of Gatorade have a remarkable filling effect that is good for another five or ten miles.)
This marathon would require adjustments to the weather. July in Iowa can be brutal. Hot days can easily raise the body core temperature to high levels which is why for every five sips of water I took, I poured some on my head, down my back and on my legs. A core temperature too high is like running a car engine without oil; eventually it will seize up. The smartest riders on the road on those days are not on the road—they are in the shade.
This marathon would require adjustments to the terrain. Tom and I would be riding two very different landscapes this year. First there was the pancake flat K45 county road that parallels Interstate 29 south of Sioux City. Flat sounds good, but this time a 10 to 20 mile per hour wind was in our faces for nearly the entire trip. Pressing too hard into the wind is exhausting. It is better to take our time and share the load by switching off who leads so the other can draft (yes, even at 13 miles per hour there is a difference.) The other landscape was the hills between Sioux City and Storm Lake. I decided before we even left Glenwood that my philosophy would be “Never peddle when you can coast.” Letting the bike and gravity take me for a ride would help conserve just that much energy to get up the next hill.
I have learned a great deal from my bike over these last three RAGBRAI’s. The 2010 ride is no exception. It was different than the others and so the lessons tend to be different as well.
First, doing something that may be a bit out of the ordinary—like riding a bike to Sioux City-- does not necessarily make one “crazy”. Of course I know all those people who said we were crazy meant it in a kind way (even Kim Wilson, our hostess in Sioux City, looked at us when we arrived and said, “You guys are crazy” and then got us pizza, provided a shower, washed our clothes and gave us a nice place to sleep that night.) What is important is that we all try something—something new, something challenging, something that will test us and ultimately change us while still having the good sense to know what is dangerous, reckless and really crazy. It is true that life is not a spectator sport. God did not intend for us to look at life passively from the side of the road but to get on the road and be a part of life and to be blessing to everyone else on it.
Second, life is more of a marathon than a sprint. It is a day by day thing, and we must take each day as it comes and make adjustments as needed. Sadly so many people try to rush through life. They want to peddle as fast as they can for as long as they can. The end is the same for all of us. Why would anyone want to rush it? James Dean, an actor of the 50’s, is sometimes credited with saying, “Live fast, die young and leave a good looking corpse.” I’d rather take my time, live long and leave with a smile on my face. James Dean didn’t have a face when he died. It seems better to take your time, to coast once in a while and enjoy the adventure—the adventure of just living.
Third, and this is probably true of all my rides, the people on them are among the friendliest and most helpful that I have ever seen or met. They speak a common language (they talk bike); when their bikes break down, they share equipment; when their bodies break down, they share food and drink; when they flounder or when they think they can’t make that hill, they encourage one another. When they are among other cyclists, there is a trust. Some of these bikes cost many thousands of dollars, yet I know that when I park my bike—without a lock-- to find a rest room or to refuel on bananas and Gatorade, a hamburger, cherry pie or a pork chop on a stick that my bike will be exactly where I left it. No doubt any “subculture”-- as Tom calls it--- including over twenty thousand “crazy” bicyclists feels the same for its own, but I still wonder how much each little community would be different if we would just take the lessons we learn and apply them Monday morning.
So what happens on my next one day RAGBRAI? Who knows? I am really in no hurry to find out. I’ll take it one day at time and, in the meantime, practice what I have learned.