Hundreds of miles across Iowa – a look back at RAGBRAI’s 50th ride

RAGBRAI’s 50th ride is in the books. And LMQC’s biking blogger Gabe Lareau shares his parting thoughts as he reports back on his ride through Eastern Iowa to the banks of the Mississippi on Saturday, July 29th.

by Gabe Lareau

For the first time in what feels like years … I am finally off my bike.

I’m writing this in an air-conditioned room. My fingers aren’t slipping off the keyboard because they’re so sweaty.

Yes, the 50th edition of the Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa has ended. Every one of the 500 miles has been trod; all the tires have been dipped.

You don’t have to ride every day to get a full RAGBRAI experience

If you’ve followed all of my RAGBRAI adventures this far, you’ll know I didn’t ride the full course. Because of my lack of training, the many thousands of feet of climb, the triple-digit heat, and a dash of exhaustion, I only rode about two-thirds of the entire route—nearly 350 miles.

But I don’t feel I shorted myself of the RAGBRAI experience.

We experienced misty mornings, scorching afternoons, plenty of laughs after a long day’s work, and interactions with people from around the country who decided to take up the challenge. And –  especially near the end – “challenge” was the most fitting descriptor.

Getting an early start on the end of RAGBRAI

Gabe takes a break to rehydrate in the 100-degree-plus heat of RAGBRAI.

After opting out of riding from Des Moines to Tama-Toledo, I decided that I needed at least one more full day under my belt. So, at four in the morning on Friday, we packed up our tent, scarfed down a Cliff bar, turned our lights on, and ventured out into the pitch-black Iowa River valley.

My credo for the day was simple: speed. I knew I’d have to make smart, short stops to maximize efficiency to beat the day’s heat.

I started off strong in the dark. Encountering only the occasional cyclist, I had just my pedal strokes to focus on.

I told myself that today’s 80-mile, 2,500-foot climb route would be my life’s greatest athletic challenge. I had no idea how right I’d be.

Finding motivation on Iowa’s back roads

To keep motivated and to alleviate boredom, I played the “Who am I riding this mile for?” game on RAGBRAI. I’d think of someone in my life or someone I held in high regard and dedicate that mile to them.

Mom got a mile, as did all of my siblings. Five hundred is a lot, though and my list quickly dwindled. I started throwing out miles like Oprah and cars. Henry David Thoreau, you get a mile! Jane Goodall, Einstein, Aretha—you all get miles!

While I was rolling along the river valley, through distinctly European-heritage towns like Chelsea and Belle Plaine, I was reminded that the next town coming was Amana—a place home to many of my happiest childhood memories.

In May of 2022, my first cousin once removed, Dan, had a severe heart attack. Over a year later, he is still recovering from it. That Friday morning, I rode my bike through Amana, down a road that ran along his lily pond. It was the first time I’d seen his house since his heart attack.

Already over halfway through the day’s ride, Dan’s inhuman strength fed into mine a little bit. I pedaled a little bit faster as I dedicated that mile to him.

While our deepest connections certainly can fuel the spirit, the body can have other ideas.

Because I’d be staying with friends in Iowa City when I finally reached the end of Friday’s route, a proper shower and a meal with vegetables kept me motivated as I suffered through Johnson County.

An Illini riding through Hawkeye Country

Now, as an Illini already in the depths of Hawkeye country, Johnson County posed a threat to my soul. And its hills posed an even greater threat to my legs.

Those last eighteen miles … all climbs.

No momentum carried over; you couldn’t slingshot these foothills. And all of this in one hundred-degree heat.

The question of, “Which do you hate the most: heat, headwinds, or hills?” was irrelevant as I was experiencing all three at once.Well before the finish, a lady sat at the side of the road holding a sign saying, “This is the last hill.” She was wrong, literally by miles.

She must’ve seen my Illinois shirt.

Saturday … finally

The next – and last – day was the perfect antidote. I rode the second half, starting in Muscatine and riding the short thirty miles to the tire dip site in our beloved Quad Cities.

The day was overcast, and even a bit chilly at some points. And because we were right along the Mississippi—hills were becoming more of an endangered species.

As I rode that final stretch, counting down the miles and minutes from when I’d be able to get home, I couldn’t stop thinking of a quote from a character who is my age, Zeffirelli B, from my favorite movie, The French Dispatch. It reads:

“An invincible comet speeds on its guided arc toward the outer reaches of the galaxy in cosmic space-time. What was our cause?”

I revised it a bit: “A vulnerable cyclist blurs along his marked route parallel to the western banks of the mighty river on a rock orbiting a star. Why did I cross Iowa?”

So, why RAGBRAI?

The answers are legion, but they should not come without proper thought and appreciation.

To see my family; my older sister as she comes home from two years in Korea, my younger sister as she leaves for one year in Brazil.

To recognize how to use my great privilege for those who must walk and bike in the heat.

To help inspire more people to ride with this travelogue in the hopes that we may have a shared joy.

To experience good company.

To come home to the Quad Cities, the place where I have spent most of my life. The place that, on Saturday, marked a resting point for thousands of cyclists and a venue for celebrating their fine achievement.

It’s cliché to say that I rode across Iowa not for the destination but for the journey. And while that’s partly true, this destination is a good one.

No engine powered us—we got ourselves here. And in this world, where our every action is assisted, that’s a rare thing.

Of my own power, I got myself home.

All it took was a bike.

by Gabe Lareau

For the first time in what feels like years … I am finally off my bike.

I’m writing this in an air-conditioned room. My fingers aren’t slipping off the keyboard because they’re so sweaty.

Yes, the 50th edition of the Register’s Annual Great Bike Ride Across Iowa has ended. Every one of the 500 miles has been trod; all the tires have been dipped.

You don’t have to ride every day to get a full RAGBRAI experience

If you’ve followed all of my RAGBRAI adventures this far, you’ll know I didn’t ride the full course. Because of my lack of training, the many thousands of feet of climb, the triple-digit heat, and a dash of exhaustion, I only rode about two-thirds of the entire route—nearly 350 miles.

But I don’t feel I shorted myself of the RAGBRAI experience.

We experienced misty mornings, scorching afternoons, plenty of laughs after a long day’s work, and interactions with people from around the country who decided to take up the challenge. And –  especially near the end – “challenge” was the most fitting descriptor.

Getting an early start on the end of RAGBRAI

Gabe takes a break to rehydrate in the 100-degree-plus heat of RAGBRAI.

After opting out of riding from Des Moines to Tama-Toledo, I decided that I needed at least one more full day under my belt. So, at four in the morning on Friday, we packed up our tent, scarfed down a Cliff bar, turned our lights on, and ventured out into the pitch-black Iowa River valley.

My credo for the day was simple: speed. I knew I’d have to make smart, short stops to maximize efficiency to beat the day’s heat.

I started off strong in the dark. Encountering only the occasional cyclist, I had just my pedal strokes to focus on.

I told myself that today’s 80-mile, 2,500-foot climb route would be my life’s greatest athletic challenge. I had no idea how right I’d be.

Finding motivation on Iowa’s back roads

To keep motivated and to alleviate boredom, I played the “Who am I riding this mile for?” game on RAGBRAI. I’d think of someone in my life or someone I held in high regard and dedicate that mile to them.

Mom got a mile, as did all of my siblings. Five hundred is a lot, though and my list quickly dwindled. I started throwing out miles like Oprah and cars. Henry David Thoreau, you get a mile! Jane Goodall, Einstein, Aretha—you all get miles!

While I was rolling along the river valley, through distinctly European-heritage towns like Chelsea and Belle Plaine, I was reminded that the next town coming was Amana—a place home to many of my happiest childhood memories.

In May of 2022, my first cousin once removed, Dan, had a severe heart attack. Over a year later, he is still recovering from it. That Friday morning, I rode my bike through Amana, down a road that ran along his lily pond. It was the first time I’d seen his house since his heart attack.

Already over halfway through the day’s ride, Dan’s inhuman strength fed into mine a little bit. I pedaled a little bit faster as I dedicated that mile to him.

While our deepest connections certainly can fuel the spirit, the body can have other ideas.

Because I’d be staying with friends in Iowa City when I finally reached the end of Friday’s route, a proper shower and a meal with vegetables kept me motivated as I suffered through Johnson County.

An Illini riding through Hawkeye Country

Now, as an Illini already in the depths of Hawkeye country, Johnson County posed a threat to my soul. And its hills posed an even greater threat to my legs.

Those last eighteen miles … all climbs.

No momentum carried over; you couldn’t slingshot these foothills. And all of this in one hundred-degree heat.

The question of, “Which do you hate the most: heat, headwinds, or hills?” was irrelevant as I was experiencing all three at once.Well before the finish, a lady sat at the side of the road holding a sign saying, “This is the last hill.” She was wrong, literally by miles.

She must’ve seen my Illinois shirt.

Saturday … finally

The next – and last – day was the perfect antidote. I rode the second half, starting in Muscatine and riding the short thirty miles to the tire dip site in our beloved Quad Cities.

The day was overcast, and even a bit chilly at some points. And because we were right along the Mississippi—hills were becoming more of an endangered species.

As I rode that final stretch, counting down the miles and minutes from when I’d be able to get home, I couldn’t stop thinking of a quote from a character who is my age, Zeffirelli B, from my favorite movie, The French Dispatch. It reads:

“An invincible comet speeds on its guided arc toward the outer reaches of the galaxy in cosmic space-time. What was our cause?”

I revised it a bit: “A vulnerable cyclist blurs along his marked route parallel to the western banks of the mighty river on a rock orbiting a star. Why did I cross Iowa?”

So, why RAGBRAI?

The answers are legion, but they should not come without proper thought and appreciation.

To see my family; my older sister as she comes home from two years in Korea, my younger sister as she leaves for one year in Brazil.

To recognize how to use my great privilege for those who must walk and bike in the heat.

To help inspire more people to ride with this travelogue in the hopes that we may have a shared joy.

To experience good company.

To come home to the Quad Cities, the place where I have spent most of my life. The place that, on Saturday, marked a resting point for thousands of cyclists and a venue for celebrating their fine achievement.

It’s cliché to say that I rode across Iowa not for the destination but for the journey. And while that’s partly true, this destination is a good one.

No engine powered us—we got ourselves here. And in this world, where our every action is assisted, that’s a rare thing.

Of my own power, I got myself home.

All it took was a bike.

Check out these photos from Gabe’s day on RAGBRAI ’23 …