2019 RAGBRAI: 8th Easiest? Too Many Hills for That to Be True!

On the 2019 RAGBRAI I was enjoying the scenery that I was working hard for on rolling hills, which eventually became fun, and on steep, endless hills (not so fun). Some RAGBRAI-ers were checking out a different kind of view: the riders ahead of them.

"I'm checking out the menu" was one comment I heard behind me. There was no other woman nearby. My husband said that 68% of the riders were men and 32% were women.

A sweet guy named Andy always said something nice when he passed me during the week.

A lot of women and men complimented me on my "kit" (jersey? outfit?) and helmet, which looks like a sliced watermelon with seeds.

One guy or two said, "Do you realize you have a watermelon on your head?"

Two guys asked me, "Seeds or seedless?"

I was worried about the comment "nice melons," but my husband Jim assured me he'd gotten the same comment.

I have six MelonHead jerseys, which Tom Hammer designed. I wish I had seven. The year I was asked to take charge of ordering new ones, I should have ordered more for me and Jim. He has fewer than I do. (He's more cautious, but he sure is glad I ordered us insulated MelonHead vests for colder weather rides like the February Ididarides.)

What upset me was misogynist males talking about me like I was a thing, not a person. Two guys rode up right behind me and then, as they passed me, one burst out laughing and said, "You liked the one angle, not the other."

I can't be sure he was talking about me, but he was inches away from me as he burst out laughing.

So the profile wasn't to his liking, but the backside angle was? Sorry to disappoint.

Oink, oink, you insensitive boobs.

I talked to an amiable Brit from northern Scotland who explained to me that the biggest part of Great Britain is not referred to as an island but as the "mainland" to distinguish between the "mainland" and the islands like the Orkney Islands, the Hebrides, the Isle of Mann, and so on.

What shocked me the most about the tour through southern Iowa was the devastating deterioration of towns like Drakesville and other little towns. Large farms with prosperous-looking barns and farmhouses festooned with flowers sat next to lots with squalid trailers or broken-down, unpainted little houses with broken-down pickups in the yard. I would have taken photos but I was ashamed to photograph their misery.

My family was in Drakesville back in the day, when wet T-shirt contests were allowed and law enforcement officers just stood around chuckling and enjoying the show. In the morning a nice woman who owned a diner on the town square, now closed and barren, offered to make us all breakfast. The Amish drove around town in their buggies laughing at all the literally fallen RAGBRAI-ers, passed out around lightposts.

"Zee Eenglish!" an elderly Amish woman spat to attentive Amish teenagers in a stark verbal warning.

Since then, of course, the troopers have cleaned up the RAGBRAI carnival's more tasteless displays of misogynistic falls from grace and decorum. But there's still plenty of pigs on bikes and some nice guys too.

"I need a push!" I begged, trying to get on my bike with my sore hip holding me back. Expressionless, strong men stared at me and didn't respond. Finally, a guy asked why I needed a push.

"To get on my bike!" I replied.

"Oh!" he said. "I thought you were messing with me! I can give you a push."

He ran out into bike traffic and gave me a nice big push. I got on my bike and then he pushed me again to give me a good start.

Yay! I was back on RAGBRAI! I've had both my hips replaced and the right replacement was botched, so it's really sore, especially when I've walked up a hill. (It hurts more to walk than to bike.) Thank goodness for nice, strong men.