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A gentle push on RAGBRAI
A gentle push on RAGBRAI
Over the following years, RAGBRAI would evolve as our family vacation. What started with my father and brother would expand to include my mother, sister, myself and a rainbow of friends. My mother and sister would alternate driving our station wagon, and each night we would set up our huge canvas cabin tent, the RAGBRAI Hilton.
Through those beginning years, the crowd each year would change. The constant factor was my father.
As we children grew up, other things took precedence to a vacation riding a bike. My last ride with my dad was RAGBRAI IX.
Beginning with X, Dad would go on RAGBRAI with a group of friends who called themselves "The Owls and the Eagles." You know the saying - "He who hoots at night with the owls cannot soar in the morning with the eagles." My dad was always known as an eagle.
In June 1988, my father had surgery to remove cancer from his colon. Six weeks later, he rode one day of RAGBRAI XVI. Two weeks after that, we celebrated my wedding to my husband Gary.
By the end of 1988, my father knew the surgery had not been enough. The cancer had spread. My father died March 28, 1989.
Late summer that same year, my brother gave his Raleigh super Course to my husband. Originally my dad's, it was handed down to my brother, and finally to Gary. We rode together a few times that fall, and at some point Gary agreed to ride on one RAGBRAI, just to see what my family was talking about. Which brings us back to the 25th anniversary ride in 1997. It was my 15th ride, the eighth together with my husband.
The 25th ride reminded me of all the gifts my father gave to me. This was brought home to my heart on the first day of the ride this year, 82 miles from Missouri Valley to Red Oak.
Still several miles out of Red Oak, I was riding slowly up another hill. Gary, having more strength on hills, had ridden ahead. Nearing the top, I looked ahead to see a bike turn around and come back down the hill. The man turned again to come up beside his young daughter. She was clearly discouraged and tired by the day's ride. He placed his hand on the small of her back, and gave the push she needed to reach the top.
When I saw him reach over to his daughter, I broke into tears. That little girl could have been me. On those first few RAGBRAIs, when I was 9, 10,11 years old, my father would come alongside me, and give me the boost I needed.
At the end of the week, standing next to the Mississippi, I cried again. I realized my dad had always been alongside me, to give me guidance when I needed it. I realized it that first day.
The rest of the week was saying good-bye, eight years after his death.
Now, in December, I'm looking forward to February, when the next route is announced. Looking forward to seeing the same old friends and meeting new ones. Looking forward to celebrating life in Iowa.
I grew up with RAGBRAI; I hope to grow old with RAGBRAI.
And I know my dad is always with me, giving me a gentle push.
(Originally published in the Des Moines Register)
