HRH's Birthday and London Closing Ceremonies but I'm not done yet

We had a lovely day yesterday with HRH and her daughter, the mother of little hrh, getting our nails done, a Panera fix and lots of laughs. That is what I missed with HRH riding off on her own in Ragbrai. Yeah, it was great to be able to swoop in with the 18-wheeler and snatch her up when she reached her limit. But there was not a lot of laughing after Wednesday morning. I sincerely doubt I could ride with her even if this exercise diet plan of mine works out but wouldn't it be fun?

So, as I watch the taped delay of the London Closing Ceremonies, I thought I would wrap up this tale. I have to say CaDiva cried over John Lennon and I smiled when Freddie led the audience posthumously in a recreation of his chant from LiveAid. This was the only moment I felt came close to KD Lang at Vancouver two years ago.

I told you about Not-Hank having to go wheels up. What I didn't tell you is that TWC pushed her much of the last few miles. HRH held up a couple of times to let them catch up to her but they kept telling her to go on. That was kind of sad too because I hoped with her youth and fitness combined with a sort of lackadaisical training plan, Not-Hank would be riding along with HRH. I still think the two of them would have had a lot of fun pedaling across Iowa. I knew TWC would be straining at the bit if he felt he had to hang back with them since he is the only experienced rider. But, there is always next year.

We all learned a lot. CaDiva and I will be looking for hotel rooms and most likely renting a trailer for the Highlander to haul the bikes. We also think we'll get a bike for me and a scooter for CaDiva so that we can get out of the Highlander and tour with HRH in the car-free areas. Not-Hank plans on a more rigorous training season. But TWC said he thinks he might bring the kids. It wouldn't be the first year for his son. I still want to see the pictures of the two-year old TWC II tooling around the towns.

HRH learned she didn't rest nearly enough in the pass through towns. She rested only long enough to swig water and then took off again. I remember when her daughter learned to ride a bike she only had two speeds, full-out and fall-down. I think that is how HRH took on Ragbrai 2012. This is another reason I think it would be better if I or maybe my niece (she is young and could probably be bought with a promise of a Mega-girl trip to a mountain, ocean or casino) paired up with her. HRH won't slow down for herself but she would for one of us and then she would stand a chance at finding the pie and pasta.

As it was she still made it to St. Anthony. If she had pushed past there, not only would we have not been able to get to her, but she was at the beginning of a 700 foot elevation making the last twenty miles the hardest of the entire trip. She did make it almost 62 miles, as proven by an odometer so weary it appears blurry in this picture.

When we last heard from her, she was tired but passing through Zearing. I asked her if she wanted us to come get her or to go wheels up. She said neither. Meanwhile, TWC caught up with us in Marshalltown and the four of us started to talk about killing two hours til she got to Marshalltown.

TWC loaded his bike up in the trailer, we started to think about food. CaDiva and I were the only ones who had eaten and that was at the last Casey's we stopped at (and I do mean the LAST Casey's.) Not-Hank had already set her priorities, which was to have CaDiva and I sit on either side of her in the back seat so she would have soft, gooshy places to fall asleep against.

TWC was recommending the original Maid-Rite. That would have been fun. You should go there before the Health Department eventually closes it down. The Taylor Maid-Rite serves loose meat sandwiches as they were meant to be eaten, which is not exactly up to current standards. But no one has died and so I don't have a problem with it. Besides we didn't want to get too far from downtown as HRH would still want to see the giant red solo cup.

But just about that time we got a few failed phone calls from HRH that ended with a simple two word text, "I quit." I think I startled TWC with my change in perspective. I was fairly amenable to all plans up to this point. Now I was in full-out big sister mode.

I told him, She is Here how do we do this? He picked up on my need and went to the road map. He said, if she stays right where she is we only have to intersect the route there. Ok, I texted back to HRH, "We are on our way." The only problems we encountered were my missing sense of direction and the riders who appeared between us and HRH. He suffered the tortures of the damned, driving along side the cyclist.

I explained, in a calm and soothing tone, HRH was at the bottom of this county road and the cyclist would pull over ... DRIVE. Again, TWC picked up on my sense of urgency. He didn't like it, but I think I was scarier than the Ragbrai God.

Well, we never got to see the giant Solo Cup, which, as it turned out, was nothing like I thought it would be.

But, we also got back to the Highlander in Webster City and, from there, to the Village Inn in West Des Moines just in time to eat pie before the biggest blow the state had seen all summer: drenching downpours, gale force winds, trees down, tents evacuated and Little River Band canceled.

All things considered, a very successful first Ragbrai, if you ask me.