Before I begin, I think the cell service here might be good enough to post a picture, so wanted to follow up on the hazing we received from our team last night…

It's been quite the conversation starter and all along the route people came and introduced themselves. This is definitely a social affair.

Starting from our first host family's home, I was warned by a team member about the sea of humanity we'd encounter. After the first mile I thought, "This isn't too horrible." Then we joined the actual ride and I found myself surrounded by more people than I've ever seen in my life. We quickly learned all the lingo. We knew the basics, "On your left, etc." but soon learned "Bike on, bike off, rumbles," and all the other ways you communicate in a sea of 10,000+ people.

We rode past Alton and another town whose name escapes me. After 20 miles we stopped for breakfast smoothies in Paulina. We biked another 14 miles or so and made it to Primghar, which may be one of the most hilarious places I've ever seen. The town is named by combining the first letters of the names of the founders. They all had mustaches, so we rode up to find them hosting the "Mustache Bash." We ate some pretty epic pie and I stood in line for a porta-potty.

A mile or so past Primghar, we found a rode side stand with coffee, cold watermelon and shade. We stopped there and learned that it was on the site of one of Iowa's largest inpatient mental health facilities. The Pride Group has 35 beds and suffers from lack of funding because of poor reimbursement. We also met a lady who lives in Northwestern Wisconsin. She works part time in an independent bookstore in Spooner and also rents out a yurt on her property in Hayward. She's done this ride 11 times.

Next, we stopped in Hartley where I had the best tasting dill pickle I've had in my entire life. It may have been the salt deficit, but it was outstanding. We also found ice cream sandwiches and laid in the park for a while. We were next to a fellow who professed to us that he was hurting from the ride when we asked if he was ok. I was glad that Strange and I had really trained because today wasn't as hard as some of our training rides.

We also ran in to the US Airfore team, who are beastly rider. They also have been stopping and helping every disabled rider on the side of the road. Every time I saw a disabled rider, there was a man or woman from the team already there helping. They're awesome.

The last 19 miles from Hartley to Spencer were the most challenging because we encountered a small headwind. I kept seeing signs that we were 10 miles away. Then after 20 min, I'd see another sign saying we were 20 miles away. Admittedly, I internally lost my chill a spell, but externally I tried to keep it together and finish strong.

Then Strange and I had a lemonade and passed out in the shade for a nap.

Probably the best part was sitting around in a circle with our team mates and chatting. I've met so many interesting people, and gotten to know others better. It's also been awesome to spend time with Strange, who rode the entire day at my right, or just behind me when it got tight. It's fun to do this together, and I'm grateful that we share these things instead of doing them apart.

Last night was my first night sleeping in a tent and I am going to call it 99% successful. I can neither confirm nor deny that I took an Ambien to help me sleep because the fire house was having a party and our neighbors were loud. I can confirm, however, that at about 1am I needed to pee and was sleepier than usual. I wobbled sleepily off into the woods to take care of business and then realized I didn't know which tent was mine. After some sleepy investigation, I found home.

Then at 5:30am, we got up, packed our gear and got breakfast from a local vendor. It's tricky to eat a low carb, ketogenic diet in this thing. Luckily, we found breakfast burritos and I ate the ham and eggs from the middle. This would be the first of three pork- based meals. Ham and eggs for breakfast, a leftover porkchop for a snack and pork ribs for lunch. For dinner, I went with a vegetarian option and got sweet corn ice cream. I'll blow through those carbs in the first 20 miles tomorrow.

After breakfast, we boarded the bus and began the trek from east to west. I really am awestruck by how beautiful the state is. Dare I call it bucolic. We met a guy who has done this ride 12 times and gave us the low down on all the best food. The bus company showed us the RAGBRAI documentary A Million Spokes. For the life of me, I can't figure out why they'd show us a movie about all the people who crash on RAGBRAI. Strange insists that it was about more than that, but that's all I remember.

We made it to the start town and it's incredible. It's really, truly lovely. Cell service isn't great to share pictures, but I will. People everywhere, a huge party and so much to eat and drink (although Strange and I are largely abstaining because I have a hard time drinking and riding). We saw our first passed out drunk guy. I hurt for him.

We also met up with our team and met the people we didn't know. They are solid, hilarious people and I'm looking forward to riding with them. They've taken to mentoring us and have already taught us the rites of initiation for people new to the tour..

It should look real good with a skirt when I go back to work. Pictures to follow when the service improves.

On Sunday my husband Strange and I will start the 400+ mile ride across Iowa. The first challenge was how to get to the start. We're fairly new to IA and don't think anyone loves us enough drive us all over the state. We found a charter through Brancel Tours that would take our bikes on a semi from the finish to the start, and us on a bus along with them. We loaded up this morning and started the trek to Lansing.

The plan is to camp in Lansing tonight and then ride the bus to Orange City in the morning, where the ride starts. The one hitch is that, growing up in the eastern greater Los Angeles area, I never camped. There's not great camping in Colton. I've never put up a tent and don't have all the wisdoms. Luckily, Strange has some glamping experience, so he's at least watched others put up his tent (I kid, I kid).

On the way here, we made an impromptu stop at a national park that we saw a sign for. It was a monument to local Indian effigy mounds. We stopped, visited the museum at the ranger station and learned a ton about our state.

We got here, got our bikes loaded on the semi, and found our spot among the tent city.

Our tent is up, we had an outstanding keto-friendly meal at a local bar and grill, and the mosquitos have found us. I feel like I'm having the full camping experience and totally loving it.

Lansing is a gorgeous town of about a thousand, seated in a picturesque location on the Mississippi River. We learned that it's called the "driftless area" because the glaciers didn't come through and flatten it. It's a hilly area and we'll be riding it next Saturday.

The fire station is hosting quite the party up the road and people are already making friends. On our way back from dinner in town, Strange and I walked past the police station and city hall. A car of people stopped at a group of police officers on the side of the road to ask for directions. As we walked around, they pulled away and nearly ran me over. One of the policemen laughed and said, "Well, whaddaya expect? They're from Vermont."

Well, wait until you hear where I'm from, buddy. But, I'm very quickly becoming an Iowan.

I'll try to update this humble blog each date, but more frequent pictures of this fair state and bike riding tomfoolery are available via Snapchat (@drisis, for the LOLZ).

A follow up to my post the other day, my colleague and our cycling team captain wrote a blog post about why he rides across the state each year. His thoughts resonated with me and I thought I'd share…

http://medcom.uiowa.edu/holden/the-journey/

It is possible, given the current political climate and recent events with a close friend, that I feel like I'm pedaling uphill. I appreciate his hope.

No one prepares you to have the following conversations with your children…

Me (to TD): Please go wake up your brother…

(Five minutes later)

TD: I just woke up Little I with his nunchuks. I thought they were a toy, but turns out they were real.
Me: Is he ok??
TD: Yeah, but he’s angry. I don’t think I’ll do that again.

End life lesson.

I racked my brain all weekend trying to remember the name of the movie where Morgan Freeman and that other guy (Jack Nicholson) make a bucket list of all the things they want to do before they die. Much to my chagrin, the google machine told me that it’s called “The Bucket List.”

Imagine that. “The Bucket List.”

I’ve always hated the idea of a bucket list. A list of things you have to do before your life ends. I’ve had a list of feats I’ve wanted to achieve or goals, but never anything that carried such weight or required reflecting on the end of my life with such finality. The things on my list have been more like challenges. Things I wanted to show myself that I’m tough enough to make it through. I’ve always been proud of survival and toughness. I’m not the best or the fastest, but I’ll finish. In the words of some stuff from my Facebook timeline, I won’t quit but I will cuss the whole time.

I really like to be challenged. The first challenge was a 5K after Little I was born. I was 27 years old and had never been a runner.  The town we had moved to was full of fit and active people who ran in the evenings and on weekends and I was working with a bunch of athletes. The raced on weekends. I wanted to be able to say that I could finish a race. Around the time I started the last version of this blog, I started training for my first race. I trained so hard and finished the 5K. Then I ran a half marathon with Little I’s preschool teacher. And another. And another. When it seemed I had conquered the half marathon distance, I trained and ran a marathon. I don’t feel like I need to really *conquer* the marathon. Running it once was enough to say that I did it.

Around the time I was training for the marathon, I also bought a bike. The man I worked for rode his bike to work every day and I was looking for ways to get more activity into my day. I also didn’t like the realization that I couldn’t ride a bike. I got it into my head that if he could ride 8 miles to work each day, I could too. I went to a bike shop and bought a bike. I rode it around the block for a few days and then plotted out a route to work.

The first time I rode the 8 miles to work, it took me two hours. I arrived sweaty, sore, and so exhausted I could barely stand. I crawled into my office and my coworker asked me why I was so tired. I cried, “I thought I was in great shape, but I don’t think I can ride bikes. I can’t even make it up the hills!” She seemed confused too. The hills between my neighborhood and work were modest, at best, and I was in the thick of marathon training. I was in great shape. After a little patient probing from her, we soon discovered that I had been doing it all wrong. My only experience with cycling had been spin class where the instructor would say “We’re going uphill. Add a gear.” So, every time I approached a hill, I went up on my gears. I’m just glad we figured it out after my first ride. I don”t know that I’ve mastered gears, but at least I now move them in the right direction.

Once I had gained confidence in the ride to work, I needed to feel challenged again. I switched to padded shorts and bought bike shoes, cleats and pedals. The first time I used them, I tried to get on the bike while it wasn’t moving, broke the kickstand, and hit my head on the lawnmower in my garage.  Then I rode to the end of the street, rode into the stop sign when I couldn’t get my feet out, and fell over into some bushes.

Eventually, I got the hang of the pedals and needed a new challenge. I had always wanted to do a century ride. After a hiatus while I moved to our new town, Strange and I got back to biking. The next logical challenge seemed like a century ride. Problem was, I was terribly out of shape, had gotten chubby in the post divorce period, and could barely finish the 8 miles I had been riding easily before the move. The year went by and I vowed to try again the following spring. This brings us to the present, where somehow Strange and I have modified our plan from a century ride to riding across the entire state.

We’ve trained the entire summer, harder than I’ve trained for anything before. We’ve lost about 60 pounds between us and have ridden 600 miles since May. Spending that much time on my bike, I’ve learned so much about him, our relationship, and how far I can push myself. Traveling as many miles as we did, I have learned so much about the places and people of my state and it’s captured my heart. I feel more connected to the community around me. Cyclists smile and wave as they pass each other on trails and roads and local businesses welcome our sweaty forms. I’m nervous about spending an entire week on my bike, but I feel like we took the preparation seriously. We’ll see next Sunday how prepared we really are.  Most of all, I’m looking forward to exploring my state and meeting more of the people whose university I serve.

That said, I recently find myself reflecting on challenges with the next half of my life  and my own mortality in mind. The president’s budget proposal, with a 20% cut to the NIH, really hit me hard. I’ve always looked at my career in a service-oriented way.  It’s the part that makes it enjoyable and sparks my creativity. I want to do work that improves the life of patients (more on that later), but this budget communicated, “We don’t really value that.” Or at least, a faction of the public doesn’t want to pay for it and the inflexibility of academia makes it difficult to do things any other way. It’s like being stuck between a rock that’s telling you that the path to success is paved in NIH dollars, and a hard place that’s telling you they don’t value the NIH enough to keep it funded. It’s left me wondering why we’re working so hard, cannibalizing each other in grant and and tenure and paper review, to serve a public that doesn’t want to be served in this way.  That doesn’t trust those darned elite scientists and professors. Will I look back at the end of my life and wonder why I spent it clinging to Rome while it burned?

Also, readers of this and the previous blog may remember posts about my mother and her early death. She died a few months before her 40th birthday and I have spent most of my adult life rationalizing that her death was not a fluke. It was the result of smoking, and drug abuse and poor nutrition. I am healthy and fit and, although I am about to be 38, I not doomed to her fate.  But, recent events in our family circle have shook that reality and reminded me that, even if I try to do everything right, illness can still strike young people. It’s put an urgency in my thinking that wasn’t there before. With 5Ks, half marathons, marathons and bike rides, am I really living a full life? Are these the challenges I should be taking on? Am I serving people in a way that they really want to be served and in a way that adds to their lives?

One more prattle before I wind this down for the night. I’ve been doing a lot of business, finance and leadership reading lately. Robert Kiyosaki writes in his book “10 Real-Life Lessons Every Entrepreneur Should Know About Building a Multimillion-Dollar Business” about the decade long processes his own business went through as it grew. He writes about the learning process, where he learned his business. He writes about the earning process, where the lessons he had learned from his mistakes started to pay off and he began to build a foundation of wealth. Then he talks about the giving back process. He says:

During this period of time, my focus shifted from making money to asking myself the question, “How can I serve more people?” Ironically, I have made more money focusing on serving more people rather than focusing on how to make more money. 

The idea that service comes from success resonated with me and I’m meditating on what it means to serve people. Does service require consent or at least a desire to be served? Does service require a person to realize they’ve benefited?  Is what I’m doing benefiting and serving the most people?

In the meantime, pass my my fiddle. And my bike.