Winter Landscape of Northern Iowa
Evergreens live up their name.
Early morning frost clinging to the deck rail.
Cracked Ice
All the Lost Souls August 26, 2011
Last week I went for a bike ride that took me through one of the neighboring communities in the area. As I rode along the main avenue through town, something out of the ordinary caught my eye. I noticed first the large American flags on every light-post along the street, and then the small flags, arranged in perfect rows like little toy soldiers in front of every house. At first glance it seemed like a celebration, like the old news reels of New York City at the end of the second world war, and in fact one of America’s soldiers was returning home. But it was not to the sound of the Star Spangled Banner and the hugs and kisses of loved ones that he returned to, but the playing of taps and a twenty-one gun salute. Navy Seal John Tumilson was aboard that now famed helicopter crash in Afghanistan that claimed the lives of 29 others. They have returned home, their bodies to the grave, and their souls to eternity.
When events like this involve someone from my local community, I remember that these “foreign affairs” this country is involved in come at a cost. I think we all need to ask ourselves one question…why? Why does this country feel obligated to pursue these war’s overseas that cost American lives. Why are we still in Afghanistan even after the man who brought us there is dead, and to what end do we still occupy that country? Are we there to build schools and roads, to bring “democracy” to a people who have repelled every attempt of westernization since the early 1900’s? The people of Afghanistan do not want democracy, or freedom of any kind, all they want is to be left in peace to fight among themselves as they have for centuries. We Americans mistakenly think that since we have freedom in this country, though we have less and less every day, that other counties want our system of government. Our concern should not be for the well-being of other countries, but our own. Our President has stretched this country’s military presence so far and wide across the globe, costing us billions if not trillions of dollars and many hundreds of American lives, that this country is about to implode upon itself. One look at the history books and it is clear that we can not sustain this course of action and hope to remain afloat much longer. From Rome to Great Britain, history is full of empires that involved themselves in too many country’s affairs, and it didn’t end well for any of them. Our founders knew their history when they wrote the documents that established this union, they tried to make sure that the power to declare war was left up to the congress, where it would have to be voted on by the representatives of the people, not decided by one power-hungry dictator. ( US Constitution Article 1, Section 8 )
If we want to preserve this country for which so many have fought and died, then we need to bring our military home. We can no longer afford to be the nanny police for every little country that is struggling with internal affairs. Would our founders like the way we try to babysit for all these other countries? I think if they did we would still be drinking tea and singing God Save the Queen.
The Battle Continues April 22, 2011
I am constantly reminded that I am not in control of the weather. Earlier in the week the temperature was well into the mid 60’s. This morning it snowed. It seems that as soon as I get into a routine with riding and training for RAGBRAI, the weather has an identity crisis. I looked out the window this crisp, spring morning, and tried to think of a way to make an analogy out of this atmospheric change, and I came up with this. Weather is like a battle and we are the deer. Allow me to clarify. Think of the warm and cold weather like two opposing factions of a mighty battle, the warm holds it’s ground in the south while the cold finds refuge in the north, and Iowa is the no-man’s land. Each storm is a battle between these mighty foes, at times the warm holds the “front” line, while at other times the cold gains the high ground. The battles that result from these engagements can become quite fierce, with the blinding flash of the cannon that can be seen for miles and the resulting window-rattling boom that rolls over the prairie like a tsunami. Their bullets flood our rivers and sometimes dent our cars, and the smoke from their guns fills our skies to the point that the sun ceases to shine. We are at the mercy of the these two mighty forces and there is nothing we can do when the battle ensues but take cover. But when the battle is over, we dare to venture forth from our shelter to graze and find sustenance while we can, and we become oblivious when the battle does not rage. But when we hear the boom and see the flash, to cover we go, like little deer hiding in the woods. So all we can do is hope that the major engagements don’t come our way, but in the meantime; the battle continues.
Small Town Humor. April 8, 2011
It’s the small towns that often have the best stories, and my small, Iowa community is no exception. All that I am about to relate to you took place around the turn of the century, when today’s sleepy little town was a thriving, booming rail-road town. During this time, the local physician was a man by the name of Dr. O’Keeffe, an ex-military man who during the summer always dressed in a white suit and Panama hat, a very disciplined and tidy man. Well Dr. O’Keeffe would always get into jokes and pranks with the local undertaker, a man by the name of Bert, who just loved to antagonize the poor doctor. Now Dr. O’Keeffe had a beautiful Buick that he just loved, and the boys would sometimes go and put axle grease on the door handle, which just drove Doc crazy, to get dirty grease all over his hands. Well one day, Bert and the boys went one step further. They went and put grease all over the seat of that pristine Buick, and when Dr. O’Keeffe jumped in his car, he got grease all over his white suit.
Oh, Dr. O’Keeffe was so upset. He knew that Bert was the one behind this, so he hatched a little plan. Now Bert also had a furniture store besides the undertaking business, and was such a heavy drinker that sometimes he would pass-out from being so drunk. So the next time Bert passed-out, Dr. O’Keeffe put his plan into action. He quietly stripped all of Bert’s clothes off while he was asleep, and tied a big red ribbon around Bert’s middle, so as to cover the important bits. Then he put Bert in one of his own caskets, with the lid wide open, and rolled him out into the front window of his furniture store. So the next day, when all the ladies and townsfolk were going about their business, there lay poor Bert, naked, asleep in his own casket, for all the world to see.
I’m the next Tour de France Champion, in my head anyway. March 11, 2011
It seems like spring has finally arrived, and for good this time. So without hesitation I jumped on my bike as soon as I could, and headed out into the wind-swept farmland. I’ve tried to explain, in-depth and to my best ability, in previous posts the feeling of riding my bike after too much time away from the saddle. I will spare you the lengthy explanation of the flood of emotions that are coursing through my system after a ride, and try to write from a more philosophical point-of-view. Today it was rather windy out on the road, and I had set myself a goal to cover a route that took me straight into the wind and up a sizable hill (for Iowa anyway). Even though there were plenty of opportunities for me to turn around before the hill, and enjoy the nice tail-wind that awaited, I pushed on toward the top. In my mind I weighed the options of enjoying the tail-wind and turning around right away, which would be easier, but result in less satisfaction; or pushing on up the hill to achieve my goal and be rewarded with an even nicer tail-wind + down-hill. I did reach the top of the hill and was glad that I stuck it out to receive a larger reward. I think this scenario may be easily applied to life in general. Sometimes, in life, we think that if we just give up now then everything will be better, and it might be, for the short-term. If you hate your job you might want to quit and file unemployment, you’ll probably get paid more from the government (or tax payers), but what if you can’t find another job. If you quit while you’re down, it’s even harder to get back up than if you hadn’t quit in the first place. Sticking with it is usually harder at first, but has the biggest payoff. If you keep working hard at the job you hate, someday you might end up running the company, and making enough money to send your kids through college or take that trip to Europe you always wanted. Charging up the hill is never easy, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned from cycling, it’s that mental tenacity is 99 percent of getting across the finish line. If you think you can get there, then you will. When I was standing on the pedals, pushing up that hill, my body was telling me no, but in my mind, I was the next Tour de France Champion.
BTW: The tail-wind was absolutely fantastic!
An Appeal to the Reader March 1, 2011
At the time of this posting, this blog has received 120 hits. I am honored by the fact that someone out there is taking the time to look at, maybe even read my blog. I would like to encourage the viewers of my posts to please comment or reply to any of my posts that you may find interesting, engaging, funny, thoughtful, or worthy of further discussion. I will gladly reply to any comments that are left on this blog, and look forward to hearing from you. Happy Trails
Riding with the Horses
Tonight I went for my third ride of the year, despite the mercury leveling out around 40. At this time of year it seems as though winter’s grasp is finally being loosened, as the warming rays of that wonderful ball in the sky cut through the frost and snow to reveal a terrain long forgotten. Thus was the feeling as I made my way out 9 miles on one of Iowa’s long, lonely roads. I was grateful for the brisk tail-wind that I was rewarded with on my return voyage, and as I glided down the last hill into town, something really cool happened. I was coasting along when I noticed a number of horses just ahead off to my right, it seemed as though they were returning to the barn after a good evening stroll though the corn field. I whistled as I approached them, as I often do when passing interesting wildlife or animals, and a couple of them turned their heads to ponder at this strange sight, a metal cowboy as Joe Kurmaskie would say. Then one of the horses toward the back of the herd broke out into a full gallop, running along the fence row, as if to escort me home. It’s night black mane flapping in the wind like the standard of a cavalry charge, it’s hooves throwing mud high into the air, it was running with me, not because it was spurred on by a skillful rider, but because it wanted to. Some of you might think I’m getting all emotional over nothing, but the feeling of connection that was exchanged in that moment was, for lack of a better word, cool.
Did I say something wrong? February 19, 2011
With my previous post as evidence, I have become weary of these winter months. But alas, some hope. Yesterday, to my bewilderment and jubilation, the mercury rose to an unbelievable level of 65 degrees. Through-out the week before I had watched with trepidation as this day of deliverance crept ever closer to reality across the ten-day forecast. I was getting ready to bust out the sun screen. My inner cyclist kept jumping with joy that spring was here, but my more logical side told me it was not here to stay. But I didn’t really have to listen to either of them, because I knew one thing for a fact; I was going to ride. I could barely contain myself as I drove home from college, packed the Lotus in the back of my car, and drove down to my regular staging area. It felt so good just to be getting ready to ride, the anticipation was killing me. I suited up and rolled the bike out into the alley, which was now thick with mud, behind main street. I clipped my right foot into my new clip-less pedals, pushed off, and nearly fell flat on my face. It was at this time that I remembered that video I had watched about getting used to these new pedals before going out on the road, but as Iron Man would say, “sometimes you have run, before you can walk”. I was on the road! After a five month hiatus from the saddle, I was back. The open road lay before me, ready to receive all my fury and excitement. The cool, snow-conditioned air in my lungs and the warm, constant power of the sun on my face. The first ride of the season is something that can not be put into words. As far as I’m concerned, there is no combination of keystrokes that could possibly convey the feelings of that first taste of the open road. It is the purest and most real form of freedom I have ever known. After an hour and a half and 24 m. under my belt, I felt like I could go on forever. But unfortunately the temperature followed the evening sun and the Iowa winter returned. The spring weather fled as fast as it appeared. Hopefully I’ll be able to hold on to this motivation throughout the rest of this season. I thought my prayers had been answered with a taste of spring, but now this return of winter has me wondering, did I say something wrong?
Spring, where art thou? February 10, 2011
I love Iowa, it is a great state to grow-up, live, and bicycle in. But for all this state has to offer to the avid cyclist, there is one thing that is a black stain to this bicycle haven. It can be summed up in one word; Winter. No matter how hard you train during the summer months, winter always comes around and puts everything on pause, and eventually rewind. It takes a truly brave, dedicated cyclist to don the winter gear; balaclava, insulated gloves, jacket, tights, studded tires, etc. It takes a special breed to charge forth into the frozen tundra and continue his fight against the elements (Christmas dinner). Only a true cyclist would strive onward through these months of bitter cold and freezing winds. Unfortunately, I’m not one of them. I’ve tried my best to stay faithful to my trainer, but these last few weeks I’ve found staring at the same chunk of drywall for an hour every day less exhilaration and more boredom turned to torture. With at least another month before things start to thaw out, my only hope is that I can keep from going crazy with desire to ride my bike with both wheels on an actual road. The trustworthy weatherman told me it’s supposed to get into the lower 30’s this weekend, maybe I’ll satisfy my craving for open tarmac and take the old Lotus for the 2011 maiden voyage. Then again the roads might be too icy, or the cold might make my tires brittle, or my brake cables could freeze and send me flying into the ditch. hmm, maybe I’ll just stick to dreaming about it. Spring, where art thou?
iowacycle 
A reflection on Iowa April 7, 2011
Tags: comment, great, interesting, iowa, life, State
I would like to start a little discussion here, by posing a question. What is your favorite thing about Iowa?
Even if you don’t live here or think that Iowa is where all the potatoes come from, your thoughts are welcome on what makes your state a great one.