I met up with the route at a not so early hour of about 7:30.  A late start compared to other days, but I took my sweet ass time getting ready to go, making sure I was prepared for a big ride.  Not that the other days hadn't seemed daunting while contemplating the many miles, and many hills ahead of me, but this one felt huge.  I think its because I live in Iowa City and have made the trip (by car) to Davenport many times, so the distance was more measurable mentally, and I knew it would be a long day.

I was very happy to be back on the road after the bad experience the day before.  Riding into the rising sun, I felt supremely motivated to make this my best day yet.  The first ten miles to West Branch flew by.  I didn't let the rough concrete or hills get in my way, in fact I pushed up every single hill between Iowa City and Davenport!  When I had gone about half way and hadn't needed to walk up a hill yet, I set the goal to push up everything my body would allow.  

There were a fair amount of pass-through towns today, which always makes things easier.  Access to free water and much needed shade for a quick cool down can make a world of difference.  I stopped at a park in Moscow where a band was playing some covers.  The only one I can remember off hand was "Brick House".  I sat in the shady park munching on a planters "Big Nut" energy bar, hoping it would bestow me with the big nuts it would take to go the rest of the way.  I know... crude right?  I had to go there though as one of my favorite quotes of the week from a biker was "Man... You go down the hills on that thing??? You my friend have GORILLA BALLS!"

Pushing on from Moscow, I found a roadside stand with the best deal I saw all week.  They were selling the big 32oz Powerades two for $1.25!  Are you kidding me!  I have been blowing a buck on little 10oz bottles of water all week!  So, I proceeded to buy enough to fill my hydration bladder with delicious pink lemonade Powerade, and one to chug on the spot.  Thanked them for not raping the riders with ridiculous prices, and headed on my way.  It was much easier to get myself to drink the warm sports drink than to sip on warm water all day, so I was feeling like a champ. When I got to Durant I sent Anna a text that I only had about 25 miles to go, and that this was really going to happen!

As in the previous days, I somehow managed to ride around a lot of the same people all day.  It was great to see someone ride by me for the third or fourth time, and know that I was keeping a strong pace.  Had a nice quick chat with a guy who was doing the ride with a hand bike.  I saw several riders through the week that were paralyzed from the waist down, but were kicking ass riding a bike powered by a hand crank.  I can't imagine the effort that would take.  After telling him about my struggles the day before, he told me I was crazy for being out there today.  I told him that I would be ok, that my balance of determination mixed with craziness and a little stupidity would be enough to get me to Davenport, and then we could all take a well deserved rest.  

Rode alongside a guy who I had eaten pie with on Wednesday.  He was glad to see I was still at it, and excited to hear how the week was going for me.  Took a picture that I found on his blog that turned out well, I'll post it on the photo page when I get the rest of the pics up.  Although I had a camera with me, as well as the video camera mounted on my helmet, it is basically impossible to get pics of yourself while doing the actual ride.  Who wants to take the time to set up a tripod just to roll past it and have to retrieve it again?  So it was cool to find that pic of me on the road with all the other bikers.  I encourage anyone who finds there way here that happened to snap a photo to email it to me please!!!

With ten miles to go to Davenport, the sun had really kicked in.  I don't think the heat index got as high today as others, but I know it was well into the nineties, and I don't care who you are, thats HOT!  I took more frequent breaks as I wanted the last few miles of RAGBRAI to last.  I think others felt the same way because I was not alone while stretched out under a tree at a random farmhouse, soaking up the sight of these 20,000 or so companions all working to finish the same goal.  

Not to get too technical, but today I hit a new rhythm in my pushing thanks to a change in style.  Not sure why it took so long to figure it out, but I believe it had a lot to do with the enormous throbbing blister on my left foot.  All week I have been alternating between my natural pushing leg and switch, but with some hic-ups in the switching of my foot position.  Stay with me on this, it is an over-analytical explanation but when you are pushing hundreds of miles every step counts.  My natural is "Goofy" stance, right foot on the front of the board, pushing with my left.  All week until today when I would switch to the opposite "Regular" stance, I did so by using the final push with my left foot to take the weight off my right and slide it to the back, opening space to place my left foot on the front of the board.  This essentially made every "final push" with my left foot a wasted effort.  Today while trying to relieve some pressure on my left heel, I was pushing switch significantly more.  I decided to mix things up a little by trying to push "Mongo".  This is when you leave your back foot on the board, and push with the front foot.  For the rest of the day, I pushed mongo with my left foot, and then didn't have to move my feet at all to go into pushing switch.  It made a HUGE difference while pushing uphill, and I'm certain thats the reason I didn't have to walk any today.  I may even post a quick video pertaining to this technique as I feel others could benefit from what I had to learn the hard way.  As I said, long uninteresting explanation, but a crucial part of what made my final day a success.  So back to the story...

I lost track of how far we had left to go, and then I saw it, a road sign that read "Davenport 1 mile".  At this point my friends, my face was lit with the biggest most genuine grin ever.  The pain from my blister seemed to melt away, and any tightness in my legs disappeared.  I felt like a skateboard pushing machine had grown inside of me, running on fuel of adrenaline and happy thoughts.  I kicked up the pace, and wasn't even slowed down by the next sign that I passed...  "Davenport 5 miles"  Shoot... I guess we probably don't take the very first exit into town.  :)

When I finally reached the city limits of Davenport, I really could smell the river.  It may have been my head playing tricks on me, or the hose water I was drinking, but it was in reach either way.

This is the point where every person who finished on Saturday will tell you that we hit the absolute worst road of the week.  No cracks, rumble strips, or even the occasional road kill we had to dodge was anything in comparison to the fresh, hot, sticky asphalt that we encountered entering Davenport.  The sun had heated it up to the consistency of a road covered with chewed bubble gum.  I was almost tossed from my board when I first hit the sticky goo, and quickly found pushing to be not worth the effort.  Bikes noisily rode by as their tires stuck to the road all the way around.  It looked like everyone was pedaling in slow motion.  This continued for what seemed like at least 3 miles.  I road a few sketchy downhills on the asphalt, but walked most of the way until finally reaching some normal concrete.

Every hill we climbed going through town towards the river had signs saying it was the last one.  That it was "All downhill from here".  We got to a downhill that had multiple warning signs to be "on your brakes" and to watch for people walking bikes.  A 10% grade that snaked down a hill to a sharp turn at the bottom.  A few bystanders called out that I shouldn't attempt to ride it on my board.  I cockily called back that it wasn't my first hill of the week, then realized they were right.  Not wanting to walk all the way down, I decided I would just foot brake when necessary, which turned out to be the entire length of the hill.  A biker rode past and said my shoe was smoking, I wouldn't rule it out.  I could feel some definite heat as the remainder of my tattered left sole was rubbed off.  So much for using these shoes for anything but mowing the lawn.

With the big hill behind me, and a couple miles of riding along the side of the highway, I saw the finish ahead.  Thousands of bikers crowding towards a small spot on the side of the river where we would end our journey.  Rolling slowly through road cones that separated those who were coming and going from the river bank, the whole week came together in a flood of emotion.  I probably would have had some tears of joy if I hadn't sweat them all out getting there.  Standing in the river I had worked so hard to reach, I felt surreal.  A few quick pictures were snapped, I let out a hearty yell that scared some people, and the trip was done.