Trans Iowa Stories: The Gathering

The memories of the end of T.I.v11 will be cherished for as long as I live.

"Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject by going back to earlier Sunday posts on this blog. Thanks and enjoy!

The drive back to Grinnell was taking forever, as I recall. I suppose two-plus hours on Iowa two-lane roads in a truck alone isn't what anyone might call 'fun', so what's new, right? But I suppose it was compounded by MG and I sitting around all afternoon already. I was certainly ready for a change in scenery and some interaction with whomever might show up at Lonski's for the impromptu after-party for T.I.v11.  

I'll never forget walking into the place and hearing the cheers go up when the assembled riders saw me. I was heartened and encouraged, for sure. I was also very humbled and I was quite conscious of the fact that most of these riders had invested months and months of planning and training to only see it washed away in the first four hours of Trans Iowa. Had I been met with pitchforks and pikes instead I totally would have gotten it. But that wasn't the case. I was walking into a hero's welcome. It was, frankly, quite an unexpected and confounding experience for me. 

But no time for pondering the reasoning behind the obviously exuberant welcome. A chair was pointed to where I was to be sat, and rounds of whisky shots were ordered and sat before me. Toasts were made. Hearty proclamations and accolades were spoken. Then it was time to reflect a bit on the day's happenings. I was then able to have some meaningful conversation with several riders. I will always treasure that I had that opportunity. 

Here MG, (R) is having a word with 'Dr. Giggles' (center) while Ari Andonopoulous is obscured to the left here.

Typically I might have a quick word or two with riders as they attended the Pre-Race Meat-Up. Maybe 30 seconds of 'how ya been doin'' type chit-chat. I may even have had a five to ten minute chat with a few of the riders at the end- if they finished- and that would be it. People disappeared and went home. There were few 'good-byes' at any Trans Iowa. Most people that attended Trans Iowa were like ghosts to me. They appeared out of nowhere and faded back into the mists of time. But this gathering was different in that respect. 

Gerald Heib speaking with me with MG standing to the left . Image by A. Andonopoulous

 I was most satisfied with the fact that I was able to sit down and share a beer with the two riders that came from Germany, Gerald Heib and Ralf Stormer. They had been to Trans Iowa v10 as well, so having made two cross-Atlantic trips just to come to Trans Iowa? I was and always will be floored by that, as well as the commitments made by a few others from the U.K. who also made the leap over 'The Pond' to attend this event. But at this point, getting to know Ralf and Gerald a tiny bit was just so amazing for me. I am forever grateful for that chance. 

Of course, there was a duty to perform as well. I had to hand out tires. I had cases of WTB gravel tires and I remember walking through the restaurant handing out pairs to every Trans Iowa participant that I could find. There were other Trans Iowa riders at Lonski's not seated at the table I was at. They were either sitting in smaller groups or having dinner with support people. Among those were Tim Ek and Amy, his partner in life. Tim kept saying this thing to me. Everytime I passed his booth, he'd reach out and stop me and say the same thing.....

 "Trans Iowa is bigger than you. Don't forget that."

I guess I never really quite understood the urgency with which Tim made that statement. Maybe he was sensitive to the feeling I had that v11 was a failure of sorts. I suppose he could have been trying to impart to me that I should never think that Trans Iowa was centered on me, that it was a 'thing', a movement, a spirit, that no one person embodied.  And maybe I found it odd because that was what I always had thought about the event. Or maybe I just never really understood what he meant by that. I can't be sure. It was the last time I ever spoke with Tim. I just recall that being a very odd statement and it has always stuck with me ever since. 

As with all things in this Life that end, our time at Lonski's also had to end. I remember stepping outside with my brother in Life, my good friend, MG, who only a few years earlier was at odds with me at the end of another Trans Iowa. We looked into each others eyes, knowing without words that we had both just walked out of a once in a lifetime experience. The smiles were all it took to convey our deeply felt feelings about that evening. With a few words, we parted ways, and I climbed back into that truck of mine one last time to make one last trip for Trans Iowa v11. The long, lonely trip back home. 

The event was a failure. The event was a rousing success never to be repeated. That's how it often is with things. It all depends upon your perspective. I doubt that anyone there at Lonski's that evening would have traded that day for anything. I know I wouldn't have. But there were people who called me, and Trans Iowa, out for being a waste of people's time. I should have cancelled, postponed, or made a way for all those people's time and energies that had been invested to have paid off somehow. The 'somehow' being a traditional finish of the event, obviously. But those people did not understand Trans Iowa at all. I knew that. So, I didn't pay much attention to those voices, but they were loud, and they were out there. 

(L-R) Keisuke Inoue, Mike Baggio, Ralf Stormer. Image by A. Andonopoulous

 I did have motivation though. Not to change Trans Iowa, but to allow for another chance by putting on another one. Looking back, Trans Iowa v11 was the last Trans Iowa to be truncated. I'd had four years previous where Trans Iowa had run it's full length and time. Only v2, v4, v6, and v11 were shortened. You'll have that in Spring in Iowa. Looking back, it was all good. In fact, people often said to me that it wasn't a 'real Trans Iowa' unless it had been a shortened one, or if the weather wasn't gnarly. So, the people that came expected a certain experience. If they didn't get it, they were, in an odd way, somewhat put out. The next Trans Iowa after v11 being a perfect example of this. 

Greg Gleason became something of a folk hero after this event. The fact that no one but him made the first checkpoint was a story that many found amazing. It was, in fact, very amazing. But in the end, it was a doomed effort. No one finished T.I.v11. One of only two times that ever happened. Some say Greg 'won' the event, (including Greg), and even my results page on the Trans Iowa History site says "we declared him "the winner"", because we wanted to honor his efforts, but officially? No. It was a no-finisher year. 

But while that seems dour, things have a way of balancing out. Trans Iowa would find a balancing out the following year. A BIG balancing out. 

NOTE: A special "Thank You" to Trans Iowa vet and Slender Fungus member, Ari Andonopoulous for sharing the two color images in this post with me which I had never seen until March of 2021. 

Next: It's About The People: Part 2

Trans Iowa Stories: The Gathering

The memories of the end of T.I.v11 will be cherished for as long as I live.

"Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject by going back to earlier Sunday posts on this blog. Thanks and enjoy!

The drive back to Grinnell was taking forever, as I recall. I suppose two-plus hours on Iowa two-lane roads in a truck alone isn't what anyone might call 'fun', so what's new, right? But I suppose it was compounded by MG and I sitting around all afternoon already. I was certainly ready for a change in scenery and some interaction with whomever might show up at Lonski's for the impromptu after-party for T.I.v11.  

I'll never forget walking into the place and hearing the cheers go up when the assembled riders saw me. I was heartened and encouraged, for sure. I was also very humbled and I was quite conscious of the fact that most of these riders had invested months and months of planning and training to only see it washed away in the first four hours of Trans Iowa. Had I been met with pitchforks and pikes instead I totally would have gotten it. But that wasn't the case. I was walking into a hero's welcome. It was, frankly, quite an unexpected and confounding experience for me. 

But no time for pondering the reasoning behind the obviously exuberant welcome. A chair was pointed to where I was to be sat, and rounds of whisky shots were ordered and sat before me. Toasts were made. Hearty proclamations and accolades were spoken. Then it was time to reflect a bit on the day's happenings. I was then able to have some meaningful conversation with several riders. I will always treasure that I had that opportunity. 

Here MG, (R) is having a word with 'Dr. Giggles' (center) while Ari Andonopoulous is obscured to the left here.

Typically I might have a quick word or two with riders as they attended the Pre-Race Meat-Up. Maybe 30 seconds of 'how ya been doin'' type chit-chat. I may even have had a five to ten minute chat with a few of the riders at the end- if they finished- and that would be it. People disappeared and went home. There were few 'good-byes' at any Trans Iowa. Most people that attended Trans Iowa were like ghosts to me. They appeared out of nowhere and faded back into the mists of time. But this gathering was different in that respect. 

Gerald Heib speaking with me with MG standing to the left . Image by A. Andonopoulous

 I was most satisfied with the fact that I was able to sit down and share a beer with the two riders that came from Germany, Gerald Heib and Ralf Stormer. They had been to Trans Iowa v10 as well, so having made two cross-Atlantic trips just to come to Trans Iowa? I was and always will be floored by that, as well as the commitments made by a few others from the U.K. who also made the leap over 'The Pond' to attend this event. But at this point, getting to know Ralf and Gerald a tiny bit was just so amazing for me. I am forever grateful for that chance. 

Of course, there was a duty to perform as well. I had to hand out tires. I had cases of WTB gravel tires and I remember walking through the restaurant handing out pairs to every Trans Iowa participant that I could find. There were other Trans Iowa riders at Lonski's not seated at the table I was at. They were either sitting in smaller groups or having dinner with support people. Among those were Tim Ek and Amy, his partner in life. Tim kept saying this thing to me. Everytime I passed his booth, he'd reach out and stop me and say the same thing.....

 "Trans Iowa is bigger than you. Don't forget that."

I guess I never really quite understood the urgency with which Tim made that statement. Maybe he was sensitive to the feeling I had that v11 was a failure of sorts. I suppose he could have been trying to impart to me that I should never think that Trans Iowa was centered on me, that it was a 'thing', a movement, a spirit, that no one person embodied.  And maybe I found it odd because that was what I always had thought about the event. Or maybe I just never really understood what he meant by that. I can't be sure. It was the last time I ever spoke with Tim. I just recall that being a very odd statement and it has always stuck with me ever since. 

As with all things in this Life that end, our time at Lonski's also had to end. I remember stepping outside with my brother in Life, my good friend, MG, who only a few years earlier was at odds with me at the end of another Trans Iowa. We looked into each others eyes, knowing without words that we had both just walked out of a once in a lifetime experience. The smiles were all it took to convey our deeply felt feelings about that evening. With a few words, we parted ways, and I climbed back into that truck of mine one last time to make one last trip for Trans Iowa v11. The long, lonely trip back home. 

The event was a failure. The event was a rousing success never to be repeated. That's how it often is with things. It all depends upon your perspective. I doubt that anyone there at Lonski's that evening would have traded that day for anything. I know I wouldn't have. But there were people who called me, and Trans Iowa, out for being a waste of people's time. I should have cancelled, postponed, or made a way for all those people's time and energies that had been invested to have paid off somehow. The 'somehow' being a traditional finish of the event, obviously. But those people did not understand Trans Iowa at all. I knew that. So, I didn't pay much attention to those voices, but they were loud, and they were out there. 

(L-R) Keisuke Inoue, Mike Baggio, Ralf Stormer. Image by A. Andonopoulous

 I did have motivation though. Not to change Trans Iowa, but to allow for another chance by putting on another one. Looking back, Trans Iowa v11 was the last Trans Iowa to be truncated. I'd had four years previous where Trans Iowa had run it's full length and time. Only v2, v4, v6, and v11 were shortened. You'll have that in Spring in Iowa. Looking back, it was all good. In fact, people often said to me that it wasn't a 'real Trans Iowa' unless it had been a shortened one, or if the weather wasn't gnarly. So, the people that came expected a certain experience. If they didn't get it, they were, in an odd way, somewhat put out. The next Trans Iowa after v11 being a perfect example of this. 

Greg Gleason became something of a folk hero after this event. The fact that no one but him made the first checkpoint was a story that many found amazing. It was, in fact, very amazing. But in the end, it was a doomed effort. No one finished T.I.v11. One of only two times that ever happened. Some say Greg 'won' the event, (including Greg), and even my results page on the Trans Iowa History site says "we declared him "the winner"", because we wanted to honor his efforts, but officially? No. It was a no-finisher year. 

But while that seems dour, things have a way of balancing out. Trans Iowa would find a balancing out the following year. A BIG balancing out. 

NOTE: A special "Thank You" to Trans Iowa vet and Slender Fungus member, Ari Andonopoulous for sharing the two color images in this post with me which I had never seen until March of 2021. 

Next: It's About The People: Part 2

Trans Iowa Stories: The Last Rider

Greg Gleason's surprisingly clean looking bike in Sigourney,. Iowa

  "Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject by going back to earlier Sunday posts on this blog. Thanks and enjoy!

 MG and I rendezvoused at an interstate truck stop on I-80 and decided that we could have breakfast. This was weird! Having any time at all for myself during a Trans Iowa? This was unheard of. I felt like a truant. This was a luxury I had not expected in the morning when it was still dark outside. 

But with one last rider left in the event, and Tony and Mike out there covering for us, we had time to casually sit down and talk about what had just transpired over the past seven or so hours. MG was amazed by the tales I had to tell, and of course, at that time I only knew a little bit about what had happened. 

But I wanted to know about him. What the heck was going on? Flu? Something not sit right with him? He looked to be just fine at that point as we chatted in the truck stop. Turns out that through a process of deduction it was determined that some bad ranch dressing at the pre-race meal was to blame. Basically food poisoning. But all was well by noon and MG had something to eat with no further ill effects. After this, we tried to come up with a plan to deal with the event, such as it was.

This was unprecedented. One man was left. We had probably ten people including MG and I which would have to keep 'on duty' to facilitate the event with this last rider. I basically had to decide first whether or not just to call the event off. I quickly determined that we had to run the event. Calling it off without any real good reason, whether there were ten riders or one, wasn't in my game plan. So on to the next hurdle. That being, do we keep everyone on duty, or can we just pare it down to MG and I to follow Greg around? 

This was put to Jeremy, who was the lead at CP#2, and to Tony and Mike. Not one of them was going to quit until the event was 'officially' over. Jeremy, who was going to have an assistant come along with him, did decide that he would come alone, if needed. This didn't sit well with me because this meant that Jeremy would have had to have traveled several hours in one direction to get there, all for a single rider. Jeremy didn't care, and so I was left with having that worry on my mind. Meanwhile, MG and I determined that if we could prove that Gleason couldn't make it on time, we could pull him, but that had to be a slam dunk. If it was close, we were going to have to let things play out. The first order of business then was to find out where Gleason was. Without that knowledge, we had no good way to ascertain his progress or to figure his approximate time of arrival at CP#2.

MG and I headed South to pick up the course while Tony and Mike reported in that they had short cut the course to Sigourney, approximately 30 miles further down the course, and had not seen any signs of Gleason. He should have stopped at a local Casey's there for resupply. Maybe he slipped by and was South of there already? Tony and Mike went to check that while MG and I, in separate cars, by the way, made our way to Sigourney to eventually meet Tony and Mike and convene there. Before we got there, Tony messaged me. Gleason was at the convenience store. 

Had Gleason made good time he had several miles of this to traverse on his way to CP#2- This taken the Saturday of T.I.v11 near where Greg stopped.

Tony related to me that the roads immediately South of Sigourney were treacherous. The worst he'd seen all day. That was saying something! Greg was inside the Casey's scarfing down a sandwich. His bike sat outside, looking none the worse for wear, despite the horrible conditions. Apparently, the heavy rains had washed away any mud Greg had run through. By this point the rain had abated. There were showers and mists, and the wind had calmed down significantly. In fact, things were actually much improved from my view. Had more riders made the time cut-off, this would have been a race. 

But on the other hand, it was looking like a losing battle. John Gorilla probably had the right idea after all. A close shave on time to the first checkpoint didn't allow enough time in the bank, as it were, to deal with walking more miles of Level B Roads, and there were definitely more miles of Level B Roads to Checkpoint #2. Gleason was pressing it close too. While we were watching him prepare to leave Sigourney, it was already 12:45. The next checkpoint closed at 8:00pm. Greg had a little over 80 miles to go. He was going to have to pull a rabbit out of the hat to make it, but he was a strong rider, and conditions were improving. Plus, I knew there was a long stretch of very flat terrain coming up. Maybe if Greg turned on the afterburners, he could gain enough time to play with to navigate the B Roads and still make it. Maybe. 

Of course, Greg didn't know this, and we couldn't tell him. It was just going to have to play itself out. I did lob a comment at him that I meant to get into his head. I said, "With 80 miles to go it's gonna be tough to make it in time."Greg didn't respond with anything tangible. He just grunted and shoved off. But now I knew the idea was understood. He could be motivated, or he could crumble. Now all we could do was wait to see what the outcome would be. 

Greg Gleason finally appears over the hill where we were parked. A little too late!

Now I had some math to do. Actually, I had the numbers crunched by Mike Johnson as well. I didn't want to rely on my math skills. I also forwarded my numbers to Jeremy, who just so happens to be a math professor at a local community college. All were in agreement that if I parked at a point about 40 miles from Checkpoint #2, and if Greg wasn't there at or before 4:00pm, he wasn't going to make the time cut. This was predicted on our knowledge of the course, the number of muddy, unrideable Level B Road miles within 40 miles of CP#2, and the weather. 

The weather actually improved even more by the mid-afternoon. MG and I had positioned ourselves at the spot where we were figuring Greg had to get to by 4;00pm. It was just at the end of a long, straight run Eastward where the course turned South down a narrow, muddy Level B Road. I was anxious. On one hand, I wanted Greg to fail because then I could call off Jeremy and save him a long round trip. On the other hand, I wanted to see Greg overcome the deficit and pull off a major coup.

In the meantime MG and I had a couple hours to kill. It seemed like a super long time to me. Of course, we were in the middle of no where. Nothing was going on. We just kept chatting, staring Westward at a low hill, looking for any sign of movement on the horizon that might indicate a rider. We spent some time playing with Amy, MG's dog that he brought along, and otherwise the only break in the monotony was a single car that passed us by. 

MG and Greg Gleason quaff a cold Dales at the spot where Greg pulled the plug.

At 4:00pm I told my finish line volunteers, mobile volunteers Mike and Tony, and CP#2 volunteer Jeremy that the event was over. Wally and George were notified and they decided to head home. We had not seen hide nor hair of Greg. Then we waited some more. 

Then at 4:20 MG said "There he is!", and as Greg rolled up I got out of the truck and walked up to meet him. It was over. Trans Iowa v11 was officially done. I made an announcement on "Trans Iowa Radio" to make it public. Officially it was the shortest Trans Iowa ever in terms of time, at just over 12 hours. Greg covered about 128 miles in that time, which was the second shortest amount of miles covered in a Trans Iowa ever. But could he have made it? 128 miles sounds good enough to keep going, right? Well, he had about 3.5 hours to do 40 miles to Checkpoint #2 and again- I knew the course. With at least three plus miles of walking in that 40 miles, he wasn't going to make the cut-off. It truly was a slam dunk to stop things, and even Greg agreed.

A solemn moment of silence followed which was cut short by MG asking Greg if he wanted a cold Dales. He responded in the affirmative and we both gave him a toast to celebrate his efforts. Then we piled into our vehicles, Greg with MG in his vehicle and myself in my truck, and off we went back from about as far as you could get from Grinnell on the T.I.v11 course. It was a long drive, and we didn't really know what we were going to do for certain once we did get back. 

I had a lot of time to think about that along the two hour drive back to Grinnell. We decided to tell everyone to head to a place in down town Grinnell called Lonski's. It was a local sports bar/college hang-out where I had been a few times before. MG also helped get the word out. I had a LOT of WTB tires with me as WTB had sent out something crazy like 40 pairs of Nano 40 TCS tires to hand out to every finisher. Well, obviously there weren't going to be any finishers, but I needed to download these tires. I really didn't want to be sitting on those for a year until another Trans Iowa might happen. 

Another Trans Iowa....... Yeah, I was thinking about that too. How could I let this Trans Iowa be the last? How could that be my legacy, my end statement? I couldn't allow it. The riders would have not allowed it, nor would they want to not have a chance at redemption. I figured that there would be a fair number that would want to have another crack at it. My volunteers wouldn't want it to end that way. I'm sure it was not the experience they were thinking it might be. Another year would prove to be better. 

In the meantime I had one more thing to do. A meeting. A gathering of the fellowship of Trans Iowa riders was to take place. An unprecedented chance to sit with those who had dedicated themselves to this crazy event. I was really looking forward to it too. 

Next: The Gathering

Trans Iowa Stories: The Last Rider

Greg Gleason's surprisingly clean looking bike in Sigourney,. Iowa

  "Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject by going back to earlier Sunday posts on this blog. Thanks and enjoy!

 MG and I rendezvoused at an interstate truck stop on I-80 and decided that we could have breakfast. This was weird! Having any time at all for myself during a Trans Iowa? This was unheard of. I felt like a truant. This was a luxury I had not expected in the morning when it was still dark outside. 

But with one last rider left in the event, and Tony and Mike out there covering for us, we had time to casually sit down and talk about what had just transpired over the past seven or so hours. MG was amazed by the tales I had to tell, and of course, at that time I only knew a little bit about what had happened. 

But I wanted to know about him. What the heck was going on? Flu? Something not sit right with him? He looked to be just fine at that point as we chatted in the truck stop. Turns out that through a process of deduction it was determined that some bad ranch dressing at the pre-race meal was to blame. Basically food poisoning. But all was well by noon and MG had something to eat with no further ill effects. After this, we tried to come up with a plan to deal with the event, such as it was.

This was unprecedented. One man was left. We had probably ten people including MG and I which would have to keep 'on duty' to facilitate the event with this last rider. I basically had to decide first whether or not just to call the event off. I quickly determined that we had to run the event. Calling it off without any real good reason, whether there were ten riders or one, wasn't in my game plan. So on to the next hurdle. That being, do we keep everyone on duty, or can we just pare it down to MG and I to follow Greg around? 

This was put to Jeremy, who was the lead at CP#2, and to Tony and Mike. Not one of them was going to quit until the event was 'officially' over. Jeremy, who was going to have an assistant come along with him, did decide that he would come alone, if needed. This didn't sit well with me because this meant that Jeremy would have had to have traveled several hours in one direction to get there, all for a single rider. Jeremy didn't care, and so I was left with having that worry on my mind. Meanwhile, MG and I determined that if we could prove that Gleason couldn't make it on time, we could pull him, but that had to be a slam dunk. If it was close, we were going to have to let things play out. The first order of business then was to find out where Gleason was. Without that knowledge, we had no good way to ascertain his progress or to figure his approximate time of arrival at CP#2.

MG and I headed South to pick up the course while Tony and Mike reported in that they had short cut the course to Sigourney, approximately 30 miles further down the course, and had not seen any signs of Gleason. He should have stopped at a local Casey's there for resupply. Maybe he slipped by and was South of there already? Tony and Mike went to check that while MG and I, in separate cars, by the way, made our way to Sigourney to eventually meet Tony and Mike and convene there. Before we got there, Tony messaged me. Gleason was at the convenience store. 

Had Gleason made good time he had several miles of this to traverse on his way to CP#2- This taken the Saturday of T.I.v11 near where Greg stopped.

Tony related to me that the roads immediately South of Sigourney were treacherous. The worst he'd seen all day. That was saying something! Greg was inside the Casey's scarfing down a sandwich. His bike sat outside, looking none the worse for wear, despite the horrible conditions. Apparently, the heavy rains had washed away any mud Greg had run through. By this point the rain had abated. There were showers and mists, and the wind had calmed down significantly. In fact, things were actually much improved from my view. Had more riders made the time cut-off, this would have been a race. 

But on the other hand, it was looking like a losing battle. John Gorilla probably had the right idea after all. A close shave on time to the first checkpoint didn't allow enough time in the bank, as it were, to deal with walking more miles of Level B Roads, and there were definitely more miles of Level B Roads to Checkpoint #2. Gleason was pressing it close too. While we were watching him prepare to leave Sigourney, it was already 12:45. The next checkpoint closed at 8:00pm. Greg had a little over 80 miles to go. He was going to have to pull a rabbit out of the hat to make it, but he was a strong rider, and conditions were improving. Plus, I knew there was a long stretch of very flat terrain coming up. Maybe if Greg turned on the afterburners, he could gain enough time to play with to navigate the B Roads and still make it. Maybe. 

Of course, Greg didn't know this, and we couldn't tell him. It was just going to have to play itself out. I did lob a comment at him that I meant to get into his head. I said, "With 80 miles to go it's gonna be tough to make it in time."Greg didn't respond with anything tangible. He just grunted and shoved off. But now I knew the idea was understood. He could be motivated, or he could crumble. Now all we could do was wait to see what the outcome would be. 

Greg Gleason finally appears over the hill where we were parked. A little too late!

Now I had some math to do. Actually, I had the numbers crunched by Mike Johnson as well. I didn't want to rely on my math skills. I also forwarded my numbers to Jeremy, who just so happens to be a math professor at a local community college. All were in agreement that if I parked at a point about 40 miles from Checkpoint #2, and if Greg wasn't there at or before 4:00pm, he wasn't going to make the time cut. This was predicted on our knowledge of the course, the number of muddy, unrideable Level B Road miles within 40 miles of CP#2, and the weather. 

The weather actually improved even more by the mid-afternoon. MG and I had positioned ourselves at the spot where we were figuring Greg had to get to by 4;00pm. It was just at the end of a long, straight run Eastward where the course turned South down a narrow, muddy Level B Road. I was anxious. On one hand, I wanted Greg to fail because then I could call off Jeremy and save him a long round trip. On the other hand, I wanted to see Greg overcome the deficit and pull off a major coup.

In the meantime MG and I had a couple hours to kill. It seemed like a super long time to me. Of course, we were in the middle of no where. Nothing was going on. We just kept chatting, staring Westward at a low hill, looking for any sign of movement on the horizon that might indicate a rider. We spent some time playing with Amy, MG's dog that he brought along, and otherwise the only break in the monotony was a single car that passed us by. 

MG and Greg Gleason quaff a cold Dales at the spot where Greg pulled the plug.

At 4:00pm I told my finish line volunteers, mobile volunteers Mike and Tony, and CP#2 volunteer Jeremy that the event was over. Wally and George were notified and they decided to head home. We had not seen hide nor hair of Greg. Then we waited some more. 

Then at 4:20 MG said "There he is!", and as Greg rolled up I got out of the truck and walked up to meet him. It was over. Trans Iowa v11 was officially done. I made an announcement on "Trans Iowa Radio" to make it public. Officially it was the shortest Trans Iowa ever in terms of time, at just over 12 hours. Greg covered about 128 miles in that time, which was the second shortest amount of miles covered in a Trans Iowa ever. But could he have made it? 128 miles sounds good enough to keep going, right? Well, he had about 3.5 hours to do 40 miles to Checkpoint #2 and again- I knew the course. With at least three plus miles of walking in that 40 miles, he wasn't going to make the cut-off. It truly was a slam dunk to stop things, and even Greg agreed.

A solemn moment of silence followed which was cut short by MG asking Greg if he wanted a cold Dales. He responded in the affirmative and we both gave him a toast to celebrate his efforts. Then we piled into our vehicles, Greg with MG in his vehicle and myself in my truck, and off we went back from about as far as you could get from Grinnell on the T.I.v11 course. It was a long drive, and we didn't really know what we were going to do for certain once we did get back. 

I had a lot of time to think about that along the two hour drive back to Grinnell. We decided to tell everyone to head to a place in down town Grinnell called Lonski's. It was a local sports bar/college hang-out where I had been a few times before. MG also helped get the word out. I had a LOT of WTB tires with me as WTB had sent out something crazy like 40 pairs of Nano 40 TCS tires to hand out to every finisher. Well, obviously there weren't going to be any finishers, but I needed to download these tires. I really didn't want to be sitting on those for a year until another Trans Iowa might happen. 

Another Trans Iowa....... Yeah, I was thinking about that too. How could I let this Trans Iowa be the last? How could that be my legacy, my end statement? I couldn't allow it. The riders would have not allowed it, nor would they want to not have a chance at redemption. I figured that there would be a fair number that would want to have another crack at it. My volunteers wouldn't want it to end that way. I'm sure it was not the experience they were thinking it might be. Another year would prove to be better. 

In the meantime I had one more thing to do. A meeting. A gathering of the fellowship of Trans Iowa riders was to take place. An unprecedented chance to sit with those who had dedicated themselves to this crazy event. I was really looking forward to it too. 

Next: The Gathering

Trans Iowa Stories: A Face In A Window

Greg Gleason at Checkpoint #1 during T.I.v11 Image by Wally Kilburg

 "Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject  by clicking on the "Trans Iowa Stories" link under the blog header. Thanks and enjoy!

 Greg Gleason sped away from Checkpoint #1, raised his fist in the air, and disappeared. then everyone looked around. The faces of the volunteers were aghast. Was this it? Now what happens?

Gleason was at the checkpoint long enough that by the time he left it was over. No one else was going to make the time cut. We were preparing for the arrival of some riders, but how many would actually push on to the checkpoint? Surely most of them knew that they were done. 

About ten minutes later, a water-logged Bruce Gustafson rolled in alone. Then a few more minutes went by and a foursome rolled up including former Trans Iowa winners John Gorilla and Eric Brunt. John told me then that they purposefully waited a mile or so out to make sure they missed the cutoff! It was that miserable out there! But upon further reflection on this, I think John was cagey and wise enough to understand that a Trans Iowa course was going to have enough difficulties that pushing onward at the edge of the time cut-off for CP#1 was a recipe for failure further down the road anyway. Why incur further potential damage? While I don't know for sure that this was his thinking, I am sure that he was aware of that and possibly based his decision to purposefully make sure that he missed the cut-off due to those thoughts. 

After those four rolled in and were accounted for, riders started trickling in. Some alone, others in pairs. Soon we had a shelter house full of shivering, rain soaked, and muddy racers waiting for rescue by their support people. Phones were pulled out and several conversations were going on at the same time. It was becoming a bit of a chaotic scene. Steve Fuller manned the roster sheet and I ended up being the phone contact relaying information to him. We saw about a 50/50 split between riders that showed up and those that either turned back or were getting picked up out in the country between Guernsey and Grinnell to the West. 

Things were hectic for a bit there. While Wally and Jason seemingly disappeared, I had the forethought to document the scene as it unfolded. 

John Gorilla leads in three other late-comers to the checkpoint shelter.

Mark Johnson, a strong single speeder from Illinois, smiles after arriving at CP#1.

The chaos increased as vehicles piled into the checkpoint, riders were carted away, and volunteers tried to make sense of who was accounted for and who we still needed to find. The phone was going nuts as I was taking calls from riders and now from worried support people trying to navigate the sodden gravel roads around Guernsey, Iowa in search of abandoning riders. 

My two stalwart volunteers, Tony McGrane and Mike Johnson were cruising the course in search of anyone in need of assistance or directions. Tony related to me how at one point he was trying to help a rider short-cut their way to the small village where he was to be picked up, but that he was so out of sorts that he couldn't follow Tony's instructions. Eventually this rider was picked up safely. 

A rider at CP#1 with a thousand yard stare induced by the brutal conditions of that morning.

It was not uncommon for reports of riders on the verge of hypothermia and disorientation to come in to me that day. We also were watching riders waiting for rides that were 100% spent. Exhausted by their efforts to reach the checkpoint in time. Shivering, staring blankly, and incoherent, they were all eventually plucked from this normally quiet Iowa village and brought to a safe, warm place to gather themselves back up again. In fact, later on Wally reported to me that a few Guernsey residents ventured out and were bold enough to ask him a few questions. When they were appraised of the situation, they were seemingly chuffed that such heroics were being played out in their otherwise forgotten corner of Iowa. 

Occasionally I still get stories brought up about this Trans Iowa. Recently Warren Weibe, a veteran of eight Trans Iowas, reminded me of the story he had about v11. He was walking the heinous, muddy Level B before the checkpoint like everyone else. When he exited the road and reached gravel again, his spirits lifted briefly as he attempted to mount his bike. Now he could make some progress and ride! 

As he went to clip into his pedals, he realized one of his shoes was missing! How long he had walked without it on, he did not know. But he did know he'd have to go find that shoe, which could be anywhere in that mile of muck. Fortunately for Warren, he found it rather easily, since, as he put it, "It was sticking up out of the mud like a half buried car at the Cadillac Ranch".

Back at the shelter house in Guernsey, it was a busy scene until about 10:00am, a full hour and a half after the checkpoint closed. Then things started to wind down. MG called me and said he was feeling much better. He decided to come out and meet me at the checkpoint and then we'd go out in search of the last rider. Meanwhile, vehicles full of wet, muddy riders were pulling away. One, a pearl white Escalade, was packed full, and as I watched it slowly start its journey back to Grinnell, I saw a familiar face peering out. It was Tim Ek. He was a figure that was prominent in many of my Trans Iowa experiences, both during the events and in between them. We had several great email exchanges, and he was a very encouraging, supportive person during Trans Iowa's formative middle years. 

He waved at me from that foggy window as the Escalade rolled away. It was the last time I ever saw him as a Trans Iowa rider. 

Next: The Last Rider

Trans Iowa Stories: A Face In A Window

Greg Gleason at Checkpoint #1 during T.I.v11 Image by Wally Kilburg

 "Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject  by clicking on the "Trans Iowa Stories" link under the blog header. Thanks and enjoy!

 Greg Gleason sped away from Checkpoint #1, raised his fist in the air, and disappeared. then everyone looked around. The faces of the volunteers were aghast. Was this it? Now what happens?

Gleason was at the checkpoint long enough that by the time he left it was over. No one else was going to make the time cut. We were preparing for the arrival of some riders, but how many would actually push on to the checkpoint? Surely most of them knew that they were done. 

About ten minutes later, a water-logged Bruce Gustafson rolled in alone. Then a few more minutes went by and a foursome rolled up including former Trans Iowa winners John Gorilla and Eric Brunt. John told me then that they purposefully waited a mile or so out to make sure they missed the cutoff! It was that miserable out there! But upon further reflection on this, I think John was cagey and wise enough to understand that a Trans Iowa course was going to have enough difficulties that pushing onward at the edge of the time cut-off for CP#1 was a recipe for failure further down the road anyway. Why incur further potential damage? While I don't know for sure that this was his thinking, I am sure that he was aware of that and possibly based his decision to purposefully make sure that he missed the cut-off due to those thoughts. 

After those four rolled in and were accounted for, riders started trickling in. Some alone, others in pairs. Soon we had a shelter house full of shivering, rain soaked, and muddy racers waiting for rescue by their support people. Phones were pulled out and several conversations were going on at the same time. It was becoming a bit of a chaotic scene. Steve Fuller manned the roster sheet and I ended up being the phone contact relaying information to him. We saw about a 50/50 split between riders that showed up and those that either turned back or were getting picked up out in the country between Guernsey and Grinnell to the West. 

Things were hectic for a bit there. While Wally and Jason seemingly disappeared, I had the forethought to document the scene as it unfolded. 

John Gorilla leads in three other late-comers to the checkpoint shelter.

Mark Johnson, a strong single speeder from Illinois, smiles after arriving at CP#1.

The chaos increased as vehicles piled into the checkpoint, riders were carted away, and volunteers tried to make sense of who was accounted for and who we still needed to find. The phone was going nuts as I was taking calls from riders and now from worried support people trying to navigate the sodden gravel roads around Guernsey, Iowa in search of abandoning riders. 

My two stalwart volunteers, Tony McGrane and Mike Johnson were cruising the course in search of anyone in need of assistance or directions. Tony related to me how at one point he was trying to help a rider short-cut their way to the small village where he was to be picked up, but that he was so out of sorts that he couldn't follow Tony's instructions. Eventually this rider was picked up safely. 

A rider at CP#1 with a thousand yard stare induced by the brutal conditions of that morning.

It was not uncommon for reports of riders on the verge of hypothermia and disorientation to come in to me that day. We also were watching riders waiting for rides that were 100% spent. Exhausted by their efforts to reach the checkpoint in time. Shivering, staring blankly, and incoherent, they were all eventually plucked from this normally quiet Iowa village and brought to a safe, warm place to gather themselves back up again. In fact, later on Wally reported to me that a few Guernsey residents ventured out and were bold enough to ask him a few questions. When they were appraised of the situation, they were seemingly chuffed that such heroics were being played out in their otherwise forgotten corner of Iowa. 

Occasionally I still get stories brought up about this Trans Iowa. Recently Warren Weibe, a veteran of eight Trans Iowas, reminded me of the story he had about v11. He was walking the heinous, muddy Level B before the checkpoint like everyone else. When he exited the road and reached gravel again, his spirits lifted briefly as he attempted to mount his bike. Now he could make some progress and ride! 

As he went to clip into his pedals, he realized one of his shoes was missing! How long he had walked without it on, he did not know. But he did know he'd have to go find that shoe, which could be anywhere in that mile of muck. Fortunately for Warren, he found it rather easily, since, as he put it, "It was sticking up out of the mud like a half buried car at the Cadillac Ranch".

Back at the shelter house in Guernsey, it was a busy scene until about 10:00am, a full hour and a half after the checkpoint closed. Then things started to wind down. MG called me and said he was feeling much better. He decided to come out and meet me at the checkpoint and then we'd go out in search of the last rider. Meanwhile, vehicles full of wet, muddy riders were pulling away. One, a pearl white Escalade, was packed full, and as I watched it slowly start its journey back to Grinnell, I saw a familiar face peering out. It was Tim Ek. He was a figure that was prominent in many of my Trans Iowa experiences, both during the events and in between them. We had several great email exchanges, and he was a very encouraging, supportive person during Trans Iowa's formative middle years. 

He waved at me from that foggy window as the Escalade rolled away. It was the last time I ever saw him as a Trans Iowa rider. 

Next: The Last Rider

Trans Iowa Stories: A Good Plan Goes Wrong: Part 2

 "Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject by going back to earlier Sunday posts on this blog. Thanks and enjoy!

The event was off, but I knew we were in a race against the weather from since before we got going. Big storms were headed our way, backing into the area from the Southeast. I was concerned because of the potential for lightning. Before I made it out of sight of Grinnell my fears were confirmed. Lightning spotted! My heart sank. I was now worried that I'd have to call things off right after they got started. Then it started raining. I was pretty much in constant communication with Wally and George, his driver, all through this early portion of the event concerning weather and rider progress. Wally texted me at 5:14am, "Riders passing us at 322 and 70. Rain hard here. Running at 15-16mph. Good spirits!" 

That sounded hopeful, but I was super busy taking down DNF calls and texts as well. An example, "5:34 am: "Brian McEntire #69- out Just going too slow. No way I'll make the CP. Riding back in."

It was looking more and more like there would be a whole lot more texts and call-ins like this. I stopped to make a Trans Iowa Radio post and the truck started sliding toward the ditch! Yikes! I managed the post and settled back into the truck. As I pressed on, the lightning abated, and it looked as though we may have dodged a bullet. But the rain kept right on coming.

Racers descending a hill early into T.I.v11 Image by Wally Kilburg.

 

  Not just any rain either, but a slashing, heavy, cold rain. The wind drove the sheets of precipitation sideways, and with temperatures dipping into the upper 30's, it was a recipe for a miserable ride. Worse than miserable, actually. So, I am fortunate that I had the excellent Wally Kilburg and Jason Boucher out there in that wicked weather to document the mayhem. Words cannot convey how raw and violent the wind and rain were that morning. Their imagery helps tell a story I never could with words. 

I think Wally, his friend George, and Jason all knew this would be their only shot to get imagery for the event, or at least for most of the riders. They all knew too well the legendary stories of those years when Trans Iowa roared and did not let anyone pass. They were fascinated by those stories, and now they were at Ground Zero with an opportunity to tell the story like it never had been before. Kudos to them for risking life, limb, and very expensive equipment to grab the shots that they did. 

Following are a selection of those images.

An unidentified rider battles the wind and rain on the way to CP #1. Image by Wally Kilburg

 

Leaders realizing they would have to walk the Level B road on the way to CP#1. Image by Wally Kilburg

Sarah Cooper and Gerald Heib battle the wind and rain. Image by Wally Kilburg.

 

Jason Boucher captures the darkness and heavy rain riders experienced during T.I.v11.

The roads deteriorated quickly into a mushy, saturated mess, and with the course largely headed into this maelstrom, the combination proved to be a knockout punch to most of the field. It was just going to be too much to overcome to be able to make the cutoff at Checkpoint #1 in Guernsey, Iowa by 8:30am. That was bad enough, but to add insult to injury, there was that wicked Level B Maintenance Road stuck in there about halfway to the checkpoint. 

Of course, here I was in the truck, alone again, manning a buzzing phone, taking notes to check off riders who were quitting, and answering questions about how support people could gather the muddy, rain soaked riders in and bring them out of this ridiculous storm. By the time the skies lightened up, showing a grey, rain soaked landscape, I had decided it was no use driving to check the course and I headed off to the checkpoint to see about the large volunteer crew I had assembled to help out with passing out cue sheets. 

A rider passes Wally and George in their truck during Trans Iowa v11. Image by Wally Kilburg.

 Of course, between Wally, Jason, and my calculations, it was immediately apparent that maybe a small handful of riders had any chance of making the checkpoint in time. Also, the last several miles into Guernsey were directly into the howling gale. I mean, this was Trans Iowa, right? Why would it work out any other way? And of course, I was crestfallen inside. This event was turning out to be a disaster. It seemed as though all my plans had been washed away in the heavy rain and blown apart by the violent wind. It had all gone wrong.

But I didn't have time to think about all of that. There were rescue missions, there were the riders to be accounted for, and of course, an event to put on, regardless of how few there may be left to ride in it. 

Next: A Face In A Window

Trans Iowa Stories: A Good Plan Goes Wrong: Part 2

 "Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject by going back to earlier Sunday posts on this blog. Thanks and enjoy!

The event was off, but I knew we were in a race against the weather from since before we got going. Big storms were headed our way, backing into the area from the Southeast. I was concerned because of the potential for lightning. Before I made it out of sight of Grinnell my fears were confirmed. Lightning spotted! My heart sank. I was now worried that I'd have to call things off right after they got started. Then it started raining. I was pretty much in constant communication with Wally and George, his driver, all through this early portion of the event concerning weather and rider progress. Wally texted me at 5:14am, "Riders passing us at 322 and 70. Rain hard here. Running at 15-16mph. Good spirits!" 

That sounded hopeful, but I was super busy taking down DNF calls and texts as well. An example, "5:34 am: "Brian McEntire #69- out Just going too slow. No way I'll make the CP. Riding back in."

It was looking more and more like there would be a whole lot more texts and call-ins like this. I stopped to make a Trans Iowa Radio post and the truck started sliding toward the ditch! Yikes! I managed the post and settled back into the truck. As I pressed on, the lightning abated, and it looked as though we may have dodged a bullet. But the rain kept right on coming.

Racers descending a hill early into T.I.v11 Image by Wally Kilburg.

 

  Not just any rain either, but a slashing, heavy, cold rain. The wind drove the sheets of precipitation sideways, and with temperatures dipping into the upper 30's, it was a recipe for a miserable ride. Worse than miserable, actually. So, I am fortunate that I had the excellent Wally Kilburg and Jason Boucher out there in that wicked weather to document the mayhem. Words cannot convey how raw and violent the wind and rain were that morning. Their imagery helps tell a story I never could with words. 

I think Wally, his friend George, and Jason all knew this would be their only shot to get imagery for the event, or at least for most of the riders. They all knew too well the legendary stories of those years when Trans Iowa roared and did not let anyone pass. They were fascinated by those stories, and now they were at Ground Zero with an opportunity to tell the story like it never had been before. Kudos to them for risking life, limb, and very expensive equipment to grab the shots that they did. 

Following are a selection of those images.

An unidentified rider battles the wind and rain on the way to CP #1. Image by Wally Kilburg

 

Leaders realizing they would have to walk the Level B road on the way to CP#1. Image by Wally Kilburg

Sarah Cooper and Gerald Heib battle the wind and rain. Image by Wally Kilburg.

 

Jason Boucher captures the darkness and heavy rain riders experienced during T.I.v11.

The roads deteriorated quickly into a mushy, saturated mess, and with the course largely headed into this maelstrom, the combination proved to be a knockout punch to most of the field. It was just going to be too much to overcome to be able to make the cutoff at Checkpoint #1 in Guernsey, Iowa by 8:30am. That was bad enough, but to add insult to injury, there was that wicked Level B Maintenance Road stuck in there about halfway to the checkpoint. 

Of course, here I was in the truck, alone again, manning a buzzing phone, taking notes to check off riders who were quitting, and answering questions about how support people could gather the muddy, rain soaked riders in and bring them out of this ridiculous storm. By the time the skies lightened up, showing a grey, rain soaked landscape, I had decided it was no use driving to check the course and I headed off to the checkpoint to see about the large volunteer crew I had assembled to help out with passing out cue sheets. 

A rider passes Wally and George in their truck during Trans Iowa v11. Image by Wally Kilburg.

 Of course, between Wally, Jason, and my calculations, it was immediately apparent that maybe a small handful of riders had any chance of making the checkpoint in time. Also, the last several miles into Guernsey were directly into the howling gale. I mean, this was Trans Iowa, right? Why would it work out any other way? And of course, I was crestfallen inside. This event was turning out to be a disaster. It seemed as though all my plans had been washed away in the heavy rain and blown apart by the violent wind. It had all gone wrong.

But I didn't have time to think about all of that. There were rescue missions, there were the riders to be accounted for, and of course, an event to put on, regardless of how few there may be left to ride in it. 

Next: A Face In A Window

Trans Iowa Stories: A Good Plan Goes Wrong: Part 1

A rare clean-shaven G-Ted. Image by Jason Boucher.

 "Trans Iowa Stories" is an every Sunday post which helps tell the stories behind the event. You can check out other posts about this subject by going back to earlier Sunday posts on this blog. Thanks and enjoy! 

The lead-up to Trans Iowa v11 was pretty smooth. I did the cue sheet printing- for the last time ever- on my home machine. My wife and a family friend both helped stuff the cues into their neat little baggies and everything was a go by two weeks out from the event. I had processes in place to make things very smooth in as far as how things were done. All refined to a knife edge since the Trans Iowa v7 event when I felt things were somewhat of a disaster on several fronts. Things that gnawed at me. All forgotten now by this time. 

One of those newer things that were being done for this version of Trans Iowa was that the Slender Fungus- the loosely knit fellowship of cyclists who all had some connection to Trans Iowa- were doing the number plates this time around. Another first would concern something many had worriess about for several years- that being my solo driving and event directing during a Trans Iowa. This time Matt Gersib, my friend for several years, was to be my driver, taking responsibility for my transportation around the course while I ran the show. 

Matt and I were to meet in Grinnell, do the whole Pre-Race Meat-Up shindig, and then we were all set to board up in the loft apartment of Craig Cooper's above his shop, Bikes To You. This would put us at the start line easily. All we had to do was to roll out of bed at the proper time, walk downstairs, and we would be there. Perfect! Matt was stoked. I was stoked. This was going to be a lot of fun! 

Matt was going to drive his Subaru and we were going to have almost two full days of hanging out with each other. It was definitely going to be epic on several fronts. We had chatted via email several times and the excitement level was high. When we met at the Pre-Race, it was all smiles, despite the gloomy forecast, and with all the processes and logistics nailed down, I now had so much freedom to just hang around it was ridiculous. 

Thanks to volunteer help like MG, (L) and Mike "The Bonk King" (R), I could breath a lot easier.

Thinking back, it was probably at this Pre-Race for v11 where I first felt the oddness of not juggling five different things at once and having the stress of the event on top of that. I had the registration table manned by trusted volunteers, the pre-event set up was all handled by the Slender Fungus guys, Matt (MG) was there to help out, and several others pitched in wherever they could to make v11's pre-event scene so different for myself.

Previously I was so concerned about everything being done right, and that I had to be the one that made sure it was right, that from v8-v10 I really didn't have a lot of fun at the pre-event. Not so with v11. People were telling me to relax, go have fun, and take it easy. I had a few beers. It was great to connect with folks a bit more than usual. 

Craig Cooper of Bikes To You recounts the tale behind this pre-War Paramount.

The Pre-Race went super-smoothly. As the years went on, this meeting got more streamlined and shorter. I liked to be finished by 8:00pm, but generally we'd get out of there by 7:30pm if not sooner.

After the v11 meeting, MG and I decided to head down to Bikes To You, where the loft apartment was, and we hit up Coop and heard the tale of a Pre-War fixed gear Paramount track bike a resident bought new and rode everyday in Grinnell. 'Every day', as in 365 days a year, for decades. Craig was the last mechanic to care for the bike, and ended up with it after the gentleman that owned it died. After this amazing story, Matt and I went up to that loft apartment, settled in, and prepared for our 2:30am (more like 2:00am) wake-up call to get ready to get this show on the road. 

Of course, you never just go straight to bed! No, MG and I stayed up later, had something more to drink, and I think we could have talked all night had we been at unawares of the time. Once we broke off our yakking, it was time to try to sleep. And then it happened...... This is something I never heard much about from the racers, since they generally stayed about two miles South, along the I-80 motel strip, and not in Grinnell proper. Good thing that they usually never did stay in town. That damn freight train! Every year I stayed downtown, it came through at around 1:00am and it's engineer hung on that blasted horn at every city block intersection. Of course, this was only a few blocks away from where the loft apartment was. Dang! I never really slept well when we stayed up there, but it sure was convenient. 

And the night of T.I.v11 was no different. I got bits and pieces of sleep, but before long I was up and at 'em, looking to get downstairs and get the ball rolling. Matt was up as well, saying something to me about it being hot up there all night. I guess I didn't mark his comments until much later. At the time, I just wanted to get the event started and get going.  

Wally Kilburg takes an image of me giving "The Fatherly Advice" previous to the start of T.I.v11.

The start was always something that started out chill and the tension ratcheted up every minute until at the stroke of 4:00am, I would be off. This time in MG's capable hands. However; as the minutes ticked off, MG, who had said he needed to hit the convenience store a couple blocks away for some last minute things, was not back at the start area. I grew increasingly concerned. Then, he showed up. Finally! Man! Was I really tense that it was at the last minute. 

But then my intensity at Matt's missing turned to grave concern. Matt was sick! Really sick! I told him to stay put. I know he felt tortured inside because he felt he had let me down, but there was no way he was going to be well enough to help, and he needed to look after himself. I asked one of the guys that was staying behind to look after him, and then well..... it seemed rude, but I had a race to get going. 

A last minute change in plans! I rolled with it, I'd done this before, so it wasn't out of my wheelhouse. Behind all the immediate concerns with getting T.I.v11 underway, I was very concerned about my friend, and very disappointed that he felt so badly about letting me down. But no time for niceties. I rolled my truck up to the start line, got everyone lined up behind it, and tried to make sure I had all the things I needed to run the event in my truck. Good to go at the last minute!

Honk-honk! Trans Iowa v11 was off, and the good idea to have someone drive me for the event would have to wait for another year.

Next: A Good Plan Goes Wrong: Part 2