back from RAGBRAI

From time to time in life, I experience something that restores my faith in the human race, if at least temporarily. Situations in which it seems possible--just maybe--that humanity might not be the long march towards entropy that Nickelback's popularity might suggest. This happened last year at RAGBRAI; it happened again this year.

To wit, Wednesday's leisurely 44 mile ride from Indianola to Chariton. About 2/3 of the way in, we happened past an unassuming farm pond that was slowly accumulating riders. We pulled off, stripped down, and jumped in. The water was cold, murky, and smelled of clay and cow shit. It was perfect.

Some tossed around a nerf football, others practiced their deep-water treading, the majority practiced the time-honored tradition of diving-board one-up-manship. For forty minutes under the hot Iowa sun, we were all eight year olds at the local swimming pool, blithely savoring the taste of life without concern for the number of calories.

This is what RAGBRAI is all about. Enjoying the ride more than the destination. We've already got a Slow Food movement; RAGBRAI is a clarion call for the Slow Life movement. We declare ourselves members.