Raaagggbrrraaaaaiiii

I woke up this morning in A/C with no tent to take down and no line for the bathroom. Magic.
As far as Ragbrai goes what can I rightfully say about a week spent in the blazing sun, sleeping in a tent [that was on average 90 degrees at night and frequently bombarded by the sounds of trains about five feet away (why are all campgrounds located directly next to train tracks?)], doing what basically amounted to a four-plus hour training ride a day (but with stops for fried food and beer), sweating, sweating, sweating (before showers, after showers, especially in the tent [but not during showers, which were frequently ice cold and which you also had to wait in line for, since everything about Ragbrai is essentially a wait, and also (as a side note), contained a lot of women who apparently come to Ragbrai sans towel]), going swimming in bike clothes in the local pool, drinking beers at the local Eagles lodge with the locals, and riding, riding, riding the great flat (what a lie, there were hills everywhere [also a lot of debates on which was worse, the hills in Madison or the hills across the great state of Iowa]) state of Iowa for 454 miles, 435 of which tore up my quads and made me think that I could never sit on bike seat quite the same way again (every morning back on the bike being a shock to the system and the butt), with all of the towns blending together eventually (where's the firehouse? the Legion hall?), with different bands each night, but all of them blending together in a Coors-Light haze?
It was more fun than I thought. And harder.