I stopped in Yale, IA, along with 15,000 of my closest biking friends.  They’d been advertising watermelon slices for miles. With 90+ degree heat, having climbed thousands of feet, getting our collective asses kicked by The Big Hill, and still facing another 20+ miles to Perry . . . this young lady on the right put it all in perspective.
Yes, honey, I was riding RAGBRAI when your mama was in diapers.

She was around 85 years. It’s impossible to see in the picture, but she had rows of wristbands from previous rides.  She arrived with a group of about 30, but, as she explained, “They slow me down.”

Yeesh. All right.  No bitching from me.  If this lady could get through 90 degrees, rolling hills, The Big Hill . . . and a lack of watermelon slices, I can soldier on as well.
Was talking to another woman about this lady.  She had a story of her own. Said she had done a marathon not long ago.  She crossed the finish line to see a woman of nearly 70 sitting on the hood of her car.  She said as soon as she caught her breath, she turned to see the lady on the car shout at another participant coming up to the finish line, “Go DAD!  C’mon DAD!”