By Cathy Goedde, Community Voices

We, as human beings, go through life with special dreams and wishes. It might be a trip to Europe, a balloon ride, completing a marathon, hitting a home run in Yankee Stadium, or meeting a movie star. But, never, ever in my wildest dreams, did I imagine doing what I did in Iowa, one stormy night, in late July.

To give you a little background, I was a participant in RAGBRAI, which is the Des Moines Register’s Great Annual Bike Ride Across Iowa. This is a huge event, with 20,000 cyclists riding their way across the state, from west to east. This has been happening for 36 years and started after two writers from the Register found a way to incorporate work and play by writing about their adventures as they rode their bikes.

Cathy Goedde

Since then, the ride has snowballed into a huge phenomenon. There are people who make their way to Iowa from all over the country. The cyclists pedal from town to town, riding anywhere from 55 to 85 miles a day. Each town provides a State Fair-like atmosphere with food, beverages, live music, water, facilities, and very friendly folks.

You have the option of riding through to the next town or stopping for a visit. There are no time standards as to when you need to start or finish riding for the day, but most cyclists are on their bikes early in the morning to beat the heat. Usually most people arrive at the stop-over town by mid-afternoon. That gives you plenty of time to set up your tent, rest, eat, shower, and prepare for the next day.

I was lucky enough to be part of a team from Ankeny, Iowa. The official name is Team Achin’Knee. There were about 20 people on the team, most of them local to that city, but some of us were from elsewhere. There were two of us from the Twin Cities, and three from the D.C. area. We are all connected to the group leaders, Don and Julie, either by family connections, or being a friend, of a friend, of a friend, that has ridden in the past.

On this particular day, my friend, Tara, and I had ridden about 60 miles. It was very hot and humid, one of those days that the air is so thick that your skin is sticky and moist. We had discovered that day that Iowa has many, many hills, so we were exhausted.

About 2 a.m., I was awakened from my restless sleep by a voice over a loudspeaker that said: “Attention all campers, severe storms are headed to this area, please go to one of the designated storm shelters.” We happened to be camping on the Shelby County Fairgrounds, so the storm shelter was a huge metal building, suitable for displays, booths, etc. It took no time at all for claustrophobia to set in with all of us packed like cattle, so some smart person in our group (I am not sure who to give the credit to) realized that we were camping next to the sheep barn. So we all unloaded our lawn chairs, went into said sheep barn, and readied ourselves to endure the storm’s fury. The winds came, the rain fell, there was a wee bit of lightening, and the storm was over. It was now 3 a.m., and we all looked at each other. Our tents were in a heap in the team truck and we needed to get a little more sleep before the 5 a.m. wake-up call.

So, we all grabbed our air mattresses and chose a sheep stall and climbed in. There we were, 20 bicyclists, dozing in a sheep barn along with a few other campers from other groups. It was truly comfortable, and after the storm, the air cooled, and I actually pulled my blanket up over me to keep me warm.

At 5 a.m., we loaded up the truck, got dressed and started another day on wheels. I took a picture of the “Sheep Barn” on my phone to remember the place that gave us shelter.

Again, not something I ever dreamed of doing, but will always be able to talk about.

(Cathy Goedde is one of 10 people in the Savage community who write for Community Voices. This column features a different writer each week and is one of several opinion and commentary pieces appearing regularly in this newspaper.)