R and J in the USA

We stopped at the campground dump station as we left for our Iowa 5K. Three svelte looking figures were quickly approaching. Some early morning runners – and they were coming in at a good clip.

As Julie climbed out the back of the van to run to the bathroom, they arrived at drinking water spigot right behind us to have a quick drink and cool down.

“How was the run?” Julie asked as they slowly leaned backwards to help their deceleration process bring them to a full stop from a decent speed.

“Good!” They proclaimed. Runners are pretty much always happy to talk about their runs, so if someone is asking, friendliness is usually there right away. 

“How long did you go?” Julie asked. Figuring these are clearly solid runners, she wouldn’t have been surprised if they were running five or even ten miles at that pace. 

“Two or three,” one of them replied.

“Oh nice!” Julie said, thinking, that sounds pretty short and not nearly long enough to match their demeanor (a little worked) and physique (recall said svelteness). Her inner dialogue continued unfolding in the milliseconds it takes for thoughts to flash through one’s mind. Perhaps in Iowa, runners are running at a different level if they are looking like this after two or three miles. 

“Miles?” Julie asked, hoping her hint of surprise was undetectable.

“Hours.”

Oh.

Right.

Of course.

Hours. Two or three HOURS. 

Well, Julie was half right. Runners in Iowa ARE running at a different level. At least these ones, that’s for sure. It wasn’t just that they were running for two or three hours. It was that they didn’t feel the need to even specify the unit associated with the two or the three…because, yea, of course. Two or three hours.

They carried on with complete nonchalance and lack of pretension.

“We usually do, what two or three hours?” 

Julie is thinking, I’ll be lucky if I can run the clip they were just running in the 5K we’re about to do. 

“How many miles is that?” Julie inquired.

”20, 22 maybe.”

Julie stood impressed.

“You training for anything?” She asks, trying to act cool, but with a slight air of marvel at these Iowa badasses.

One of the guys replied, “I’ve got a 100-miler coming up in eight weeks.”

Julie says, “Oh wow!” Julie thinks, “Daaaaaaaaammmm!”

“And she’s an accomplished marathoner.” He says proudly pointing to his friend, whose abs had been visible long before they were in earshot to greet.

Humbly, the woman says, “Accomplished marathoner? I’ve done two.”

Julie thinks I’m assuming she probably WON one of those. That is probably the accomplished part he was referring to – giving her an opening to brag a bit that she clearly didn’t take. And also daaaammmm.

“I just signed up for London.” The modest runner exclaimed.

Not what we expected out in the miles of corn fields of Iowa. Not that we actively didn’t expect it or had some sense that there couldn’t be badass runners out here. It was just a neat and rare surprise to run into in the middle of a campground.

The conversation quickly turned to the van as they seemed much more eager to inquire about the van than brag about their accomplishments, despite Julie’s desire to hear all about them.

“Nice van!” One of the guys said. “I’ve got a poor man’s version of one that I built out myself – a little pedophile looking thing.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to stay away from it.” Julie replied.

The girl laughed, “Yea, he sells candy out of it.” 

After folks are done playfully, but quite morbidly, mocking the young man who was not only in on his own ribbing, but the initiator of it in good cheer, he described the work he’d done on his van and admired ours, which is always nice for us, since we are quite enamored and proud of our little rig.

“Where are you from?” they asked

“Rochester, NY”

“Oh wow!” they said. “Far from home.” This is the first moment Julie realized that we were now traveling far enough outside the home radius to really get that kind of reply. We got a little of it in Michigan and Wisconsin, but this is the first time it really sinks in that we aren’t in Kansas anymore. Actually, we are a lot closer to Kansas now than we’ve ever been, but far from our own little Kansas of Rochester, NY.

“What are you doing in Iowa?!” They exclaimed, seeming unimpressed with their little burg as a place worthy of visiting from such a faraway land. 

We got into the whole bit about the 50 states tour. They were excited about it.

One of the guys said, “That’s great! Some people take their whole lives to see the states. Actually, some people never do it at all! Some people never leave Iowa.”

“Yea, I keep thinking that every day.” Julie began “Every place we go and see people just living their lives we realize how easy it is to come to any one place, and how lucky we are, and how rare it is to be able to have visited all 50.” This has been something that is sinking in for Julie more and more every day. How neat this is. What a once in a lifetime experience it is. Not just to be in every state, but to really get a birds-eye overview of the whole thing and to be able to do it where we are really focused on getting to know the place.

The runners clearly were only on a brief stop to get a little hydration as they were already starting to move like they were getting ready to go.

“Are you staying around here longer?” they inquired.

“No. Heading out. We are actually on our way to do a 5K – doing a 5K in 50 states.” Julie said, just to put a little runner bonding on the table.

“Cool!” they said.

“Where?” One of them asked.

“At the John Deere Museum?” The girl guessed correctly.

“Yes!”

Two of them slightly chuckled with each other. “We used to work there.”

After encouraging us to check the museum out, their pre-run movement started to turn into a little jog as they began to pick it up and move away from us in the direction from which they came. As they left, running a little backwards to get out a few last comments to us, they said, “If you stick around, this is a really active community, lots of fun things to do, great restaurants and beer. Have fun!” They offered as they revved up.

And just like that, they were gone.