Winter Biking

As I pulled in to my driveway on my bike the other day, my neighbor, who was out shoveling snow, commented, "You're insane."

I suppose I looked it. My biked was caked with snow--wheels, chain, brakes, derailers--and snow was flying out the front of my fender in a steady spray. I was bundled in wind pants, insulated boots, parka, wool gaiter pulled up over my mouth and nose, ski goggles, helmet (with mirror), snowmobile gloves, and I was slipping and sliding through four inches of snow that was making cars slide around and go off the road.

I have long resisted riding in any kind of snow or ice. I usually stop riding to work in January and start again in late March, when the sidewalks are wet only. And even that can be treacherous. One time in April I was barreling along on a cold morning when I went through a puddle that had a thin (I thought) skin of ice on it. My front wheel sank through the ice and stopped, caught by the ice. I went flying over the handlebars, landing flat on my back in the street. It broke my mirror. So much for playing it safe.

This year, deep in my mid-life crisis, I decided to try my luck biking in snow. Why be comfortable? I asked myself. Why not live on the edge? Sky dive? Solo hike across Africa? Buy a trip to the space station? Well, no. But maybe bike in snow.

I let the air out of my 32mm Schwalbe tires, so that they are at about 42 lbs, I shifted way down to a low gear so I couldn't go too fast (making the inevitable falls less fatal), and I taught myself to turn VERY SLOWLY. Turning is when you fall.

Much to my surprise, it's fun. I love skiing and driving in snow. Winter biking has the thrills of downhill skiing (moguls, loose snow, constant danger of falling and getting hurt), winter driving (slipping and sliding, fishtailing, inability to stop), and, I suppose, bob-sledding. It's quiet (no sound from tires on pavement), and riding so slow is kind of relaxing (when it's not scary). And OMG do I feel virtuous! Like, Mr. Super Green Man.

One of the secrets is to regulate temperature correctly. Heavy winter coats: bad. Layers: good. I find that when I wear a thin turtleneck, a light sweater, a fleece vest, and an anorak wind breaker, I'm good down to about 20. Below 20, I need either a parka instead of the anorak, or a fleece hoodie instead of the vest. (I recommend Melanzana fleece outerwear. Way nice.)

The ski goggles are essential. They don't fog, so they can be worn with a scarf, balaclava, or face mask, and they keep out eyeball numbing cold and blinding snow. Light wind pants over my regular pants are perfect for keeping my legs warm, and either insulated boots or rubbers over my regular shoes (with two pairs of socks, one of them wool) keep my feet warm. Being too hot is almost worse than being too cold; this combination of layers works well.

As I was riding home the other day next to the cars that were just creeping along, I really was glad I wasn't in one of them. What was not to like?

I worry that all the snow and road salt will wreck my steel frame, so I have taken to rinsing it off with hot water when I get home. The wheels I'm not worried about, since I have a new pair of 700c's that I'll put on in warmer weather. These 27-inchers can be my winter wheels. I have another set of Schwalbe tires for when these wear out (if they ever do, which they may not because they're Schwalbes). Schwalbes are good because they have a generator strip that gives my Busch and Müller dynamo a good grip, even in snow. I plan on using these wheels for many winters. Really really nice German tires. The generator and lights are nice in winter, when daylight comes late and leaves early. Lights in a snowstorm are nice, too.

Today (a Saturday) I rode to the health club (four miles), soaked in the whirlpool, shaved, and rode home. I didn't need to exercise there, since I had gotten plenty as I slipped and slid my way to the club, and I'd get plenty more on my slip-slide home, so I contented myself with saving a few pennies on the club's shaving cream and hot water. It was well worth it.