What is it about riding that opens one up to a steady drip of stupid comments?  Once the snow hits the ground they go from amusing to err…what?   Granted, the number of cyclists plummets in the winter, especially once the snow flies.  I get that it’s not common.

We’re not however crazy, insane or obsessed (well…maybe obsessed) any more than we are the rest of the year.  Perhaps I shouldn’t say we – I am the Lorax, I speak for the winter cyclists - I only know me.  I am no more crazy now than I was when the sun was beating down from above, sweat dripping in my eyes.  I’m still sweaty, panting and working hard but now it’s all in the dark.  And that’s okay (but good heavens, if you’re going to be on the pathways while the sun is down, get a $3 blinkie light so your black bike, black pants, black jacket and black gloves don’t blend into the black path and black bunch of trees I’m staring at).

I was on my way out the door when a normally sane co-worker called out as I passed, “you’re insane man (head shake), make sure you don’t get hit out there”.  If I hadn’t been on the verge of over-heating and itching to get outside, I might have stopped to get a little clarity on this novel idea.  What do you mean “make sure I don’t get hit”?  You mean, when I’m riding my reflective-covered, flashing LED-adorned self down the street-light lit street, I should endeavor to make sure I maintain control of the cars coming up behind me?  Or that I should divine which home-bound commuter coming from behind me is fighting with his girlfriend in the passenger seat and not paying attention?  Or…or what exactly?

See, the formation of that statement – the choice of words and their position imply that if I were to get hit, I am to blame.  If I run the lights or a stop sign, change lanes without looking, turn left across traffic when it’s not clear or at a stretch (a stretch because as much of the lane as I require to ride safely is legally mine) wander about in my own lane then yes, I would be responsible for the ensuing carnage.  Being hit by a motorist because they passed me and then turned right across my path, or an on-coming car making a left, an exuberant lane change that side-swipes me, pulling out of the parking lot or side road without looking or simply not paying attention – these are not my fault.  I assure you as the one completely exposed, I’m doing my best to get to my destination in the same condition I left.  As an alternative, I propose the following:  when you’re driving, don’t hit a cyclist*.

What of the constant assertion that we’re insane?  We’re nuts!  I must respectfully disagree.  I’m not the crazy one here.  I’m about to take the 600 calories I ingested with that doughnut and cookie I ate earlier and consume it as energy and heat during my ride home.  Now, I really ate too much and the 450 calories I’ll burn off will leave me with a calorie abundance so perhaps I’ll shovel the sidewalk and the driveway.  You however are, by yourself, going to jump into your SUV that gets an (optimistic) 22 miles per (IMP) gallon and drive the 15 kilometers home (how’s that for mixed units?).  In the process you will – at the very least – consume  (give or take) 16,300 calories of energy through the 1.95 litres of gasoline you consume. Sixteen thousand.  You may arrive 10 minutes earlier than I do so those 16,000 calories aren’t without benefit I suppose.  450 kcals vs. 16,000.  I can ride home on your rounding error.  Who’s the crazy one?  Now, what are you gonna do with that doughnut and cookie you ate?

*or a group of cyclists, pedestrians, joggers, runners, speed-walkers or really, anything or anyone.

the math for anyone that cares:

• One litre of gasoline contains 35 megajoules of energy
• 1 megajoule equals 238.845 kcalories
• 35 megajoules equals 8359.6 kcalories
• 22 IMP mpg equals 7.7 litres per kilometer.
• 15km / 7.7 l/km equals 1.95 litres
• 1.95 litres x 8359.6 kcals equals
• 16,301 kcals

After much fear of falling and somewhat dubious winter riding, I’ve been saved by the arrival of my snow tires!  Saved may not be the right word I suppose – safe would have been sitting in my steel box securely idling down the freeway in 1st or 2nd gear all the while watching the few hearty souls pedaling along the path and wishing I was one of them.  Safe is boring.  Safe is not doing and I want to do.  At least do this.

The tires arrived mid-Monday so I hastily swapped them on over lunch spent the rest of the day bouncing around in anticipation.  What would they ride like?  Would they be slick on pavement?  Would they really be of benefit?  How slow were they going to be?  Stick around ’cause after the break we’ll answer all these questions and more!

There hadn’t been much in the way of snow the last few days so the pavement was by and large clear, perhaps frosty with the occasional spot of ice.  First impressions of the new studded tires?  Noisy.  It’s been said they sound like frying bacon but I disagree.  I’d have to say they sound like phonograph (records – remember them?) static.  The frame and tires have a resonant frequency somewhere in the (fairly) low-speed range that makes the bike buzz but not uncomfortably.  There was no snow to test them on (on the path at least) and enough clear path that I didn’t hit any ice with them.  Yet.  Were they slow?  In a word, no.  They aren’t quiet when you’re buzzing along at speed, but they aren’t particularly slow.  If nothing else, they’re not slower than me as I recorded what I consider a reasonable summer speed over one 5km stretch.

The next morning, being cocky and sure of myself, I decided I ought to at least try them on the ice, despite not having any ice blocking my path.  So I did.  Their performance was admirable but not enough to stop me from using my cranium as a makeshift ice scraper (not really).  No, they stuck to the ice fair enough, but when the ice broke off in a large chunk and skidded across the pathway, my front tire still on it, I got an up close and personal look at the concrete suddenly pressed up against the side of my head.  That’ll learn me.

Wednesday morning the temperature plummeted 12 degrees in a matter of a couple of hours – from +6 to -6 and it kept going, down to -10…-12….  The perfect time to test my Pearl Izumi PRO jersey and jacket.  Armed with a long-sleeve Merino wool base layer, I suited up and headed out without my purple wind-breaker (though it was stowed securely in the backpack just in case).  My forearms were cool, but otherwise I was over-dressed and arrived sweating profusely.  A smarter man might have unzipped the jacket just a little but I don’t lay claim to the smart gene very often.  Performance out-stripped expectations and the lack of flapping was a nice change.

That evening it continued to get colder and mother nature saw fit to throw a bunch of snow on the ground to make it doubly interesting.  All through the office people were giving me the elbow nudge and gesturing to the windows, “still going to ride home”?  Well what choice did I have?  Snow tires, snow riding gear (except for fingers and toes but what’s a few digits between friends), snow-capable bike…sounds like a reason to keep riding.

Well that’s a whole new experience now isn’t it?  We aren’t talking about light skiffs of snow blowing across the pavement, we’re talking 3 inches of fresh powder.  3 inches doesn’t sound like much, but it slowed me considerably.  Yes, some of it was down to caution and trying to avoid any more horizontal concrete inspection, but most of it was the sheer effort involved.  It’s hard work!

The great thing about riding in the dark, all suited up, attention firmly focused on not crashing is that you fail, utterly and completely, to be aware of your speed or the time.  It took me almost 50% longer to get home and I never once felt that plodding, demoralized feeling that comes from fighting a strong headwind.  I wonder how people who have longer distnaces to commute manage this – there are after all only so many hours in a day.  I suppose I’d get up earlier and drive to somewhere closer, then ride from there.  Whatever, apart from the effort, it was uneventful.

It continued to snow on and off through the night.  The furnace started acting up this morning so not wanting to leave when it was only 14 degrees inside the house, I ended up leaving late and riding in daylight for a change.  There were only a handful of people who’d been along the route so I had a mix of fresh powder and scattered bike tracks to ride in.  The Nokians were absolutely sure-footed in the powder – a glorious revelation – but crossing the existing tire tracks caused the front tire to plow for just an instant.  The first time it happened, my heart was in my throat but by the time I’d logged the first 5km I was content to let the front end push and float around as it did it’s thing.  More snow hadn’t helped matters and a sub-20km/h average speed was the result by the time I’d made it to work.  I wasn’t the only one suffering a loss of velocity however as the light traffic made it easy to note the sudden appearance of phantom footsteps beside a bike track, only to disappear again at the top of the hill.

The ride home in the dark was admittedly more challenging but the paths had been cleared!  Now, they’re not shovelled and broom-swept clear like my neighbour’s sidewalk, but they’re clear enough that we buzzed along a good deal of the way home. They are decidedly slicker than a few days ago though so lots of caution (some might call it fear), especially going down hill because the City determined that the best thing to have at the bottom of a hill is a sharp corner, blind if you can manage it.  This of course means that I can’t hit the bottom of the climb with any speed until I find my courage, and that I descend these same little hummocks like…well, like I’m a scaredy cat.

The winter riding verdict is in now.  All systems go.  I may have to make some equipment adjustments and there’s definitely some hand and foot heat to sort out (Forzani’s new electric heated receiver’s gloves come to mind) but this winter riding thing is fan-freakin-tastic! 

A studly Ridley – what could be better?