Unfortunately, my Pearl Izumi PRO winter shell took the brunt of the fall.

The chest pocket now has custom ventilation. No damage to me though – at least not there. My knee on the other hand…

I have attempted to ride through the winter this year with a reasonable amount of success.  The mileage hasn’t added up as quickly as the summer, the ride calendar showing big gaps during the coldest periods.  There’s little doubt that riding in the winter requires more effort – physical and mental.  The biggest mental effort comes off the bike, before the ride begins.  Ugh…-15…west wind…cold and windy…I don’t need to ride…it’s going to suck…I’ll be cold…  Trying to stay out of that self-defeating space is hard for me.  My solution is fairly straight forward –each evening, I lay out all my gear and get everything packed before I look at the forecast for the morning.  If it’s been especially cold, I make sure to have the extras within reach so there’s no messing about in the morning.  Get up, get the gear on, get the pack on, get out the door.  Prudence dictates that a proper look at the current and forecast conditions is done before departure – I don’t need to freeze to death in an attempt to prove how hardy I am – but I don’t have to think about anything and all the work is done.

Extra snow = extra training! For Free!

I have however discovered my personal riding hell, that thing most likely to keep me off the bike.  Hours after a good snowfall, traffic has trampled the fresh snow into semi-packed tracks and trails along the roads.  The snow is thick now, having been compressed by so much traffic, but it is not yet solid.  The weight of bike and rider is not enough to press through to get a solid purchase on the packed ice below but we will be pushed around by the varying consistencies of snow density and the icy ruts lurking beneath.  The wheels are travelling entirely separate routes from one another as the front end pushes and plows and slides around.  This is entertaining enough on flat, quiet roads but degenerates rapidly into abject terror on descents and mortal fear on busy streets.  Climbing becomes, quite literally, impossible as the tires, despite their studs, can find no traction to propel the bike through the thick snow and eventually my speed falls below that required to maintain a rubber-down orientation.  The last big snow included a perfectly-executed over-the-high-side shoulder roll, a vain attempt at climbing via the sporadically-shovelled sidewalks and a lot of bicycle carrying.  The paths were amazingly clear and plowed.  The roads?  Not so much.  

Semi-packed snow, ice-rut foundation, dense and super slick. My version of cycling hell.

So – the how.  How do I ride in when it’s snowing and blowing and cold out?

• The biggest thing is simply to do it.  Just get on the bike and ride, ignoring that voice screaming all sorts of objections.  Ignore people that use words like stupid or idiot.  That’s number one. 
• Layers – like any other outdoor winter activity, staying warm is all about the layers
  •      A light, thin Merino wool long-sleeve as a base
  •      Pearl Izumi Pro Thermal long-sleeve jersey
  •      Pearl Izumi Pro Softshell jacket
  •      My usual stretchy shorts or bibs
  •      MEC Roubaix tights to about -13C
  •      driWear Performance Thermal Pantsunder the Roubaix below -13C
  •      A toque (of course)
  •      Liner / glove combo when it’s -5C or warmer
  •      The venerable Lobster mitt below -5C
  •      Thick Smartwool or Wright winter running socks, whatever is clean…ish
  •      Northwave Celsius Arctic cycling shoes
  •      Clear glasses – spend most of the winter riding in the dark.

Northwaves, lobster mitts, goggles and come cleaning gear.

I was dubious of the Pearl’s ability to keep me warm in Calgary’s winter but it has continued to surprise me, time and again.  Those three items  – the Merino and two Pearl layers leave me sweating more days than not.  My own tendency is to ride hard so I might be warmer than someone riding a little more relaxed.  No question that my legs and hips get chilly when it’s really cold.  The Roubaix / driWear combination is just not enough to slow down the windchill effect.  I’ve got a pair of unlined GoreTex rain pants I’ll try over top the next time I can’t talk myself out of riding when it’s RBC – Really Bleedin’ Cold. The bike – what about the bike?  I’ve chosen to continue riding the Ridley through the winter though I’ve been told that’s unfair to the bike.  The folks that made it don’t think so:

@forgedcyclist And a nice place to ride your bike! How do you like the X-Fire with discs? *BV

— Ridley Bikes (@Ridley_Bikes) January 22, 2013

but I do expect that grime in the drivetrain will shorten its life.

Luckily – or not – I seem to be much slower in the winter so I rarely get onto the big ring – one less part to worry about changing in the spring.  I fully expect to replace the chain, rear sprocket and inner chainring but it’s not like I’m riding Dura-Ace or SRAM RED level components – the parts are relatively inexpensive.  I wash the bike regularly, more when the weather is back and forth between freezing and melting (which provides its own set of riding challenges).  It’s an opportunity to check the bike over for loose fasteners, damage, chips and so on.  It’s also a key piece of extending the life of the drivetrain – washing the grit out of it. For chain lubrication I’ve stayed the course with the usual red-top bottle of Teflon dry lube.  Dry attracts less grit and grime and keeps the overall drivetrain cleaner.  I scrub the chain down with a brush during its bath until I can handle it without getting dirty.  Add one drop of lube per roller, cycle it and let it sit until the next morning, then spend a minute or two back-pedalling the chain through a rag to remove the excess.  When it’s wet out, I’ll spray some all-in-one cleaner/ lube onto a rag and give the chain a wipe to keep the surface from rusting.   

Studs, but only in the center.

 I bought some Nokian IceSpeed studded tires which improved things dramatically but they are not a panacea – they do not replace dry pavement and slicks, nor do they replace common sense.  They have no studs on the sides, only the middle, so leaning into an icy turn will not go well.  I know this.  Otherwise, they provide a healthy amount of winter traction for the conditions I encounter most days, day-after big snow being the major exception.  That’s it – other than extra attention paid to the drivetrain and some studded tires, the bike is as-delivered.

There you have it – one man’s recipe for Winter Riding Success.  This is not a set of directions to tell you how you should approach riding through the winter.  Rather, this is how I managed it.  I’ve skipped out on some of the brutally cold days admittedly – I’m good down to -20C, with windchill to -30C but that’s it.  The admonishment you’re too old to develop character through athletic feats, a response received when trying to figure out how to ride the semi-packed snow, drove home the awareness that with an entire household depending on me to put food on the table, I don’t need to break my collar bone (or worse) trying to prove to myself how hard-core I am. 

I figure if I can do it, anyone can.  It takes more prep than going for a quick spin in the summer and getting past the mental obstructions thrown up takes some effort but really, it’s not that hard.  Layer up and get out there (or don’t – your call really).

They look innocent...

Most days I shuffle these evil things off my desk and out of my office but today I was invincible – no need to move anything.  I subsequently paid the price for my arrogance.

It started with a Tim Bit – a doughnut hole marketing scheme and as it turns out, an even thinner wedge end.  It is food from the devil.  Evil.  The bite-sized bit lures you into thinking you can have just one but it is truly the gateway drug.  By the time the dust had settled, there was spittle and drool splattered about the place, my desk littered in doughnut-remnants, evidence of the carnage that had just ensued.  The look on my co-workers faces was a mixture of horror and disgust with a trace of admiration.  I won’t add to you, my dear reader’s discomfort by putting an exact number on the victims, it is enough to know it was sufficient to feed a house of aspiring runway models for a week.

Having not ridden for a week I was already enjoying an overwhelming sense of self-loathing before my hubris had been thoroughly vanquished by the devil’s food.  Full of easily-accessible sugary fuel and disdain for my activity level, I took advantage of today’s Chinook – the wind, not my bike – to get out for a ride before the sun went down.  I headed north along the canal path, a section I don’t often get to ride.  It’s been under construction most of the summer and eventually fell off my ride list which is funny because I don’t have a ride list.  From 32^nd I headed for Nose Creek Park and its short, steep hills to try to erase some of the day’s earlier carnage that was settling into my waist.

I made it to McKnight before the universe reminded me I know naught about riding in general and less about riding in faux winter.  As I came out from under McKnight, in a gentle right-hand corner, I realized the shadow across the path was in fact a thin layer of wet mud.  Immediately after that realization I learned that it was in fact a thin layer of very slick mud.  The front end washed out and two things went through my head in quick succession:  WWTS and; oh man – these stretchy pants are almost new!  Luckily for me, the slick mud gave way to a skiff of gravel providing a relatively low-friction surface on which to smash my hip without the added insult of melting the lycra to my thigh.

Enter here but beware the trolls

Fall down here (the trolls did it)

Remarkably there was no damage to the stretchy pants and no damage to the bike save for more character on the previously-characterized bar end.  My pride was bruised but otherwise I seemed to have escaped unscathed.  My right hand hurt a bit as one might expect when it’s called into duty to save the elbow.  I straightened my bars and brushed some of the dirt off before I hopped back on to continue my ride.  Get-off or not I was going on a ride.

As I rode out to Nose Creek Park, I couldn’t help noticing that my wrist was in fact much more tender than having just suffered a slap-fest with the pavement.  Putting any weight on it was excruciating but I could pull, break and shift without any drama.  I pushed on determined to get a few kilometres in before the sun disappeared and made things more treacherous than I’d just discovered they were.  I didn’t get far before my wrist, the rapidly setting sun and an unexpected head-rush that affected my hearing <?!> made the decision to turn around a prudent one.

I cycled home nursing an increasingly tender wrist, wary of anything that looked like it might be shadow, mud, water, gravel…I’d lost some confidence in the stiction of my front tire.  As a made my back along the path I’d just travelled, my hearing returned to normal but my wrist did not.  I stopped to take a picture of the offending mud before I made the climb back up to Centre.  I passed another cyclist headed for the mud and tried to warn him as he went by “it’s slippery under McKnight!” though it probably sounded more like nonsensical gibberish.  I imagine him skipping across the same gravel thinking to himself “oh…that’s what that guy was yelling about”.

Upon arriving home nurse Tracey tended to my wrist with a combination of homeopathic  treatments.  I’m starting to think it may be in worse shape than first thought as it’s rather swollen and stiff.  We’ll see how bad it feels in the morning and if it’s worse I’ll get it looked at after the Remembrance Day service.  In the meantime I’m extremely pleased with the performance of my MEC Roubaix stretchy pants – no holes, no damage of any kind.

One skid, no flesh damage, no holes - perfect.

I also have a new appreciation for roadies who turn and flee at the slightest indication of imperfect road conditions.  It’s time to – at the very least – put on the knobbies.  Studded tires – you’re in my future.

*What Will Thomas Say?

It's just a flesh wound...isn't it?

The comments (and readership if I’m honest) here are pretty slim.  I know most all of my regulars in the real world (and thank you for your continued patronage).  Even my international readership was quickly traced to my travelling family (thanks for reading while in Italy guys!).  I do however get a whack of hits thanks to this photo.  Rasmussen.  I ripped it from the web and posted it up while snidely remarking that I’d rather not be a cyclist if this is what they look like.  Well Mr. Rasmussen the Pro Cyclist gets lots of hits from people looking for what I assume to be real information, so they land here, curse the site for misleading them and leave pretty much immediately.

Waiting for first-time-comment moderation (a policy introduced thanks to the voluminous spam this blog attracts) was a legitimate comment from some poor schlep who landed here searching for Rasmussen.  I skimmed it quickly, finger already on the mark-as-spam button when something caught my attention.  It lacked the usual content “ Your blogging is best I have read.  You have many expertise on this subject and I will come to here much often!” signed by triple X email address.  Sure.  Anyway – I opened my eyes a little further and re-read it, still mostly asleep.  I caught “oh my god”, “look” and “Rasmussen” and I said to no one in particular – I know – how translucent can a guy be?  I patted myself on the back for garnering a comment from some random interweber all the way from the fatherland of pretzels and giant beer steins.  A smile slowly crept across my sleepy face as my finger headed for the “oh yes, definitely approved” button as I read it one more time.

A new comment on About is waiting for moderation:
Author: Silk
Oh My God.
I’d rather look like Rasmussen.

Oh…ouch.  That’s a hurricane hook kick to the ego.  The comment was posted to this picture of yours truly.

Now I know it excels in its dorktastic Fredulence.  I was told I looked like a mall cop before I posted it.  It’s intentionally ridiculous but it’s still me.

The comment stung because the author highlighted my dig at Rasmussen.  What I did was steal a picture of a real individual, post it on my blog, then mock his appearance. Seems fair to have my picture mocked as well.  It wasn’t particularly nice of me and frankly I didn’t give a moment’s thought about the individual in the picture.

But then this is the internet where nobody is safe from ridicule and ripping, and worse yet, I’ma  true fred banging on a legitimate, prize-winning pro cyclist.  Who am I to mock his glow-in-the-dark pastiness or his Buchewaldian physique?  I’m sorryish.  Almost.

What’s the difference between a doping cyclist and a doping bodybuilding?  One dopes to be strong with the least amount of mass possible, the other dopes in pursuit of the greatest mass, and volume, they can afford.  Otherwise both compete in sports that, apart from massaging the competitive drive in its participants and the wallets of sponsors, do nothing.  Both are clearly obsessed.

We think nothing of snickering at the “elite” bodybuilder who looks like a circus freak because they’re so extreme, so far outside of normal as to be cartoonish.

Markus Ruehl - freakishly big

So is Rasmussen.

Extreme

His single-minded pursuit of pro-cycling excellence leaves him looking like a caricature.  I’d even been advised that “that picture of Rasmussen on your blog – it’s going to drive people away.  You should warn your readers that it’s there”.

So does being outside the norm – and just what is norm anyway  – mean you’re a fair target for unflattering commentary?  Everyone or just some people?  Celebrities?  Unknown, nobody bloggers?  I’m not sure I know how to draw the line.  As a parent I don’t want people making my kids feel bad about their looks – there’s an entire cosmetics and fashion industry that can do that thanks – and it would be unconscionable to poke at someone else’s.  What about strangers?  Friends?  Family?  I’m thinking the last two are clear “yes” answers.  If I can’t rib my own friends and family, how will they know they’re in the cool group? I don’t know.

At any rate,  I can take my dorkinian helmet with its nü-rider accessory mirror off, put it on the shelf and become an average, anonymous, polite and apologetic Canadian and I’m pretty happy with that. Besides, Best Wife will take me even with the nerd-pot strapped to my head and she’s the only one I need to impress.

You don’t wear spandex do you
This seems to be the primary concern of my friends.  It’s almost as if they’re afraid of catching some heretofore unproven-but-suspected sickness that might render them powerless against showing up at the office Christmas party or the Friday-night poker game in head-to-toe spandex.   Ken, completely bonkers downhill racer, a man I’ve known since before either of us could shave and never noted as a conformist rolled his eyes “oh gawd, you’re not wearing those black spandex shorts are you?”, the disgust dripping from his words.

In truth, I don’t but that’s not because I’m unwilling…now.  When I was 40 pounds overweight (as opposed to the optimistic 10 I am now), you wouldn’t have been able to bribe me into them in public at any price.  I rode in my cargo shorts with the stealth chamois shorts hidden underneath.  I thought it was perfect but then single-digit temperatures arrived.

It didn’t take too many mornings in the almost-freezing air to figure out I needed something to cover my knees if nothing else.  Enter my first stretchy-pants – the MEC winter cycling tights.  When asked recently if I wear those shorts I replied “no – I have stretchy pants, like tights” just to watch the reaction.  As predicted, my friend reacted with horror, disapproval and disappointment.  You’d have thought I’d just told him I’d been having an affair with the neighbour’s poodle.

It’s not like I’m asking them to join me in my new-found clothing choices.  I’m comfortable in my choice of clothing – I don’t need someone else to validate it for me.  Yeesh – it’s not even like we’re riding together and they can’t handle being seen with a lycra-clad rider in the group.  Doesn’t matter though – switching back and forth between the cargo shorts and the stretchy-pants leaves no doubt – stretchy-pants rule and stretchy shorts are a foregone conclusion when the temperatures relent.

You’re not going to be one of those guys
Jason and I went for lunch recently and the topic of my riding came up…because I brought it up.  Jason, who doesn’t ride and hasn’t expressed an interest to (yet) has no problems with my stretchy-pants though he expressed some degree of relief that I wasn’t wearing them in the restaurant.  Jason was supportive and complimentary, arguably the most supportive of my small cadre of friends.  He came from a different angle.  “Are you going to ride this winter” he asked, to which  I replied with an enthusiastic maybe.  “I’d like to” I told him “but we’ll see how much I want to when there’s snow on the ground and no room in the lane”.

“Noooooooooooooooooooo” was the immediate response, his head shaking .  “Don’t be that guy!  Put the bike away and just drive a car like a normal human”.   Now, I could see if I was his courier or pizza delivery service how my desire to pedal through the winter might cause him some concern.  Luckily for both of us, I am neither of those.  So, what’s the issue?  We don’t work or live in the same quadrant of the city and virtually none of our respective commutes or general travel overlap…so what if I ride?  The reaction is almost reason enough and Jason is not alone in his disapproval of my plan.  Well, not really a plan so much as an idea.

Now these are all friends that have eaten my food, who have fed me and my family.  They’ve taken their weekends and evenings to move me – in the case of Ken, 3 times in a single 12 month period.  These guys aren’t peripheral or fair-weather friends – they’re the real deal and I’m lucky to have them.  So what is it about cycling that makes even your closest friends hang their heads, cluck their tongues and nod disapprovingly?  If I’d bought a motorcycle and we were talking about leather chaps or riding in the rain, there wouldn’t be any such reaction – unless I demonstrated my predilection for wearing the chaps without anything underneath them.  What is it about bicycles that puts everything on its head?

I’ve participated in outdoor activities in the dead of winter.  I’ve put on the long underwear, fleece pants, snow pants, t-shirt, long-sleeve, sweater and finally winter jacket, followed by regular socks, then wool socks and winter boots, a scarf, a balaclava and finally a helmet to go and ride my snowmobile when it’s -30˚C.  You sweat and almost overheat while getting dressed and out to the snowmobile, then the wind sucks away all but the minimum of heat and you’re sledding feeling reasonably comfortable, except that you’re wearing an extra forty pounds of clothing.  This doesn’t sound conducive to cycling.

I’m also not keen on the idea of spending more time pushing than riding.  If I leave early enough to avoid the traffic that will certainly be looking to run me into the snowdrifts, I will get to the paths without trouble.  The path network however is not like our sidewalks – they are not all slated to be cleared.  I can only imagine how much fun it’s going to be to start doing the hike-a-bike in winter gear after a big dump of snow.  So when it’s too bleeding cold or there’s too much snow to ride outside what shall I do?

Ride inside is the obvious answer.  I could ride in the basement once the kids have gone to bed, or before they got up.  Well…not before they got up – that’s not possible – my middle monster doesn’t actually sleep, she only lies in her bed until she’s bored of lying there and then she’s up again.  Looking for company.  I could set up and ride in the garage – private, no little fingers poking into things, no concerns about break downs or flat tires leaving me sweaty and stranded in the middle of nowhere, still winter-cold but no wind so I can dress warm enough to keep from freezing without ending up like A Christmas Story.

So we have the where, now I need the what.  What kind of contraption do I use to ride?  Oh and there are all kinds of options here.  Fluid trainers, mag trainers, wind trainers, inertial trainers, rollers, rollers with resistance, free-motion rollers, trainers that are internet-enabled, trainers that let you rock – or in my case, wobble – back and forth.  The list is almost endless with prices running from under a hundred for the no-name mag trainers to a couple of grand for the internet-enabled, remote controlled, alien-inspired, laser-guided version.  Okay, that last bit isn’t entirely true – you have to use your own laser. Tangent: I don’t have a maintenance stand for the bike so I hang it from the garage roof with a couple of straps.  Once, on a whim and understanding the foolishness of it, I suspended my bike from the garage ceiling such that I could climb aboard and pedal it.  You have not lived until you’ve ridden a suspended bicycle as fast as you can (I was only willing to do it once however as the foolishness exceeded my repeat threshold). /tangent

I’m not in a position to buy the alien technology though I’m sure hooking it into the internet so a virtual Lance Armstrong can lap me before I’ve shifted out of the small ring would do wonders for my ego.  I’m faced with two categories – rollers or trainers?  Rollers will, through negative reinforcement encourage me to use a more disciplined riding style and to pay attention to “my line”.  I like the free-standing aspect – nothing but balance and gyro holding up the bike, lots of focus on cadence and riding smooth. Unless I buy (or build) the free-motion rollers though, I can’t stand and sprint on them.  On the other hand, a fluid or mag trainer can be set up to provide a load for aerobic training or strength training depending on what you’re after, but there’s not the discipline on form enforced as the bike is pinned to the trainer and – at least theoretically – it can’t fall over.

I can throw the bike on the rollers and ride – theoretically – without having to do any more than I would if I was going for a ride on the paths.  The trainers all lock on to the rear axle, an act that would take at least 15, perhaps 30 seconds of my precious ride time.  A trainer is rumoured to be harder on the rear wheel than rollers, but rollers require two smooth (IE not winter knobbies) tires or you’ll be spinning and buzzing the entire time.  In a perfect world I’d have both – the galacticaly-connected super trainer with ego-crushing option and the full-motion rollers with resistance and throw-you-down-and-humiliate options with dedicated bikes for each, in a specially air-conditioned room with large-screen televisions and an endless supply of mental distractions to keep me riding.  This is not a perfect world however.

What say you?  Do you have rollers?  A trainer?  Should I buy the Amazon $60 trainer or will that just be $60 I didn’t put toward the Cycleops trainer or a set of rollers? Have you tried the opposite?  Would you have both if you could?  Have you lost focus at high speed and ridden off the side of your rollers only to have your wheel’s spinning inertia blast you forward into your precariously balanced distraction device, therein wreaking havoc upon your domain?  ’Cause that would be a good story.