We’re not really supposed to have favorites, but everyone does. Just ask your parents. So while I’m not supposed to have a favorite, I do, and its Rule #9.
Bad weather immediately separates the wheat from the chaff, and so the weekend warriors stay indoors and leave the roads to the devout. I talk most often about riding in the rain, with the drops of water dripping from my cap acting as my personal metronome as I carve a path through the chaos towards a happier self. But sunny days in the cold can provide their own glorious solitude.
On Keepers Tour 2013, we had unseasonably cold weather, and some of the best rides we had were early morning spins before heading off to the races. With the sun hanging low over the horizon, we rode through our frozen breath, together in close formation yet each of us retreating inward as we steeled ourselves against the cold. These were beautiful, peaceful rides.
This winter in Seattle has been relatively dry, but also cold. On the weekends, the country roads are nearly deserted and all that is left is the silent, still air and the burning of cold air as it enters my lungs. On a recent solo ride on Whidbey Island, I spun down the same roads which only a few months earlier I had ridden with friends on the annual Whidbey Island Cogal. The island seems a full place then, now it looked like an entirely different place – empty and beautiful.
There is something about the way the bike handles in the cold. The tires are firmer, the rubber less supple. The connection between bicycle and road seems simultaneously harsher and more fragile than in the warm. The muscles in my arms and hands are also more twitchy in the cold. Not twitchy like I can suddenly sprint; twitchy like I have difficulty controlling what they are doing – where normally I pride myself on holding a clean line, in the cold a small bump in the road might trigger a spasm that sends the bike into a wobble. Its an exciting way to ride.
Quiet roads, a still harbor, an early morning sunrise; these are the gifts reserved for those who ventured out when others stay in. These are the gifts of Rule #9.
Vive la Vie Velominatus.
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@wrongsideof40
Its tough for me to say I enjoy riding in bad weather. I enjoy riding. When in bad weather, it takes somewhere an hour or so into the ride to decide, "Hey I'm glad I didn't puss out and stay inside" ...and thus I find my enjoyment, the fact I'm alive, and out on my steed.
@wrongsideof40
You might be on the wrong side of 40, but it seems you're on the right side of figuring out what bad weather is. Cheers and welcome.
@Chris
Might have been. I do have the look of someone who is pissed off at Alex for taking us down a cobbled track the day after riding Roubaix, don't I?
Was the punishment having a fucking tea and cake break? You brits and your tea, Merxckxy-Merckxy.
Ah, the morning commute, in rain or shine, is what keeps the "You can't fire me! I QUIT!" conversation a fantasy, not a reality.
@PeakInTwoYears
That bewildering post was worth it just for the last line.
@wiscot
As I wrote in my column for Cyclist a few months ago, chewing on a rooster tail is just the price you pay for the luxury of a draft. Don't like it? Go the front, don't demand others besmirch their magnificent steed with unnecessary accouterment.
@teleguy57
You kids. In my Minnesota ski racing days, I'd happily line up for a start in -10F wearing a spandex leotard with nothing for protection but some mole skin on my cheeks and a Peter-Heater down where it matters.
And, because I was a superstitious bastard, I'd always race in my thin gloves. If you get cold, just go harder.
@frank
I like that statement very much.
@doubleR
Ah yes, this is nice. My fondest memory of visiting Cesky Krumlov, CZ was that it was cold and the entire city smelled of burning wood!
@frank
I love the banter on here, wait till I post a pick of my steed - I'm sure it's a serial offender - but I like the idea posted earlier that rule#9 is an escape clause, so I'll cling to that. I may need to make some changes for the summer though!
My personal challenge relative to Rule 9 isn't physical discomfort. It's that I hate a filthy bike. It's not that I dislike bicycle maintenance. It's that the sensory input of wet grit on my drivetrain makes me feel like a certain robot.
@frank
Well-played. You would have made a successful and amusing academic.
I'd just like to say it is gratifying to discuss bad weather riding with people who get it, revel in it, and don't shake their heads in bewilderment. I suppose the same can be said for pretty much any topic here, but particularly this one. It's nice to be understood.