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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Festive500 always makes us love Rule #9, here in Europe.
I used to love the rule #9 rides until this season. Out on a wet ride and the mixture of moisture and spilt diesel sneaked under my front wheel and I kissed the tarmac. Nothing broken but the brand new Bianchi bar tape looked like it had been attacked by a cheese grater. Not gorgeous at all.
The flip-side of the deep freeze in the north-east US is an oddly mild (ca. 5-10°C) winter here in Germany at the moment -- which at least keeps the ice off the roads. It's made for some beautiful rides the last few days, also in Aquitaine where I was visiting. Add rain before dawn this morning and no-one else was out. Mind you, I was -- whisper it -- running today...
One of my favourite rides so far was through icy fog and rain in Winterberg a year ago. Mind, the hot shower afterwards has absolutely never been topped.
Wet and windy then I am afraid I am weak. Cold and sunny - these are the best bad days. But as @pash has pointed out a fall, mine on ice, is not gorgeous at all. Now looking forward to early morning spring rides
Thanks for the great article, Frank. Rule #9 is my favorite as well. I know it's been reiterated many times, but there's definitely something special about the narrowed consciousness of riding in foul weather. I had the privilege of spending a little over three hours in 35 degrees and rain yesterday. Soul-cleansing...
One of my favorite things about riding in the cold weather is the smell of burning firewood as I ride through residential areas.
Rule 9 is my favorite as it is an escape clause. No matter how many rule transgressions I may have, I am a badass. Period!
Thanks for the great read Frank. Down here in Louisiana we get our fair share of the wet and some of the cold and lately a lot of both. I've been adding new armor to my cycling inventory to steel myself: rain jackets, embrocation and the like. I love riding out in the crap, it makes the beautiful, clear days even more special. Here in the deep, dirty south people don't like to drive in bad weather so my weekend rides in the wet can become a fortress of solitude or if I'm lucky I can share my pain with a few other souls. One of my best rides already was a 72 mile trek on New Years morning with three others into the mist while everyone else was hung over or indoors, Rule #9 was in full effect.
True solitude is found in the cold. For some odd reason the paths and roads seem that much quieter when the temperatures drop. Not from the lack of others on the road, it's at times an eerie stillness.
(waiting for the response from a chemist about less movement in molecules blah blah blah.)
Nice read, thanks Frank.
Winter Rule 9 rides. I love the thought of them, I enjoy that part when the odd pedestrian and driver sees you heading out and just shakes their head and I love thinking about them afterwards. It's that bit in the middle when the hands are frozen and useless, I know in the shower my toes are going to feel like I'm shoving glass through the nails and I can hear the road salt eating my machine once I stop that I find myself asking why I always put myself through that. But I do. Now my body is conspiring to limit Rule 9 exposure, asthma frequently reacts badly to temperatures approaching 0 deg C and I need longer off the bike to recover from whatever mucus filled misery follows. Longer than I always end up doing.
It's semi controlled experimentation, different kit, different layers, different durations and intensities. One day I'll find what works best. Until then its wrap up and ride on.
VLVV