November Mind Reset

Revisiting the November mindset.

How is November the most difficult time of year? I get blindsided by the darker evenings, forceful winds, and looming snow/ice. I am euphoric, riding in October's colorful embrace, then suddenly plunged into gloom. It's the dramatic shift that gets to me. I have eagerly accepted the Happy Light, boosted vitamin D, and walk during lunch breaks to soak up the only available weekday daylight. And yet, I feel unmoored.

Because I ride year-round, the cold doesn't bother me. I dress well, often boosted with chemical warmers. I welcome the studded tire life, headlights lighting a snow-lined bike path, the quiet, with a blanket of starlight. Sublime winter evenings.

It's the transition that's awkward.

Cycling is my happy place. In November, I have to pay particular attention to weather forecasts. Is it near freezing with precipitation imminent? Ugh, it's raining and 40F - how bad do I want to ride? Will the temperatures plummet when I'm out there in the darkness? Has it been howling, and should I be concerned with fallen tree limbs? After the snow begins to fall, I wonder whether both towns responsible for path maintenance have completed their plowing. And as a last resort, is it best to go for a walk? 

Getting over the hump, shifting to less frequent outings and safer riding, is a process. I'll get there.

The Specialized Hard Rock with the Best Bag Setup

The Specialized Hard Rock has become my alternative winter ride during Vermont's periodic dry spells. While the Peugeot step-through, bedecked with studded tires, always takes precedence on snowy surfaces, I've learned to keep a backup bike handy. The Hard Rock's wider tires strike the right balance for safety; handlebars easily support my lights; and two racks allow ample carrying capacity.

The best use for this bag.

Recently, I moved a favorite, versatile bag behind the seat, using it like a quasi-seat pack. Straps are secured to rails with buckles looping around the rack. Any weight is fully supported on the rack. It has been perfect: extra cargo space for a few tools, my purse, a lock, and room for other things. If I plan to pick up a few groceries, I bring an additional bag, attached to the front rack. In the past, all my bikes had panniers - the more space, the merrier! - but for once, just enough space seems like a better arrangement. It's also been much easier to clean the drive train.

I've thoroughly enjoyed riding the Hard Rock this winter.

The more I ride the Hard Rock, the more this bike makes me smile.  

Riding in Winter - Reset the Mindset

Slow down, be safe, and if you live in northern latitudes, boost vitamin D.

Winter riding conditions in Vermont were waylaid by a month, something that I have mixed feelings about. Dry, warmer temperatures means it's easier to navigate with lights during after work rides. (I rode the Dahon a lot in December.) I venture further and ride multiple routes, and feel safer on dirt paths and trails. For as long as I can. 

On the other hand, frequent snow storms and plummeting temperatures within a week is a shock, and a different mindset takes over. Studded tires go on; snow goggles, bar mitts, and down parka come out; path choices dwindle, and I ride less in the dark, preferring weekend daylight and once a week rides to the office for better visibility. 

Staying warm is less of an issue because of previous years testing my cold weather stamina and figuring out appropriate gear. It didn't take long to adapt to riding on snow either, quickly reminded to lower gearing, loosen grip on the bars, and avoid erratic turns. (Kind of like a metaphor for life: sometimes you need to slow down but keep moving!) 

A destination is also a necessity, preferably at least a 10 mile loop, which seems to be the magic distance for enough exercise. 

Upon reflection, while my biking body prefers warmer temperatures, cold is more seasonable and allows me also to cross-country ski. Plus, sunset is nearly 5pm!

The Winter That Was

 

This winter, like much of the mid-west, has been above normal temperature-wise and lacks abundant snowfall. Brief reprieves from intense cold have been prolonged and spring-like warmth has certainly been weird, but welcome! 

I embrace riding my bike in the winter with studded tires, and equally I've been enjoying exploring again on my Dahon on snow-free paths. The folder has been updated with new Gripshifter, new cables with purple housing, new cassette and chain, plus a permanent fix for a rattling rear fender. Recently, the bottom bracket has been creaking more so I have plans to give my spry Dahon more love.

Though the unseasonably warm - dare I say recording breaking - weather will not last indefinitely, the return of Canadian geese has been a nice surprise, along with more daylight. I've bolted from a home office to enjoy sunset rides, serenaded by Jupiter and Venus sparkling on the western horizon.

Quality Thinking Time on a Snow-lit Path

The homestretch: shifting down to climb the bridge, noticing a plane in the distance.

I've been making riding through a Vermont winter work, once again. Mild weather has helped. Working from home has forced me to get outside at lunchtime, and often again after 5 pm. The darkness is/can be a hindrance, or an opportunity, depending upon your point of view. I love cross-country skiing, also, but without enough local snow, alternatives are walking and riding.

There is much to like about riding on plowed, salt-free, snow-packed rail trails. The surface is generally firm. Interaction with cars is non-existent; studded bike tires lend traction; and the few hardy souls who venture out in the dark are groups of runners and the occasional dog walker. I have the trail mostly to myself!

Senses are heightened. Since my trail is near Lake Champlain, I listen to the rhythm of waves, ducks squawking, or the distant rumble of airplanes slowing on their decent into Burlington. Snow absorbs voices; I see the bobbing lights on pedestrians long before their conversation - a momentary blip - as I roll on by, my tires crunching in the darkness. I search for the moon on a clear night, reflections on the lake, and snow-covered ice forming in bays. I enjoy the white-lighted peace symbol perched high in someone's tree or the dark lump of squirrel nests standing out on naked trees. If I'm lucky, wild creatures appear, often it seems, in threes: an opossum, fox, and raccoon, on one evening, or a fox, raccoon and housecat on another. One time an animal bolted erratically - perhaps a rabbit - ricocheting off my front wheel then continuing across the path.

I let my thoughts wander. I think about upcoming vacations - something that seems doable again, months in advance. I smile in the darkness as I rumble over the arching bridge, marking the homestretch. I think you'll be all right, 2023.

Procrastinators Nightmare - I Can't Ride My Bike

Transitions are hard. The seasonal change is gradual, and yet sometimes it slams us and we wake up one morning, woefully unprepared. The intense cold and snowfall that won't go away is normal, of course, as we slide into a Vermont winter, but for a procrastinator, it means I won't be able to ride with confidence until I swap nearly treadless commuter tires for, you know, ones with studs.

It seems to be a pattern with bicycle maintenance too. My Dahon has been sitting in the work stand for a month, waiting for an overwhelming list of deserved repairs: secure fender, regrease rear axle, replace rear tire, replace broken Grip shifter, possibly cable and housing, etc. They are not difficult as separate tasks, but daunting in entirety, especially for someone who doesn't have patience. It will get done, eventually, but after the studded tire session, because, as avid riders know, riding a bike keeps us sane.

Until then, I work from home, staring outside at the snowy landscape, sunshine casting pretty shadows. Longing. 

Tea and frosted sugar cookies will have to do for now.

Winter Riding Tips

Let your body and terrain be your guide.

Whether you're aiming to ride in 45F or through a New England winter, take it in stages. Things to consider are listed below in order of importance, devoid of recommended brands (other than lights) - you probably have cold weather layers in your closet. Your comfort level, goals, and climate are also important factors. And remember, it's a process.

Know your body
Do you run hot or cold? Under most winter conditions - darkness, rain/snow - means you'll generally be slower than in summer, spring, or fall. Prepare to be snug and warm when setting out, paying attention to the big three: head, hands, and feet - you can always remove clothing as you warm up.

Know your route and forecast
Preview your preferred commute. Are there bridges, depressions that collect water, hills to be aware of ahead of dropping temperatures? Allow extra time to understand changing conditions and to get to your destination on time. Pay attention to the forecast before heading outdoors. Let common sense be your guide.

Length of time outside
Allow time to learn about your personal cold weather tolerances. Think of it in terms of how long you'll be pedaling rather than distance traveled. Can you stay warm for a 15 minute ride? One hour? Factor in stop lights and intersection crossings if those are part of your route. I discovered I'd stay plenty warm for a 30 minute ride in any temperature.

Take it one step at a time
Start with pedaling when roads/paths are dry/clear. Focus on how to stay warm. You'll develop confidence. Then, if desired, perhaps you'll take it to the next step, riding on snow, if that's of interest. Just riding in colder weather can be liberating!

Day or night
Nighttime rides offer an added dimension: can you see what obstacles lie ahead? Can you spot that icy patch or downed limb? There's no substitute for good lights. Cygolite, Nightrider, and Light & Motion are all great brands among many others. All offer a range of pricing and brightness settings. 500 lumens is a good starting point - plenty to light up unlit bike paths, not to mention wild creatures, plus oncoming pedestrians and cyclists who failed to illuminate themselves.

There's no magic formula
If you want more ideas, check out the following blogposts that illustrate my progress:

2015 - 2016 finding a light, 3 weeks in, the learning curve, motivation, 

2016-2017 gearing up for the 2nd year, preferring to be in control, 

2017 - 2018 freedom is a down jacket, knowing my limits

2018 - 2019 starting to ride on snowy paths

2020 - 2021 The next level: Studded tires, warm boots, lined helmet, bar-type mitts

One Step Forward

Keeping the fire alive through winter night rides.

As the temperatures slowly warm, I'm heartened that the world is beginning to emerge from it's Covid cocoon. It may be baby steps - rightfully so - but I'm feeling hopeful that more travel will be on our horizon. I talk daily with customers who are planning bike trips abroad. I'm amazed at their optimism, or fortitude, or devil-may-care attitude, or...I don't know, but they possess more gumption than I've allowed myself! I've been extremely cautious for family reasons, but I'm planning a simple overnight aboard my Dahon Boardwalk, with cooperative weekend weather, as soon as mid April. I'm not yet ready to fly, but taking Amtrak last year has boosted my confidence, enough to plan a similar adventure for later in 2022. And, if anything, adventure by bike is surely much safer than most forms of transportation - at least that's what I tell myself.

How is everyone else feeling about bike travel?

What Model of Studded Tires are the Best?

Last winter I used the 1.75" studded tires on the right and fell in love with snow travel on plowed bike paths. There was adequate traction except when rolling through deep slush. The tires had sat unused for many years, but once purchased for our son's middle school commutes. A couple months ago he reclaimed the tires to use for cold weather transportation. No problem, I thought, I'll just get new ones for myself!

Buoyed by Schwalbe's reputation and my own experience with their tires, I figured I couldn't go wrong with their Marathon Winter Plus model (left in above photo), also available in 1.75". Ideally I'd prefer wider tires, but fender clearance would then be an issue. The new tires seemed to work well until maneuvering through an inch of snow. The front has purchase but the rear tire frequently fishtails as I struggle to move forward, keeping momentum. I could ride my son's full suspension bike, equipped with the previous studs for comparison (brand unavailable), but his bicycle would obviously feel quite different.

The primary difference, visually, is his tires sport a deeper tread. Does that alone provide more purchase? Or does tread pattern? Air pressure? Does the weight of a bike also matter? I'm sure there are a lot of factors at play, but I only mention this because there are a wealth of studded tire options. Had I done better research, at the very least, I would've investigated another Schwalbe offering - the Ice Spiker Pro.

Using any model of studded tires for winter riding is better than none at all. I may experiment with air pressure. Next time I'm in the market for new winter tires, I'll make an informed choice. Enjoy January's sunshine and lengthening daylight. Dress for the weather and get out there!

MoGee Muffs - a Pogie for Beginners?

Trying MoGee Muffs on my winter commuter bike.

I hadn't given a thought to using pogies before - those chunky-looking mitts attached to handle bars, seemingly made for brutal winter weather - until an Adventuring Cycling newsletter appeared in my inbox with a link to an article Geared Up: Falling for Autumn. One of the reviewed items were MoGee Muffs, a brand of inexpensive pogies. With arthritis creeping into my hands and several numb fingers, the timing was fortuitous. Last winter - my first with studded tires - I primarily used insulated mittens, which worked out reasonably well, though I couldn't stop for long at 10F. 

The mitts are designed for upright - or slightly curved handle bars as is my case - with a drawstring enclosure to cinch however you want, and easily removed once at your destination. There is ample space to insert bare or lightly gloved hands, but be able to grasp thumb shifter and brake levers. After several rides of 1-2 hours in 20-40F, so far, I'm impressed at how warm my hands are!  It's interesting that even with some air allowed past the closure, allowing cables to freely move, the mitts still provide incredible warmth. I'm looking forward to toasty hands as we sink further into winter.

Our son used the MoGee Muffs for days before he "let me" have them back. Guess who's getting a pair for Christmas?

The only unnecessary feature, in my opinion, are the four exterior pockets. Mitts are interchangeable, right and left - pockets designed for cell phones or goodies. I prefer to store my phone in my jacket pocket to protect it from the elements and from cold potentially draining the battery. I have storage options with panniers. I considered removing the pockets altogether, but since they're unobtrusive and the logo is fairly small, I'll leave them as is for now. 

From my experience, it's easier to extract hands versus inserting, which requires minimal wiggling as I reposition hands back onto the bar. I ride mostly rail trails at this time of year, so I have little use for hand signals and interactions with traffic. I have yet to test fast extraction if there's an emergency, like if you are falling and want to catch yourself, so that aspect has yet to be reviewed. As a one size fits all mitt, my average sized hands are fine. If you have large hands, you might have trouble. 

For instant warmth, especially if you suffer from aching, cold hands, these affordable bar mitts might be the answer. Unless, of course, you have battery heated motorcycle gloves like my neighbor!

Riding through a Gauntlet of Emotions

Doing the best that I can do right now.

Leaving from my home office after a less than stimulating work day, it was imperative to get outside, (now a strange form of exercise when I used to bike commute). Indeed, 5 pm never rolls around fast enough for me. I alternate evening walks with my husband with solo bike rides on the Burlington Greenway, listening to soothing sounds of waves or relishing the quiet stillness, encountering only a few walkers. This is usually the me time that I crave.

But after wonderful cross-country ski snow, a warming trend has softened compacted firm snow on our trails to slippery mush. I came to grips with this reality this evening, fleeing local water-filled, icy trenches for roadways with cars, (so noisy!), studded tires rattling on asphalt, wondering if it was worth pedaling at all. I passed a beautiful odor-free dead skunk, weaved around puddles, feeling that I was unprepared and emotionally caught off guard after navigating frozen snow-filled paths with confidence for 3 months. Then a car sprayed me as I pedaled through a neighborhood - nobody's fault, I realize - but nonetheless it seemed like the nail in the coffin. What the heck was I doing out here on roads?

Shortly afterwards, I headed to the waterfront path, determined to take my chances heading home on a car free route. It was quite slushy and slippery at times. I had to concentrate to maintain forward momentum and keep the front wheel straight, and even so there were periods when I had to put my foot down, walk a bit, before setting off again. It was then that I realized all the balance skills I acquired from riding on packed snow came into play, lending confidence. Without pedestrians to dodge, I challenged myself to keep at it for as long as possible. There were also stretches of bare pavement - more than I had anticipated - that gave a welcome reprieve from intense bike handling.

As I crested the bridge over the Winooski River, I felt euphoric - this bridge always has that effect on me - because it's the homestretch, because it feels like I'm flying in the darkness. I could walk home from there if needed. As I navigated the last half mile home, I thought about how this particular ride, through a gauntlet of emotions (better word than "gamut" don't you think?), seemed an apt metaphor for 2020 and now 2021. We're all dealing with change, highs and lows, but we keep moving forward, as best we can.

In Love with the Bern Muse Winter Helmet

Bern Muse helmet in action.

As previously mentioned, my goal was to ride throughout the 2020-21 winter. Along with getting the right footwear and longer length windproof jacket, I found a comfortable insulated helmet: the Bern Muse. 

I tried on numerous brands of ski helmets at our local Sierra Trading Post - to keep the cost down, especially if I was adding a third helmet to my collection! I immediately fell in love with a purple colored Scott brand, but the padding was too thick, which pinched my head. The Bern Muse is geared towards burly helmet protection with a lightweight liner, in the classic visor style - indeed the overall helmet weight was half of the heavier padded options, which I knew would translate to less neck strain on longer rides. Definitely a better trade off - getting the right fit was critical as I wanted the helmet to be part of my routine winter setup.

The color scheme is not my favorite (only choice in my size), but the removeable liner and full coverage ear flaps won me over.

The back of the helmet has a clasp for goggles.

Since November, I've tried various weight balaclavas, neck warmers, and beanies underneath so I'm not overheating on rides. I've settled on a lightweight balaclava or thin wool beanie plus a thin neck warmer  to use as a makeshift mask when passing other riders. Goggles have helped during snow blinding conditions for depth perception or to keep my face warm, but generally I have a love/hate relationship with goggles in conjunction with mouth/nose coverage - feeling like I can't breathe in addition to partially fogged goggles. 

The Bern helmet completes my necessary winter riding trifecta: adequately covered head, hands, and feet - items that should serve me well for years to come.

The Journey: Becoming a Year-Round Rider

It's been a slow process, from adjusting to riding in complete darkness, wearing appropriate winter clothing, switching to flat pedals, finding and altering the perfect (for me) work pannier, stretching coffeeneuring outings a little beyond my comfort zone, to seeking out weekend rides in winter. And lately, I've been quite comfortable riding on a little snow. A traffic-free route has allowed me to experiment with what's possible, adjusting attitudes, lowering speeds, and walking when it makes sense: to warm feet, negotiate a steep incline, or to skirt a patch of ice.

It's been totally worth it!

Traveling at 10 mph is my favorite way to explore. I enjoy walking also, but by challenging myself to stretch my idea of what's rideable, or not, I've been pleasantly surprised at what I can do.

All of this feels like a culmination, and liberating! It's made our decision to move further away from my office very acceptable. Living closer to the lake means I'll have a much longer though a welcome, prettier commute. It will be an adjustment, I'm sure, but in the end worthwhile.

One step at a time.

An Abrupt End to Autumn Commuting?

I set out for a reconnaissance at lunchtime to check bike path conditions.

It always takes me by surprise: the first snow storm, plummeting temperatures, a low pressure system that lingers for days. A depressive mood marks the end of safe, regular bike commutes.

The transition is difficult, especially in early to mid-November, to give up commuting to work. For the second year in a row I will struggle to complete the Coffeeneuring Challenge, but if I manage the final stop will be a special one, a culmination of sorts!

The double-whammy: the time change and weather patterns are occurring - much like last year - at the same time this November. Transition to navigating with lights, body rhythms in flux, all while adjusting mindset to taking the bus and/or driving more.

But though the shift has been abrupt, I'll walk more and set up indoor projects. I have mini panniers to finish for the Dahon, research to do on new handlebars for Miss Clementine, other sewing projects, cleaning closets, painting of rooms...

I'll get there, physically and emotionally, just a little earlier than I expected.

2018 Rewind

The Minuteman Bikeway, barely snow-free in January.

2018 was a year of discovering new trails and spending time with family - sometimes both aligned to create magical moments.

It all started in January...
After a long hiatus off the bike, a winter thaw coincided with a company party in Boston, which opened up a wonderful opportunity to revisit the Minuteman Trail.

The winter bike.

February was bittersweet, losing my gracious, endearing mother-in-law, yet I witnessed how her children came together to honor her long life. I also began commuting to work again, discovering that linking dry neighborhood streets and back roads in lieu of snowy/icy bike paths opened up possibilities.

March and April dumped the most winter snow, yet I persevered through a rash of unexpected flat tires, completed the Errandonnee, spruced up a rusty Peugeot frame, and thought about what I'd hoped to accomplish in 2018.

Sinking my toes into Coney Island sand.

May, by far, satisfied my wanderlust, plus opened up new experiences by traveling with our eldest son on Amtrak to New York City. We spent 5 whole glorious days riding, exploring, eating, and realized we were great traveling companions!

My husband on the Nashua River Rail Trail.

In June I sold a beloved, but little used Miyata 610 touring bike, then looked ahead at how the Dahon could fit my current lifestyle. Attending a wedding also provided an opportunity to explore two new-to-us New Hampshire rail trails.

Ferries on Lake Champlain open up riding loops between Vermont and New York.

July, August, and September - July and August particularly - were the hottest months ever recorded in Burlington so I spent lots of time in the water, and joined an open water swim club - albeit too late to improve much - but it's a sport I aim to continue in 2019. However, I also spent time with my husband in Canada along with my annual pilgrimage with Adele exploring Canadian back roads. I also shared a beloved 3-ferry loop ride, twice, yet with two different friends completing the loop in opposite directions to keep the route fresh.

Revisiting the Lachine Canal.

October and November were filled with Coffeeneuring rides and I discovered the antidote to keeping the challenge fresh this year: using a thermos for impromptu rides and quiet, contemplative resting spots. It was also a refreshing change to coincidentally open the challenge along Montreal's Lachine Canal. My family and I also tried out our first e-bike: a Rad Mini.

A crisp, clear winter afternoon on the Colchester Causeway.

Winter weather came early this year, but switching to the winter bike means I continue to commute when I'm confident with road conditions. In addition, I'm learning to push my limits, with occasional pleasure rides that are surprisingly punctuated with sublime, spectacular views.

Conclusion
I failed to complete even one official bike overnight in 2018 (outside of simple but fulfilling forays at our nearby camp) and have given up on the challenge of riding all of Colchester's public roads. Spending meaningful time with my mom has filled the gaps on weekends, and I stayed close to home, rounding out any "free time" with our children and my husband. I immensely enjoyed and lived vicariously through Rootchopper's frequent blog posts as he crossed the country by bicycle. As I age, I'm increasingly thankful for the role that bicycles play in my life, whether for solace, commuting, or exploring - bikes take me where I need to go.

Why I Ride

Testing my winter boots by venturing on a long ride to visit the Colchester Causeway during a sunny and
windless 23 degree afternoon.

Cycling is my chosen speed to move through the world.
At 10 m.p.h. I notice flowers, animals, and caterpillars. I notice ice sculptures, snow sculptures, sometimes melting, dripping, and morphing.

Because I have bike toured and camped extensively in my 20's and 30's, I'm comfortable traveling on my own. I much prefer a partner - my favorite companion is my husband - but I am confident planning solo cycling and hiking adventures. Sometimes, simplicity is key to following your own dreams, and traveling alone is worthwhile and necessary.

The ice formations were spectacular. I danced around icy patches before turning back due to treacherous surfaces.

Solitude and Contemplation
Like many riders who feel the need for two wheeled ramblings, rhythmically spinning is a journey to understand our place in the world, to work out life problems, and clarify our soul.

I brought a thermos of hot ginger tea to keep myself warm. I found a perfectly flat marble slab (of which the entire
causeway is constructed) for a brief break. 

I love riding because I dislike driving.
I often rode my bike to high school, which set the groundwork as a bike commuter. And later, I sold my first car so I could afford to move into the "big city", another example of the lack of importance that driving had meant to me. I'm thankful to have a spouse who enjoys driving, because an automobile is necessary for many Vermont journeys. If anything, more than ever, I rely on my bicycle for transportation, and in recent years, when weather permits, even throughout the winter.

The Green Mountains were cloaked in a fresh layer of snow.

Cycling has also become a creative outlet.
As a youngster, I loved to draw. As a teenager, I quilted (and occasionally still do) and sewed clothes in to my late 20's. I still dabble on the sewing machine, mainly repairing clothes, and of course for creating cycling accessories. I like to upcycle pannier parts, decorate handlebars, re-purpose bags for tool pouches, handle bar bags, or sew and design useful pouches and accessories from scratch. It gives me great satisfaction to solve baggage problems by breathing life into old equipment.

A serene moment before turning back.

Riding a bike is who I am. And will always be.

Fat Biking, Because I Can

I took advantage of another Fat Bike Demo Day at Catamount Family Center. This time around our two boys and I rolled on snowy trails - a pleasant and fun way to spend an hour in the great Vermont outdoors!

Winter Commutes - I'm Back!

Snow piles at Overlook Park, South Burlington.

A weekend road ride in 45F fueled the hunger for getting back into riding to work. Bike paths still needed to dry out, but pavement was fine, which fired me up to look at alternate, navigable routes.

Lake Champlain vista, Overlook Park, South Burlington.

My normal route encompasses two bike paths, but thinking outside the box to include neighborhoods and quiet streets could still make for a pleasant ride. After reconnaissance by foot and bus, I formed a workable plan.

Staying organized is key. to getting back into  winter commuting, especially with the extra clothing required to stay warm.

I've ridden two days so far this week, a brisk 10F ride and today in 15-35F, linking one path (walking a few short icy spots) and mostly on road. It will take me a while to get back in the groove. I forgot to wear earrings one day and I can't locate my normal cable lock, though a purple chain lock is adequate for my relatively safe workplace outdoor parking.

I know I've come full circle when I arrive home, smiling, and unpack my pannier onto our entryway. floor, and begin the process of putting away my belongings.

After six weeks without bike commuting, I'm thrilled to be back on two wheels. And only time will tell - either that or the furry guy emerging from his burrow tomorrow - as to how often rides happen.

The Evolution of Accepting a Winter Without Riding

Photo credit: Timo Newtom-Sym on Wikimedia, and converted to black and white by anniebikes.

This Phase Cannot Last
Between cycling for the last time on the solstice, sitting and visiting relatives over the holidays, and frequent precipitation, I figured the snowfall was too good to be true. It wouldn't last. The 2016 winter had prolonged dry spells where, sporadically, I rode on dry pavement for errands or round trip to work once a week, just enough to get my cycling fix.

Frustration & Denial
Then just before the new year, a 7-10 day deep freeze descended upon New England. Below zero and snow fell! It was too cold to go outside. I was stir crazy from lack of exercise, though yoga helped loosen stiff joints and protect my sanity. A gym membership is lost on me. I want to be out doors. I sat near the window, reading, watching movies, trying to absorb daylight. It was the first time in a long time that I considered buying an indoor bicycle trainer. Instead I gazed outside.

My heart hurt when my husband removed my son's and my bicycle from the garage to open up space for our vehicle.

Acceptance
Once the terrible weather spell passed, frequent precipitation is the new normal. I have resigned myself to leaving the car at home during the work week and despite my dislike of the bus, I've re-calibrated my mindset, using the bus as link to more exercise. I walked the 4.5 miles one way home and fell once and nearly slipped numerous times due to icy paths (not to mention arriving home late), so the bus allows me to shortcut the miles but still get exercise walking on plowed and salted sidewalks - as much as I need for sanity.

The transition feels complete. I've shoveled driveways, embraced the beautiful powder snow, and adopted a new elderly neighbor's driveway as my new project because, sadly, another older gentleman who we've helped for many years, had recently passed away.

This past weekend I brought out my cross country skis for two days of local skiing: through backyards and shushing in an unplowed cemetery beneath tall evergreens heavy with snow, plus a lovely sunset ski with my husband along the waterfront path. Ice is forming on the shoreline. Surprisingly, I kept warm in single digit temperatures, donning a down parka, wearing winter weight bicycle tights, and the warm mitts I'd purchased last year for cold weather riding. The irony, of course, was that cycling garments were also great for skiing, on the same waterfront path that's my favorite place to ride.

When we returned to the car after dark, I looked up and smiled at a sky full of stars. The transition was complete. I'd come full circle, from angst, frustration, to acceptance. Though cycling is never far from my mind, I've decided to embrace winter while it's here, in whatever mode of personal transport gives me peace of mind.

Salt, Crosswalks, and Winter Riding Reflections/Emotions

Photo credit: Burlington, VT waterfront trail winter plowing policy.

As I walked to catch a bus ride this morning, my boots crunched over salt crusted sidewalks. Salt coats roads, walkways, everything! Salt is king in these parts, making roads safe, passable - at least in the travel lanes. That is, where automobiles rule the road. On the other hand, bike lanes are full of packed snow or slush, a far cry, in my opinion from safe bicycle conditions. As I entered intersections, the white striped crosswalks - specifically the white painted portions - are extremely slippery when wet, surely a major failure!

As I continued on I realized how I would never feel safe riding when lanes are narrow, when paths are unplowed, when I would be subjected to riding with traffic, literally, in the lane with an automobile in front and behind, to justify riding through out the colder months, during frequent and regular snowfall.

I admire those hearty folks who can ride in all conditions, unafraid, with studded tires, on fat bikes, in heavy traffic, squeezing by cars on congested highways. It takes a special kind of gutsy determination to claim their space, however minimal, on narrow, New England roads.

As much as I would like to embrace this lifestyle, if only to support the growing winter riding culture, I realize this is beyond my comfort zone. I'm fine with occasional rides on dry pavement side roads, paths, or sidewalks - if I can link a route to work - otherwise, I'll leave the snowy roads to heartier riders.

More power to you!