A Day on the Bike…

I was in a foul mood.  Never mind why, just accept that I was mad at the world.  Little things annoyed me.  Irritable was my middle name.  I didn’t feel like going out for a ride.  And the weather, in a word, stank.  It was a bit too cool, and raining, and dark, and evil out.

The thing was, I was committed to doing a very challenging long ride.  I had a training schedule to meet.  So I geared up, grabbed the bike and headed out.

As I rolled out of the driveway and up the street, I was wet-cat miserable.  But I noticed that the rain was tapering.  At least a little bit.

By the time I’d left the town behind, the rain had stopped and there were blue patches showing through the clouds.  The temp actually dropped a bit, but the sun was beginning to shine.  I stopped briefly and shed the outer layer, rain shell and rain pants.  I Folded and stowed them on top of the Carradice bag.  (Lovely design, that bag.)  My clothing now matched the conditions perfectly, and I was enjoying being less encumbered.

I crested a long, but not very steep grinder and turned into the light breeze for the long descent.  I couldn’t help but smile.  This was nice.

The wind stayed light, and danced all around the compass, now behind, now to the side.  The clouds disappeared.  The wind picked up a bit, and it seemed the temp dropped a little more.  I worked a bit harder, and body heat balanced the increased cooling.

I was getting a bit hungry.  I’d noticed that at every stop, for an intersection, or a quick consult on navigation, I felt the chill.  I found my way to one of my lunch stops.  This was an old homesite, long abandoned and falling slowly to ruin.  But the site had a set of steps that descended from a raised yard to street level.  I’d stopped here before, resting and eating while seated on those steps.

On this day the wind direction was such that I was out of the wind and fully exposed to the sun on that old stone stair.  Comfortable.

It was time to turn toward home.  I had a lot of climbing to accomplish on the way.  Basically, there was a very large ridgeline between me and home.  The next fifteen miles would be generally uphill.  (Of course that meant that the last ten miles would be mostly down.)

As I began the climbing, I noted that the wind had settled and increased, but…   It was a tail wind!  The breeze helped me up every climb, urged me along each flat, and was blocked on each descent.

The sun was lowering as I moved into the last five miles of the ride.  Shadows were growing longer.  My legs had that “good tired” feeling.  I knew I’d been working, but was far from over-done.  As I approached the town and home, I found I was humming tunes I liked.  Somewhere, in the last few miles, without noticing it, I’d started singing.

“How was your ride?”  my wife asked as I came in.

“Perfect,”  I said,  “Just perfect.”

Thursday Thoughts: Lights

I rather enjoy riding at night.  Perhaps I should rephrase that a bit.  I enjoy being able to ride at night.  You see, I enjoy riding.  I enjoy riding for exercise, pleasure, and utility.  I work a job.  Our planet has a tilt.  Combine those facts and one finds that about half of the year will involve a bit of nighttime riding.

One of the first discoveries I made about nighttime cycling was the need for lighting.  When I first tried this, as a young adult, I found it nearly impossible to go anywhere in the dark.  It was insanely dangerous.  At the time, bicycle lighting systems were woefully inadequate.  There were only two choices.  One either used a dim bulb, powered (for a very short while) by clunky, low output, lead-acid D-cells, or one purchased and installed a generator system.  Neither of these approaches was particularly satisfactory.

Go back about twenty years.  Suddenly there were some serious choices available to the night riding cyclist.  Better batteries and stronger bulbs, combined with good optics made the act of night riding a lot more pleasant.  Of course, there was still a somewhat unpalatable choice involved.  Choice one, spend a goodly amount of money, on a halfway decent lightset.  This allowed nighttime riding, but was still somewhat limiting.  Choice two, commit a major amount of cash, a procuring a really powerful set.  These high-end sets worked wonderfully, but…  Well, they were powerful, but they were still fairly heavy, and they didn’t have a lot of useful runtime.

Over time, things gradually improved.  And very recently, they have improved dramatically.  Advances in LED and battery technology have resulted in truly astonishing equipment.  Suddenly one can purchase systems that deliver outstanding power, for reasonably long periods of time.  More, these new systems are extremely lightweight, and are priced well below the “Omigosh! Point.”

I have been finding a completely unlooked for benefit to the newest super-bright LED systems.  They are bright enough to command respect from motorists and golf cart operators.  In both cases the operators of an oncoming vehicle do not know what the cyclist is, but they do know that it’s bright!  The slow down and dim headlights.  Cool.

A related topic:  I love Christmas light displays.  It’s wonderful to see these brilliant displays shining out in the chilly nights of early Winter.  How much better to “show a light, than to curse the darkness!”  I love them all, from the modest and extremely tasteful, to the full-on, garish, if-it’s-stationary-put-a-light-on-it! type of display. 

I often ride home, and at this time of year, do not arrive until well after dark.  It’s somehow warming and uplifting to turn into my neighborhood, and see the lights shining brightly.  It’s as if they are extending a beacon, and a welcome.

It’s even more cheering at the other end of the day.  Most folks shut their displays down sometime during the night.  But others choose to let their lights shine through all the hours of the night.  I’m thankful for these.  On a cold and tired morning, it’s a lift to see those few displays glittering against the dark.

Over the years, I’ve heard from a lot of “civilians,” that we cyclists have a similar effect.  There are a few (not many) regular night group rides.  Again and again, I’ve heard folks say something like,  “I don’t know who they are, but I see this group of folks riding their bicycles along in the night, all lit up.  They are so bright and colorful.  It’s wonderful to see!  We’ll see them as we are sitting down for the evening.  It makes me happy.”

So, strike your lights and keep ‘em burning!

Notes From All Over

Night Ride Tonight!  That’s right.  It’s time for another of our seasonal night rides.  This one is the Mid-Fall (Samhain) Celebration Night Ride.  We’ll be starting out from the Hollonville Opry House.  Ride time is 7:30 P.M. (sharp!)  It’s approximately 40 miles, with some really seasonally appropriate features to the route.  You’ll need lights that are good and strong, good taillights, and the proper reflective gear, including, ankle bands and a vest or sash.  Pace will be fairly relaxed, and the group will stay together.

The Samhain Ride is just about the end of the “season.”  Of course we’ll end the year up with the two annual Christmas Lights Rides, but they are more local and more festive, a bit less (and more) of an adventure.  Do come if you can, and if you can’t be happy and safe.

Great weekend just past.  The Fall weather turned a bit cooler last week, but it has certainly provided us with some excellent riding conditions.  Admittedly, my morning commutes got a bit chilly.  But wasn’t it grand seeing the turning colors, and the crisp, sharp, clear weather.  I hope you all have taken the time to get out in this!

A yearly observance:  Yes, it’s time.  Time for an annual ritual, I refer to as the Changing of the Wardrobe.  Time to pack away most of the Summer gear, and get out the cool and cold weather stuff.  Inventory and inspection of the harsh weather suite is a yearly chore.  But it’s time to do that.  At the same time, we select the Summer stuff that will go into storage until the middle of next Spring.

I’m sometimes asked the question,  “How do you know when to do that?”  Well, my primary marker is the “First Ride in Tights.”  Every year there is one.  It’s that ride when you just know that you need to go out in tights.  Not leg warmers or knee warmers, but full-length tights.  That’s my signal.  Once that happens, it’s time to rotate the riding wardrobe.

Next week, I’m out of town.  I’ll be leaving soon, for different parts.  I have no idea what kind of computer access I’ll have, and for that matter, I may just not feel like doing any posting.  So, from 28 October, through 4 November, you can expect posts to be spotty.  Don’t worry too much.  Regular blogification and bloviation will resume, promptly, on Monday, 7 November.

Up and coming…  Are you ready for the Annual Penance Ride?  It’s going to happen on New Year’s Day.  It’s a 100+ mile ride.  Start the year off right!  You’ll be seeing more on this one soon.

Thursday Thoughts: Locational Musings

A couple of notes to begin with.  I’ve been around.  I’ve had the privilege of riding a bicycle (actually a lot of different bicycles, some very different!) in a lot of different places.  I will readily admit that I haven’t been everywhere…  Not by a long measure.

Here in north Georgia, we have some interesting cycling conditions.  We have hills.  We have the (occasional) flat stretch.  We have traffic.  We have long stretches of nearly deserted roadways.  We have seasons.  In fact we have four distinct seasons.  None of those climatic shifts are particularly severe, but all are worthy of their names.

The suburban county of Fayette, south of Atlanta, has a largely transient population.  Most current residents are not native.  The majority have not been here for longer than two years.  Many have only recently arrived from some other place.  (That’s Yankee for, Ya’ll ain’t frum ‘rouand heyah, ahh ya’ll?)

Between working in bicycle retail, and leading a fair number of rides, I encounter a lot of people, and manage to encounter a lot of the recently arrived.  For some reason, there are those among them who feel impelled to comment on our local conditions.  These comments are notable because they are usually issued as criticisms.  More, once determined where the individual is from, they are downright odd!

Examples:

Statement:  “You don’t have much in the way of hills around here.”  From a recently arrived Ohio native.

Response:  Huh?  Actually we do.  I’ve ridden in your part of Ohio.  The three hills there are significant, but it’s mostly pretty flat by our standards.

Statement:  “The drivers around here are all crazy!  I don’t know how anyone can ride on these roads.”  From a Philadelphia, PA resident.

Respones:  I take it you rode mostly in the gym?  I’ve lived, worked, and ridden extensively in that area.  The drivers who aren’t homicidal, are rude and vicious.  Tailgating has been elevated to a folk art.

Statement:  “You don’t have any shoulders on your roads.  How can anyone ride around here?”

Response:  There is a tiny bit of justification to what you say.  You do have shoulders in most of New York State.  On the other hand, they are in terrible repair.  I didn’t know that potholes could be that deep.  Riding most of those shoulders is tantamount to signing one’s own death warrant.  I’ll stick to here.

Statement:  (Recently arrived from Colorado)  “You don’t have any real mountains around here.”

Response:  Yes we do.  Actually, riding in the Southern Great Smokies compares to the finest mountain riding in the world.

Necessary additional digression:  I have ridden in Colorado.  The Rockies are spectacular.  But great climbs?  Not so much.  Most of the roads out there are much more historically recent.  They were built by removing half the mountain.  They tend to be terrifically long grinds, at a constant, but not too severe grade.  When I get this one, I often offer to take the individual up to North Georgia, and do some real mountain work.  Our mountains are not as tall as the Rockies, but the roads are much older, usually steeper, and a lot more technical.  Oddly, my offer is usually declined, with regret.  Occasionally (rarely) I’ve had one of these new chums accept.  It’s always been an enlightening experience.

Statement:  (From Illinois)  “You southerners don’t know what cold is.  Where I come from we have real Winters.”

Response 1:  Shut up and come see me in August.

Response 2:  Yes you do.  I’ve been there.  You don’t ride in them either.

Response 3 (delivered in mid-January):  We’re riding this afternoon.  Come join us.  The immediate reply is usually,  “What?  It’s too cold out there for riding!”

Statement:  “I’ve been living in France.  There are a lot more cyclists there.  Everybody rides.”

Response:  I’ve been there.  No they don’t.  And the ones that do are stark raving mad.  Sidewalks, wrong way.  Wrong way streets.  Rude.  About two cuts below a Hew York messenger.  Given the way they drive, and the way they ride, the wonder is that they haven’t yet killed half of their own population.

I guess that a recent move almost always produces some longing for the familiar.  At the same time, it seems to provide a convenient excuse for not getting on the bike.

Friday Follies ~~ The Way Back Home

lit·a·ny/ˈlitn-ē/ Noun:  1) A series of petitions for use in church services, usually recited by the clergy and responded to in a recurring formula by the people.

2)  A tedious recital or repetitive series.

Bike rides can start off in a variety of ways.  Sometimes one is tired or lazy at the beginning.  On other occasions, it seems that the feet are ready to dance, and one can hardly wait for the action to start.  There are lots of gradations and variations in between.  The odd things is, once the body warms up, and the ride is well started, we seem to settle into the rhythm of the thing, and time becomes timeless.  That’s the middle of the ride.

If the ride is long enough (a highly subjective and variable condition) one experiences the “long drag to the end of the ride.”

On most days, my commutes are exactly the right length.  The trip from home to work is exactly the right length to warm me up, wake me up, energize me, and deliver me to the shop ready to take on the day and meet whatever may come.  The trip home is usually exactly the right length too.  I will leave the shop tired and sometimes a bit edgy from a demanding day.  By the time I’m turning into my neighborhood, I’ve worked out any lingering irritations, stopped the internal conversations, found good things to see and think about, recovered a happy spirit, relaxed, and am quite settled in mood for the evening.

A good and wise friend once said,  “The last 20 miles of any ride seem to take forever.  Even if it’s only a 20 mile ride.”  It’s an interesting phenomena, even if not quite universally true.  Something about being near the end of a ride causes a shift in thought.  One is no longer “in the ride,” but rather thinking about the end of riding, and about what comes after.  One is no longer “in the moment.”

Back some years ago, my daughter and I were training together.  We had a very large goal ahead of us.  The program began in mid-Summer, and would continue into the Fall and Winter, with the event taking place in the following Spring.  Our training program was such that we were extending our distance and duration as we advanced into the Autumn of the year.  The rides got longer.  They got longer each week, and during each week we would start with shorter rides, and then progress to a bit longer ones, then a short fast one, and then finish the week with a couple of very long rides.  Each week the duration increased by an increment.

This kind of progression found us riding toward home later and later, even as it started to get dark sooner, and the temps began to be noticeably cooler.  We encountered that odd mental reluctance to work, as the fatigue built.  Add to this a peculiarity of my daughter’s.  I used to refer to her as a “stable horse.”  She was, and remains to this day the “Queen of the negative split.”

We would start out, warm up, and then the difference between our natural styles would become apparent.  I would want to go.  She would tend to hang back.  But no matter what route we took, or how far we went, there would be that point, the invisible place in the ride where we “turned the corner.”  By turning the corner, I mean we would cross some line, and we would no longer be riding away, we would then be riding toward home.  At that point, my daughter, like a riding stable horse heading toward the barn, would begin to pick up her pace.  This was just about the point at which I would begin to feel the fatigue.

The girl would just keep pushing us.  I would draw on inner resources and work to stay with her.  This would continue until we were in the near vicinity of our home.  At about that point, as the dusk gathered, and we both started wishing we were wearing more clothing, the fatigue demon would settle on both our shoulders.

I don’t remember which of us started “The Litany.”  But it grew between us, and became a ritual that we shared on every long ride.  Usually it started about two or three miles from the end of the ride.  One of us would call out the opening stanza.  The other would reply with the antiphon.  It had a rhythm.

Dot DA da da!   Dot DA da da!   Dot DA da da!

I’m ti-R-ed!

My ha-nds hurt!

My ba-ak hurts!

My fe-eet hurt!

I’m co-old!

It’s get-ing dark!

I’m so-ore!

AUGGH!

With each repetition we would pick up the pace a bit, increase the tempo of the chant, shift to a slightly higher gear, increase the speed of the bike.  By the time we were into the last mile of the ride, we would be laughing our heads off at our state, and at each other.  That “litany” brought us home.

Thursday Thoughts: Cycling and Time

A wise man once said to me,  “This riding stuff will completely change your perception of time and distance.”

I’ve found that to be true, in many and weird ways.

This reflection started with a comment made in the shop the other day.  The customer said,  “You guys are lucky to have all that time to ride.”

My first reaction was annoyance.  I know a little about this individual.  He works a “job” that is not highly demanding of time, and is extremely rewarding in a financial sense.  Further, this man has no idea what kind of time demands we shop workers face.  My typical workweek is around 48 hours.  I work in a “high touch” and “high service” business.  There are a lot of demands on time, both inside the traditional workday, and outside of it.

I am not writing this post to gripe about how rough I have it.  Actually, my intention is the opposite.  I have it pretty good.  But do remember the following.  Any time someone starts a conversational thought with,  “You’re so lucky,” they have no clue what they are talking about, and are usually making excuses for themselves.

Cycling saves time.  It’s that simple.

This fact can be less than obvious here in the suburbs, and extremely obvious in urban locales.  Take this fact of modern life.  Transportation.  We all have a certain amount of “transport time” built into our lives.  That is the time it takes to move from one place to another.  Generally, transport time is useless for any other purpose than relocating the body.  But on a bike, the act of transportation becomes multi-purposed.  Suddenly one is involved in recreation and fitness activity at the same time as transporting oneself.

It’s a fact that we Americans (including most cyclists) tend to look at the bicycle as a toy and not a vehicle.  And yet we advertise our automobiles as toys!  Think about some of the car commercials you have seen or heard.  Many are trying to sell you on the concept that buying this particular car will transform your driving into some kind of pleasurable leisure activity.  How’s that working for you?

Friday Follies ~~ The View From the Top

A road bike was a major discovery for me.  At the time I lived in a mountainous region.  Climbing hills on my old Schwinn monster was more than a chore, it was almost impossible.  A bike with ten gears was an amazing thing.  Funny to think that now.  By today’s standards, that ten speed was geared way too high.  But it was such an improvement over what had gone before!

Gradually I extended my range.  I roved out into the countryside.  I went farther and farther.  Of course, I never approached the mountains on that bike.  That is, I didn’t approach them until I entered a race.  That race was a major learning experience.  The single lap that we Cat 4s had to do was about 35 miles long.  But it went right up the side of the Massanutten Mountain, down the other side, and thence into the town of Luray, before turning around.

I did a miserable job in that race.  I sort of stayed with the pack, until we hit the climb.  Then I got spit out the back.  I’d almost made it to the top of the climb before the lead riders were coming back the other way.  And when I tried descending that thing…  Terror doesn’t come close to describing my state.

To say I was challenged would be to put it mildly.  I was determined.  These other guys all seemed to do the climb fairly well.  What did they know that I didn’t?

I learned.  I got so I could climb.  I couldn’t stay with the real climbers, but I could hang.  Some of that was learning techniques.  Some of it was in gaining fitness and strength.  Some of it was in acquiring better equipment.  I learned, and grew, and got better.

Then I got cocky.

Once I learned how to handle mountain descents, I had fun on them.  That was enough to lure me to go climb mountain roads at the any opportunity.

It was a fairly modest ride.  We planned to start from home, and ride over through Waynesboro, then up onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, and south to the visitor’s center at Humpback Rocks.  There was a great hiking trail, leading up onto the top of the rocks.  It debouched onto the top of the formation through a narrow defile.  I’d always loved the place.  It was high, with an unobstructed view to the west, out over the Shenandoah Valley.

We rode out there, did the climb up the side of the mountains, out of Waynesboro, and the big rollers south to “The Rocks.”  There were several of us, and cyclists were not that common in the area in those days of yore.

We locked our bikes up, and climbed the trail up to the top of the huge outcropping.  We sat in the warm late afternoon sun, eating our picnic, and watching the hawks glide, and the sun slowly slide down the sky.

At some point, we all decided that it would be fun to watch the sunset, from up there on the rocks.  We were rewarded with a spectacular light show.

At first the trip back down wasn’t bad.  The long lingering twilight helped us.  But we were stumbling around, and groping in the dark, long before we got down to the visitor’s center.

The trip north on the Parkway wasn’t too bad.  It was a weekday night, and there was not much traffic.  A fairly large moon, only a bit past full, helped light the way.  But then came the descent.

With the modern light systems we now have, night time mountain descending requires care and thought.  In that day, such lighting as was available, was far from adequate to the task.  But that didn’t matter.  None of us had anything like a light on our bikes.  I might add that the brakes of the late ‘60s were not much to brag on either.

That descent was, in a word, harrowing.  That none of us crashed is a small miracle.  As we entered the lights and bustle of the small town of Waynesboro, a bit of sanity broke out.  We all swallowed our pride, and called for rides.

But you know what?  I want to do it again.  I’d love to do that trip with a modern bike and good, strong dependable lights.  But more, I’d do it again with the primitive equipment we had then.  Just to be there, to see the sun go down from that height, to live through it all...  I’d happily do that again.

Solstice

It’s the shortest daylight day of the year.  Congratulations!  We’ve made it to Solstice.  This is the day when the sun stops it’s southward plunge.  For the next six months each day is a bit longer than the one before.

On Winter Solstice, it always seems to me, the world takes a pause, draws in its breath, and then expells a deep sigh.  Most of the Winter is ahead of us, but we have made it this far.  Trials and troubles are always around the corner, things are never “all right,” but we will make the most of it.  We’ll be alright.

The long night is tonight.  We (some of us, anyway) will be celebrating it on bikes indoors.  I for one, will manage to go outside, on a bike, for at least a little while, on this night.  Likely that ride will be near midnight.  Rain or not.  I will ride to a quiet place, dismount, and walk into the trees.  It’s then that next Summer’s riding begins.  I’ll remember last Summer’s Solstice Celebration Night Ride.  I will pause and savor the sleep of the forest.  I’ll dedicate myself to the road ahead, then remount and ride back to light, warmth, and the coming holidays.

Two more Spin Classes before Christmas!  The last one, on this coming Thursday at 6:00 P.M., is always a special one.  We have a lot of fun, and the music is designed to match the festive spirit.  I promise, I’ll publish a playlist after the class.  (I always want this one to be a surprise.)

Christmas is almost here!  Need I say more.  Who is getting a new bike for Christmas?  Who already has?  What goodies will be under the tree?  Who’s going riding on that day.  “Hail thee festival day, we greet thee, with joy on this happy morning!”

The very good news for outdoors folk, is that it gets better now.  Most likely the extreme cold we just experienced is behind us, and won’t be repeated this year.  We’ll continue to ride the “hamsterbikes” as necessary, and a fair number of us will go out and ride the Penance Ride, on 1 January.

May the Solstice Bells ring out for us all, this night and ever.

Thursday Thoughts ~~ Thanksgiving and Lists

I like lists.  When I was a kid, it was a tradition in our house to make our “Christmas Lists” on Thanksgiving.  We were encouraged (required) to make two lists.  One was a compilation of the stuff we wanted to get on Christmas Day.  The other was a list of people we intended to give presents to, and the things we wanted to get for them.  I’ve sort of continued that through the years.  Of course, along about now we are subjected to a lot of other listings, things urging us to remember what we should be thankful for.  That’s a good one too.

In the spirit of that tradition, I’d like to present a couple of those lists.

What I want for Christmas:

• A new bike.  Did you expect anything else?  Seems like that’s always been on my lists.
• To see everyone I know happily employed.
• Lots of moderate weather this Winter.
• Long rides with good friends, old and new.
• A really good, inexpensive front derailler that works.
• Cleaner bikes to work on.
• Lots of disposable gloves, because I work on a lot of dirty bikes.
• Everyone riding a bike, at least three times every week.
• Kinder treatment at the hands of motorists on the road.
• Better road behavior from my cycling friends.
• Chains that don’t wear out.
• Tires that last a lot longer.
• A real working light sabre (like in Star Wars)
• Six really sweet mountain bike trips this year.
• Two or three good long tours this year.
• To be able to find my favorite shorts on little notice.
• A good long dry Summer to ride in.
• Lots of rain for the plants, farms, and mountains (just not so much when I’m riding.)
• Some epic climbs and descents.
• Real, cheap space travel, a vacation on Mars!  (I hear the riding in 1/6 G is great!)
• A riding season with no crashes please.  (That means for me and everyone else.)
• Less traffic.
• Smooth roads.
• More commuting  (me and others, and on the bike, please)
• Just a bit of common sense here and there.
•  

Things to be Thankful for:

• Living in the United States of America
• Living in Georgia
• A sweet road bike
• Problems, they are opportunities
• Many many riding friends
• Many good friends
• People who challenge me
• Plenty to eat
• A good house to live in
• Meaningful work
• Technical cycling clothing  (I remember wool shorts!)
• All the geniuses who invent really cool stuff that we need
• Wonderful medicines and doctors
• For not knowing one person that I would call an enemy
• Long rides
• Short rides
• Cold rides
• Hot rides
• Lonely rides
• Big rides with lots of people
• Mountain bike trails
• Long country roads
• Friendly honest people
• All of you.

Time Change = Time for a change:

It got dark.  It got cooler.  And lately, it got wetter.

Thank heavens for indoor cycling!

Praise be to the makers of good, high quality rain gear.

Helmet covers may “look dorky,” but they work!

Chemical hand and foot warmers can be a real blessing.

Want to get a little more out of chemical warmers?  Use a couple of small containers.  Do a commute type ride in the morning, and then put the warmers in a small, air-tight container.  They will still be able to give you an hour or two of warmth for the ride home in the evening.

A cap with a bill, such as a cycling cap, when worn under a helmet, greatly improves visibility.  It helps keep a lot of the water off of your glasses.

Late Autumn and Winter just may be the best time to try mountain biking.

Fenders help keep you dry, and they help you make friends.  Fenders, with good mud-guard extensions keep you from throwing rooster tails up at your riding companions.

Cyclocross starting to look attractive to you?  Think about trying some weather riding on the road.

There is no such thing as being too visible.  Lots of reflectors, reflective tape, and lights.

It’s not possible to be consistent only part of the time.

There is no such thing as bad weather, only poor clothing choices.