Cold Feet

On or off the bike, my feet get cold in October, and they stay that way until sometime in May.

I’m not talking about “cold feet” as a synonym for cowardice.  I mean my feet are cold.  It’s not intolerable cold, just a sate of not being warm.  It gets worse as soon as I go outside, and even more so as soon as I saddle up.

This isn’t a particularly age-related thing.  My feet, and to a lesser degree, my hands get cold quickly.  Advancing age has only aggravated the situation.

To this add, on the bike, our hands and feet are out in the wind.  More, our bike pedals are most excellent “heat sinks.”  They are made from good metals that conduct heat very well.  Add to that, cycling shoes are not well insulated.

Even Winter cycling boots, which I most certainly do use, are not all that great for this kind of thing.  Here’s a question.  Why doesn’t somebody make a cycling equivalent of my Wolverines?  Honestly, in the colder months I’m not all that concerned with going fast.  Trust me on this; no one is as fast in cold weather.  I am rather more interested in getting there, and doing so without incurring a cold injury.

In recent years I’ve developed a different standard for cold weather rides.  If someone asks,  “How was the ride?” to a large extent my answer will be based on the “Foot Chill Scale.”

The Foot Chill Scale (FCS) is the result of a complex set of interactions.  Basically it works as follows.

Feet Warm = Excellent!

Feet cool = Okay

Feet Moderately cold = Not Bad

Feet Cold = So-So

Feet Very Cold = Could have been better

Feet Extremely Cold = Not Ideal

Toes Hurt From Cold = It sucked

Toes Numb and Feet Hurt = Rotten stinking I HATE IT!

Ride discontinued and medical help summoned due to cold injury of feet =  (Fill in blank with appropriate profanity)

The problem with the FCS is that it is a rating of the result of an action.  It doesn’t predict a thing.

Here’s how it works.  I look at the weather forecast for the projected time and area of the ride.  I look outside.  I check the current temperature.  I read deep into the NOAA model data.  I check the winds aloft and the satellite overheads.  Once I’ve assembled all of that data, I consider carefully my options of liner socks, various thicknesses of insulating socks, chemical foot warmers, Winter cycling boots, boot covers, tights, leg warmers, jackets, gloves, hats, helmet covers, and wind shells.  Then I make a guess.

So, the FCS is a method of rating just how accurate my guessing is.  If I hit it right, if I manage to make an accurate prediction of the conditions and match my gear to them well, then I end up with a high FCS score.  That score is more a means of determining two things, 1)  That it is Winter and it is cold.  2) How well I am dealing with the situation.

I can usually avoid hypothermia.  I know how to keep the core temp up, and am most often successful at it.  Keeping hands and feet warm is the challenge.

Strike that.  My feet aren’t going to be warm.  Like I said, October to May, they’re cold.  Comfortable doesn’t apply either.  I like warm feet.  I must admit (with a sigh of resignation) my goal is to maintain the level of least discomfort.

What’s your Winter Challenge?

Friday Follies ~~ The Rodent Horror

I once lived and worked in the Delaware Valley area for almost seven years.  It is the longest sentence I ever served.  (For those of you who don’t know, that area includes Philadelphia, PA; Wilmington, DE; and a lot of other “garden spots.”)  While I worked there it was impossible to commute to work by bike.  I lived in northern Delaware and worked in Pennsylvania, a long way from the job.  Any possible route to work involved long stretches of massively trafficked, narrow, shoulderless highway.  It was a difficult route to drive.  It would have been suicidal to attempt to bike it.

The climate, to put it mildly, stank.  Summers were muggy, grey, and smelly.  But the Winters!  Oh my my!  Winters were long, with regular “slush storms,” and a fair number of snowstorms. We would usually see snow once or twice in December, and could expect a good bit, typically four or five storms, in January, interspersed with some very clear, but incredibly cold days. February usually supplied a similar set of conditons, just a bit fewer of the “Winter mix” precip days.  That was in a “normal” Winter.

My cycling was restricted to mornings, evenings, and weekends.  I did utility riding, grocery shopping and such, and made longer rides when I could.  I learned to ride in fresh snow.  I learned to ride in slush.  I learned what I could not ride in. (I’ve elsewhere recounted how the road salt pretty much destroyed a bike every Winter.)  I spent a lot of time on my rollers.  (In those days rollers were the only indoor trainer a real cyclist used.)  Still, I did manage to spend 10 to 12 hours of each week outside.  Cold, slushy, wet, slippery, occasional falling down on ice, but still outside.

Now comes the odd part.  On the job, we had a total character of a production manager.  His name was Cedric.  He was a World War II vet.  He was a model-maker of great skill.  He was also a shooting sports enthusiast, and a dedicated gardener.  All of those factors combined.

For several years, Cedric had been at war with a groundhog.  This particular rodent lived a happy life.  It foraged in Cedric’s gardens, getting fat on the findings, and wreaking havoc on Cedric’s peace of mind.  For several years Cedric tried various remedies.  He tried poison, to no avail.  He built cunning traps, that didn’t work.  He tried to shoot the critter, but the creature was too canny and too shy to be snuck up on, and Cedric missed.  Repeatedly.

It was on the third day of February that Cedric came to work crowing with glee.  “I got him!”  he shouted to all of us on the crew.  “I got the varmint!”

When asked what he was talking about, Cedric told us, he had brought a devilish plan to fruition.  As the Winter had progressed, he had actually put fresh vegetable stuff out for “his” groundhog.  Then he had busied himself in the front yard, so that the creature would become accustomed to going for the goodies, with the human somewhere neaby.  Then, on that fatal February 2^nd, Cedric had carried with him a particularly accurate singleshot pistol.  He had put out the lettuce and carrots as usual, and then taken a position at the corner of the house.  When the fat rodent went for the bait…  BLAM!  One shot.  One dead rodent.

We of the crew listened to this story with polite feigned interest, until my partner, Spud Guyer exclaimed,  “Ced!  You shot the groundhog on February second!?”

“Yeah.  So?”  Cedric said.

“We know what it means if the groundhog sees his shadow, or doesn’t, but shooting him on Groundhog’s Day?  That can’t be good!”

We all laughed at that, and then went on about our work.

That night, an arctic cold front arrived, dropping temperatures into the low teens.  The next day’s high barely made it to 20 degrees F.  Two days later, we had a major snowstorm.  Nine inches of snow.  I didn’t get out and ride that weekend.  Instead I shoveled snow.

The cleanup from that early February snowstorm was just barely completed when the three day blizzard hit.  We got close to four feet of snow out of that series of storms.  The area was paralyzed.  We all were blinking at the sunshine, and beginning to dig out.  But wait!

The temps rose rapidly and it rained.  Ordinarily, warm temps and rain, on top of snow would be a good thing.  It would help to clear stuff up.  But there was a lot of snow on the ground, with drifts as high as six feet.  We had flooding.  And the temp crashed back down to well below freezing after the rain, turning every “clear” road into a skating rink.

It went on like that.  Snow.  Cold.  Rain and freezing rain.  More snow.  More cold.

I tried to ride outside, but it was completely impossible.  There was nowhere to ride.  The streets (the ones that were partially cleared) were too narrow.  Everything was icy.  I got tired of getting soaked, and spraining wrists, and breaking bike parts.

We had our last measurable snowfall (a mere eight inches) in April.  There were still melting snowpiles in the parking lots at the beginning of June.

I don’t put much stock in using the Groundhog as a climate predictor, but I will say this.  Do ­NOT kill one on the second day of February.

Getting through the Winter

Okay, the year is launched.  Most folks (not all!) have put away the Christmas decorations.  The greeting card companies are already gearing up for an attempt at Valentine’s day.  In somewhat typical fashion, our north Georgia Winter has arrived in earnest.  To make matters a bit worse, there are any number of bits on “resolutions” in various media.  (Most of these are pretty depressing.)  What ever are we to do?

For those of us who ride, getting through the Winter is a tough chore.  Yes, the days are getting slightly longer now, but it will be a long time before the effect is worth noting.  Winter brings us cold, rain, and dark, often all three at once.  It take some strategy to get through this.

In my experience, the biggest aid to getting through all of this is to have some goals.  Long term goals are good.  They motivate us.  Intermediate goals are mileposts that help us keep track of our progress in reaching the longer ones.  Short Term Goals and Process Goals keep us on track, and accountable, in the day-to-day routine.

For the Long Term Goal, pick something big and exciting, something that turns you on.  This isn’t a “it would be nice to…” kind of thing.  It should be something that feels like you must do it.  Something from your “bucket list.”  Don’t pick something because you feel you should, but rather go for that thing that grabs you by the throat.  The thing that makes your heart race a bit.  And yes, the thing that’s a little scary.

In my own modest way, I’d like to offer some stuff that might work in with your goals.

There will be an annual Audax Ride coming up in the Spring.  In aid of that there will be four Audax Tune Up rides.  The Seasonal Night Rides will resume with the Spring Equinox in March.  I’m considering a couple of weekend touring type rides.  These will be two or three day self-supported tours to distant locations and back.  You’ll be seeing more about all of this (dates, times, and descriptions) in the very near future.

In the shorter term, we are still offering Spin Classes at Bicycles Unlimited.  These will continue until Spring.  Don’t delay.  Come in and sign up now.  (There’s that intermediate goal thing, coupled with some process goals.)

Basically, the best suggestion I have for getting through the dark months is, “Get busy, and stay active.”  Goals help.  More to come.

Winter Comes

Today is the first day of Winter.  If one is to be precisely correct, Winter started at 00:30 EST.  (That’s half past midnight this morning for you temporal traditionalists.)  At that exact point in time, the sun reached it’s most southern extreme in its annual apparent movement.  The good news is that from this moment on, each day will be a little longer, have just a bit more daylight than the previous.

It has been a long and glorious Autumn.  Now comes the Winter.  For cyclists, this is a time to reflect, to plan, to train, and to rest up a bit.  For many, the coming Holidays are a time of celebration, and relaxation.  For some of us, it’s also the point at which we get serious about our training for the coming year.

For this blog the coming Winter means a slight change in tone.  In the near future, you will see a bit of encouragement, and a more than a few goal suggestions here.  There will be more technical posts on training, on bike maintenance and repair, and on some interesting future projects.  Of course there will be the usual interspersed bits of whimsy and reminiscence, advice, and questionable wisdom.

For now, it is my wish to you that this Winter be one of renewed vigor, good challenges, and good cheer.  Let’s all endeavor to raise the general morale, brighten spirits, lift each other and ourselves up, and enjoy each and every challenge and moment of this time.

Bon Hiver!

Good Winter to you all!

Friday Follies ~~ Winter Nights

It was hot.  Not just warm, but hot.  Hotter than the hinges of Hades, hot.  Hot enough to cause one to break a sweat just by standing still in the shade.  That part of Virginia does experience Summer, but we used to think it was quite warm at 85, and hot at 91.  The temps rarely reached the mid 90s, even in late July and early August.  But here it was, early June, and the mercury was moving through 100 degrees for the third straight day.

I was on my bike, climbing.  It wasn’t a race, not quite exactly.  Not formally.  But honor was at stake.  And there I was, on the exposed western slope of the Massanutten Mountain, climbing up out of New Market, with the intention of riding to Luray, and then turning south for a long hilly run back toward home.  It was so hot that I was having trouble seeing.  Sweat was pouring down, out of my cap, and blinding me.  That didn’t matter much, I wasn’t going very fast.

Not for the first time did I have the thought, “We should be able to store some of this heat and use it in the Winter, and save up some of the Winter cold and use it in the Summer.  Equalize things.  Or we all could move to San Diego!”

That line of thought led me to thinking of Winter.  I am not now, and was not then, a “Winter Person.”  I don’t like cold much, but Winter does have its charms.  Little did I know, that particular climb was the last time I would ride a bicycle on that route for more than thirty years.

Jump forward in time.  I was 55 years old.  It was early February.  I was on a road trip, from beloved Georgia to Washington D.C.  The ultimate purpose of the trip was to be a part of the Annual League of American Bicyclists Bike Summit.  But the secondary intent of our itinerary was to take time on the trip up, drive to places of interest, and ride our bikes there.

We’d had several good adventures along the way.  (A good adventure is one that you survive!)  We had stopped in New Market for the day.  We would ride locally, and then go on to Washington the next day.  My traveling partner was taken somewhat ill during the day’s ride, and had turned in early.  I was restless.

I donned every bit of cold weather gear I had with me, and went out.

It was one of those late Winter nights.  There was a strong cold high-pressure mass sitting on us.  The sky was clear as polished crystal, stars glinting distantly.  It was cold.  Amazingly, shockingly cold.  The bike creaked as I mounted it, no problems just cold metal adjusting to the loads.  I rode briskly to gain body warmth.  I gave little thought to direction.  I am as familiar with the roads in that area as the tongue is with the teeth.  I rode, and looked at the calm Winter night.  The valley was covered in a blanket of recent snow, and a half moon was well up the sky.  I hardly needed my lights.

I found myself making that climb, the one up the flank of Massanutten Mountain.  As I climbed, I remembered that day, that hot hot day.  Somehow these moments seem to connect, across time and space.  This night I was cold, and it was dark, clear and crisp.  I could wish for some of that earlier day, and some of that heat.  And somehow, it seems as if I did borrow some of that young man’s hot day, on this cold night climb.  The Winter night is spread out around me, silent and still, lights blinking and winking in the sky and on the floor of the valley below.

What is it about these times?  These Winter night rides, that somehow cross-connects us to other times and places, to other selves?

Looking forward to seeing you all on Monday night, for a more temperate and companionable Winter night ride to see the Lights!

Winter Wear

If you read this blog regularly, you will note that I have a fascination with weather.  Part of that arises from cycling, which is at core and outdoor activity.  If one is going to be outdoors, it is good to have an idea of what to wear.  Wisely does the Sage say,  “There is no bad weather, only poor clothing choices.”  I hate making poor clothing choices, and I hate missing a ride.

Throughout the course of a year, I have many conversations with other riders.  Often, when the topic of rain comes up, I hear something like,  “I never ride in the rain.”  That baffles me a bit.   When pressed, most riders reply that they don’t want to have to mess with cleaning up the bike after a rain ride.

I could accept that, but I work on a lot of those bikes, and the folks who ride them just about don’t  bother to clean them up…  ever.  I’ve come to realize that most folks who “don’t ever ride in the rain,” have two real reasons for avoiding it.  The first is fear, and the second is lack of preparation.

The fear is fairly rational, but largely misplaced.  These riders are afraid that the bike will crash if ridden in the rain.  Honestly, with just a little common sense and caution, it won’t.  The lack of preparation comes from not paying more than cursory attention to weather forecasting, and from lack of knowledge about dressing for the weather.

Cold weather riding is a similar problem.  It’s about how to dress for it.

On that note, I’d like to address another aspect.  Each year, it is necessary to re-evaluate the weather gear.  If one is riding in our climate some cold weather and foul weather clothing are a must.  The good news is that these pieces last us a long time.  The bad news is, “a long time” does not  mean forever.  Sadly, cold weather gear does wear out.

Base layers should provide complete coverage, and while they are thin, they should have enough material to work as a wicking layer.  With repeated washings this kind of material wears and becomes thin.  When that happens, it becomes almost useless, and should be replaced.

Mid layers should be fleece or micro fleece.  This is the material that traps an insulating layer of warm air.  It should have “loft.”  With repeated wear and washing, that fleece compresses and compacts, and it flakes off in washing.

Windblocking outer layers are not immune to the wearout process either.

So, reasonably, we don’t want to have to spend more than necessary on protective clothing.  But we want to be reasonably warm and dry while riding.  How do we accomplish this?

Protect your investment:

Wash the stuff as soon as possible after wear.

Never subject technical athletic clothing to the dryer!  Let it hang to dry.

When the season ends, wash the stuff, and then store it, in airtight containers.

Older, less effective base and mid layer pieces still have utility on the less extreme weather days.

Constantly Build capability:

• Budget for added weather gear each year. 
• Each year, buy one or two pieces that compliment what you already have.
• Evaluate your needs, and replace what is not working well.

Experiment, but control:

Don’t just trust claims on a new item.  Test it!  Example:  I always get into the shower with new rain gear.  I want to know how good it works before I depend on it.  In a similar fashion, go out for short rides with new cold weather gear.  You’d rather be close to home if it doesn’t work well, and you are starting to slip into hypothermia.

Learn a bit about the weather and climate:  It’s a fascinating subject.  And the ability to make reasonable guesses about conditions will allow you to ride more.  If you wait until ride time, and then look out the window, you’ll miss more rides.

Thursday Thoughts: As Winter Approaches

The old Indian said, in regard to Daylight Saving Time,  “You cut a foot off of the top of the blanket, and sew it to the bottom of the blanket.  Only the government would think that makes a longer blanket.”  Just so.  Still we follow this ritual twice a year, and have just completed the Autumn edition.  Suddenly it’s getting dark earlier in the day, and just at a time when we are losing daylight to the advance of the season.

I have long been amazed at the regularity and precision of our north Georgia climate.  We have wet years and dry ones, cooler and warmer, but the seasons occur right on schedule.  I have lived and worked in many places.  I’m here to tell you that this seasonal regularity is not everywhere so constant.

As usual, mid-Autumn arrived right on schedule.  Temps have dropped, and the wind has picked up.  We can expect late-Autumn to arrive on or about Thanksgiving.

For cyclists, and other outdoors folk, attempting to figure out just what is coming next is always an entertaining challenge.  Rest assured, we all know that Winter is coming, but what kind of a Winter are we facing?

Usually, by this time of year, I have a pretty good notion of just what we are facing.  The long range forecasting and climatology folks are pretty good at what they do.  But the global climate state is a bit confusing right now.  Basically, it’s about even money, either we get a Winter similar to , and a bit harsher than last year, cold early, a good chance of snow events, and then an early warming.  Or, we go with a warmer and drier Winter.  All the big boys in the business are hedging their bets.

What does this mean to me?  It means that I don’t really know just what to prepare for.  So, by long standing policy, I’m getting ready for the worst.  I’m digging out all of the heavy cold and wet weather gear, and making sure the trainer and roller are working well.  If we get a rough one, the stationary devices can be life savers.

{Incidentally, here’s a neat trick.  Last year, when the weather was truly awful, I

{pulled the trainer out onto the porch.  I’d gear up for the cold part of the

{weather, but I could ride under shelter, and (mostly) out of the wind.  I was still

{outside, but not facing the total challenge.

So, as the Autumn leaves finish falling, I’m getting braced for the worst, and hoping for the best.  Cold weather clothing is in place.  Rain gear to hand and ready.  Good lights are in stock and tested.  Lot’s of lubricants and cleaning supplies on hand.  And I have a goodly number of indoor projects lined up.  It’s time to stiffen the resolve, and (figuratively) gird the loins.  Winter provides us with big challenges as we ride, but the rewards are great also.

By the way, here’s one last little bit of almost Folk Wisdom.  The week of Thanksgiving seems to be a pretty good model for the Winter.  Watch it and see.

Friday Follies ~~ Cold!

It had been a hard Winter, and was then only in the early part of February.  Much more to come.  We’d been through a long stretch of rough weather.  The pattern had been evil and relentless.

It would warm, just slightly.  The daytime highs would inch up to just above freezing.  Then it would get cloudy, chilly, and nasty out for a day.  Then the rain would start.  It would rain (mixed with freezing rain) for four to six hours.  The rain temps would drop and the rain would turn to snow.  A lot of snow.  The storm would pass, and the high that followed would leave us with clear sky, but also with plunging temperatures.  The cycle would repeat.  Each repetition of the pattern would take four or five days.

I rode.  I rode when I wasn’t digging out from the latest snow.  I rode in the awful rains.  I rode (but not well) in the snow.  I rode the rollers.  I rode on the bitterly cold clear days.

The day came when the pattern seemed to break.  The clear cold gave way to slightly warmer days, but it didn’t cloud up.  I conceived an idea born of Winter madness.  I would ride out and visit the top of “my mountain.”

I call it my mountain, not because I own it, but rather because I’ve always had a deep connection with it.  I’ve climbed it on a bike, and on foot.  I’ve driven to the top on many occasions.  I’ve stood on the ultimate summit and stared deep into the night skies.  I’ve watched the Sun rise from that summit, and watched it set there.  On two occasions I’ve seen the “green flash” at sunset, while standing on that summit.  It is a place that exists and pulls at me.  I need to go there.

At that time, in that Winter, I felt the pull, the need.  I hadn’t been on a ride longer than an hour and a half in over a month, and I could not remember when I’d last been up in the high country.  The roads were clear, and while it wasn’t exactly warm, it wasn’t too cold either.

I was in motion even as I was deciding to go.  I grabbed a small loaf of bread, a chunk of cheese, and stuffed them in a jersey pocket.  I filled two bottles, pulled on some more clothing, pumped tires, and I was rolling.

The approach ride was 16 miles long.  It warmed me and cooled me.  Each hill was a bit warmer than the last.  I pulled my jacket off and tied it around my waist.  The short fast descents, between the banks of plowed snow were bracingly chilly.  (That should have been a warning.)

I passed an entrance to the George Washington National Forrest, and the climb began in earnest.  I noticed that the sky had cleared completely.  I gave thought to what a clear and perfect day it was to summit my mountain.  Then I was focused on the long hard climb.

The climb was good.  The first part had me moving in and out of sunlight, and I warmed wonderfully.  But then…

There is this place, a fork in the road.  Go left, on the better pavement, and you descend into West Virginia.  Go right, on the rougher surface, and the grade pitches up sharply.  It’s completely exposed there, and the wind lashes at you.  That’s the summit road.  The last two miles are a struggle under the best of conditions.

On that day, the wind was strong, and cold.  No shelter.  It stole the warmth out of my body.  I had to dismount for the last 100 yards, but I’d made it.  I was standing at the summit, over 6,000 feet above sea level, higher than anything within sight.  The wind was incredible!  I had no way of knowing what the temperature was, but the word “cold” was hopelessly inadequate.

I propped the bike and found the footpath on the south side of the summit.  Once down from the top a few yards, the mountain blocked the wind, and the Sun, shining up from the south, provided a bit of welcome warming.  I crouched there, rubbing my hands, restoring circulation.

As soon as I could, I went back up to the top and remounted the bike.  I could not stay there long, much though I wanted to.

Descending, usually a joy, was tough.  The wind rushing by, ripped anything like heat from me.  I was going hypothermic before I got down to the fork.  Most of the trip down the mountain was agony.  I was trembling so badly that I could barely control the bike.  The temptation to brake was irresistible.  It took a subjective eternity to get down to the lower slopes of the mountain.

It was a joy to finally get down far enough so that it was possible to turn the cranks again, possible to work and make some heat.  I have no recollection of the rest of the ride home.  I know that when I arrived, I hit the shower, and then the bed, bundled under every blanket I owned.  I would not re-visit my beloved mountain again until Spring.  Cold had been defined.  It was a place I was not welcomed in.

Now What?

It’s warmer.  For the first time in living memory (or at least in a very long time) the overnight low is above the freezing point.  It has seemed that the morning thermometer was stuck on 27 degrees F.  Every morning…  27 degrees!  That’s more appropriate to southern Ohio.  This is north Georgia!

The week ahead looks promising too.  Highs in the 60s, and overnight lows well above 40, with plenty of sunshine to go around.

But it’s puzzling.  We expect a “weather break” in late February.  This is it.  But it’s early.  We’ve been reading the output from the various climatology types.  The consensus is,  “We don’t know!”  Long range climate forecasts currently read like waffle recipes.  “It will remain warmer, unless it cools,” and we expect a dry Spring, due to a weakening La Nina, unless it is wetter.

Our best advice is, don’t be hasty.  Keep the Winter gear out for a while yet.  This is early.

Why the fascination with weather?  This is, after all, a cycling blog.  Yes, and cycling takes place outside.  Some folks make decisions about whether they will ride or not based solely on the forecast.  Others try to figure out what gear and equipment will be needed.  Right now, those re tough calls.  But we’re up to the challenge, aren’t we?

In the near future:

This coming weekend is the next of our Novice Mountain Bike Rides.  We will be meeting at the Peachtree City Baseball Soccer Complex, on GA-74.  Ride time is at 2:00 P.M. on Sunday 20 February.  As of this writing, the forecast looks very promising, but do remember, rain cancels this one.

Try to get some saddle time in.  The first of the Audax 45 Mile Tune Ups is right around the corner.  (Check the Tour Calendar) to the left.

Have a good week all.  Lots coming up.

Friday Follies ~~ Is it time yet?

It’s Winter out.  No surprise or big news there.  But there is something going on.

I spend a fair amount of time outside.  Usually that time is spent on a bike, or doing yard work.  But it’s outside.  More, I like to look around me, to see what the world is doing.

Right now, the world is doing!  It’s not obvious.  It’s subtle.  It’s almost below the surface of perception, but it’s happening.  Nature has been sleeping, but she’s starting to get restless again.  It’s almost time.

Evidence:

The days are getting noticeably longer.

“My” vireo returned and started her morning songs last week.

I saw one (half starved) robin on a morning ride this week.

Some of the early bloomers (notably the forsythia) are just starting to show.

Buds are swelling.

If you go outside, and just stand in the woods, you will feel it.  There’s a building tension.  Like standing in an empty theater an hour before curtain time.  There’s a buzz, just below the surface.

Spring is on the way toward us, moving north at a rate of 133 miles per day.  She ain’t here yet, but brother, she is coming!

Spring brings silliness.  People are more sensitive to the climate and the weather than most realize.  That accounts for a lot of silly behavior, and “Spring Fever.”  Just about the time that Spring really starts to make her presence known, people start to act a bit goofy.  I am aware of this, and I do try to maintain rationality, but I’m inclined to some giddiness and lapses of sanity at this time.

When I was a kid, my family referred to it as my ”Silly Season.”  Every Spring, sometimes more than once, I would do something wild and get graunched in the process.  At a time when most families were attended to by one doctor, a General Practitioner, my family always knew a surgeon, an orthopedic specialist, and were on a first name basis with the staff at the local Emergency Room.

I learned a lot from those early whacko traumas, but nothing more important than this.   Think of your life as a video, with you as the director.  You are filming it and watching all at the same time.  Picture this; your personal “editor” cuts a piece out of the film.  You were doing something, but suddenly, and without transition, the viewpoint changes.  Suddenly you see sky, surrounded by heads.  Friends, this is a clear indication that you have done something stupid.  You are lying on the ground, and they are all looking down at you.  You fell down and went BOOM.

I pulled a lot of these stunts as a kid and young man.  I’ve learned to exercise a bit of caution as the Spring breaks over us.  When that giddy feeling of gleeful mirth starts to bubble up in the chest, these days I tend to go for the brakes.  Usually.  Most of the time.  But Spring Time and adrenaline are so much fun!

That time is coming.  I can hear it whispering, hear it approaching, feel the good Earth starting rouse from slumber.  I wonder what it will bring us this year?

By the way, I have a new mountain bike.

Winter Hills:

Winter will change your thinking about hills.  When it’s cold out, you want to climb something, so you get warmer.  The extra work of the climb and the lower speed help to warm you up.

Suddenly descending becomes a whole lot less enjoyable.  The increased speed means more windchill.  Riders tend to slow down on descents in cold weather.  Actually, this is a poor technique.  When it’s cold, the proper approach is to streamline as much as possible, and go down as fast as is safe.

There are two reasons for this.  By going into an aero position, the rider decreases the amount of frontal area presented to the wind.  This diminishes the colling effect somewhat.  But more importantly, the time spent cooling is decreased.  Yes, the added speed increases the cooling effect, but the time is the enemy.  Get it over with, and get back to making power.  In that fashion, heat loss is decreased, and more time is spent doing work, which produces heat.

A good time to work on technique & a good technique to work on:

Premises: 

It’s not possible, or proper, to ride fast and hard all the time. 

No one rides as fast in cold weather.

Winter is a time to work on base riding, and technique.

Efficient Hill Drills:

We’ve all heard the advice;  “On a hill, don’t go anaerobic too soon.”

That’s sound advice.  But…  If you can not choose the exact moment that you go anaerobic, then you are not able to follow that advice.  If the hill decides when you will blow, you are not in command of it.  How do we remedy this?  By learning how to climb and when it is possible to increase exertion.

The Drill:

Climb a hill, while holding your heart rate in a pre-selected, artificially low range.

Start by warming up thoroughly.  Recover to low aerobic levels before beginning your climb.

How to do it:

Select two heart rate ranges.  These should be very low.  To begin with, try 75% of anaerobic threshold (AT) and 80% of AT.

Your goal is to climb your hill at or below that 75% range.  The 80% is your “do not exceed ceiling.  If you should hit 80%, you must stop, and recover in place until you are below 70% AT.  Then continue your climb.  (You will need the additional lower heart rate, as the act of starting on a hill will push you up a bit.

Do everything you can to keep your heart rate in the selected zone.  Shift down to easier gears.  Reduce cadence if necessary.  Learn to relax your upper body, hands, facial muscles.  Focus on your breathing.

Baby Steps First:

For your first attempts, select a hill that is not too long or too steep.  This is going to be a frustrating exercise, at the beginning.  But it will pay huge dividends.  Speed is not an issue here.  The climb will take the time it takes.

Do not do more than three attempts per session, then go and do some other, more entertaining work.

Going Farther:

As you begin to realize some success, there are two additional steps to take.  First, apply the same technique to climbing bigger hills.  Second, lower those heart rate numbers even farther.

Why bother?  Because it will make you a more proficient and efficient rider.  The techniques you learn from this exercise will allow you to ride faster or farther.  It’s all about using what you have, but using it to the maximum effort.