Here Comes the Rain

It's finally happened! The skies have opened and are raining down on central Texas with enough frequency that I'm finally getting sweet justification for my fenders and raingear (which the rest of the year just seems like paranoia).

The weather lately has been fairly opposite to summer - cold and rainy, grey, and not terribly many sunbeams in sight. After the summer though, the sight of creeks and lakes with water in them more than makes up for the inconvenience of getting out in the weather.

That said, I've had a lot of moments lately where I felt unbelievably grateful both for the existence of raingear, and the type of bike I ride. My two best cycling friends each respectively own a racy Cannondale roadbike, and a singlespeed road bike, making my Surly easily the most laid back bike of the bunch. But when the skies open, I'm suddenly the fastest, driest person in the group between the bigger tires, long wheelbase, and the fenders.

What makes the weather in this part of the country unique is the unpredictable nature of it. In Texas, it can go from grey and overcast to hailing and thundering in 10 minutes, and if you're out in it, you had better be prepared. This is particularly highlighted on Thursdays, when I normally stay downtown because drinking and driving is a bad idea. A couple weekends ago, my friends and I finished up the ride and as usual I parked my bike outside their building and went upstairs to crash out. When I left, this was the scene:




Ahh, so tranquil

When I stumbled downstairs the next morning to head home, it looked like this:


Honey badger don't give a shit. In this scenario, the TARDIS represents the Honey Badger

By the time I got home from riding to the train, taking the train, then riding from the train to my house, I looked like this:


That's happiness. Really!

Later that day I ended up running an errand to the grocery store. When I got to the store, it was dry, but by the time I'd gotten my stuff on my bike and was ready to head back to the house, it started to rain again. Never fear, my dear, delicious groceries, because waterproof panniers are here to save the day and keep you delicious:



I can definitely see why most people don't regularly bike throughout the year - whether I like to admit it to myself or not, I'm just as susceptible to the effects of bad weather as anyone else in the world, I just have all the gear available to make it tolerable. After all, if there's any one lesson this year has really driven home for me is there is very little truly bad weather, just bad clothing.

But all this gear took me years to acquire, and I rode when all I had was basically a backpack lined with plastic and a poncho, so you don't necessarily require all the gear to ride. How do you roll when the weather gets nasty?

Robby's Ride: a Yay Bikes! Friend

I fancy myself to have quite a few friends who are dedicated to their bikes, but know almost no one more dedicated than my friend Robby Landauer. Coming soon, Robby is planning to attempt the world's first human-powered global circumnavigation, and is chronicling his preparation at his website, here: Robby's Ride.

This ride will traverse approximately 35,000 miles, everywhere from Russia to Brazil. Land will be covered by bicycle, and the stretches of water by what looks to me like the world's most sophisticated pedal-boat. The route crosses the equator twice, and visits a total of three hemispheres. It's a bold idea, and Robby anticipates it will take approximately 2 years to complete.

Beyond attempting to circle the globe under his own power, Robby is an accomplished marathon runner and bicycle tourist, having already completed the Texas 4000, the Austin Marathon, Boston Marathon, and Tough Mudder events. Even more, he once rode his bike, solo, from Austin to Idaho and back in a completely self-contained tour. If I know anyone who could pull this off, it'd be Robby.

This ride is on the greater level in support of Autism Speaks, (in their own words) the nation's largest autism science and advocacy organization, dedicated to funding research into the causes, prevention, treatments and a cure for autism; increasing awareness of autism spectrum disorders; and advocating for the needs of individuals with autism and their families.

More information can be found at Robby's website, and as soon as I figure out how to put up his logo in my sidebar, you'll be able to click there to reach his website to read his blog, check out what the ride is about, and if you feel like it, donate something to support it.

You May Now Return to Regular Blog Posts

Finally, at long last, I got a new computer after the unfortunate destruction of my old one! Meaning I can get back to posting regularly, rather than emailing myself pictures, typing up posts separately, and throwing them up while I'm on break at work. Hooray!

Perception

I have an entire array of friends from the Thursday Night Social Ride that I know from absolutely nowhere else. This includes the staff from a local bike shop, architects, a dentist, and someone I'd previously met at a party, among many, many others. One of them, Ali, is a weekly regular and a recent transplant to the United States from Pakistan. One day a discussion of the relative utility of our bicycles came up and I mentioned the huge number of things I have transported by bike, up to and including a roommate on one occasion. At my statement my bike could actually move a person, Ali piped up.

"I'm from Pakistan, this is a normal mode of transport." Well, that shut me up. Even as involved as I am in transportation cycling, it's easy to forget how unremarkable and standard it is to cycle in other parts of the world, and how non-standard driving can be. Admittedly, I'm from the middle part of the US, and more specifically, mostly in the South. I'm from one of the least bicycle friendly places in the world, both in terms of infrastructure and culture, so it's easy to consider yourself remarkable for getting out of the car.

The fact that cycling is considered unusual or extraordinary is part of what's led to "bicycle culture," and along with it, things like blogs about bicycles. Debates about steel vs aluminum and snide comments about the type of bicycle someone else uses to get around. These things really don't exist in places where cycling is undertaken with the same amount of excitement and ceremony as we give driving here in the U.S. Basically, if it's standard it can't be extraordinary (that's not necessarily a bad thing).

What's further highlighted this is the recent weather we've been experiencing has caused the usual immediate winter drop in the local cycling population. In my sleep I can hear the sound of bicycles all across Austin being hung up in garages, where they will remain 'til spring. This morning, as I was locking my bike up to the rack at work, a passerby commented she wasn't brave enough to try, and looked a bit mystified when I said, "All I really did was put on a coat." This was in overcast but dry 32 degree weather, far warmer than many other parts of the country at this time of year!

What I'm coming around to here is how our perceptions of normality strongly affect our behavior - in the U.S., transportation cycling is still a fringe activity and for many, something that is done involuntarily because of the lack of a motor vehicle. Since it's extraordinary, continuing to cycle when the weather turns is perceived to be unusual, so there are very few people who just put on a coat and deal with the cold. Normalization is the only cure here, and the only way to normalize transportation cycling is for it to be a reasonable Plan A or B for anyone, whether they're 8 or 80 years old. I do my part by just getting around and doing my best not to wuss out, whatever the weather.

What do you do?

What to Wear: Winter edition

A happy (and belated) Thanksgiving to you all! Due to a beautiful combination of seasonal change, allergies, and a head cold, the last couple weeks I've found myself off my bike, as acts like climbing a staircase were making my lungs hurt.

Today was the first time I've hopped back on my bike in a hot minute, and it's gone and gotten wintery on me! Today was my coldest commute since the heat's let up, a brisk 40 F with a north wind. Among the most powerful challenges facing any vehicular cyclist is clothing - hitting the exactly correct number of layers, fabrics, weights, and accessories. This is especially relevant at the extreme times of year - high summer and deep winter.

We've discussed the challenges of hot weather cycling - trying to strike a balance between coverage (sunburns), breathability, quick-drying, and good looking. Winter's challenges are completely different. There's a rule of thumb I've always personally followed but only recently heard articulated - "If you're not cold for the first mile or two, you're overdressed." The biggest reason - sweat becomes the enemy for totally new reasons. See, when it's hot out, sweat is this sticky constant companion. In winter, if you sweat, it can freeze and sap your warmth. So the goal is to be comfortably warm but never hot.

To those who know me, my winter cycling material of choice isn't remotely surprising. Wool. Wool does so many things - it breathes. It insulates, even when wet. It resists bacterial growth (meaning it doesn't smell). It also looks damn good. I like wool. Failing wool, I tend towards technical fabrics, and then blends. My fabric of last resort in all but the most perfect weather is cotton. As opposed to my preferred options, cotton doesn't dry quickly, smells, and provides very little insulation. And if it's wet, you might as well be wearing a wet dishrag for all the protection it offers. These properties do, however, make it ideal for wet t-shirt contests.

Next, there's the accessories - they can make or break both your outfit and your comfort. The standards for cold weather cycling (and I suppose cold weather outdoors activities in general) are wool socks, a scarf, gloves, and earmuffs or a hat. Your core and your legs will typically warm up - in a set of thermals and regular pants your legs will be comfortable in 20 degree weather, but without some help all your extremities will make you miserable in the wind.


REI soft-shell gloves and lightweight full zip fleece, Smartwool Lolligag Scarf, and a hat I found in my closet


Wool overcoats become a must in 30 degrees or below

All this being said, cycling in the winter is one of my favorite times of year. Those of us who ride through the winter always suffer from Spring Smugness - when people start pulling their bikes out of their garages in the spring weather, there's always some schmuck like me telling them all about what it was like a month back when it was freezing. You have the bike lanes and paths to yourself, and you get to watch the change of the seasons. Happy winter cycling!


Made it to work!

Man Power

This is an older ad, but easily my favorite ever produced by Miller. It's cold, and I need to make some serious clothing adjustments to account for the rain, but keep riding, my friends.

The Wurst Ride in Texas

It is time for a much-belated ride report from yours truly! The Wurst Ride is a tour of the Hill Country from South Austin to New Braunfels, which was held on Saturday November 5 this year. I decided to participate in this 60 mile hilliest on Thursday, November 3. Needless to say, training had not happened. Or preparation of any type - I didn't even know which bike to ride!

My preparation pretty much consisted of deciding to do the ride while drunk, going to a party the night before, then showing up that morning with the Surly and figured "Eh, screw it, if I SAG out I SAG out, I do this shit for fun." A friend of mine from the TNSR was the service director for the ride and when I spoke to him, he told me that you could register at the ride and everything would be cool.

At 5:30 am that Saturday I arose to find…..my ride (my sister) had ended up not coming home the night before. I shrugged it off, put on the kit I'd laid out the night before, made my smoothie, loaded up my bike and my bag and set off. I met up with the Sparkles-es and we headed to the start of the ride together. I walked up to the registration booth where I was…..promptly denied. I had a check in my hand, ready to hand over, and they actually refused the money. By the registration lady's own admission they couldn't keep me from riding the course, but wouldn't support me.

Not one to be held down, I hauled ass back to the Sparkleses, and Justin threw his stuff in my bag, tagged it with his number, and registered it as his bag. Task 1, complete. I had brought my own Clif Bars, two bottles for water, and had my usual complete repair kit with me, so as far as fast-fixes went I wasn't too worried. So I lined up at the start with everyone else, and off we went into a cool, windy morning….straight up hill.

If I hadn't been breathing so hard, I'd have probably tried to take some pictures, but my lungs and legs were taking priority at that moment because the first ten miles were all rollers. At five miles in - bam! I have a mechanical, in the form of the skirt guard coming loose and almost getting caught in my wheel. I spent some minutes on the side of the road, basically forcing the attachment points off, threw them in my rack-trunk, and got on hell-bent on catching up with all the cyclists who had passed me as I worked on my home-grown pain in the ass.

I wheeled up to the first rest stop, grabbed some water, peeled off my leg warmers and borrowed a pair of pliers to pull off the remainder of attachment points that had come loose mid-downhill, then set off as fast as possible (my competitive nature knows no bounds).

The second ten miles flattened out considerably, but what had previously been an annoying wind was becoming problematic. The GPS on my phone read my average speed as around 7 miles an hour - around half of my normal cruising speed in similar terrain. At around mile 15 another element came to bear - I hadn't used the bathroom at the first rest stop. I was surrounded by nothing but flat, open fields with not a tree in sight, so at the first large unmoved……shrub thing, I hid my bike in some tall grass, hiked out a bit into a field, and answered the call of nature (skills learned hunting and camping for the win!). In short order I was back on the road, but the wind picked up…..and never stopped picking up. I wound through neighborhoods filled with loose dogs, open fields, over cracks and through hill and dale and always, the wind was blowing and gusting.

At around 28.9 miles (by the GPS), I had a moment. I had been on the bike for 3.5 hours, going half my normal speed - every foot was a fight. I hadn't had the best of mornings. And I was going downhill, and when I stopped pedaling, came to a complete stop because of the headwind. I broke.

Well, actually, what I said was, "You know what, fuck this, I'm not having one bit of fun. I do this for fun. So if I'm not having fun, it's defeating the point." So I stopped. I waited. A SAG car appeared, and dragged me to the next rest point, an embarrassingly close distance away.

As I sat on the side of the road, I gradually felt my sense of humor return, as I remembered I have nothing to prove to anyone. So I asked a fellow rider to take a photo illustrating my state of mind at that moment.



So began phase two of my day: awaiting someone to take me to New Braunfels. We waited. We waited some more and came to find out that the winds had been gusting to about 30 mph from the south. The result of this wind was an extremely high number of people dropping out of the ride, and so an extremely busy SAG car team was having trouble getting everyone to the finish.

I sat by the side of the road for a total of about three hours (during which my phone died - turns out GPS is hard on the battery) when who should appear driving my SAG wagon but my friend from the TNSR. I cracked a beer in the back of the van on the way to the finish line. Once I got there, I found my friends, collected my bag, and my friend gave me his wristband, thus entitling me to beer and sausages. Then my friends, who had finished the ride, opted to take the bus home rather than go to Wurst Fest, gave me their admissions tickets. In short, despite the fact the registration lady refused to let me register, I reaped every single benefit of a fully supported Wurst Ride. She probably should have just taken my $70.

Thus fortified with beer and sausage, I swung back onto my bike and rode to Landa Park, where Wurst Fest is held. My total for the day - 31 miles. I drank the beer. I ate the Wurst. And best of all, I rode my bike.