Are Cyclists Slower in Winter?

. . . the question on everyone’s mind this time of year.

If you’re worried because your average speed on cold days mirrors the dip in temperature, or that you must summon more energy to achieve your average summertime flights, fret no more. It may just be part of the natural order—you know—the laws of physics and biology. But it doesn’t mean you should stow your bike for the winter or sell it on eBay. Slower speeds in winter don’t necessarily signal a derailed training program.

Be judicious however in sharing the knowledge obtained here with your riding buddies. Unless they’ve slowed too, it may sound less like erudition and more like whining!

While it may be possible for some cyclists to go short distances as fast as they did during the regular season, the fact that it takes greater effort in cold temperatures highlights the difference between speed and power (measured in watts). In fact, power is a better determinant of workout intensity than perceived exertion, heart rate, or speed. The point is that a cyclist who churns the same wattage year-round will go slower in the cold traveling longer distances.

Others have argued persuasively, I think, that cyclists are slower in winter due to the cold. One mountain biker has attempted to estimate the effects of cold on several physical factors related to speed. Here I shall mention just a few of these factors and add a couple more of a physiological nature.

My intent is neither to quantify nor to prove that cyclists are slower in winter than summer. Instead, I shall assume that this is often the case and offer reasons why. To the extent that these variables are negligible or can be mitigated, the cyclist’s speed will be unaffected.

Increased air density due to cold: Like the wind, dense air affects every cyclist. And like the wind, the only way to confront dense air is to assume the most feasible aerodynamic position of body and equipment. Unlike a headwind, however, which can turn into a tailwind, the cold, dense air is a constant companion.

But what is air density and how does it affect speed? Air is composed of molecules such as oxygen and nitrogen. When air molecules group closer together, it makes the air more difficult for a cyclist to penetrate. Air density is related to altitude, barometric pressure, and temperature. For our discussion only temperature is relevant.

As temperature drops, air density increases.

What is the effect of increased air density in practical terms? Well, apparently, there is a rule of thumb relating the effect of air density to the speed of a cyclist.

The general rule for performance comparison is a 10°C drop in temperature equals a one minute increase in time trial time per hour.

In practical terms—time trial or no—the cyclist accustomed to traveling 16 mph when the summer temperature is 95°F (35°C) will have to settle for 15 mph at the same intensity when the temperature drops to 22°F (-5°C).

In other words, if the cyclist chooses to maintain, or is able to maintain, the same speed, there will be an increased energy cost.

The inquiring mind might wonder about density values at different temperatures. Using a readily available online air-density calculator, one might find for example that there is an 11.8 % increase in air density when the temperature drops from 90° F to 32° F. The interested reader can go a step further and determine the differences in power required to maintain a given speed at different air densities at this site.

Air density also affects tire pressure. If tires are inflated at room temperature the night before a long ride, then rolling resistance will be greater in the morning cold. Someone else may know how significant this might be in terms of affecting speed. Of course, one could inflate tires just before riding.

Bulky clothing worn in cold weather not only adds to the weight of (on) the bike but presents a less aerodynamic silhouette creating greater drag which slows the cyclist. The aforementioned on-line calculator can supposedly account for the cross sectional area of a rider and equipment (as a variable) under different conditions (including air density) as it relates to power output.

Fighting a cold headwind requires more energy than if it were a warm wind. The converse is also true. If you think of air as a loose liquid, then a strong, cold tailwind may be the closest thing to surfing a wave on a bike!

Lubricant viscosity: As mechanical devices, bicycles are propelled by moving parts that create friction on contact. Lubricants are used to reduce friction. However, the viscosity of many of the petroleum based lubricants used on drive trains, bottom brackets, and hubs increases with plummeting temperatures. To make matters worse, the inverse temperature-viscosity relationship is not linear but exponential.

A temperature-viscosity curve (like the one here), made logarithmic to obtain a straight line, indicates that the viscosity of some lubricants can double with a 10°C degree drop in temperature, say from 10°C to 0°C (50°F—32°F).

In North Carolina, for example, it is not uncommon for seasonal riding temperatures to range from 30°C to O°C (86°F to 32°F) which could cause a quadrupling of viscosities of some lubricants. For those who might wish to compare viscosity values against those on this particular chart, one source notes that lubricant viscosities ranging from ISO VG10 to ISO VG32 are commonly used on mountain-bike chains. There are many different kinds of lubricants, not all of which are petroleum based.

Just how significant is lubricant viscosity in terms of affecting a cyclist’s speed over the temperature range of a year? Perhaps a materials engineer might be able to offer an informed opinion.

Physiology: Cold can trigger a series of physiological events that can halt any ride. However, because there is a difference between being outside in the cold and being cold, care can be taken to prevent becoming too cold and triggering the physiological responses that can adversely affect athletic performance.

Before I address the extreme physiological effects of cold which are triggered if we get too chilled, I shall say something about normal physiology.

Although there is a difference between the season of winter and the cold of winter, a great number of people are affected by the change of season beginning in fall that is unrelated to the cold. Those affected may experience slightly reduced energy levels, increased appetites, and weight gain. Weight gain reduces VO2max independently of any other considerations. The winter season may also affect motivation in some people, the very last topic of discussion.

What about warming up just before an athletic event? If warming up on a spin cycle in July prior to a time trial affects the performance of the elite cyclist, what do you think about the activities of the ungloved randonneur standing outside on the street in sub-freezing temperatures prepping a bike for a Winter Solstice 200km Permanent? Granted, randonneurs seldom if ever hop a stationary bike to warm up for a 200km event, although some do ride to such events! But the point is that warm muscles, joints, and connective tissues perform better than cold ones even when cold does not mean extreme cold as in the case of our elite time trialist!

Now let’s turn to what happens physiologically when an athlete gets too cold. Again, be aware that this response need not be triggered even when cyclists ride all day in the cold. But, as a sports scientist explains:

When unprepared for the cold, skin and core temperature receptors stimulate a response called peripheral vasoconstriction in cutaneous and skeletal muscle circulation.

Essentially what happens when a cyclist gets too cold is that in an attempt to preserve core temperature, blood vessels reduce the flow of blood to the skin and muscles located near the body’s surface. Not only does this reduce the supply of energy to the working muscles in those areas but the extensive energy source located in the subcutaneous adipose tissue is now made unavailable. It should be noted that fat is the primary fuel source for aerobic respiration. A reduced blood supply to this area also means that muscle waste products are trapped. The net effect is that performance suffers.

When blood flow is shunted from the surface to the core the periphery cools.

Sports scientist Amy Mason notes the effects of cooling on muscles and nerves:

Muscle temperature decreases in the cold reducing maximal strength, power, and endurance. The superficial nerves cool and it takes more time to develop force and reduced nerve conduction results in recruitment of fewer muscle fibers, especially those closest to the muscle surface. Chemical reactions slow down and ATP utilization decreases at low muscle temperatures.

The authors of Physiology of Sport and Exercise, Wilmore, Costill, and Kenney concur, while noting the eventual fate of the athlete if the cooling process is not reversed.

When muscle is cooled, it is less able to produce force, and fatigue can occur more rapidly.

Working at a higher rate results in an earlier onset of fatigue, as there is an increased reliance on anaerobic energy production.

In other words, when the energy becomes unavailable in subcutaneous fat tissues, stored glycogen is burned at a faster rate.

During prolonged exercise in the cold, as energy supplies diminish and exercise intensity declines, metabolic heat production decreases and people may become increasingly susceptible to hypothermia.

Eventually, the cyclist’s intensity will slow as glycogen stores are depleted and core temperature drops. As the core cools, the heart rate slows. Because of the reduced cardiac output concomitant with a slower heart rate, VO2max declines.

In summary, according to Wilmore, Costill, and Kenney, the cyclist who attempts to maintain pace faces daunting odds: reduced blood supply to exercising muscle, slower heart rate, and reduced energy stores.

Again, these physiological responses are not triggered when the athlete is exercising in the cold, only if the body becomes sufficiently cold.

Don’t forget hydration. Mason describes an interesting fact about renal function in the cold as it could relate to dehydration:

Cold temperatures increase urine formation by decreasing tubular re-absorption of water in the kidneys.

This sets up the potential for dehydration because of a peculiarity of our sensory physiology, particularly the thirst center of the hypothalamus. In the cold, an exercising athlete’s thirst response may be dampened. Moreover, because the water carried on the bike is cold, it is more likely to quench thirst prematurely than warm water.

We also need to remember that coffee, tea, and chocolate which help us stay warm contain caffeine, a diuretic. Used properly, caffeine can be a cyclist’s ally.

Alluded to above, the question arises as to whether the winter season can affect mood and energy levels and therefore affect performance. For a small percentage of the population, the season does affect mood, although it is not clear whether exercise performance itself is affected. The converse is true, however: exercise enhances mood in many people.

Neither athleticism nor motivation hibernates in winter. In fact, some of the highest VO2max recordings belong to Nordic cross-country skiers. Moreover, there is that thing every four years they call the Winter Olympics!

Research suggests that cycling performance increases as cycling season nears. In other words, many cyclists are simply not geared toward speed in winter. Their off-season training is aimed at other goals such as building core strength and preventing mental stagnation by cross training. Many cyclists in fact choose to ride slower during the off-season to build what is known as the “base,” the training of fat-burning muscle fibers. And some elite cyclists ride less in winter.

While there may be a few good reasons cyclists slow during the winter, slowing itself may be no cause for concern. In fact, it may provide just the right path for attaining regular-season goals!

I’m grateful to riding buddies, John, Maria, Mike D, and Ron for their insights on some of the ideas expressed here. Any and all mistakes, misrepresentations, and/or mal entendu are of course my own fault. But if any factualness, truth, or clarity should have inadvertently infected this essay, it should be laid at their wool-sock, cycling-shoe, toe-warmer covered feet.

Any observations that you the reader might have in any of these areas please feel free to share under comments!

Let’s ride!

Tar Heel 200: The Three Rs Edition

Scheduling necessary R-12 rides in December around the weather and seasonal commitments can be a balancing act with the push and pull of compromise. A few days back, when Andy announced he was going to ride, four more of us jumped, in part because we knew we would have some great company.

Most normal people never even entertain the idea of winter riding. That was definitely me prior to randonneuring. It also explains the expressions on the faces of small groups of people sitting over hot, steaming coffee and toasty egg McMuffins awed by randonneurs donned in reflective gear readying to be swallowed up by the 6:30 AM darkness and the 22°F “feels like” temperature on the other side of the window separating normalcy from adventure. RandonneursЯUs!

You might be wondering about the rationale of a 6:30 AM start time. Obviously, Chef Andy had something special in mind. After all, this was supposed to be a “winter” ride. Part science, part culinary art, Andy’s appetizer called for the coldest part of day and a dash of darkness. For entertainment, we were treated the first mile to the festive Holiday city lights as we cruised down Main Street in Benson. The main dish included overcast skies and a slight headwind for the glutinous 62-mile return leg. The ambiance couldn’t have been better: temperatures hovered all day in the 30s and we weren’t bothered by the sun until 3 PM. Vaseline rather than sunscreen. Our compliments to Chef Andy for such a satisfying experience!

One can imagine that the three Rs referred to in the title are all about the basics of winter riding like clothing, lighting, hydration, and caloric intake, for example. True, we did discuss those things from time to time. But “the three Rs” refer in this case to R-9, R-11, and R-12.

But let me start at the beginning. Dr. John is heading to New Zealand for an extended stay. Helping him pack, we’d uncoupled his new Surly Travelers Check and had stuffed both it and him into a kiwi crate for shipment. But he begged us to let him and his bike out for just one last spin before he departed.

It seems he had some unfinished business—namely, the completion of his second R-12!

Well, he got ‘er done today. Congratulations, Dr. John!

Although John was the big winner, there were also two other winning Rs today: R-9 and R-11. Janis, Andy, and Jerry completed R-9s, while I completed R-11.

To say that Jerry completed his R-9 today is a tad misleading, since he actually extended his streak to R-45, closing in on an amazing fourth consecutive R-12!

By the way, Janis and Andy both officially completed their 2,000th kilometer today in just nine short months since joining RUSA. Congratulations!

Thanks for the company!

Let’s ride!

Iditarod: It's not just for dogs anymore

Can you believe it? We just had a token snowfall in the triangle this past weekend—missed a little school, had a few business delays, experienced some inconveniences—all so that we could say we had winter. Now that winter is “over,” temperatures this coming weekend may hit the low 80s.

Hey, not so fast! They take this winter thing seriously up in Alaska. Ever hear of Iditarod? Talk about VO2 maxes off the charts . . . those dogs are something! But that’s another story. Now humans are getting into the act . . .

This past Sunday was the start of the Iditarod Trail Invitational, the “ World’s longest [human] ultra race across frozen Alaska.” Participants sign up for 350- or 1100-mile events biking, skiing, or running across the Alaskan tundra.

“Billed as the ‘world’s longest human-powered winter ultra-race,’ Jeff , here, views the competition as not only a chance to see some of the country’s most remote terrain, but also as a source of personal satisfaction, having traversed the Alaska Range (the Northern end of the Rockies where Mt. McKinley is located) using only human power.”

RUSA member, Catherine Shenk, who completed the 2008 Last Chance 1200 with NC’s own Jerry and JoAnn, has checked into the control at mile 165.

This week, we’ll celebrate human achievement at the Iditarod. Next week, we’ll pull for the dawgs (and their human compatriots)!

Jan 17 2009 Gainesville 200K: Sweet Ride from Frozen Concentrate

Scene of Lochloosa River along the Gainesville-Hawthorne Trail within a few miles of the final control.

RBA, Jim Wilson (left), and ride volunteer at the final control at Boulware Springs Park in front of the Pump House on the National Registry of Historic Places.

NC Randonneur Lin O here doesn't even look like he's broken a sweat at the final control. But now he will with some of Meegan's hot soup.

Lin and I knew we’d be trading the unseasonably frigid air mass swallowing the Triangle over the weekend for the unseasonable cold of Florida. But it was our problem, and we’d deal with it best we could. So pointing the car south, we rode the cold wave all the way to “the swamp” with bikes draped off the back.

Not that we were such great weather prognosticators. We simply saw a three-day weekend on the calendar and thought, “Road trip!”

This was yet another chapter in the southerly migration of riders in early January. What is the Gainesville allure? Perhaps there are those who want to rush brevet season. In areas of the country where ice and snow rule, Gainesville promises escape from cabin fever, or an R-12 ride opportunity. During PBP years, it offers early qualifying, early training. Stealing a warm weekend in the dead of winter offers the illusion of control of the laws of physics and time travel. Whatever the itch, Gainesville is the cure.

It seemed like a PBP year with 53 eager riders converging on the swamp. At least one rider arrived from as far away as Massachusetts. Then there was the perennial group from Ohio. Lin met a couple of Shenandoah riders at the Friday night check-in and learned that a handful might be riding. And then there were the Floridians. Who were the hardiest of all? It was no contest. Believe it or not, a couple of Floridians showed up bare-legged with start temperatures hovering at or slightly below the freezing mark. Someone said that it wasn’t surprising, since randonneurs are crazy to begin with.

I prefer arriving early at events, allowing sufficient time for last-minute bike prep and clothing details, not to mention meeting and greeting friends. Consequently, we’d already located the starting point. All we had to do was awake on time; grab a quick biscuit; get to the park; make some last-minute adjustments, don a helmet, get a brevet card stamped.

But somebody had misplaced the MickeyD’s that I’d sighted on the way into town. Wandering the predawn streets of Gainesville in search of some morning performance enhancers, time slipped away. We finally spotted a BK and quickly pulled in. Ah, coffee!

We arrived at the park and quickly unloaded our bikes. Just in time to miss roll call, last-minute instructions, and official start. Meegan, who would serve a post-ride meal that included hot soup, quickly affixed our brevet cards in the appropriate spot with the official frog stamp.

Finally, we were off. Not with the main pack that had already left, but with a couple of other stragglers. For all the pre-ride drama, if not comedy, neither Lin nor I would garner the distinction of lantern rouge, even though we’d worked hard up to this point on a down payment. But there lay 125 miles ahead of us, time aplenty for exciting turns of event.

Lin wasted no time getting back on track, once we exited the park. Apparently, he’d been studying the cue sheet. His movements were deliberate and as clear and crisp as the cold morning air. I could tell his steel Trek wanted to run. At mile three we approached a slight, yet perceptible, incline and Lin looked back at me with a grin and said, “A hill. It’s not too late to turn back!”

Lin pulled the first 11.7 miles heading out of Gainesville. After a right turn off the main road, I moved to the front until a tandem recumbent, which had been dogging us from the start, made its move, passed us, and ramped up the pace. I decided to settle in and enjoy the scenery, being pulled along by the two-wheeled tour bus. Hey, I’m on vacation! The lead changed hands with each slight incline all the way to the first control at mile 21, where we caught an orderly horde of riders.

The busy though efficient clerk stamped and time-marked my brevet card, and I paid him for a bottle of water. I hit the restroom. Lin and I left the control together. Soon we caught a couple of riders whom we joined along with a brightly-clad group of riders, representing a cycling club out of Atlanta. We quickly formed a paceline. A disciplined bunch, the cycling club shouted out road hazards and pointed out turns. Lin jumped into the driver’s seat, controlling the pace. I followed. When I peeled off the front, I assumed that I’d be joining Lin at the back. But apparently a space had developed near the front into which Lin had slipped. But there was no space for me, so I drifted all the way to the back. After a few miles, a gap developed, forcing me to scramble to catch the lead group. Eventually, the unit slowed to regroup, at which time, Lin and I took leave off the front.

A few miles down the road, Lin dropped a chain on one of the few hills on the route. We pulled over. Lin discovered his derailleur is bent. While he wrenched it back into position, the red and yellow paceline passed, but not without a courteous offer of assistance. We waved them on. Chain back on, we’re on the road again.

We caught the red and yellow jerseys again. This time, however, Lin is reluctant to rejoin the paceline due to his shifting mechanism. He didn’t want to create a potential hazard for the string of riders. Lin informed the group and we took our leave. And we reached the second control at mile 53 ahead of the pack.

It began to warm. I didn’t miss my shoe booties still in the car as much as I did my camera while riders mingled and parked bikes stood alone. I spotted the sweet Surly single speed Tom M rides. Tom gets the Polar Bear Award dressed in sandals, two pairs of socks and lycra cycling shorts. No one could fathom why his feet were cold.

After a quick break, Lin and I pushed on to the next control. A lone rider who was tailing us easily passed. We saw him a few miles later alongside the ride. We asked if he needed help. He informed us that he was just letting some air out of his tires. But that didn’t prevent him from getting back on and passing us again. Later, we are joined by a Massachusetts recumbent rider, who was happy to have left the icicles back home and whose training of late had been solely on a stationary bike.

By now the temperature approached sixty. We enjoyed the afternoon sun. The rested paceline came into focus in my mirror. Eventually, they caught and passed us. We would see them for the last time at mile 93 as they left the penultimate control and we approached. Meanwhile, we enjoyed the sun as we meandered past several large lakes dotting the landscape. We spent a little more time at this control than usual before getting back on our bikes and tackling the last leg of the ride.

At mile 109, we turned off US 301 into the small town of Hawthorne, where we hooked up with the Gainesville-Hawthorne Trail State Park, which we followed all the way to the final control. We could relax. Not only was the brevet in the bag, all the vehicular traffic was gone. Time for nature along the 16-mile paved bicycle path stretching through the Paynes Prairie Preserve State Park and the Lochloosa Wildlife Management Area.

Earlier in the day near Gainesville, I’d seen a group of Sandhill cranes, who, like us, had migrated south. We’d also seen fine-looking longhorn cattle up close, looking as inquisitively at us as we were at them. Lin spotted a white heron. Everywhere were Spanish-moss-laden trees. Yellow mustard blossoms lined highways, while yuccas, palms, and pecan trees framed pastures. Now, at the end of the ride, a deer stood just a few feet from the trail. We slowed.

We’d seen plenty of dogs. They chased us from behind fences, barking as we passed. But not a single pooch’s paw pressed pavement. This led me to believe that there must be local canine ordinances with teeth.

Alan D from Massachusetts here was on a long chain this weekend, literally. The chain on his recumbent bike drapes in a figure-8 and is 2.5 times the length of a regular road bike. Recumbents really like the flat Florida terrain and show up in large numbers.

In truth, most bikes book in this part of the world. Andrea Tosolini, a local celebrity (who was only the second person ever to complete BMB in less than 50 hours), blistered the 200K last year in six hours flat. I, too, set a personal flat record here last year with four. I hope he broke his record this year. I’m glad I didn’t break mine!

Time now for a post-ride bowl of hot soup and sandwich served up by Meegan.

Meegan graciously prepares sandwiches to each rider’s specifications.

Thanks Jim, Meegan, and volunteers for the experience! We hope to return to the swamp.

Phun Physiology: Celebrating the Winter Solstice, or Biking to Beat the Blues

As you can see, a winter sun has its moments.

But there are always two sides to every story. . .

A winter sun is lazy; and if you’re not careful, it will try to drag you down, too.

Sol is a real slacker this time of year. He’s developed a bad habit of rising late, retiring early, and barely getting off the ground. His uninspired arc—47 degrees lower than his summer high—invites derision, even from those not normally given to name-calling.

Indeed, solar scholars have a fancy and very unflattering word for Sol’s wintry disposition: “solstitium,” which means “sun standing still.”

Think about it. How would it make you feel if a bunch of cyclists were to call you “velostitium” as they overtake you from behind?


The winter solstitium is a three-day period when the sun’s daily high is at its yearly low. The middle day of the three marks the official Winter Solstice, the shortest and darkest day of the year—December 21st, this year.

I pay attention to the date. Not because I’m given to mysticism, or because it marks the official beginning of winter. On long rides, I usually run out of daylight, playing right into the Dark Monster’s hand.

Sure the Solstice affects me in other ways, too. A little weight gain, a tendency to back off a bit on training, a tendency to eat a little more this time of year . . .

I really can’t complain though, since some have it much worse. In fact, there’s a term for those who suffer depression due to the shortened daylight hours of winter. It’s called seasonal affective disorder, whose acronym (SAD) actually makes sense.

This article isn’t directly about SAD, though. I don’t make diagnoses or give medical advice. Rather, it’s about a much milder and more common non-medical situation often referred to as “cabin fever,” “winter blahs,” and “winter blues.” It just so happens that the literature regarding the treatment of SAD is useful here.


There are a couple of tricks that cyclists can pull from their long-sleeve wool cycling jerseys that may help them beat the winter blues!

Winter training is important, since that January brevet is just around the corner. But training isn’t just about brawn. It’s also about brain, or, brain chemistry. The combination of a little sunlight and exercise fine tunes the release of a handful of brain chemicals that make us feel, well, like summer. The secret ingredients of this special concoction, which I’ve somehow managed to write down, include melatonin, serotonin, norepinephrine, dopamine, and endorphins.

The first ingredient on the list, melatonin, is a hormone produced by the pineal gland. The remaining substances listed are neurotransmitters—special chemicals manufactured by brain cells for communicating with one another. The levels of these neurotransmitters often drop in winter. The trick, then, is maintaining their levels, if possible.

I’ll explain how cyclists might accomplish this, if readers can bear with me for a minute.


Did you ever wonder why bears go on an eating binge, gain weight, and then hibernate until spring? Because they can?

According to biologists, melatonin is the answer. Bears hibernate because they produce more melatonin as a result of decreased daylight with the onset of fall. Melatonin alters circadian rhythms, or sleep cycles. It happens to humans as well. Altered sleep cycles leave many people feeling less energetic. However, a few are greatly affected to the point of depression. Experts estimate that as much as 10% of the US population suffers from winter depression, or SAD.

The melatonin theory for SAD is bolstered by the fact that many of its sufferers respond positively to light therapy. Sunlight resets circadian clocks and the timing of melatonin release, getting sleep cycles back on track, and reestablishing energy levels. Of great interest is the fact that sunlight can also be an effective antidote for those with a simple case of winter blahs.

There’s more good news. Both sunlight and exercise boost the production of a couple of anti-depressant neurotransmitters, which are commonly in short supply during winter and hypothesized to be linked with SAD: dopamine and serotonin. Additionally, exercise may also boost levels of another, antidepressant neurotransmitter, norepinephrine.

Indirect evidence that low levels of serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine play a role in SAD comes from the pharmaceutical industry. There are a number of commercial antidepressants whose success is based on the fact that they increase the levels of each of the three aforementioned neurotransmitters.

Lastly, endorphins are central nervous system neurotransmitters, which are produced as a direct result of exercise. Called “natural painkillers,” they cause the euphoric “runner’s high.” As natural opiates, their effects not only mimic morphine and heroine, they are more powerful. Their effects however are short lived.

In summary, a great percentage of the population could possibly benefit from a combination of sunlight and exercise this time of year. Spinning on a stationary bike would be a step, err, rotation in the right direction. Even better if it were located by a large window with a southern exposure. Best of all, would be to get outdoors on a sunny day for a spin.

Let the pieces come together. Celebrate the Winter Solstice!

Virginia Eastern Shore Permanent: Wonderful Ride Lost in Place, Time, Translation

For those of us who want to believe . . . Yes, Virginia, there is an Eastern Shore.



And now, thanks to Keith, who's on a 300k brevet here last year, there’s also an Eastern Shore Permanent for all of us to enjoy. Thank you, Keith!

Keith has fashioned a great, year-round route. One stretch, in fact, is officially designated by VDOT as a scenic route.

I was thoroughly spoiled on the inaugural ride this past Saturday, thanks to Keith, who literally pulled me up and down the peninsula. You can read his ride report on his blog.

Before I could ride the Permanent, I had to ask myself, “Where is it?”

When I pulled out a map, I could see that the Eastern Shore somehow got separated from the Virginia mainland. What’s up with that?

So, I had to ask myself, “How do I get there?” Well, I discovered several options: fly; boat; bridge; or enter by way of Maryland.



How do you suppose these boys and gulls get there?

I chose the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. In part, it’s a car-tunnel allowing big ships like these currently parked at sea to sail into and out of Chesapeake Bay.

Caboose I spotted the evening before the ride at the Cape Charles Historical Museum. I fully expected to see it somewhere on the peninsula the next day. Well, perhaps not. But there’s truly a palpable quaintness to the Eastern Shore as if transported back in time. This is part of its allure.Although our predawn start was chilly, with temps just below freezing, it nonetheless guaranteed us a beautiful sunrise. A slight 5-10 mph headwind resisted us most of the day, that is, until dusk.

Yes, the Dark Monster caught us. Although there is an intuitive appeal to be home by dark, my limited experience at randonneuring has taught me not to be afraid. Dusk is a magical time to ride after a long day in the saddle. A reward, in fact.

The world is finally at peace with itself at dusk. You are alone. You glide along. A sense of accomplishment looms large as the last few kilometers melt away. And it is at this point, like the legendary Adrian, that you want the ride to last forever. But you know it must end. You’re tired, hungry, and thirsty. But you summon the energy to press on until you reach the goal.

Winter is a special time to ride, and I learned a few lessons about the cold. Next time, I’ll protect my face not covered with a balaclava with Vaseline to prevent wind burn. Power bars become too hard to bite in the cold.

On the other hand, Keith was prepared. Check out the flask. Keith explained it was a lot easier than bringing along the St. Bernard, even on a Surly LHT.

Along the route, the names of towns symbolize their historical past, places like Onley, Onancock, Wachapreague, and Nassawadox. Modest Town and Temperanceville sit next to Assawoman. What?

Keith conducted some research. Turns out, “assawoman” is an Algonquin word. But no one today seems to know its meaning. My personal take? I’m betting that the Algonquins knew more English than they let on. But that’s just my opinion.

Indeed, the Virginia Eastern Shore is wonderfully lost in time and translation. And definitely worth a ride.

Oh, the weather outside is frightful..

It's Winter Preparedness Week in North Carolina. While some of us hope for a snowy season like that above (Sven Nys winning Superprestige Cyclocross Hamme-Zogg in Belgium a couple of weeks ago), many others hope not.

So what is the outlook for our winter ahead? According to the National Weather Service and NOAA, the Tar Heel State has equal chances of colder temperatures, warmer temperatures, and average temperatures. In other words, their crystal ball is currently out of commission. On the precip tip, they think we have a better chance of being drier than normal. Not good news for our drought-stricken friends in the NC mountains. And definitely not good news for the snow-hounds among us. (How cool is it to bag a brevet that features snow? Here's an archived post by JP.)

My prediction? This winter's going to be a blast! Newly-minted RBA Tony G hosts his first 200K of 2009 in just 4 weeks..

"J.D." Scares the Bejesus Out of BethThe Spartanburg 200km Brevet | A Post By Jerry

My dear dad always admonished me to pick my friends wisely. In his youth, he'd hung with some guys of spurious character and it almost landed him in the pokey once. So I've tried to heed Dad's advice over the years, but I never thought a friend's name alone would get me in trouble.

(John, Cathy, Branson, Jerry, Glenn, Chuck, and an unknown member of the Blue Man Group at the start)

Branson Kimball and I traveled to Spartanburg together on Friday afternoon for Bethany's 200km brevet. We had a great time rehashing PBP for the umpteenth time. We ran into Phil Creel, whom I had met at PBP and his friend John while checking in at the hotel. They joined us and Ron Blaine for a good Italian dinner at Capri's.

We watched the Weather Channel from about 8 until we turned in at 10. I had been hoping that the predicted rain and high winds wouldn't materialize, but there was no indication that the forecast would improve. It looked like we were in for rain in the early morning, high winds from the WSW, possible snow at high elevations (Does Caesar’s Head qualify?), and a gradual cooling trend all day. Great—PBP with snow!

Why is it when meteorologists nail a forecast, it always sucks?! Well friends, they hit this one square in the middle. At 0600 it was 58 degrees and dropping, the flags at the hotel were about as stiff as a shot of 151 rum, and a rain shower had just ended. Prepared for the worst we rolled over to the start a half-mile away. Lots of folks had gathered—lots more than the 22 that started. The DNS rate rivaled PBP, but I have to admit, the thought of packing it in crossed my mind as we rolled down New Cut Road and right by the hotel.

The pack of riders quickly spread out into small groups of 4 or 5 and despite the wind, everyone seemed to be in good spirits. By the time we reached Callahan Mountain Road at mile 26, we had regrouped a little and nine of us prepared to take on the “short but steep hill” as Bethany’s cue sheet described it. I think her odometer is broken—it ain’t short! And to paraphrase Chet Buell, any road named with the words mountain or hill should be avoided at all cost.

(No explanation necessary)

Branson and I were feeling good and we managed to get to the top of the hill in the company of two other guys who stopped at the top to answer the call (or maybe to throw up in the bushes). A few miles later, the two of us were working hard to maintain 15 mph on Pumpkintown Road as we headed WSW into the teeth of the wind. We made it to the informational control, gathered our ribbons, and moved on with just 12 miles to the turn-around. Another couple of stops for a nature break and to pump up a tire separated us and I found myself at the base of Caesar’s Head about to start the 6.5 mile climb.

At about the same time at home in Chatham County, my darling wife Beth was reading the Caller ID on our phone. She didn’t recognize the number, but since I was out on a ride, and since she’s a little bit of a worrier, she answered it. Here’s how the conversation went (with Beth’s thoughts in parentheses).

Caller: Hello Beth?
Beth: Yes, this is Beth Anderson.
Caller: This is J.D. so-and-so (Jerry has a riding friend named JD--Oh
&*(^ !!) with the North Carolina State Troopers (What has he gone and done now?!) Association.
Beth: IS THIS ABOUT MY HUSBAND JERRY PHELPS!?
Caller: What? Maam? Who’s Jerry?
Beth: My husband—He’s on a bike ride somewhere in North or South Carolina?
Caller: No maam. I’m calling to ask for a donation to the North Carolina Troopers Association . . . . . . . . . . . . (When he gets home, if he isn’t dead he’ll wish he was—and JD too!!)

Blissfully unaware of the fate that awaited me, I was oh-so-slowly making my way up the mountain. About two miles up, I started to hear the crinkling sound of something hitting the leaves in the forest and seconds later there were little bits of ice bouncing off me, my bike and the road. It would continue snowing or sleeting until just before the summit. A few minutes later, as I was gasping for breath on the shoulder (OK, heaving for breath), Branson came along looking as strong and powerful as we all know he is. So I climbed back on and the two of us finished our crawl to the top.

(Branson happy to be on the way down!)

Bethany and Steve were there to greet us with hot chocolate, bagels, peanut butter, energy bars, and a wide assortment of other drinks and high calorie food. I’m guessing the temperature was about 30 degrees. We grabbed some food and refilled our bottles. I retired to the rest room to put on the extra shirt I had carried for what I knew would be a frigid descent. I met Chuck Lathe's wife Nina in the Ranger Station (thanks to her for the picture of the start). Branson and I started the descent which should have been fun, but was really agonizing. My face and ears were immediately in pain from the wind chill, even with my hands constantly clawing at the brake levers. We passed a lot of the uphill-bound riders all looking strong and making great progress. When we reached the bottom, which is really about 8 miles long, the wind hit us full in the face, but fortunately as we turned on Pumpkintown Road again, we got a kicking tail wind that jumped our speed up to 21-22 mph without a great deal of effort.

In Marietta we stopped at the Burger King to warm up as much as anything and to get some fuel for the rest of the trip. Fifteen miles later came the climb back up Callahan. I stopped half-way up to snap some pictures of the stone bridge and to keep my heart from breaking out of my ribcage.



(Stone bridge on the state road from Greenville to Asheville constructed in 1826)

Over that hill and another 5 miles down the road, I saw a beautiful steel Mercien with exquisite lugs and a stunning paint job leaned up against the outside of a tiny store. I knew there could only be one of those in the world and it belongs to Glenn Himstedt, but in my hypoxic state I couldn’t figure out how he’d gotten ahead of us. I pulled over and found Glenn inside the store which, by the way, hasn’t seen a coat of paint in 50 years and Glenn's bike is probably worth more than the store and it's contents. He clued me in that he hadn’t stopped in Marietta—duh! Branson came along, and after the three of us had downed enough high fructose corn syrup to keep a farmer in Iowa warm for the winter, we took off for the remaining 20 miles.

(Three anciens)

Those miles went pretty quickly. At the finish, Bethany and Steve had arrived a little while before and had already laid out a spread that would rival a Clemson-USC tailgate party. After a quick shower at the hotel, we traipsed back over to the finish to welcome other riders and to express our appreciation to Bethany and Steve for such a well-run event and for all the goodies. I made a special request that Bethany dial back the wind for the 300 km brevet scheduled for April 5th—a request that should be easy to grant. According to Branson, the average wind speed in Spartanburg on Saturday was 21.9 mph! Congrats to everyone who braved the elements.

Brother Rich Quits The Club

Here’s a post I never thought I’d be making: My buddy Rich is out of the competition. He's no longer in the Century A Month Club.

For the first time in seven years, he has let a month slip by without doing a century. He missed February.

And so the mantle, and the burden, has passed to me.

Rich is one of the guys who got me into randonneuring. The story: as a new year’s resolution in 2002, I decided I’d do a century a year. I looked up rides online a found a century rolling out the door on January 8th or so. I decided I might as well knock it out early.

The day of the century was cold as hell. It had snowed a few days before and there were still traces of snow in the shaded ditches. I should have been suspicious of any riders that would show up for that event. As it turned out there were six of us. Most of the guys were randonneurs. Who else? Honestly, I’d never heard of randonneuring, I’d never heard of Paris Brest Paris. I thought it was foolhardy to attempt 200 miles in a day.


Here’s the picture from that day. Rich is holding a winning lotto ticket. The ride was called the Lotto Century. At the time, North Carolina did not have a lottery, so we rode up to Virginia to buy em.

On the way back, Rich asked me why I was along for that ride. I told him about my resolution to do a century a year.

“A century a year?” he said. “You’re supposed to do one a month.”

Rich already had 12 months in a row at that point. I thought he was a damned fool. But guess what? That Lotto Century turned out to be #1 in a streak that is now 74 months long. I guess Rich knew a kindred spirit when he saw one.

There have been others who joined the Century A Month Club for brief periods. JoeRay, Danno. But Rich and I were the only ones crazy enough to keep it up.

Until now. I never thought I’d catch Rich. He had a full year on me. But the fact is that I’ve watched his priorities change in the past year. He has the Appalachian Trail in his sights, and his bicycle training is now secondary.

I’ve enjoyed calling him up or emailing when I got a century early in the month, just to say “Got Mine.” One of my favorite cell phone calls was the traditional one I made to Rich on the Blackbeard Permanent, my annual ride to the beach. Since I’d leave out of the house at 2 or so in the morning, I’d hit the century mark at about 8 in the morning. I always made a point of pulling over and ringing Rich up. Ideally, I'd wake him.

I told Rich it was a sad day when he dropped out of the competition. I took no joy in it. It won’t be as much fun without the rivalry.

But I’m in it for the long haul. Or at least 12 more months, when I’ll pass his record of 85 months in a row. Of course, once I get there, I’ll be so close to 100 months that….you know….

Siler City Express / Feb. 16, 2008

I've been waiting for my buddy Jerry to post about this ride. I guess he's too tired from pulling my ass around on Saturday. So I'll take over from the back.

Here's what happened. Me, Jerry and JD did a leisurely cruise from Siler City to the turnaround in the heart of the Uwharries. It was a day that beat expectations on the weather front. What was supposed to be temps in the mid 30s was actually closer to the mid 40s -- and it kept getting warmer until finally I was riding without a wind vest and without the long-fingered gloves.

Man! Life was good. We were the stuff. After we talked through every twist and turn of PBP, Jerry told us a great story about his first 10-speed. How he'd borrowed his dad's bike to run down to the grocery store for his mom. He was home so quick, his dad couldn't believe it and insisted on clocking him later that day in the car. In the next couple of weeks, Jerry's own bike showed up, a very early birthday present.

JD told about coming of age as a cyclist at the age of 13 on a tour of Holland, Belgium and Germany with his aunt. I think that's when the travel bug bit him. He also told us about the clash of egos in the thin air of 8,000-meter mountain climbing, and of the tea houses of Tibet. And of drinking vodka and Red Bull out of a monstrous trophy. And his morning question from the early morning formations of his Army days: "Staff sergeant, how do they get the cream in the Twinkies?"

Friends, the fun dried up on the return trip through the steep hills of the Uwharries. We had the wind in our teeth, the temperatures were up and my legs turned to stone. Jerry kept up his pace and rode off the front. Me and JD got a refresher course in lowland hypoxia. The world was doing the whirlygig by the time I climbed the last long grade to the Seagrove control. Thankfully, JD did one of the best stalls I've ever seen. He bought about 10 different kinds of snack foods, and took his sweet time diving into each one. It gave me the break I needed.

We put Jerry on the front of the wagon train for the 33 miles back to the barn and finished up at 4:30 or so, for a 9:30 total time. Thanks, Jerry, we owe ya.

JD said it best at the finish: "I always forget how hard that section is."

Another fun and exhausting day on the bikes. Speaking of bikes, I forgot to mention that JD was on his Landshark single speed. The color scheme he requested: "Inner Earth to Outer Earth." Check it out.

Jan 27 Kerr Lake Loop

Thirteen riders (!) showed up for yesterday’s Lake Loop. That’s our biggest crowd yet. We’re really developing a core group of dedicated randonneurs.

The conditions at the 7 a.m. start were brisk, with temperatures in the low 30s, but by 10 a.m. the day was downright pleasant. Riding doesn't get any better than days like these, cruising under a brilliant blue sky on quiet back roads with a crew of superb athletes. The banter was non-stop. A friendly ride at a friendly pace. We had one guy along for his first RUSA ride, and another on his second one. We also had six PBP veterans.




A great day? You bet. I’ll let a couple riders tell it themselves. Here are two emails I received after the ride.

The ride: Where would I ever get a chance to hang out with so many PBPers and future PBPers on this side of the Atlantic in a "pick-up" ride?

I’ve decided that The Lake Loop is kind of like the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Part of what MAKES it so great is that we've done it so many times. Our expectation is that the day will be fun and so it always is fun. And despite the sameness of the routine, I always find some new things to appreciate along the route. That certainly was a good bunch of folks today. Not sure I interact with other groups that size where I genuinely like everyone. P.S. ....I actually never saw Rocky Horror Picture Show…

Notes: Branson’s successful completion means he’s now qualified for his R-12 award. Nice work!....We lost Ed before Clarksville, when we ducked into a Subway. He didn’t see us and continued on to Oxford and was waiting when we arrived…Byron gets the prize for the most bonus miles: 8…..Dean set a personal best, breaking 10 hours (9:55). Way to go, Deano…Lin’s new bike has the best rando set-up I’ve ever seen on a carbon frame. It’s a Trek Pilot with fender eyelets. Lin had fenders, 25 mm tires and bar end shifters. Classic and modern in one package.

Boston Article on Winter Riding

I saw this article while poking around this morning. Here's a quote:

The bicycle is a clever invention. It's both a transportation machine and a way of interacting with the world. Pumping madly over the Longfellow Bridge, I feel part of the urban hum. In winter, biking brings me closer to the city.

And the author's resolutions:

My New Year's resolution: Be less judgmental of car owners, and check my self-righteousness at my basement door before I strap on my helmet, snap up my jacket, and carry my bike through the snow.

My resolution for my fellow bikers: Buy a bike light, wear a helmet, and please stop running red lights. Respect the rules of the road and drivers will respect us.

Also, an article on a new free bike program in the Boston area.