I knew Alan was going to ask even though this was not the morning to bring it up. "Did you check the temperature before you left?" I had and knew it was 18 degrees. But on the drive to the trailhead, I'd managed to suppress that knowledge with a raging car heater and a steaming cup of French roast.
Bundled up and heading out.
"It's 16!" (Alan's weather data was always more accurate and up-to-the-minute; no sense in debating.)
Sixteen!? Oy. Yet here we were, bundled up, the bikes ready off the roof rack and ready to roll. Our Thursday morning ride at Umstead was a weekly tradition, though one that certainly had some reasonable conditions for cancelation. Was frostbite-inducing 16-degree cold one of them? Especially for two guys who prided themselves on being able to layer against any elemental eventuality? I didn't know, because we'd never ridden in 16-degree weather.
"What all do you have on?" I asked. His answer explained how a guy 5'11" and 145 pounds could resemble the Michelin Man.
Here's what I was wearing, bottom to top:
Feet: Liner socks, mid-weight wool socks, mountain bike shoes, neoprene booties.
Legs: Cycling shorts, non-insulated tights.
Torso: Long-sleeve base layer, regular cycling jersey, midweight long-sleeve fleece, lightweight vest, heavy fleece jacket.
Head: Balaclava (thin).
Hands: Glove liners, Wind-Stopper Black Diamond winter-weight gloves.
On a typical winter morning — typical meaning in the upper 20s — it can take a good 20 minutes to warm up, to get blood out to the extremities, to chase the chill from the arms, for the balaclava to recirculate our lukewarm breath across our face, around our head. On this morning, 20 minutes passed, nothing. At 25 minutes, Alan noticed that the tube on his Camelback was frozen. At 28 minutes I announced that my thighs were cold. At 32 minutes we pondered just how crucial a role toes play in pedaling because since we could no longer feel them we had no idea if they were still chipping in or were slacking off.
After 45 minutes we stopped to break the ice in our Camelback tubes. Not a good idea. Though we were both freezing, we quickly realized that we had actually built up micropockets of warmth, micropockets that quickly evaporated when we stopped pedaling warmth. Plus, the ice buildup in our tubes was now too thick to break up. For the first time, we looked forward to the grueling climbs up Umstead's Turkey Creek Trail, climbs we were certain would reheat and revive our bodies.
An hour and a half into the ride, Turkey Creek's hills long behind us, I discovered was visibly shaking. My arms were shaking, my legs were shaking, my chest was shaking. Thus, the bike was shaking.
"I can't feel my fingers," I said.
"I can't feel my feet," said Alan.
"There's frost on my thighs," I said.
"Bummer."
Usually, when we get back to the cars, we consult our watches to see if we have time for a half our or so of singletrack at Lake Crabtree. On this day, we practically dove off the bikes, fired up the car heaters, threw the bikes on the racks. "See ya," Alan chattered as jumped in the car to leave. I hoped he interpreted my shaking head as acknowledgment.
Once, living in Denver in my 20s, I had run five miles with the temperature exactly at 0. It seared my lungs. In college, I had skied Crested Butte on a clear still day when the temperature was 40 below zero. We would ski 20 yards, stop, cup our hands over our faces and breath to ward off the frostbite that literally set in the moment we moved. And there was the night 10 years ago when the temperature dropped to 10 degrees on Mt. Rogers, and every move I made let a fresh blast of frigid air into my sleeping bag, a air that took a good half hour to rewarm. Now, I was in my late 40s and while the temperature was a comparatively balmy 16, I concluded that this was the coldest — or at least the most miserable I'd been in the cold. I will never again ride when it's this cold, I vowed. (A year later, we rode when it was 18; whether it was the insight gained from riding in 16-degree weather or the mere difference of 2 degrees, we weren't nearly as cold.)
I did, eventually, warm back up.
Yesterday.
For more on effective layering, check out this Sunday's Fit column in The News & Observer's Arts & Living section.
For information on winter workout schemes, check out today's Life, etc., section.
