insurgent49 - "A Winter On Two Wheels" by Clark Yerrington

April 16, 2007
A Winter On Two Wheels
story and photos by Clark Yerrington, insurgent49

I bought my first mountain bike in Anchorage in 1984. I was 24 years old and I used it to get to work on nice days in the summer. By the late '80s there was a growing crowd of winter riders, especially in the closer-in areas (Spenard, Inlet View, Fairview) that I gravitated to after getting out of South Anchorage. The bikes were getting better and cheaper and the clothing, lighter and warmer.

By the early '90s I was starting to meet people that biked in the winter all of the time and didn't even own cars. My neighbor was just a little younger than me, healthy and strong even though he parties like a rock star, and I noticed that he biked everywhere.

I was curious about their winter biking experiences and asked lots of questions, but for some reason never wanted to try it myself. Gas was pretty cheap, the car was convenient, and I felt like I was still getting exercise in other ways. I had a brand new Subaru Impreza wagon and I loved it and its all-weather capabilities thoroughly.

I was scared of being out there on a bike. What if I got smacked by a car? Or slipped on ice and fell on my face? Flipped into a light pole by some unexpected bump? And a lot of times it doesn't look good out there … horizontal blowing snow, whiteouts, extreme cold (even if it isn't up to Fairbanks standards), rain and wind. It’s never completely warm and comfortable, even in the middle of July.

    In 1999, I was in a slump of sorts. Relationship smashed on the rocks … wounded, pitiful, about to turn forty. Not quite bitter and washed up, but I was in a period of readjustment and rebalancing. I celebrated my forties by becoming complacent. I still drove out to Kincaid Park in the summer and ran around trails, and did a little skate skiing in the winter, but it was low-energy and too infrequent.

And I started to pack on the pounds. I was 155 lbs. at 16 when I reached full height, 170 by age 25, and 185 at 37. But in the ten years since that time, I went quickly to 195, then 205, then just since '03 or so to almost 230. It was comical and distressing to look in the mirror and see a huge round paunch, and a double chin below a fat, round face. My size 38 Levis were becoming tight and constricting, and the side bolsters on the seat of my car were getting flattened by my big ass.

In the last two years, my attempts out on the trail got increasingly feeble and I began to experience periodic heart palpitations, breathlessness and fatigue. Our whole society was becoming obese and I was part of the mega-trend. The documentary "Super Size Me", a real-life diary of the problems a man develops after going on an all-fast food diet was a succinct statement of how far we had let ourselves slide.

    In 2003, our president took us into war in the Middle East. It was ostensibly not a war about oil but many of us suspected otherwise. In 2005, the price of gas doubled. At the same time, I was reading articles about peak oil and about the coming devastating catastrophe of climate change, even as the people in charge tried to ignore it and cover it up. I'd been talking about environmental issues for twenty years or more, and back then it seemed extra horrifying because there wasn't anything we could do about it. Maybe there still isn't, but there's also more urgency and more of a feeling that individual initiative is the only way to begin a pushback.

    Still, it wasn't until February of this year (right around my 47th birthday), that I was ready to try winter biking. I was inspired by a woman I admire … probably the best reason for someone like me to ever do anything worthwhile. She does winter riding and commutes to work, and told me I should try it. I would like it a lot, she said, and it's no big deal if you prepare for it.

I began commuting back and forth to work, from Mountain View to Midtown. I started out for the first time at 7:20 am on a crisp, dark, 10 below morning. It might have been the coldest day of the year. I made it there and back, but the only real preparation I had was a flashing taillight. No face or eye protection, no helmet … a bulky coat with ineffective under-layers.

I started a diary about my trekking on the internet discussion forum at kudo1080.com. I linked my friend to it and she immediately sent me back a bunch of catalog pages from REI.com telling me what to buy … a balaclava, goggles, helmet, a pannier to carry stuff instead of stuffing my pockets or wearing a pack, a flashing headlight, better gloves. I rode over and got most of it on the way back the second day.

I had my bike overhauled before I began. It's a 1986 Cannondale SM600 that I bought from the original owner in 1989. It's a pretty unique and robust model with a lot of badass, old school style and grace, and always gets a lot of compliments.

A couple weeks ago, I got a studded tire for the front. The back tire is a problem. This bike has a 26-inch front wheel and 24-inch rear, and they don't make a manufactured studded tire in 24-inch, but you can create one the old way by installing a liner inside the tire and screwing in the studs yourself. I'm thinking instead that I might retire this bike to summertime riding only and get a new one next winter, maybe with some modern conveniences like suspension. The studded tire was pricey, but it had an aggressive tread and studding pattern, out of rubber that stays pliable in the cold, and helps a lot with stability and tracking.

    I've been at it almost a month and a half now, skipping only a few days. None of my irrational fears about winter riding amounted to anything. I've gotten better and more confident every day, trying to avoid becoming reckless and overconfident. I fly down hills at near summer speeds. I got a better coat and intermediate layers. I can scope out routes and I know if the side of the street that was in the sun that afternoon will be more passable than the shady side or not. I ride mostly on bike trails and side streets, very little along with the cars on arterials, except for short stints if there's no other way.

I love the sound of the ice crunching under the tires. I appreciate everything you can see when I’m not in a car, even though it isn't all pretty … like how I never used to notice how much all the cars foul the atmosphere. I love waiting at midtown intersections watching all the cars and trucks stream by.

    This experience has changed me for the better in so many unexpected and wondrous ways. I arrive at work, and at home later, all jacked up and looking to cause serious damage, rather than take a nap. I also arrive kind of sweaty and disheveled, but that doesn't last long. The old three o'clock drop is barely noticeable anymore.

I had a hard time with the uphills at first, then got better at it and challenged myself to pedal all the way up. It's called "taking" the hill. And after you take the hill, it makes you want to take a couple more. I can push a little harder, if I feel like I'm not getting enough of a workout.

And I'm shedding pounds by the fives and tens. I’m trying to get back to 190 by midsummer. I'm also getting complimented about looking good and happier. There are even people asking for weight loss tips. What sweet vengeance!

    I've heard a lot from others that you come to a fork in the road in your late forties. You can keep up with self-destructive behavior, or you can get deadly serious about getting into the best shape possible. There doesn't seem to be as much of a middle ground left.

Some of the fifty year-olds I hiked with last summer were beating everyone else to the summit. And I still think of Dick Mize, a wiry man who was principal of Dimond High when I attended in the '70s, who, at 65, was beating the pants off forty year-olds in cross country ski races. I find myself in the peculiar belief now that not exercising will kill me.

    So, if you're inclined and able at all, get yourself out there on a bike in the winter. Take it from someone who was never very self-righteous about fitness: this is better than you ever imagined.

Check out Clark's winter biking journal at KUDO's forum here. For more photos, visit his Flickr album here.

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