K6-III
12-18-05, 12:39 AM
http://www.startribune.com/stories/462/5787864.html
Just how crazy is it to commute by bicycle in Minnesota in winter?
To Pete Saunders, it makes perfect sense -- despite what his wife thinks. Saunders, a 36-year-old project manager at Ameriprise Financial, bikes 28 miles a day between his home in suburban Eagan and his office in downtown Minneapolis. A few days of subzero windchills in early December didn't slow him down at all.
"Once the winter starts up again, she starts in with, 'Why are you doing this? When are you going to stop? Don't you think it's time?' " Saunders said of his wife. "It always surprises her -- she thinks this is the year I'll get some sense."
Saunders isn't alone. Cyclists are an amazingly common, if still startling, sight on Twin Cities streets even on the most frigid days. "You start to notice that you're part of this small, fun, elite community," said Sascha Bates, who began biking the 7-mile round trip to her job at Target's downtown Minneapolis headquarters last winter.
To fully understand the phenomenon, I decided to try it for myself. I've lived in Minnesota the majority of my life, but never had I steered a bicycle across ice-covered streets. I viewed those who did as at least a little insane.
At 8 a.m. on the Wednesday morning I chose for the 4-mile ride to my downtown Minneapolis office, it was 4 degrees above. In the Bizarro world of Minnesota winter parlance, this had been forecast as a "heat wave" the night before by a TV meteorologist after several days of subzero weather.
To prepare, I'd asked a number of winter bikers for tips on how to dress and other precautions to take. I'd also tried to figure out what motivates them.
For some, it's a political decision -- they believe in a world with fewer automobiles and less consumption of fossil fuels. Others find it easier to budget their lives without the expense of a car. Some do it for the fun or exercise.
"It's a whole lot more enjoyable than driving or taking the bus," said Saunders, who's been at it for five years. "I've got two hours a day where I'm having fun rather than fighting traffic."
Saunders, like many winter bikers, owns a car and drives it to work occasionally -- if the weather is particularly bad, or there are errands to run after work. But some of his peers don't own a car at all.
"It's definitely because I believe in having a sustainable lifestyle," said Peter Church, 26, who has a short commute to his downtown Minneapolis government job -- but also must rely on his bike for trips to the grocery store, and just about everything else. "But it saves me a lot of money, too."
Most of the bikers said that anyone who rides a bike in summer can ride one in winter. Fifty-year-old Kevin MacAfee, who bikes a 28-mile round trip three days a week on average, advised that a bike with knobby tires was "essential" in case of icy patches. Church warned me that I'd better wear a helmet, and Bates prescribed ski goggles and dressing in layers.
Armed with their recommendations, I headed to a sporting goods store to stock up. The goal was enough gear to ensure that not a centimeter of bare skin would be exposed -- I knew I'd look ridiculous, but I also knew that subzero windchills can be deadly in minutes.
Getting ready the morning of the ride, I felt like a Navy SEAL suiting up for a mission. Dri-fit long underwear (to help sweat evaporate off my body)? Check. Two calf-length pairs of wool socks? Check. One more layer on my legs and three more on top? Check. Black ski mask covering my entire head? Check. Goggles and helmet? Check. Two pairs of gloves? Check.
Before leaving, I glanced in a mirror and decided I'd better not stroll into any banks dressed in this getup. Then I walked outside, climbed atop my 7-year-old mountain bike and set off.
A rush, then a chill
The first few blocks were a breeze. The bike's tires gripped the slushy streets nicely, and while the chilly air definitely penetrated the layers, my pumping legs generated enough warmth to make it tolerable.
I even started to feel a little cocky. Coasting across the 38th Street bridge over Interstate 35W, I saw multiple lanes of stop-and-go traffic headed into downtown Minneapolis.
"Enjoy your gas guzzlers, suckers!" I thought to myself.
But the comical asides ended a few blocks later, as I noticed how cold my feet were. And how my heavy panting inside the face mask was condensing into a chilly mush around my mouth. And how the sweat evaporating off my back made it feel like I was standing with my rear to an open refrigerator.
In another few blocks, my no-fog goggles started to fog. My feet felt as if I'd soaked them in ice water, and my fingers weren't far behind.
But with the pain came a feeling of hard-won confidence, and it propelled me as my destination grew closer. I started to think, "This really isn't THAT bad."
The last few blocks, I really hit my stride. By the time I got to the office, I wanted to keep riding. It's a feeling, I discovered, that's common to many winter bikers.
"It makes me feel like a stud -- it really does," Bates said.
One of the most exciting things for Bates, and many winter bikers, is discovering like-minded people.
"It's really a lifestyle choice," Bates said. "And when it becomes that, you start meeting other people who have made the same choice, and it gets reinforced."
Those passionate about biking said it starts to affect decisions in other parts of their lives. Both Bates and Thill said they decided not to pursue promising job leads because the potential workplaces were not within reasonable biking distance.
It's not only the Twin Cities where winter biking has taken hold. Websites are devoted to it in Boston, Chicago, Alaska, Sweden -- even Russia.
I felt a part of the fraternity as I climbed off the bike outside the office. Awaiting me was a change of clothes -- planning ahead was another tip from several bikers, like Saunders, who often showers at a YMCA near his office before starting work.
Chatting with a few of the bikers after my trip, a few asked if I'd ever do it again. I had an excuse ready: As a reporter, I never know when I might need my car at work.
But something Bates said rang truer than it probably would have before my ride, and it makes me think that maybe I'll take the bike for a few more spins this winter.
"When people wonder about it, or say that I'm crazy for doing it, I just tell them it's really not that hard," she said. "The hardest part is the mental adjustment. Once you get past that, it's pretty easy -- you've gotta believe that you can, or you won't ever do it."
Next time, though, I'll wear three pairs of socks.
Just how crazy is it to commute by bicycle in Minnesota in winter?
To Pete Saunders, it makes perfect sense -- despite what his wife thinks. Saunders, a 36-year-old project manager at Ameriprise Financial, bikes 28 miles a day between his home in suburban Eagan and his office in downtown Minneapolis. A few days of subzero windchills in early December didn't slow him down at all.
"Once the winter starts up again, she starts in with, 'Why are you doing this? When are you going to stop? Don't you think it's time?' " Saunders said of his wife. "It always surprises her -- she thinks this is the year I'll get some sense."
Saunders isn't alone. Cyclists are an amazingly common, if still startling, sight on Twin Cities streets even on the most frigid days. "You start to notice that you're part of this small, fun, elite community," said Sascha Bates, who began biking the 7-mile round trip to her job at Target's downtown Minneapolis headquarters last winter.
To fully understand the phenomenon, I decided to try it for myself. I've lived in Minnesota the majority of my life, but never had I steered a bicycle across ice-covered streets. I viewed those who did as at least a little insane.
At 8 a.m. on the Wednesday morning I chose for the 4-mile ride to my downtown Minneapolis office, it was 4 degrees above. In the Bizarro world of Minnesota winter parlance, this had been forecast as a "heat wave" the night before by a TV meteorologist after several days of subzero weather.
To prepare, I'd asked a number of winter bikers for tips on how to dress and other precautions to take. I'd also tried to figure out what motivates them.
For some, it's a political decision -- they believe in a world with fewer automobiles and less consumption of fossil fuels. Others find it easier to budget their lives without the expense of a car. Some do it for the fun or exercise.
"It's a whole lot more enjoyable than driving or taking the bus," said Saunders, who's been at it for five years. "I've got two hours a day where I'm having fun rather than fighting traffic."
Saunders, like many winter bikers, owns a car and drives it to work occasionally -- if the weather is particularly bad, or there are errands to run after work. But some of his peers don't own a car at all.
"It's definitely because I believe in having a sustainable lifestyle," said Peter Church, 26, who has a short commute to his downtown Minneapolis government job -- but also must rely on his bike for trips to the grocery store, and just about everything else. "But it saves me a lot of money, too."
Most of the bikers said that anyone who rides a bike in summer can ride one in winter. Fifty-year-old Kevin MacAfee, who bikes a 28-mile round trip three days a week on average, advised that a bike with knobby tires was "essential" in case of icy patches. Church warned me that I'd better wear a helmet, and Bates prescribed ski goggles and dressing in layers.
Armed with their recommendations, I headed to a sporting goods store to stock up. The goal was enough gear to ensure that not a centimeter of bare skin would be exposed -- I knew I'd look ridiculous, but I also knew that subzero windchills can be deadly in minutes.
Getting ready the morning of the ride, I felt like a Navy SEAL suiting up for a mission. Dri-fit long underwear (to help sweat evaporate off my body)? Check. Two calf-length pairs of wool socks? Check. One more layer on my legs and three more on top? Check. Black ski mask covering my entire head? Check. Goggles and helmet? Check. Two pairs of gloves? Check.
Before leaving, I glanced in a mirror and decided I'd better not stroll into any banks dressed in this getup. Then I walked outside, climbed atop my 7-year-old mountain bike and set off.
A rush, then a chill
The first few blocks were a breeze. The bike's tires gripped the slushy streets nicely, and while the chilly air definitely penetrated the layers, my pumping legs generated enough warmth to make it tolerable.
I even started to feel a little cocky. Coasting across the 38th Street bridge over Interstate 35W, I saw multiple lanes of stop-and-go traffic headed into downtown Minneapolis.
"Enjoy your gas guzzlers, suckers!" I thought to myself.
But the comical asides ended a few blocks later, as I noticed how cold my feet were. And how my heavy panting inside the face mask was condensing into a chilly mush around my mouth. And how the sweat evaporating off my back made it feel like I was standing with my rear to an open refrigerator.
In another few blocks, my no-fog goggles started to fog. My feet felt as if I'd soaked them in ice water, and my fingers weren't far behind.
But with the pain came a feeling of hard-won confidence, and it propelled me as my destination grew closer. I started to think, "This really isn't THAT bad."
The last few blocks, I really hit my stride. By the time I got to the office, I wanted to keep riding. It's a feeling, I discovered, that's common to many winter bikers.
"It makes me feel like a stud -- it really does," Bates said.
One of the most exciting things for Bates, and many winter bikers, is discovering like-minded people.
"It's really a lifestyle choice," Bates said. "And when it becomes that, you start meeting other people who have made the same choice, and it gets reinforced."
Those passionate about biking said it starts to affect decisions in other parts of their lives. Both Bates and Thill said they decided not to pursue promising job leads because the potential workplaces were not within reasonable biking distance.
It's not only the Twin Cities where winter biking has taken hold. Websites are devoted to it in Boston, Chicago, Alaska, Sweden -- even Russia.
I felt a part of the fraternity as I climbed off the bike outside the office. Awaiting me was a change of clothes -- planning ahead was another tip from several bikers, like Saunders, who often showers at a YMCA near his office before starting work.
Chatting with a few of the bikers after my trip, a few asked if I'd ever do it again. I had an excuse ready: As a reporter, I never know when I might need my car at work.
But something Bates said rang truer than it probably would have before my ride, and it makes me think that maybe I'll take the bike for a few more spins this winter.
"When people wonder about it, or say that I'm crazy for doing it, I just tell them it's really not that hard," she said. "The hardest part is the mental adjustment. Once you get past that, it's pretty easy -- you've gotta believe that you can, or you won't ever do it."
Next time, though, I'll wear three pairs of socks.