The Wind
The warm, calm air of summer has been shoved aside by the winds of autumn, and riding is once again a battle against this, the toughest of the elements for cyclists.
Some experts ask us to greet the wind as a training partner, comparing riding into the wind with climbing hills. There are a few problems with this comparison. Before I climb a hill, I either know the hill already, or can visually assess its grade and length, and then gear down as needed. Also, the grade tends to be pretty uniform, so I can find a groove and crank away, steadily eating away at the definite distance to the top. Finally, once I'm over a substantial hill, I can recover on the descent if I choose, or if the ride isn't whipped up by competition.
Wind, on the other hand, is invisible, so there is no way to assess it. It comes in tumultuous gusts, swirling around you, most often catching you in gears that are not suited to riding uphill or against such an obstacle. The wind wears you out faster and consistently. It never seems to stop once it has started as the calendar ticks into and out of winter. A windy day is just that -- an entire day of wind. Worse still, if climbing is part of your ride, you can bet on a howl of wind being unleashed upon you just as you crest any moderate to major hill, taking away the feeling of accomplishment and replacing it with a stinging slap of cold.
In my cycling log (kept in Excel), the wind comes in five categories -- light, moderate, strong, gusty, and swirling. The main categorical tensions emerge amongst strong, gusty, and swirling. Strong winds are, in my mind, sustained with possible gusts and swirls, but their main feature is their constant presence on a ride. If I feel I can't get away from the wind, there is no respite, then it is a strong wind. Gusty winds, on the other hand, come and go. There may be stretches of light winds (in sheltered valleys or when hugging ridges), but there are strong, sudden gusts punctuating the ride. Swirling winds I added only this year, after becoming dissatisfied with using "gusty" or "strong" to describe certain experiences in the wind. Swirling winds are those that seem to come out of nowhere in particular, are constant and strong, yet never yield a consistent headwind or tailwind. These odd situations deserved a descriptor of their own.
The winds on these chillier days of late fall and early spring steal the warmth of the sun, depleting your enthusiasm as you go. Wind chill is amplified by speed, so it can easily double and drive a 50-degree air temperature into a 30-degree epidermal wrap. A vest is crucial. Gloves need to be heavier than usual.
Luckily, there is hope in a well-planned ride. The most sensible advice about riding on windy days remains, "Ride into the wind on the way out, and catch a tailwind on the way home." If the wind direction is reliable, you may be tired when you finally reach the midpoint of the ride, but when you do turn around, the push of a solid tailwind will soon have you cheering.
Aero bars provide some relief on certain stretches. In fact, they are one of better additions to a bicycle at this time of year. Just watch for unpreditable handling in crosswinds. My new wheels have bladed spokes, and handling is dicey in a crosswind. There is less leverage with aero bars, so a strong gust could have you crashing into the bushes faster than you can say "Rasmussen."
So, here come the seasons of winds. The best we can hope for now are those hushed winter days after a substantial storm, when the sun beats down warmly, the spray from the roads is clean, and the winds have abated. Those lovely winter days of quiet peace lie ahead.
Some experts ask us to greet the wind as a training partner, comparing riding into the wind with climbing hills. There are a few problems with this comparison. Before I climb a hill, I either know the hill already, or can visually assess its grade and length, and then gear down as needed. Also, the grade tends to be pretty uniform, so I can find a groove and crank away, steadily eating away at the definite distance to the top. Finally, once I'm over a substantial hill, I can recover on the descent if I choose, or if the ride isn't whipped up by competition.
Wind, on the other hand, is invisible, so there is no way to assess it. It comes in tumultuous gusts, swirling around you, most often catching you in gears that are not suited to riding uphill or against such an obstacle. The wind wears you out faster and consistently. It never seems to stop once it has started as the calendar ticks into and out of winter. A windy day is just that -- an entire day of wind. Worse still, if climbing is part of your ride, you can bet on a howl of wind being unleashed upon you just as you crest any moderate to major hill, taking away the feeling of accomplishment and replacing it with a stinging slap of cold.
In my cycling log (kept in Excel), the wind comes in five categories -- light, moderate, strong, gusty, and swirling. The main categorical tensions emerge amongst strong, gusty, and swirling. Strong winds are, in my mind, sustained with possible gusts and swirls, but their main feature is their constant presence on a ride. If I feel I can't get away from the wind, there is no respite, then it is a strong wind. Gusty winds, on the other hand, come and go. There may be stretches of light winds (in sheltered valleys or when hugging ridges), but there are strong, sudden gusts punctuating the ride. Swirling winds I added only this year, after becoming dissatisfied with using "gusty" or "strong" to describe certain experiences in the wind. Swirling winds are those that seem to come out of nowhere in particular, are constant and strong, yet never yield a consistent headwind or tailwind. These odd situations deserved a descriptor of their own.
The winds on these chillier days of late fall and early spring steal the warmth of the sun, depleting your enthusiasm as you go. Wind chill is amplified by speed, so it can easily double and drive a 50-degree air temperature into a 30-degree epidermal wrap. A vest is crucial. Gloves need to be heavier than usual.
Luckily, there is hope in a well-planned ride. The most sensible advice about riding on windy days remains, "Ride into the wind on the way out, and catch a tailwind on the way home." If the wind direction is reliable, you may be tired when you finally reach the midpoint of the ride, but when you do turn around, the push of a solid tailwind will soon have you cheering.
Aero bars provide some relief on certain stretches. In fact, they are one of better additions to a bicycle at this time of year. Just watch for unpreditable handling in crosswinds. My new wheels have bladed spokes, and handling is dicey in a crosswind. There is less leverage with aero bars, so a strong gust could have you crashing into the bushes faster than you can say "Rasmussen."
So, here come the seasons of winds. The best we can hope for now are those hushed winter days after a substantial storm, when the sun beats down warmly, the spray from the roads is clean, and the winds have abated. Those lovely winter days of quiet peace lie ahead.
posted by Recycled Cyclist | 7:36 AM
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