Winter rides

The roads are clean and dry today, however reports are that some weather is heading this way. With the threatening of a couple of inches of snow coming, noontime today might be the only chance to get out for a ride this weekend. Jan had a couple of noon appointments today, so I didn't feel guilty rushing down to the basement to suit up. I always look forward to sharing lunch with Jan, traditionally followed by a trip to Mashpee Commons for a coffee and/or a beach walk with the pups. But I miss the open road, and suffice to say that training on the rollers in front of the tv just isn't the same.

Dressing for ride at freezing temps takes up valuable time when trying to squeeze training into a lunch hour. Once all the proper gear has been located and piled together, clothing is then layered on to provide the best protection against the wind. With an avg of 20 mph, and max of 30 mph, the wind chill can cut through the layers of synthetic fibers. At the same time, a balance needs to be achieved so moisture can escape lest I become a sopping bag of sweat.

So, on goes the wool socks, cycling shorts, fleecy tights, thick polypro undershirt, my new Black Dog winter jersey, windproof jacket, lobster mitts, skull cap, ear band, helmet, and finally booties. I grunt while pulling the tight first layer over my skin, then another layer over that. I groan while twisting to reach zippers and velcro tabs to close and block wind holes. I'm exhausted just getting dressed.

Finally, bike at my side, I exit the garage only to encounter the icy obstacle that is the driveway. Following our Cape Xmas snow storm, repeated trips up and down the driveway in the car has left a layer of compressed ice. Tip-toeing over his mini glacier, I finally place the thin bike tire on the road and press off.

Today would be the usual Sandwich 22 mile training ride. I head right up the hill, past the Cotuit post office, Kettle Ho, then make a quick 90° left on to Main St. Settling into ride tempo, I pass by Richard's place (I notice his car), swing right onto Santuit-Newtown Rd, then head toward Hwy 28.

Approaching the intersection, I slow and survey the traffic. This is always the most treacherous moment of the ride. With no traffic light to stop traffic and marshal me across, I can't afford to dismount. If a hole doesn't open to dart across, I execute tight circles and wait. Most motorists are courteous and will slow to give me an opportunity to cross. I need to maintain the highest possible alertness at this juncture and I vow never to become complacent, or allow myself to forget what happened at the Osterville intersection. Although every moment of a ride can suddenly tilt to disaster, there are moments requiring extra caution - this being that moment.

I cross safely and power on to Farmersville Rd. The road is relatively flat, but there are enough undulations to force attention to cadence. The clothing makes me feel fat and slow, and I think back to the summer rides where I relished the flow of air over my skin. Slowing at the Ridge Club, I cross Farmersville and drop swiftly down Great Hill Rd to Lawrence Pond. Just as my downhill momentum ebbs, I feel the long climb up the mid-Cape ridge start to tug at my back wheel. This is the beginning of a long 250 ft vertical that starts where Great Hill Rd becomes Chase Rd. I usually challenge myself to a strong climbing pace on this hill. but today I watch the numbers on speedometer creep down as I pedal. I don't mind. It's soothing to feel the bike moving with the rhythm of my body.

Up and over the crest of the ridge, I drop down over the Mid Cape Hwy (#6) along Chase until I come up to Old Country Lane. This is my favourite left hand turn and if conditions are right - no traffic and good grip - I can dive into the turn with only a momentary touch of the brakes. This is the point in the ride where I can feel the engineering excellence of the Madone frame as the bumpy road twists toward Cranberry Hwy (6a). I love this part of the ride any season. It is pure Cape Cod with cranberry bogs, cedar shake homes, a serene glacial pond, and majestic rows of oak trees. As my wheels stutter over the Cape tourist train railway, I see the East Sandwich Post Office just ahead. This is the half-way point and I slow to sweep around and point my wheel back up the road.

Running the trip in reverse, each previous bob sled ride down now becomes an upward trudge. But the opposite is also true. The return trip seems to be a completely different road when viewed from the mirror side. I absorb the winter views: ice on the ponds, crusty snow at the side of the road, statuesque oak branches devoid of leaves. Everything melts together in my eyes with the rush of the cold winter air. It is a winter ride.