It’s 7 a.m. and, like many people, I’m getting ready for work. But instead of putting on a pair of dress shoes, I’m putting on my heavy pac boots. Instead of checking my hair in the mirror one last time, I’m pulling on a balaclava and a windproof hat followed by a neck gaiter, bike helmet and finally my ski goggles. I check in the mirror for any exposed skin. Resembling a Power Ranger, I find none.

The outdoor thermometer reads minus 30, the coldest morning of the season so far. I’m feeling a bit nervous, like I do at the starting line of a race. I know I’m prepared, but still, what if something goes wrong?

I open a pair of chemical hand warmers, give them a good shake, and place them inside my warmest mittens. I have found this combination to be the only way to keep my hands warm in the extreme cold. I remind myself that it’s only 5 degrees colder than the day before, and since I didn’t have any problems then, I shouldn’t have any today.

It’s six miles to work and there’s a convenience store about halfway that I could step into if needed. I should never be more than a mile and a half from warmth.

There are two weak links in my daily cycling commute that concern me. The first is my goggles tendency to fog up. I’m not sure if it’s from my breath leaking around my nose into my goggles or if it’s sweat from my forehead collecting and freezing in my goggles. Regardless of the cause, they slowly frost up making it hard to see the road after about four miles. So I bring a second pair of goggles with me, giving me the option of swapping them out should I need to. Of course, to do so means that I must stop, take off my mitts, open my backpack, take off the frosted pair and put on the fresh pair. I’d prefer to not have to stop unless I really have to. Once you stop pedaling, it’s easy to get cold fast.

Frozen free wheel

My other issue is more serious. The free wheel on my bike tends to freeze up at around minus 20. This means that if I stop pedaling for a split second, my bike goes into “neutral”; the free wheel won’t engage and my pedals spin as if my bike had no chain.

This happened about a month earlier. I left the house on a very cold morning, got on my bike and began pedaling. There was nothing there. I brought my bike in the house to heat the rear hub with my wife’s blow-dryer. In no time, the free wheel had thawed out and engaged. I’ve since learned to bring my bike in the house on the coldest nights.

Unfortunately, the free wheel can still refreeze virtually anywhere on my commute if I stop pedaling. Just yesterday, before turning into the driveway that leads to my workplace, I looked over my shoulder to check for cars and unconsciously stopped pedaling for a split second. Instantly my pedals began wind milling. I wasn’t too concerned, though, because I was almost at work and I could have easily walked my bike the last couple hundred yards.

Then I had an idea. Perhaps I could jar my free wheel into working. I got off my bike, picked it up and bounced it against the pavement. I pushed on the pedal and initially felt resistance, but then it was gone. I tried it again, making a point to keep the pressure on the pedals once the free wheel engaged. It worked, and I was able to pedal the rest of the way. Today, however, I did not know if jarring my free wheel would work or not. I had never tried it at minus 30.

Out the door

It was getting late. I turned on my front light and rear blinker, and pushed my bike out of the house and into the frigid air. After only a few seconds, my Gore-Tex-like jacket changed from soft to as crunchy as a potato chip bag. I needed to get moving before the cold penetrated that outer layer and the two thermal layers of polypropylene underneath. As I pedaled down my driveway, I focused on the warmth coming from the chemical hand warmers in my mittens.

Little by little, I felt the chill penetrate my jacket and balaclava. I reminded myself that this was OK. I should feel a little chilled in the first mile or so. If I didn’t, I knew I’d be overheating a couple of miles later.

Slowly the chill faded and I began to feel quite comfortable. Only my upper lip felt cold. My balaclava had started to take on moisture from my breath. My lower lip was protected by my neck gaiter pulled up against it. If I pulled up my neck gaiter any further to warm my upper lip, it would cover my mouth and I wouldn’t be able to draw in enough oxygen. I consciously exhaled downward to minimize the amount of breath being directed toward my goggles. I wanted to delay their fogging up as long as possible.

I continue to concentrate on the totality of my circumstance. My ears listen for the sound of approaching cars over the gritty sound of my studded tires clawing the blacktop and the hypnotic repetition of my heavy breath leaving and returning. I focus on staying to the right side of the white line and watching for ice and debris on the shoulder of the road. I frequently twist my head around to check for car lights closing in on me while doing my best to make sure that I never cross into the driving lane. Fortunately, fewer than a dozen cars typically pass me from behind during my rural highway commute.

My goggles have fogged up noticeably by now but I decide it’s not yet time to switch to my reserve pair.

On autopilot

Time slips away and a deep calm takes over me. Without any awareness of when it happened, I am no longer in my body. My legs are pumping, but without effort. There is no sound. There is no boundary between me and my surroundings because there is no me. All that exits is peace and beauty. And then that slips away, and reality returns.

My legs feel heavy. I instinctively shift down one gear to climb a hill about a mile from work. My goggles are frosted over now, but the sky is glowing brighter and I can still see well enough. I realize that if I stop now, my bike could slip into neutral forcing me to walk the last mile to work.

To pass some time, I daydream about participating in the annual Arrowhead 135 Mile Ultramarathon, a human-powered race in northern Minnesota held in early February. Each racer is required to carry enough food, water and gear to sustain them for three days and two nights outdoors in the bitter cold. Commuting a few miles to and from work is nothing in comparison and that awareness keeps me humble when my co-workers suggest that my winter commutes are something impressive.

I notice a car approaching from behind and another farther away in front of me. I move farther to the right. As odds would have it, we all meet at the same time. No one has any room for error. And then the cars and the danger they pose is gone.

As I pedal, I feel a bead of sweat run down my back next to my spine. It’s extremely cold out, but I’m quite comfortable, if not a bit warm. Most car commuters think I’m crazy to commute in the cold. Yet, they have to sit idly in a cold car until it warms up, usually about the time they arrive at work. I prefer the challenge of winter bike commuting, not to mention the benefits including improving my health, saving money and reducing my carbon footprint.

I finally turn into the driveway at work. I pull my goggles down around my neck and realize just how much the frosted lenses had muddied my vision. It’s a problem that I don’t know how to solve. As I approach the minimally heated maintenance shed where I store my bike, I decide to stop pedaling to test my free wheel. As anticipated, it freezes up instantly. I stop, get off my bike and bounce it hard on the frozen ground. I push against the pedals, but there is no resistance. I try it again harder with no luck. As I put my bike away, I am grateful that I remembered to keep pedaling the entire way. I know the free wheel will engage before I ride home. By then the temperature should warm up to near zero. It’ll be a nice ride home.

Byron Kuster lives in northern Minnesota and has biked to work year-round for the past 10 years. He also enjoys running and is the race director of the 5K and 10K Mercy Foundation Moose Run in Moose Lake, Minnesota. His e-mail address is bkuster@mchsi.com.

Winter cycling tips

Stay visible

Use a headlamp and taillights with fresh batteries. Strobe lights command the most attention. Remember that batteries lose charge when very cold.

Wear reflective clothing

Place reflective tape on your bike: white facing forward and red facing back.

Stay upright

Use studded tires. If you can only afford one studded tire, mount it on the front.

Stay warm

Dress in layers with a wicking fabric next to skin, an insulating layer in the middle and a wind barrier on the outside. Dress so that you are a little chilled during the first mile. If you are warm right away, you will be sweating before long and then you will get cold.

Use chemical hand warmers on the coldest days. They are cheap and effective. Keeping hands and feet warm presents the greatest challenge to being comfortable.

Stay safe

Keep your bike in good mechanical condition and have a plan if something were to go wrong.

If you are going on a long ride, let others know where you are going, the route you will be taking and when you plan to return.

And bring a cell phone with fully charged batteries.

— B.K.

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