Rethinking Lifestyle

The house is black and silent, other than the occasional crack from the walls hinting at how cold the air is outside. I’ve just silenced the alarm so it won’t wake Judy, and gather myself to face the chill in the room. Out of bed, I brave a glance at the thermometer outside the window. The needle is petrified somewhere below -35°C.

Twenty-five minutes later, wearing a week of clothing, I am the first to travel this mile road since the heavy snowfall yesterday. It stretches ahead, an unmarked white mound that parallels the fence line. The black felt above is pierced with countless white points. I stop and stand for a minute to greet my quiet, starry friends. Ahead and slightly left, my imagination gives Mars a reddish hue. I look for Sirius low to the right, but I’ve slept too long. Today, the Gemini have recruited Jupiter to chase Orion from the sky. I look for the Pleiades, but suspect they’ve just dropped below the western horizon.

As I resume pedaling, I observe the road is not entirely untouched. My lights pick out tracks of mice and rabbits. Stories in the snow. I scan hopefully for signs of deer. I hear an owl, and search along the line of hydro poles for him.

A mile away, a few scattered headlights creep along the horizon. I’ve joined those commuters many times for the warm, quick ride to work. But those mornings I’ve missed the chance to start my day with the solitude and silence, stars and snow.

Like other rewarding endeavors, cycling in winter requires planning and motivation. We live in the country where our weather service ends the Extreme Cold Warning as wind chill eases back up to -31. We fully appreciate that Swedish, or Russian, proverb that claims, “There is no bad weather, only bad clothing.”

My planning involves replacing the grease in the bike’s bottom bracket and wheel bearings with a low temperature grease like Lubriplate Mag 1. Bike tires with integrated steel studs are essential at ice-covered intersections. I’ve invested in bright lights that recharge from the USB port on my computer. I have become expert at estimating wind chill, factoring in my 15 mph travel speed and direction. Each winter is an opportunity to experiment with clothing combinations to balance the exercise-generated heat against the cold and wind. Warming the core and legs is easy. A balaclava and ski goggles keep the head warm. Pogies cover the handlebars to keep fingers warm to shift and brake. Though I still seek a good solution to keep toes warm on the longest rides.

Motivation comes from a variety of places. I experience the presence of Creator God in the seasonal changes of Manitoba weather and sky, from driving rain or hail pinging off my helmet, to fantastic light extravaganzas at sunset or dawn, to waves of heat rising off an endless highway. No two rides are the same. I count it a privilege to have the fitness to ride. I have enjoyed riding and running since I was a teenager, so integrate bike commutes into my training for summer marathons and triathlons. There is money to be saved by not buying fuel for a car. And I am glad to do a part to reduce my impact on the environment. But what gets me out the door those coldest mornings is the chance to experience the hand of God who made summer and winter and who “…spreads the snow like wool and scatters the frost like ashes… Who can withstand his icy blast?” (Psalm 147:16-17)