Racing tug

Date: Jan. 15
Mileage: 21.5
January mileage: 364.4
Temperature upon departure: 38

The wind advisory was extended to 3 p.m. Gusts to 50 mph, it warned. Warned of wind - but it but it felt more like taking a blunt hit to the chest. It's headwind like this that forces me to duck as low as I can on the handlebars, let my helmet take the brunt of the blast, and hope against hope that I'm still moving forward.

The highway south snakes along the narrow passage between the mountains and the channel. In high-wind high tides, the waves practically crash up on the road. Seagulls drift in with the surf. I watch them jump and flutter erratically over surging whitecaps. That's when I notice - churning several hundred yards distant over a parallel path - a barge-towing tug boat.

I mash the front shock over loose blocks of ice and notice that tug is moving the same, nodding through a surge of waves. As we heave forward, tug stays right with me, practically mimicking my every movement as we struggle together for distance. I am not about to be beaten by a ploddy tug boat. So I mash harder.

Tug falls slowly behind as I swerve around waterfall-gushing cliffs and set into a series of short climbs. As I round one bend, another unexpected gust blasts me backward. I squint into the pounding rain and hold my breath against the oxygen vacuum. And as I tilt my head against my shoulder, I see tug is right back with me again, bouncing indifferently across our parallel line.

I surge down the hill and emerge in an open river crossing. It's here that I'm exposed entirely to the full blast of wind. Through eyelids clamped shut and gasps of shortened breath, I begin to appreciate exactly what tug is fighting. Side by side we move south, buffeted by waves and wind. I no longer feel like racing ahead of tug. I take comfort in the fact tug's there.

The miles plod by as only miles can plod by. We both take a wind beating and get soaked in the process. In the end, a long downhill forces my breakaway from tug. I stop at the dead end of the road and wait on a snow berm for tug to float by. I watch it churn south, toward places I've never been; toward places I'd love to go. Someday. But right now, I have a 50 mph tailwind to race me home.

Remind me why biking is fun

Date: Jan. 14
Mileage: 23.0
January mileage: 342.9
Temperature upon departure: 35

I had a terrible ride today. Just awful. It was like a really bad B-movie, almost comical in the way that all of the wrong elements fit perfectly together. It may even qualify for the over-the-top rating of “Worst ... Ride ... Ever.”

Not really. But by the time I set out today, all of the freezing rain had turned into plain ol’ regular rain, which streamed in torrents down the glare-ice-covered roads. I took my studless snow bike because I assumed I’d just ride in the snowy shoulder. But the rain-stewed slop that remained from Friday’s snowfall was nearly impossible to negotiate. The conditions were a sourdough starter for mushy disaster. On days like this, I should learn when to cash in my chips and hit the gym. But I can be pretty stubborn when I want to be. After all, I had just spent a half hour designing a new wet-weather ensemble, and I wanted to test it for butt-cheek-warming and dry-feet capabilities. (Addendum: After two hours, I still came home with a cold butt and wet feet.)

You know a ride is bad when three miles in, you’re already cursing cars just for being there. I wove through the slick slop in the shoulder, spinning at skin-freezing slowness just to stay in control. I wanted so badly just to ride on the smooth, icy road, but it was too risky with the vehicles. It was too risky period, without studded tires. But I ventured on to the road once I passed the Eaglecrest access road, where about 99 percent of the traffic turns off. It was slick but manageable - as long as I kept my butt planted on the saddle. It was good practice for steering Snaux Bike on ice, anyway.

But then I hit the boat launch. There, the forest canopy gives way to a narrow cliffside that is fiercely exposed to the sea. Intense wind gushed up the channel. I hadn’t noticed the tailwind before, riding as slow as I was, but there it was beyond ignoring. It pushed me faster than I cared to go. Since braking wasn’t really an option, I decided to test how far I could ride without pedaling. It turned out to be far. Really far. Almost two miles far. (OK, I pedaled a little in there.) At the turnaround point, I managed to finally stop the bike and dismount. But as soon as I had both of my N.E.O.S. overboots planted firmly on the wet ice, a huge gust tore the bike right out of my hands and blasted me several more feet up the road. That’s right. I was standing on my two legs on the road, continuing to be pushed forward by that tailwind.

I couldn’t even keep the bike rubber-side down just standing there. It was clear that riding back was not an option. Walking on the road wasn’t even an option. I had to climb over the guardrail so I could trudge through the sometimes knee-deep snow. I definitely built some good bike-pushing muscles doing that.

As soon as I hiked back to the relative shelter of the tree canopy, the rest of the ride was a fairly predictable slushy slog into a headwind. It lacked the drama of the wind-blasted ice road, but there was enough stinging rain to make it miserable enough.

And the best part? I went to bed last night thinking I would wake up to a fun, tasty trail ride today. That won’t really be an viable option until it cools down again. Until then, I’m back to remembering why December nearly drove me to register for a season of indoor spinning classes.

Freezing rain

Date: Jan. 13
Mileage: 36.1
January mileage: 319.9
Temperature upon departure: 29

I have heard about these storms hitting the Midwest, but I have never actually seen freezing rain. The concept doesn't even make sense to me. If temperatures are below freezing, and it's precipitating, why wouldn't it just snow? But I set out today in a cold drizzle that settled as droplets of clear ice on everything. Soon enough, the front end of my bike was covered in a frozen shell, and my coat and pants looked like I had been blasted with shaved ice. The rain made quick work of the snow-packed roads, too. Nine inches of new powder fell yesterday, so the shoulders were soft and deep. But the plow-scraped areas became as slick as hockey rinks. I made a solid effort to stay out of the path of traffic, even though it meant plowing my own path through several inches of ice-crusted snow. Such an interesting weather phenomenon, this freezing rain.

I have been feeling a little on edge lately. I think it's because this month I've increased my daily exercise routines from 1-2 hours to 2-4 hours. This has cut noticeably into my free time, but since I'm as yet unwilling to give up my other habits - you know, like blogging and sleeping - I feel like I'm constantly rushing around.

Also, my appetite's gone nutty. There doesn't seem to be enough carbs in all the land to fill me up. I'm trying to be conscientious about my food intake (after all, I'm not burning that many more calories) but the sugar cravings have broken me down more than once. Maybe SAD has returned, or maybe my body's just trying to figure out what it needs. I try to cover up the constant hungry feeling with caffeine, but that just makes me more edgy. I've actually snapped at people at work. Those kind of uncontrolled outbursts are rare for me.

Anyway, I'm off to bed to squeeze in the eight hours of unconsciousness. I noticed that my knees are pretty sore after the weekend's hike. I think sometime soon I need to take the bike out on some deep trails for a push-fest, build up the hike-a-bike muscles that will likely come in handy. But tomorrow, with a fresh coat of new snow expected, I hope to find some freezing rain-coated goodness.