It’s been a while since I last wrote about a training ride. This is partly because I nearly always ride the same loop, and partly because I’ve moved most of my training indoors. But today was different.
It’s December. The weather looked moderately survivable. And with a generous amount of stress hormones circulating in my bloodstream, I decided to go outside and turn them into forward motion.
For this ride, I took my trusted steed, Rainbow Dash. I mounted two Revelate feedbags, packed the Apidura frame bag, and brought the tailfin to carry extra layers, because December is not a season, it’s a fashion style. Given the temperature, the overall presentation qualified as post-apocalyptic ice age with intact core temperature.
The Wahoo and the Void
As usual, things went sideways almost immediately. My Wahoo briefly considered showing me cue sheets and then decided against it. The map worked. The route was there. The lovingly crafted custom waypoints? Fully erased from existence.
Technically this wasn’t a big problem, I could still see where I was going. Emotionally, however, this was a personal attack. I build my routes with care. I name things. I add rest points, and they vanished without so much as a goodbye.
Optimism, Traffic, and Immediate Regret
It was cold, between 1 and 5 degrees, but the sun was shining at the start, which created a powerful illusion of comfort. My plan was to ride the Tour de Hieber 2024 as a training round. Reality, however, had booked me into The Festival of Relentless Traffic.
About a quarter in, I abandoned the plan and fled to my standard Rhine loop, where the main hazards consist of water, wind, and my own thoughts. I even passed a small Christmas market.
The Rain and the Layer Debate
Eventually, it started raining. I reluctantly swapped my Gore Phantom Windstopper for the Gore Shake Dry. To my deep confusion, I was actually warmer with fewer layers on. The current working hypothesis is that sweating less prevents one from becoming a damp, refrigerated human.
I made a mandatory bakery stop and secured one bread with cheese and one with salami.
The Bench Situation
On the way back, I noticed that my favourite bench was partially dismantled—the seating boards are gone, only the concrete supports remain. I’m hoping this means it’s being renovated and will return soon. I still took a short break there, balancing my bike on one of the remaining stands using the pedal. It worked. I don’t trust it, but it worked.
Closing Thoughts
Apart from my Wahoo’s refusal to acknowledge my carefully curated cue sheet, everything else worked exactly as intended. The bike rolled, the layers did their job, the bakery delivered, and the Rhine once again provided reliable scenery. In the end, everything worked well enough to get me home in one piece, which remains my preferred outcome for winter rides. As always, I’ll catch you at the next one; and remember to keep the rubber side down!
