Biking Seattle

There are only so many ways to write about not riding my bike, and far fewer ways to do it that people would actually want to read, but that’s the theme so far this winter.

Part of the problem is my inability to deal with a known bug in my brain’s calculation process. If I ride four times one week, then once the next week, then don’t ride at all, then go out two days, my brain doesn’t think, “I didn’t get out much this month – was lucky to get a ride in each week.” No, the part of my brain which makes these calculations instead feeds me this line: “I’m riding about four times a week. Good work.”

A corollary here is my inclination to weigh the benefits of riding regularly (better fitness, lower weight) and completely discount the effect not getting out might have. This was driven home on a short commuting run last week. After riding to and from campus a couple times a week and adding other rides once or twice a week, I wasn’t exactly sprinting up the hills, but the tamer rises and drops had become a forgotten fact of life. A month or so off the bike, though, left me panting at any incline, even one I’d have counted as “flat” a short time before.

Identifying these issues is far easier than combating the problems. Working from home with classes one day a week makes it easy to pass on riding in the cold and wet, and it doesn’t take long to get out of the habit entirely, staying in even when the sun is out. Facing this blog and seeing the lack of posts might be the best motivation I’ll have – I need to pick up the pace here as well as on my bike. It’s time to give myself something to write about again.

It’s been a long time since I hopped on my bike and went anywhere. Nearly a month, in fact, a period of time which is far too long, but which is not without excuses – I left town over Christmas, a break in classes meant I had fewer reasons to venture out – but mostly the cold, wet and darkness of winter made it easier to drive, or stay close to home (or not go outside at all).

Carkeek path

So when I saw a bit of late afternoon sunshine last week, I made a resolution to venture forth – briefly – for a short afternoon ride, and to head out in a new direction.

Cities have their own gravitational pull, geographically and culturally. From my apartment, Seattle generally pulls south (towards downtown) or east (toward the University). There’s a natural inclination to start out in those directions, not only because it means beginning with a downhill, but because those are the directions where most destinations lay. Even when starting a ride without a destination in mind, or when deciding where, exactly, to go, the unconscious inclination is to start there, in the directions to which I’ve become accustomed.

There’s nothing wrong with letting this impulse guide me most of the time – even starting on a familiar path, there are still wide variations and paths I have not yet seen. But it also makes sense to recognize the routine, and actively decide to go elsewhere, to ride toward the neglected compass points.

So when I headed outside in the thin late-afternoon sunlight, I decided to head north, a way I’d rarely ventured even in a car. For a destination (it’s generally easier for me to choose a spot on the map to head toward, rather than attempting a random route) I settled for a block of green on the map I hadn’t yet seen, Carkeek Park.


The day was chilly, but dry, with clear views across the Sound to the Olympic Mountains, views so impressive I had to stop a number of times when the vista opened on a cross street. When I reached the park, I parked the bike and started down a walking trail to see what I would find with the fading light I had left.

Very quickly, the trail dropped into the trees, a sliver of nature secluded from the surrounding streets. Above, there were still glimpses of houses through the bare branches – I’m sure in summer the full greenery would block even that reminder of the city from the path.

Even though the pavement was dry on my ride, once in the park a fine coat of moisture sat on all surfaces, and in places the trail turned to mud and standing water. The trees seemed to funnel and capture moisture, giving it even more of a feeling of being a separate landscape from the city. The path descended steeply down until it reached the bottom of a ravine, where it joined a wider trail which ran alongside a creek. As I was running low on light, I left the rest of the park for another day.

I rode back, stealing a few more glances of the mountains before sunset, slightly reenergized and resolved to carve out more time for riding and exploration, even in the shortened days.

This was mostly expected, but as the daylight hours recede – shrinking down as the sun is deep into winter hibernation – and the clouds move in, lowering the sky and dropping the blanket of cool moisture on the city, my biking activity has also dropped.

I continue to use my bike as my primary mode of transportation, riding to and from campus regardless of the weather. But the weather (and the workload of the last weeks of my inaugural quarter of grad school) have worked on the back of my brain and kept me from the longer exploratory rides I reveled in when the sun was out.

It hasn’t been a conscious decision, really. It’s just that in the past, where I might have found a spare hour or two, looked out the window and made the decision to ride, now it simply seems more appealing to spend those hours working on something else, or just drinking hot cider and listening to the raindrops on the window.

But as I continue to commute on bike, I’ve found the weather doesn’t really create a barrier to biking. In addition to the rain pants, I made a thrift store find and now have a nice breathable, waterproof jacket (this is a more versatile option than my previous decision of a non-waterproof jacket or a non-breathing rain coat – I would usually go for the non-waterproof item, as even in a heavier rain the exterior would get wet but the water rarely soaked through the interior liner). I still would like to find a better glove option, but I’m OK on that front as well. So it’s no worse biking than walking in the rain, and biking has proven to be a faster option than the bus for any of my short-hop transportation needs.

What the dreariness has done is build a mental barrier which makes it less likely I’ll just hop on and go. But now that the quarter is over and I’ll have more free hours, I’m going to try to at least occasionally step out and pedal a bit. There’s still nearly an entire city to explore.

Thanks to reader AJL for pointing out that the day after I asked what equipment I’d need to survive Seattle’s rainy season, Seattle Bike Blog went ahead and answered my question.

After asking the question here and offline, a few people let me know there wasn’t any must-have equipment for biking, beyond what is must-have for doing anything in the rain.

From Seattle Bike Blog’s post:

Do you own warm clothes that you wear when walking in the rain? Then you already own everything you need to bike in the rain.

Most city bike trips do not require special clothing, even in the rain. Over time, you will discover outfits and items of clothing that make rainy biking more comfortable. But don’t get intimidated by your lack of bike-specific clothing. If what you own keeps you dry enough to wait for a bus or to walk a few blocks from a parked car to your destination, then it is good enough for a quick bike trip across town.

So far, I’ve gotten lucky. Even when the day has been rainy, when I’ve headed out on my bike there have been breaks in the rain. The worst I’ve had to deal with so far is the light mist, or, as it’s known in Seattle, “the air.”

But I’ve realized I’m not quite ready for a long, wet winter. The cold I’m prepared for. The soaking wet, not so much. Tops on my want list: good gloves that will dry quickly, and a better rain jacket. I’ve got a thin rain coat, but it looks like a warm, water-resistant jacket will be more than welcome in the coming months.

Also, I like this description from the SBB post. I don’t know if I’ll find rainy biking will be quite as much of a pick-me-up as this, but I’m willing to try.

Especially once days get really short and gray, biking is my best defense against seasonal affective disorder. Pedaling is like generating your own sunshine. It keeps you feeling energized and in touch with Seattle’s natural rainy whimsy that you might miss otherwise.

I sit here with the rain dripping outside my window, and I realize I’m not equipped for this at all. At least not to take on this weather with my bike.

Since I mostly use my bike for relatively short (five mile) commuting or errand runs, I’ve usually been a fair-weather biker. If it’s nice enough to jump on and go in jeans, I’m there. Perhaps toss a shirt in the bag to change into at the other end. I’ve never bothered to get proper gear even for slightly longer recreational rides, figuring my athletic shorts and a T-shirt would work well enough.

But now I’m trying to get a little more serious about this bike thing, and use it to get around even when the weather doesn’t cooperate. I might even become more adventurous and try to push into the dozens of miles on pleasure rides instead of being happy to break double digits. So I’m aware there are some necessary items I’m missing, but I’m less sure what exactly they are.

So for those of you who are used to hopping on a bike throughout the Seattle winter – how do you equip yourself for the elements? What are the must-haves for a wet biker’s wardrobe?