I went riding on Staten Island yesterday. Yep, now that I’m living in Manhattan almost 100%, I figured I’d tie the bike to the back of the girlfriend’s car and join the Staten Island club for the round-the-island-dodge-the-potholes-and-bicycle-friendly-drivers ride.
Rather than provide a play-by-play, there are a few things about riding on Staten Island that I’ve missed the past ten months and there are a few things about riding on Staten Island that I will never miss.
THINGS I WILL NEVER MISS ABOUT STATEN ISLAND:
1. Goddam effing drivers, commonly referred to Joey Macaroni, Joey Goombah, Fat Joey, Fat Danny, etc.
2. Goddam effing road quality
3. Goddam effing beautiful scenery
4. Goddam effing bike lanes in the most useless areas
4. Goddam effing dump
5. Goddam effing drivers . . . wait, I mentioned that one already, but I guess they’re worth mentioning again
THINGS I MISS ABOUT STATEN ISLAND:
I don’t technically miss anything about Staten Island with the exception of the club rides. As per my notes above, I could do without the potholes and whatnot, but the characters and conversation are second-to-none and since I simply can’t seem to find such colorful exchanges in any of the other cycling groups, I occasionally return for a ride on Staten Island. Sure, I probably did more damage to my bike yesterday in three hours than I did all summer, but isn’t it worth it to listen to Dr. Rob go off once in a while? Isn’t it worth it to listen to Ed and Vito calmly telling each other to go f#ck one another?
I think it is.
Monday, December 31
Tuesday, December 25
The Sunshine State
So I’m down here in Florida on vacation. I’m in Wellington, Florida, to be exact and, rather than ship my bike down or invest in a piece of bike luggage, I rented a bike from a place in Palm Beach. To be exact, my girlfriend rented it for me. Rented it for three days, to be even more exact. When a girl doesn’t ride but she rents a bike for you to ride, is that true love? As Kenny Picco said, “Dude, she TOTALLY hooked you up.”
That she did.
Anyway, like I was saying, it’s now December 23rd and I’m in Florida. Been here since Thursday and I’ve been out riding two hours every morning in the lovely Florida weather. No tights. No long-finger gloves. No sweat-wicking caps. Not frosty breath. No constantly dripping nose. No booties. No feet warmers. Every morning I’ve hit the road with my Camelbak, my pump stuffed in the Pump Port, a few granola bars, a few gels, my cell phone, driver’s license, and a couple of bucks. I throw a leg over my rented Trek 2.1 wearing a short-sleeved jersey, a pair of shorts, gloves, a helmet, and that’s it.
And I’m doing all this in the end of December. Who’s better than me?
Apart from riding in eighty-degree weather a few days before Christmas (and as all us northeasterners know, that’s just wrong on so many different levels), the roads down here are not only pristine, but they’re flat as boards and straight as rails. For instance, I’ve been riding from Point A to Point B along Route 441:
As I said, flat as a board and straight as a rail, although 441 does come complete with a bike lane, at least until you hit Boca.
My starting point every morning has been here, this community where the Katzman family (my girlfriend’s family, obviously) lives . . .
. . . which is this far from the beach.
When we first rented the bike, I started from Palm Beach and followed the following route:
Nice ride along the water, but A1A is only a two-lane road, so I had a fair amount of traffic bearing down on me from behind.
But then I made a right there on 802 and started heading west when (a) a few drops of rain began falling from the sky, (b) the neighborhood demographics changed from over-the-top mansions along A1A to considerably smaller haciendas and plenty of Dos Amigos convenient stores, and (c) I began to encounter a sweltering headwind, but hey, if you don’t have hills, the least you can do is ride into a headwind, right?
And that was it. That was the trip. Sure, I probably could have been a bit more adventurous and made a few more left and rights, but when all the streets are straight and flat, what’s the point? I would basically leave the Katzman compound, head south on 441 for an hour or so and then turn around and return to the Katzman compound to find my girlfriend lounging by the pool. After a quick shower, I’d join, wait for happy hour, have a few drinks, have dinner, maybe do a bit of swimming, and then repeated the following day.
I’m assuming this is how debutantes live. They have their own activity on the side but most of the free time is spent drinking and lounging. Not sure how I feel about that. Put a gun to my head for saying this, but maybe there is something to be said for working.
Jesus, did I really just say that?
That she did.
Anyway, like I was saying, it’s now December 23rd and I’m in Florida. Been here since Thursday and I’ve been out riding two hours every morning in the lovely Florida weather. No tights. No long-finger gloves. No sweat-wicking caps. Not frosty breath. No constantly dripping nose. No booties. No feet warmers. Every morning I’ve hit the road with my Camelbak, my pump stuffed in the Pump Port, a few granola bars, a few gels, my cell phone, driver’s license, and a couple of bucks. I throw a leg over my rented Trek 2.1 wearing a short-sleeved jersey, a pair of shorts, gloves, a helmet, and that’s it.
And I’m doing all this in the end of December. Who’s better than me?
Apart from riding in eighty-degree weather a few days before Christmas (and as all us northeasterners know, that’s just wrong on so many different levels), the roads down here are not only pristine, but they’re flat as boards and straight as rails. For instance, I’ve been riding from Point A to Point B along Route 441:
As I said, flat as a board and straight as a rail, although 441 does come complete with a bike lane, at least until you hit Boca.
My starting point every morning has been here, this community where the Katzman family (my girlfriend’s family, obviously) lives . . .
. . . which is this far from the beach.
When we first rented the bike, I started from Palm Beach and followed the following route:
Nice ride along the water, but A1A is only a two-lane road, so I had a fair amount of traffic bearing down on me from behind.
But then I made a right there on 802 and started heading west when (a) a few drops of rain began falling from the sky, (b) the neighborhood demographics changed from over-the-top mansions along A1A to considerably smaller haciendas and plenty of Dos Amigos convenient stores, and (c) I began to encounter a sweltering headwind, but hey, if you don’t have hills, the least you can do is ride into a headwind, right?
And that was it. That was the trip. Sure, I probably could have been a bit more adventurous and made a few more left and rights, but when all the streets are straight and flat, what’s the point? I would basically leave the Katzman compound, head south on 441 for an hour or so and then turn around and return to the Katzman compound to find my girlfriend lounging by the pool. After a quick shower, I’d join, wait for happy hour, have a few drinks, have dinner, maybe do a bit of swimming, and then repeated the following day.
I’m assuming this is how debutantes live. They have their own activity on the side but most of the free time is spent drinking and lounging. Not sure how I feel about that. Put a gun to my head for saying this, but maybe there is something to be said for working.
Jesus, did I really just say that?
Sunday, December 16
Cordial? Manners? Couth?
Can we all agree that time trial helmets are one of the more ridiculous cycling products ever invented? Granted, I realize there are aerodynamic benefits to be had from wearing such an awkward-looking device one one’s head while one is in the midst of a time trial, but let’s be honest. While cyclist and cycling fans the world over may have glazed over their initial impressions of time trial helmets (which we can abbreviate as TTH for the remainder of this update) once the aerodynamic function of the elven-shaped helmet have been explained, they’re still ridiculous.
Are we all on the same page? I know they might look cool (“might” being the operative word there) while watching one of the pros blast along at 30 MPH hunched over their aerobars, but you really should admit to yourself that whenever you’ve seen a cyclist not hunched over their bike and wearing the TTH while standing around, it looks like a fashion gone horribly, horribly wrong.
With all that said, from this day forward, I’m taking an anti-TTH stance. Even in the unlikely event I turn into a time-trialing freak and spend 98% of my disposable income on time trial bikes and time trial equipment I will never, EVER, lay a TTH upon my head. I’m sure you’re as okay with that as I am, but I wanted to toss it out there anyway.
Shifting gears, I went for a ride this morning. As I’m all but living in the Upper West Side now, I rolled out of the apartment, hooked a left on 71st Street, a right on West End Avenue, a left on 72nd Street, and a right on Riverside Drive which took me all the way to 165th Street where I made another right and climbed the short yet relatively steep hill that leads to . . . you know, I really should pay better attention. I made a left at the next traffic light--whatever that street is--and then made my glorious yet freezing way to the GWB.
On my way over the bridge, I was sitting behind a pair of girl (cyclists) waiting for bridge path to widen so I could pass safely when some douchebag wearing a local team kit began yelling at me to hold my line (which I was holding just fine, thank you very much) so he could squeeze by on the left.
My initial instinct, of course, was to unclip my left shoe and kick the little douchebag in the head, but I’m something of a rational and well-adjust human being so I let it go. It’s nice to let things go (when you can, although some people really do need a kick in the head once in a while), so just like that, I let it go, but I thought to myself, Let’s check something out.
For the remainder of the ride, I waved at every cyclist passing on the opposite side of the street and said, “How’s it going?” to every person I passed on my side of the street.
Survey says? Sorry, but most road cyclists are douchebags. Correction: most roadies act like douchebags.
Of all the cyclists to whom I either waved or said hello, NONE of those wearing team kits acknowledged me whatsoever. Of those riders not wearing team kits, I would say only 10% to 20% acknowledged me with a wave or a nod of the head.
What the hell is it about a matching jersey and tights that causes roadies to act the way they do? It absolutely bewilders me. Regardless, my new policy, along with never, EVER wearing a TTH, will now include waving and saying hello to every cyclist I see on the road, acknowledgement or not. I’m not going to let incessant douchebag behavior turn me into a douchebag. Nuh-uh. Not me.
Are we all on the same page? I know they might look cool (“might” being the operative word there) while watching one of the pros blast along at 30 MPH hunched over their aerobars, but you really should admit to yourself that whenever you’ve seen a cyclist not hunched over their bike and wearing the TTH while standing around, it looks like a fashion gone horribly, horribly wrong.
With all that said, from this day forward, I’m taking an anti-TTH stance. Even in the unlikely event I turn into a time-trialing freak and spend 98% of my disposable income on time trial bikes and time trial equipment I will never, EVER, lay a TTH upon my head. I’m sure you’re as okay with that as I am, but I wanted to toss it out there anyway.
Shifting gears, I went for a ride this morning. As I’m all but living in the Upper West Side now, I rolled out of the apartment, hooked a left on 71st Street, a right on West End Avenue, a left on 72nd Street, and a right on Riverside Drive which took me all the way to 165th Street where I made another right and climbed the short yet relatively steep hill that leads to . . . you know, I really should pay better attention. I made a left at the next traffic light--whatever that street is--and then made my glorious yet freezing way to the GWB.
On my way over the bridge, I was sitting behind a pair of girl (cyclists) waiting for bridge path to widen so I could pass safely when some douchebag wearing a local team kit began yelling at me to hold my line (which I was holding just fine, thank you very much) so he could squeeze by on the left.
My initial instinct, of course, was to unclip my left shoe and kick the little douchebag in the head, but I’m something of a rational and well-adjust human being so I let it go. It’s nice to let things go (when you can, although some people really do need a kick in the head once in a while), so just like that, I let it go, but I thought to myself, Let’s check something out.
For the remainder of the ride, I waved at every cyclist passing on the opposite side of the street and said, “How’s it going?” to every person I passed on my side of the street.
Survey says? Sorry, but most road cyclists are douchebags. Correction: most roadies act like douchebags.
Of all the cyclists to whom I either waved or said hello, NONE of those wearing team kits acknowledged me whatsoever. Of those riders not wearing team kits, I would say only 10% to 20% acknowledged me with a wave or a nod of the head.
What the hell is it about a matching jersey and tights that causes roadies to act the way they do? It absolutely bewilders me. Regardless, my new policy, along with never, EVER wearing a TTH, will now include waving and saying hello to every cyclist I see on the road, acknowledgement or not. I’m not going to let incessant douchebag behavior turn me into a douchebag. Nuh-uh. Not me.
Thursday, December 6
Warm Feet Delivered Straight To Your Home
So the new Pearl Izumi AmFib MTB booties? They FREAKING rock! Highly recommended.
I’ve been spending the week here in the city and last night I went for a ride in Central Park last night. Snow? Yes, it was snowing, but hardly enough to stick. On Park Drive, the snow was only sticking on those parts of the street where an underpass existed (sort of like a bridge?) and even in those spots it was only a thin covering.
Regardless, the temperatures were way down in the thirties and my feet were comfy. Granted, I now stick those air-activated toe warmers to the top of my thick wool socks before slipping my feet into my size 50 Sidis before slipping those into the new booties, but I don’t think my feet could have been any more comfortable than they were last night.
Also, if you suffer from big feet the way I do (meaning you probably also suffer from another uncommon condition, but it’s not the kind of condition anyone would ever complain of), the XXL Pearl Izumi booties are a pleasure to get on. Last winter, I was wearing Craft booties but they were so damn tight the zipper eventually gave out. The AmFib booties fit like a snug glove--no hassles.
And that’s that. If you don’t use the toe warmers, I highly recommend those as well. Sure, they’re going to cost a couple of bucks--about $1.50 a pair--but isn’t it worth it for warm toes? It damn well is to me and they supposedly stay warm for 6 hours. Supposedly . . .
I’ve been spending the week here in the city and last night I went for a ride in Central Park last night. Snow? Yes, it was snowing, but hardly enough to stick. On Park Drive, the snow was only sticking on those parts of the street where an underpass existed (sort of like a bridge?) and even in those spots it was only a thin covering.
Regardless, the temperatures were way down in the thirties and my feet were comfy. Granted, I now stick those air-activated toe warmers to the top of my thick wool socks before slipping my feet into my size 50 Sidis before slipping those into the new booties, but I don’t think my feet could have been any more comfortable than they were last night.
Also, if you suffer from big feet the way I do (meaning you probably also suffer from another uncommon condition, but it’s not the kind of condition anyone would ever complain of), the XXL Pearl Izumi booties are a pleasure to get on. Last winter, I was wearing Craft booties but they were so damn tight the zipper eventually gave out. The AmFib booties fit like a snug glove--no hassles.
And that’s that. If you don’t use the toe warmers, I highly recommend those as well. Sure, they’re going to cost a couple of bucks--about $1.50 a pair--but isn’t it worth it for warm toes? It damn well is to me and they supposedly stay warm for 6 hours. Supposedly . . .
Sunday, December 2
Heading South Again
It’s starting to look like my days in Westchester may be numbered. For those of you who know me well enough, you may be assuming I’ve gone and punched out another high school kid and the authorities of the pleasant village of Pleasantville have finally asked that I pack my bags and leave for the sake of their obnoxious high school students. (As usual, that’s a whole other story.) I’m happy to say that I’ll be leaving Pleasantville of my own free will (as it should be with a name like Pleasantville). As I said, it’s looking as though I may be moving back into Manhattan not long after the New Year passes.
Of course, I don’t want to jinx myself by talking about it too much before it actually happens, but come on. It’s important to plan accordingly based on where you think your life is heading and I definitely think this is where my life is heading--living not far from Central Park (once again).
So what does that mean? In other words, who gives a shit if I’m moving from Westchester to Manhattan? Well, for starters, it means I can be one of the cool kids again. Go ahead and say it: Donaldson, you never really were one of the cool kids and it’s hard to imagine you ever will be one of the cool kids. Maybe there’s something to that and maybe there isn’t, but I figured I’d toss it out there anyway. When I say I’ll be one of the cool kids again, I mean I won’t have to spend almost three hours a day commuting to and from work (because really, that does suck the big donkey). I won’t have to schedule myself around the Metronorth train schedule. I won’t have to drive two miles to the Shoprite in Thornwood. Instead, I can walk two blocks to an over-crowded and over-priced Food Emporium on the corner of 68th and Broadway. (Who’s better than me?) I won’t have to do a lot of the thing suburbanites have to do (although I can’t seem to think of any one of them right now), which is nice.
Sort of. While it also means I’ll have the convenience of riding in Central Park during the week--wide road, no traffic, etc.--I’m losing the long weekend rides through the back roads. Sure, I can ride over the GWB and up 9W every Saturday and Sunday, but honestly, 9W really isn’t that nice. I see myself occasionally hopping back on Metronorth to catch a ride with the Westchester club, maybe something that starts in lower half of the country around Hartsdale or Scarsdale.
You know, I almost forgot one other major consequence of possibly moving back into the city. I’m thinking that perhaps I’ll join CRCA, but again, I don’t want to be one of those guys who talks about what he wants to do and then never actually does it. While joining CRCA is not that big of a deal in and of itself, it means I could try to join one of their sponsored racing teams. The question is, though, do I want to do that? Do I want to spend weekends traveling to races in the Northeast? I mean, I enjoy racing locally in Prospect Park, but I don’t want to make a career out of racing. I don’t need to deal with teammates who spend every waking moment poring over the strategy for next weekend’s race. In other words, I want to have fun, ride hard, and hop in a few races, but I don’t want to go so far that riding my bike is no longer enjoyable.
That make sense? Maybe I’ll just join CRCA as a racing member, not join a specific team, race a few club races in Central Park, show up for a few of their coaching sessions (free for members, I believe), enjoy wearing the CRCA jersey, and leave it at that. I think that may work. I want to have fun and take it semi-seriously, but I don’t need to find myself surrounded by a bunch of wanna-be ProTour racers.
And that’s it, I think. That’s how I see my cycling changing if . . . I mean when I move back into the city. Any thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? And I mean suggestions other than throwing myself out a window, so don’t even think about it.
Of course, I don’t want to jinx myself by talking about it too much before it actually happens, but come on. It’s important to plan accordingly based on where you think your life is heading and I definitely think this is where my life is heading--living not far from Central Park (once again).
So what does that mean? In other words, who gives a shit if I’m moving from Westchester to Manhattan? Well, for starters, it means I can be one of the cool kids again. Go ahead and say it: Donaldson, you never really were one of the cool kids and it’s hard to imagine you ever will be one of the cool kids. Maybe there’s something to that and maybe there isn’t, but I figured I’d toss it out there anyway. When I say I’ll be one of the cool kids again, I mean I won’t have to spend almost three hours a day commuting to and from work (because really, that does suck the big donkey). I won’t have to schedule myself around the Metronorth train schedule. I won’t have to drive two miles to the Shoprite in Thornwood. Instead, I can walk two blocks to an over-crowded and over-priced Food Emporium on the corner of 68th and Broadway. (Who’s better than me?) I won’t have to do a lot of the thing suburbanites have to do (although I can’t seem to think of any one of them right now), which is nice.
Sort of. While it also means I’ll have the convenience of riding in Central Park during the week--wide road, no traffic, etc.--I’m losing the long weekend rides through the back roads. Sure, I can ride over the GWB and up 9W every Saturday and Sunday, but honestly, 9W really isn’t that nice. I see myself occasionally hopping back on Metronorth to catch a ride with the Westchester club, maybe something that starts in lower half of the country around Hartsdale or Scarsdale.
You know, I almost forgot one other major consequence of possibly moving back into the city. I’m thinking that perhaps I’ll join CRCA, but again, I don’t want to be one of those guys who talks about what he wants to do and then never actually does it. While joining CRCA is not that big of a deal in and of itself, it means I could try to join one of their sponsored racing teams. The question is, though, do I want to do that? Do I want to spend weekends traveling to races in the Northeast? I mean, I enjoy racing locally in Prospect Park, but I don’t want to make a career out of racing. I don’t need to deal with teammates who spend every waking moment poring over the strategy for next weekend’s race. In other words, I want to have fun, ride hard, and hop in a few races, but I don’t want to go so far that riding my bike is no longer enjoyable.
That make sense? Maybe I’ll just join CRCA as a racing member, not join a specific team, race a few club races in Central Park, show up for a few of their coaching sessions (free for members, I believe), enjoy wearing the CRCA jersey, and leave it at that. I think that may work. I want to have fun and take it semi-seriously, but I don’t need to find myself surrounded by a bunch of wanna-be ProTour racers.
And that’s it, I think. That’s how I see my cycling changing if . . . I mean when I move back into the city. Any thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? And I mean suggestions other than throwing myself out a window, so don’t even think about it.
Winter Training Begins
All right, all right, all right. So it’s been a long while since my last post. Go ahead and sue me, but these things happen.
Actually, I don’t mean to sound like a whiney douchebag, although I do have two excuses in that (a) it has been ridiculously busy at work, and (b) it’s cold outside and when it’s cold outside, it’s not as much fun to ride as it is when it’s warm outside. Am I right or am I right?
Speaking of the cold, it wasn’t long ago that I arrived home on a weeknight, suited up for temperatures in the high-forties, strapped the blinking headlight to the handlebars and the blinking taillight to the seat post, and hit the road for my usual 18-mile weekday training ride. Honestly, it was the first time since last spring that I had to wear full-fingered gloves, a baselayer, a long-sleeved jersey, leg warmers, my Woolie Boolie socks, and my riding cap under my helmet. I mention all this as, once my ride was over and I climbed the stairs to the front door of my house and stepped inside, I had one of those flashbacks, but not the drug-induced kind of flashback. The moment I stepped inside out of the cold, an entire winter’s worth of riding came back to me all at once. Know what I mean? The season’s change and you spend so long riding on warm mornings with just a jersey and a pair of shorts that you forget how long it takes to gear up when the temperature drops below fifty. You almost forget how good it feels to get home, blow your nose with a tissue (as opposed to umpteen snot-shots while on the road), peel off all the layers, and hop in a hot shower. It’s the shower that always does it for me. Spending a few minutes under the warm water as the mirror and windows begin to fog and then getting dressed in fresh clothes and then sitting down for a satisfying meal? Putting up with the wind-chill almost seems worth it when you think of it like that, doesn’t it?
Speaking of the cold, though, I pulled myself out of bed a little after seven this past Sunday morning (and leaving your girlfriend/wife in bed under the covers to go for a ride in twenty-eight degree weather is never too easy of a thing to do) and geared up for a brisk, two-hour blast. And you know me and my size 14 cycling shoes--finding booties that fit is close to impossible, especially considering I have shoes of the mountain biking variety (that’s a whole other story, so let’s not even bother), so I tend to simply roll with the Woolie Boolie socks, a second pair of thick neoprene socks over the Woolie Boolies, and a regular pair of Pearl Izumi toe warmers.
Needless to say, an hour into the ride, I found myself desperately searching for either a convenient store or a grocery store or any sort of public establishment where I might sit down for ten minutes in order to regain the feeling in my toes. Of course, this is not new news. This has happened to every person reading this page, although I’m happy to report that over the weekend I came to realize that Pearl Izumi (one of my favorite apparel manufacturers, fyi) does indeed make an AmFib bootie specifically of the mountain biking variety and they also happen to make this bootie up to size XXL for those cyclists with shoes size 49+.
I don’t know about you, but I’m excited. Really excited. As soon as I found out about the MTB booties in just my size, I quickly hopped online and promptly spent $49.95 of my hard-earned money on a pair of new Pearl Izumi AmFib Mountain Biking booties. Will my feet soon be thanking me? You’re damn right they will be. Especially when I also invest in a few pairs of those air-activated heated insoles. The heated insoles combined with the booties? Cold weather? Freezing temperatures? I’ve got your freezing temperatures right here, tough guy!
Actually, I don’t mean to sound like a whiney douchebag, although I do have two excuses in that (a) it has been ridiculously busy at work, and (b) it’s cold outside and when it’s cold outside, it’s not as much fun to ride as it is when it’s warm outside. Am I right or am I right?
Speaking of the cold, it wasn’t long ago that I arrived home on a weeknight, suited up for temperatures in the high-forties, strapped the blinking headlight to the handlebars and the blinking taillight to the seat post, and hit the road for my usual 18-mile weekday training ride. Honestly, it was the first time since last spring that I had to wear full-fingered gloves, a baselayer, a long-sleeved jersey, leg warmers, my Woolie Boolie socks, and my riding cap under my helmet. I mention all this as, once my ride was over and I climbed the stairs to the front door of my house and stepped inside, I had one of those flashbacks, but not the drug-induced kind of flashback. The moment I stepped inside out of the cold, an entire winter’s worth of riding came back to me all at once. Know what I mean? The season’s change and you spend so long riding on warm mornings with just a jersey and a pair of shorts that you forget how long it takes to gear up when the temperature drops below fifty. You almost forget how good it feels to get home, blow your nose with a tissue (as opposed to umpteen snot-shots while on the road), peel off all the layers, and hop in a hot shower. It’s the shower that always does it for me. Spending a few minutes under the warm water as the mirror and windows begin to fog and then getting dressed in fresh clothes and then sitting down for a satisfying meal? Putting up with the wind-chill almost seems worth it when you think of it like that, doesn’t it?
Speaking of the cold, though, I pulled myself out of bed a little after seven this past Sunday morning (and leaving your girlfriend/wife in bed under the covers to go for a ride in twenty-eight degree weather is never too easy of a thing to do) and geared up for a brisk, two-hour blast. And you know me and my size 14 cycling shoes--finding booties that fit is close to impossible, especially considering I have shoes of the mountain biking variety (that’s a whole other story, so let’s not even bother), so I tend to simply roll with the Woolie Boolie socks, a second pair of thick neoprene socks over the Woolie Boolies, and a regular pair of Pearl Izumi toe warmers.
Needless to say, an hour into the ride, I found myself desperately searching for either a convenient store or a grocery store or any sort of public establishment where I might sit down for ten minutes in order to regain the feeling in my toes. Of course, this is not new news. This has happened to every person reading this page, although I’m happy to report that over the weekend I came to realize that Pearl Izumi (one of my favorite apparel manufacturers, fyi) does indeed make an AmFib bootie specifically of the mountain biking variety and they also happen to make this bootie up to size XXL for those cyclists with shoes size 49+.
I don’t know about you, but I’m excited. Really excited. As soon as I found out about the MTB booties in just my size, I quickly hopped online and promptly spent $49.95 of my hard-earned money on a pair of new Pearl Izumi AmFib Mountain Biking booties. Will my feet soon be thanking me? You’re damn right they will be. Especially when I also invest in a few pairs of those air-activated heated insoles. The heated insoles combined with the booties? Cold weather? Freezing temperatures? I’ve got your freezing temperatures right here, tough guy!
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