To ride out winter, gird your wheels and self

A bicyclist made better progress than the gridlocked Mass. Ave traffic in this December 2007 storm. To stay riding, it's all about winterizing. (David L. Ryan/Globe Staff/File)

Don't let the thermometer fool you. Whatever the temperature now, it's February and the worst, in all its delicious New England madness, is yet to come.

With conditions so variable, it's not easy to interview cyclists these days. "Goal-oriented" sums up pretty much every rider out in the streets, and whether they're trying to get to work, home, or just stay upright, talking with a chatty reporter isn't on the menu. "Do you have a few . . . " is the most one can get out before they disappear in a cloud of salt and slush.

Still, with careful observation, much can be learned about winter cyclists, members of that elusive and slightly cranky species. For starters, all strategies for dealing with the conditions fall between two extremes.

The first and most obvious is to turn oneself into the human equivalent of a tank: dense layers of insulation, wide fenders, tires that wouldn't look out of place on a truck. And the second? Keep yourself lean and hard, slicing through the snow and ice instead of trying to float over it.

I won't hide on which side of the spectrum I fall, sometimes literally. As the Swedes like to say, "Det finns inga dåliga väder bara dåliga kläder" - there is no bad weather, only bad clothing.

The same goes for bikes, as far as I'm concerned, and in February, that means one thing: studded snow tires.

Yep, they make 'em, and they work as well on a Schwinn as they do on a Saab.

Some of the best are made by Nokian, a Finnish company (no surprise there), with German Schwalbes not far behind. They're available at a number of local shops, including Wheelworks in Somerville and Landry's in Boston, among others.

Pricey, yes - my favorites, Nokian's musically named Hakkapeliittas, go for about $70 a wheel. So what if when I'm on dry pavement they ride like sandbags - they keep me up when others go down.

Erich Leas, 26, takes the opposite approach. The Jamaica Plain resident says he puts in 300-plus riding days a year. His traction strategy? "Run the skinniest tires you can get to cut through the loose-packed stuff," he says, available to speak only because he's behind the counter at Allston's International Bicycle Center rather than slugging it out on the roads. "It's worked pretty well for me. And fenders, of course."

On the last point Leas and I agree. While cyclocross riders take no small measure of pride in emerging at the end of a race wearing the course they just conquered, pounding through a city all winter requires a different approach.

Why is simple. Snow may be fluffy and white on the way down, but once it hits the road, it turns into a treacherous mixture of slush, grit, and salt. Brakes slip, chains seize up, and axles start looking around for someone to administer last rites.

Full fenders - not those plastic clip-on numbers, not a piece of cardboard tied to your rear rack - keep all that gunk where it belongs - on the road.

Personally I swear by the German SKS brand - I have some more than a decade old that are still kicking winter's worst to the curb - but any set of real fenders is better than some of the lame substitutes out there - or worse, none. So get a set. You'll be amazed.

Then there's the rest of you. While Weather.com is always happy to go on about allergy risks and germ reports, what you're actually going to face out on the road is beyond their comprehension.

That's why on the streets of Boston you see so much improvisation born of desperation: riders with one hand tucked behind their back, others holding a glove over their face.

Confession: Once I rode home with plastic bags over my hands because my gloves weren't cutting it. I looked like a fool, but I lived to tell the tale. (A shout-out to the clerk at the ironically named Au Bon Pain who saved my fingers from certain death.)

So dress well. Three-fingered "lobster" gloves (as I like to call them) are unbeatable. Balaclavas are popular, but if you go that ski mask route, make sure to get one that's fully open over the nose and mouth - whatever the temperature, breathing is a must.

Personally I prefer a nice long scarf wrapped Lawrence of Arabia-style; it's easy to undo mid-ride after you warm up, or cinch down if conditions worsen.

Whether you're a maximalist or a minimalist, the most important thing to bring along is an attitude adjustment. Sure, the winds are blowing.

Yep, the snow is falling and the ice omnipresent. And yes, the drivers are even crazier than usual these days. But think of every ride as an adventure, for it surely will be.

As President Obama said in his inaugural address, quoting Thomas Paine (and perhaps sending a coded message to all the swiftly moving winter cyclists out there): "With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come."

Amen.