Warmers

• I'm not a huge fan of disposable sundries, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And this morning's arctic conditions (18F, -1 w windchill, 35MPH gusts) were pretty intimidating. I have poor circulation in my fingers and toes -- but have recently come upon a pretty good solution for the latter (Woolie Boolie wool socks + Gator "Icelander" neoprene socks + cycling shoe + Craft neoprene booties = comfort). I've been experimenting with a variety of combinations for my hands, but nothing has worked perfectly until now. Many have suggested spendy and bulky ski snowboard gloves, but I dare not go there based on principle, fashion, and price. I usually do fine with a thin liner glove under a pair of Craft Siberians down to the low twenties, but today was something special.

  I usually keep a few packets of Grabber hand warmers in my bag for emergency purposes, such as those sad, sad occasions when a mechanical occurs mid-way into a wintry ride. But it never occurred to me to use them throughout the course of a ride. Until now, it seemed somewhat wasteful. But as I rolled down 57th, teeth chattering, torso shivering, I decided that frugality would have to cede to practicality today, and so I slid a warmer into each of my gloves, sandwiched between the top of my hand and the liner.

  The warmers work when exposed to air: shreds of iron bits oxidize and produce heat, using salt as a catalyst and carbon to distribute the heat througout the warmer. There's some vermiculite in there, too, acting as an insulator -- each packet produces steady heat for nearly seven hours! The packets are small and thin (about 7x5x1cm) and should fit into all but the tightest gloves or mittens.

  The cold was so bitter along the lake that I really didn't notice whether or not the warmers were working for the first twenty minutes -- my entire body was somewhat numb. But as a approached Soldier Field, I smelled something burning, and I worried for a moment that the warmers were searing into my skin! But then I realized that it was just the tailgaters and their bratwurst in the distance. In fact, I could feel a prickly sensation along the back of my hands, and only the slightest hints of pain at my fingertips. They were working!

  The return trip was another story altogether. The headwind was gusting, cutting like tiny daggers right through my several layers of protective clothing. To compensate, I pushed hard all the way to downtown, and the extra effort seemed to warm things a bit. Except for one area, that is.

  My bottoms consisted of a pair of non-thermal Craft Flex tights (designed for spring/autumn use) and some Ibex wool knickers. This combination works wonders, except for one's especially sensitive bits. It was for days like this that I'd been planning on picking up a pair of Craft Gunde Shorts, but good intentions were useless to me now, miles from home, and slowly freezing my (bits) off. THINK, I urged myself: what would McGuyver do? I glanced over at the huddled mass of geese to my right. Sure, I could probably take one or two... but then I'd have to pluck them, and wouldn't goose feathers stink? I could line my tights with newspapers, fallen leaves, or plastic bags; I could smear myself with petroleum jelly; I could take a cab. Hmmmm...

  Passing under the bridge, it occurred to me that I still had another packet of hand warmers. The path *was* pretty empty, and besides... who is going to care if I appear to be lining my knickers with paper? And so I stopped to install the packets. By the time I reached the museum, it could have been a fine spring morning, as far as I was concerned. Sure, the headwind was still threatening to knock me over, and I was entering a cloud of meat-flavored smoke, but every inch of my crotch was warm and toasty. And for a moment, I could really care less about the warmers' disposability.