How to have fun in the cold for under $1,000

by Joe Lindsey 23.01.2025 Photography by
Gruber Images and Joe Lindsey More from Joe +

It was not long after the tire tracks from the ranger’s truck disappeared in a U-turn that I briefly wondered if I should cut my losses and do the same. I’d just hike-a-biked across a wood bridge over a wetland area, covered in eight inches of snow the consistency of sugar sand, and it was barely 10°F (-12°C). I had a couple miles of this terrain yet to go, and even after remounting and riding a bit farther, I’d just been caught and passed by someone on foot. A fit and fast-moving trail runner, but still.

The truck’s tire tracks, which had provided a slim track of uniformly compressed snow to ride on, gave way to an equally narrow singletrack of snow partly packed down by passing runners and hikers. While it provided some meager purchase, its irregular surface regularly sent the bike into a flailing fishtail.

But the trail was flat, the sun bright, and the wind calm. A lone runner or two aside, I had the place all to myself, and after a day cooped up inside, I was happy to be out there, floundering around and trying to stay upright. Thanks in advance for your suggestions about Zwift and such, but I am allergic to indoor riding. To me, riding is fundamentally bound up in, and inextricable from, the word outside, so I wanted to be out there in the cold. What’s more, I was pretty comfortable, pleasantly toasty, even. As dressed, I’d have been fine down to about 0°F.

That I was so is a testament to something that came up last Friday in Ronan’s review of the Q36.5 Thermobolik winter suit. That is: layering. The Thermobolik is designed expressly as a refutation of the time-honored technique of layering as protection from the elements. Ronan liked the piece, but noted that it would be better as a separate set of tights and a jacket.

Ronan’s philosophical approach to cycling is different to mine; he comes to riding from a more performance-focused mindset and the Thermobolik fits reasonably well with that. I’ve done my share of suffering, and while I still find satisfaction in athletically challenging myself, my performance metrics these days are more about things like how many wild turkeys I might see on a ride. In spring, there’s a route I ride at least weekly just to see the onset and peak of the tumble mustard, false flax and evening primrose blooms across the landscape.

With that in mind, I’ll go one further than Ronan’s caveats: What I was doing out there on Sunday, in the midst of a cold snap that hit more than half the contiguous United States and dropped record snowfall in some parts of the normally balmy Gulf coast, would not be possible in a form-fitting one-piece like the Thermobolik. And that fact proves the superiority of the system it supposedly replaces.

Layering is undefeated; here’s why

Layering, which in terms of outdoor sports dates back at least a century, became widespread after World War II amid the materials revolution that followed (a development covered by Rachel Gross in her history of the outdoor industry, Shopping All The Way To The Woods). 

Its genius is elegant, and functions along two strategic lines.

First, it allows you to don and doff layers as needed to account for changing conditions or exercise intensity, like how you might stuff a windproof jacket in a pocket for a climb but pull it out for the descent.

Second – and this to me is its most underrated strength – it is built on a few carefully chosen pieces that you mix and match to create a functional, versatile wardrobe for all kinds of weather. Unless you’re new to cycling, it starts with foundational items you probably already own, like bib shorts, knee warmers, and baselayers. With the addition of as few as three more pieces of clothing (yes, and gloves and hat), you can extend a three-season wardrobe into cool, cold, and even deep-winter riding.

Q36.5’s argument is not only expensive at US$1,122 for the suit, it’s directly in opposition to how we approach apparel for any other cold-weather outdoor activity. And had I used the Thermobolik on Sunday, I’d have been a meat popsicle, because it’s an entirely holistic garment that is not really practical to use as part a layering system. But using a selection of regular riding clothing, including stuff meant for warmer seasons, I was able to stay completely comfortable (*) and have fun. And I did it for a lot less than $1,100. 
(*) A minor exception was some cold toes. Toes are hard.

Some important caveats here: local climate matters for what choices work best for you. It’s hard for Ronan to ride outside in below-freezing temps because Ireland’s wet weather makes the roads too slick. But he rarely has to; as a temperate maritime climate, Irish winters are milder than those on Colorado’s Front Range, a high-altitude, semi-arid continental climate. Conversely, while we regularly see cold snaps like the current one that plunge high temps to the single digits (Fahrenheit) for several days on end, our abundant sunshine and generally drier air make even those extremes feel a bit warmer than they might in a place like the Inishowen Peninsula.

Another variability factor is our individual thermostats as humans. I regularly see people riding with uncovered knees at 45°F/7°C, while I see others bundled up even in what I find to be pleasant mid-60s F/high teens C. Those factors combine to create a highly individual definition of what is “riding weather.” My threshold is different than Ronan’s or yours, and what people do – and how they dress for it – in Ireland or Duluth, Minnesota is different than Colorado’s Front Range.

So: use whatever makes you comfortable, and please tell me your strategies and product picks in the comments. But all those caveats highlight the endemic flaw in Q36.5’s argument: there’s no possible way that a single garment can provide the kind of personalized customization – for your riding in your climate – that layering can. It’s an entirely self-contained outfit, a yes/no binary, and only by spending $1,100 can you find out whether all parts of it work for you.

That’s a very expensive experiment. The Thermobolik is designed to replace three primary pieces of gear: a jacket, tights, and riding shorts. Here’s what I used instead – all prices USD:

• Velocio Signature bib short ($250)
• Pearl Izumi Summit AmFib Lite pants ($160)
• Pearl Izumi Expedition Pro Alpha jacket ($225)
  Total cost: $635

As always, the disclaimer: Nothing here is an affiliate link. Buy, don’t buy; we don’t make a dime either way. But if this is helpful to you, please consider a membership as that’s our sole source of funding.

My Pearl jacket is an older, discontinued item; the Expedition Pro Alpha is its closest current equivalent. Were I buying today, I’d probably pick something like Velocio’s Alpha long-sleeve jersey ($200) and One jacket ($350). That ups the cost considerably to $960, but is still $140 less than the Thermobolik and offers more layering versatility by splitting up insulation and shell. (The Velocio pieces are also premium options; there are other, less-expensive ones. Pearl’s Alpha jersey is $160, for instance. Ornot’s updated Magic Shell jacket – just released – is $285 and there are cheaper ones yet. There are also many insulation pieces with natural fiber blends, like Ornot’s Merino Grid Thermal jersey ($176).)

Add in couple of accessories you likely already own – a long-sleeve baselayer (I used Craft’s $100 long-sleeve turtleneck) and knee warmers ($65) – and here’s how those approaches compare in terms of functional range (temps are Q36.5’s claimed range for the Thermobolik and a general me-in-Colorado range for the layering systems; your mileage may vary):

For the same cost as the Thermobolik (or less!), this system offers more than three times the functional temperature range, and better protection against rain and snow. You can wear most of it multiple times between washes, which means the apparel lasts longer and sheds fewer microplastics; the integrated chamois pad on the Thermobolik means it must be laundered after every ride. Speaking of durability, layering also means that you can replace items individually as they wear out.

To get the same functionality from the Thermobolik, I’d need an additional one designed for colder temperatures (which Q36.5 does not make), and if I wanted to ride more than once between laundry loads, I’d need multiple suits for each temperature range. So, layering seems like a pretty unambiguous winner here; it’s just a question of what pieces work best for you.

Speaking of, let’s back up a minute: trail pants? Yes. And not just for mountain biking. You may be a tights fan, and that’s fine. But Pearl’s Summit AmFib Lite pants are among my favorite apparel pieces of all time, because they’re more versatile. They’re warm and cozy just like tights, but the genius of pants is that panels of windblocking material are less likely to constrict joint movement than in a form-fitting garment like tights. That slightly looser cut also makes it easier to layer pants over knee warmers to further extend the garment’s temperature range (it’s why I use the Summit AmFib Lite and not the heavier version). 

And the ankle cuff – which I’ve never snagged in a chain, by the way – fits snugly over the boot to keep water and spindrift from going down inside the shoe. A final note: because the chamois pad is in the shorts and I don’t need to wash the pants after every ride, I don’t need more than one pair. Tights without chammy are the same. I know some folks prefer the fit of tights with integrated pads, but to me it feels like the bike industry’s plan to get you to buy winter-specific duplicates of things you already own.

I made 35 years of cold-weather mistakes so you don’t have to

Some final thoughts on cold weather riding:

Gloves are especially tricky and individual; what works for you doesn’t for others, and that’s even before we get to folks with specific issues like cold sensitivity from Reynaud’s syndrome. My one tip? Use hand moisturizer afterward; except for neoprene, almost all winter glove insulation is designed to wick moisture, and for those of us in dry climates in particular, chapped and cracked hands make cold even harder to handle. My glove of choice for cold days is an older, discontinued pair of Pearl WXBs; the AmFib Lobster Evo is the closest current version, but I’m not sure how I feel about the paired-finger design.

Do you need winter-specific shoes? There are benefits to them, but good winter booties extend the range of your everyday riding shoes and are cheaper. To battle frozen toes and the risk of “screaming barfies” when you warm back up inside, size them a little large and tuck hand-warmer heat packs on the forefoot between bootie and shoe. And for very cold and snowy conditions, consider flat pedals and hiking boots or winter “Sorel” type boots. Pick composite-body flat pedals, which will conduct cold less than metal ones.

A good hat goes without saying, and your choice of fabric may come down to your climate (windblocker for humid, breathable for dry). A thicker, two-layer neckwarmer is key; you can use a two-way jacket zipper (one that unzips from the neck or waist) to help vent heat while the warmer protects sensitive neck and face skin, and also warms and humidifies the air you’re breathing in. Something like Smartwool’s Thermal Merino Reversible is a good pick.

Which leads me to maybe the most important point about exercise outdoors in deep winter: chill (metaphorically).

It’s January, and unless you have a pro license your next event is probably months away. If you need to do intervals, much as it pains me to say it, the trainer is probably your best option. Outside, go slow, in terms of speed and intensity. The faster you ride, the more intense your effective wind chill. Mountain bikes are lovely for deep-winter rides; they offer all-terrain versatility in many conditions, and speeds are lower for a given exercise intensity. A steady-state effort, producing enough heat to stay warm but not get sweaty, is ideal. If you charge up a long climb, you’ll build up excess heat as sweat just in time to freeze your tuchus off on the descent.

Another reason to back off a notch? It might save your lungs. Research, including by Michael Kennedy at the University of Alberta, suggests that regular high-intensity exercise in extreme cold (10°F/-12°C and colder) can cause long-term damage to your lungs, among other effects. As well, in some cold-weather climes like Denver, Colorado and Salt Lake City, Utah, inversions can trap pollution close to ground level (Denver’s infamous Brown Cloud). Again, if you need to do some real intensity work, inside riding is your best bet.

Finally, going for a ride in the cold and snow requires adjusted expectations. My average speed Sunday was nine mph, and a good chunk of my ride took place on the bike paths I normally use just to get out of town for “real” rides. None of that mattered. For me, riding outside in the cold and snow is basically play. As I slipped down that open space trail, trying not to stall out against the resistance of the snow while simultaneously doing a steering and balance drill, I probably looked ridiculous to anyone watching.

But out there in that prairie meadow, as I stopped and pulled out a thermos of hot cider (hot drinks: another huge hack for cold rides) and my breath froze and sparkled in the light of a late-morning sun, there was nowhere I’d rather be.

Did we do a good job with this story?

👍Yep 👎Nope

Read Comments

escapecollectivelayeringOrnotPearl IzumiQ36.5Velocio