But here’s the truth: winter always wins. And your tears will freeze before your fingers defrost.
Heated gloves: false hope with a USB port
They say: “Up to 8 hours of warmth!”
Reality: You get 42 minutes of gentle toastiness, followed by 3 hours of emotional betrayal.
They’re bulky. They’re heavy. You accidentally hit the power button when shifting gears. And when one glove dies first, it starts a psychological spiral that only ends with you Googling “frostbite symptoms mid-ride.”
Still, you’ll tell yourself it’s fine. You’ll lie. You’ll say “I just like the sensation of pain.”
Heated insoles: foot-sauna or fraud?
The idea is beautiful: warm feet, no matter what. The reality is: one foot is warm, the other is either overheating or playing dead. Also, trying to charge your insoles with a micro USB cable at 5am is its own form of character development.
Also: be honest — your shoes barely fit with summer socks. These things are thick. If you thought winter was hard before, try riding with mildly-heated bricks strapped to your feet.
Heated base layers: the forbidden toaster oven
They exist. They’re expensive. And wearing one feels like snuggling a radiator during a HIIT workout. Yes, you’re warm, but at what cost?
Also, the battery pack sits somewhere between your shoulder blades like a weird cyborg tumor. And if it dies halfway through the ride, congratulations — you’re now cold and slightly radioactive.
So… do any of them work?
Kinda. They take the edge off. They keep you riding a bit longer. But they will not save you on a 60kph descent in January with crosswinds and trust issues. No amount of lithium ion will bring back feeling to your pinky fingers.
And yet, we buy them. Every year. Because winter is a liar, and we’re romantics with disposable income.
If you’re going to cry on a descent, at least cry expensively
Buy the heated gear. Strap it on. Charge your batteries. Layer up. And then accept the truth: winter cycling is a sport for liars, optimists, and people who think 2°C is “actually not that bad.”
Stay warm out there — emotionally, if not physically.
