Survival of the adaptable

Old Upper Thomson Road, 42 km. It's been  long time (21 Dec 2011, to be precise) since I last did "circuit training". Instead of braving the traffic on the busy roads, I take the old, lonely road. No traffic, just a couple of joggers, the occasional cyclist, a lone monkey. And eight wild boars; four adults,four kids. I tap my brake levers to give them early warning that I'm passing into their personal space. I'm glad they don't bowl me over as they cross at right angles to my direction and crash into the undergrowth ahead of me.

I used to cycle with a headband, as dripping sweat would sting my eyes otherwise. It's been a sultry hot day but since I cycle at night, I skip the band. No sweat. I don't need it.

At work, I've got a key position unfilled, for the first time. The workload is split among the team. I'm the point man now. And the rainmaker too. All firsts. I hope it works out. Still, I've been through worst. And it's a good ride today.

Oh, what am I training for? A charity ride next month. My first one with downhill rims. No more wussy slick tyres.

Peace and quiet - not

Woodlands 55 km. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Nearby, a party blasts away. It is such a party, a Red Rhino and its civil defence crew is on standby nearby. The noise gets to me, so I roll out. It is drizzling.

I've not cycled at night for a long time. It is cool and quiet. I like cycling. A well-tuned bicycle is quiet efficiency. I explore a road I've never been on, and add 10% to my usual distance.

I'm 30 minutes away from home when there's a flurry of frenzy. Dogs. A pack by the road. They bark. A black one lunges out. I yell at it and take evasive action. Good thing there's no traffic behind me and no traffic lights in front. Otherwise, I might have become minced meat.

Flexibility and opportunity

Woodands, 53 km. It's a routine now. Rest and relax first part of the day, then cycle. But when it's about time to cycle, it rains. Ok then, I'm flexibe, I can chill more. A short while later, the rain stops.

Today, I read about a businessman. Actually, a businessyouth. He sold roasted chestnuts in supermarkets till the latter got acquired by a western chain. "What's with the smell and smoke?" the new owners ask. He gets cooking hobs installed and ceiling painted each night. Then he roasts the nuts elsewhere and sells them in the supermarkets. Business falls. What's roasted chestnuts without roasting? To cut a long story short, he sells roasted seaweed now, nicely wrapped in resealable bags. In several countries.

If his family wasn't in debt, he wouldn't have gone into business. If the supermarkets hadn't been acquired, he wouldn't have diversified.  He says his succcess came from problems.

You get what you pay for

Woodlands 49 km. I struggle with my first tablet. It's a lesser-known brand, cheaper than the usual Taiwan brands. I should've paid more. Still, it's usable, just imprecise for precision typing and drag and drop.

Similarly, I "saved" some money on bicycle shorts. But it was false economy. The more expensive ones aren't worse for wear, but the cheaper one is a let down: I wear it less often, but it's worn out compared to the other, expedition-proven one.

I shouldn't let these things get to me. This time last year, an era ended. It was (and still is) painful but, somewhere along 1,441 km of cycetherapy, I figured that things could get better. With hindsight, the end of an era wasn't the end of the world.

So I count my blessings on this ride:
Zero creaks
One smooth transmission
Two drivers yield to my right of way instead of cutting across as they are wont to do
Trees (by the roadside)
Forlorn, begone
Five lanes, I filter safely across

You get what you pay for.
You feel what you think.

Milestone

Woodlands, 50 km. It's been rough, dealing with the impetuous, ill-judged and so in-your-face. Hobson's choice: even if I don't choose, I'm making a choice. As it turned out, things didn't work out. But I'll never know if I did the right thing, because I don't know what would've happened if I didn't choose. I guess, in such situations, heuristics would've helped. But then, even proverbs conflict: "great minds think alike" vs "fools seldom differ".

To get away from it all for a while, I cycle more out of a sense of obligation than anything else. But I'm glad I did. It's not raining, it is cool.

Two cyclists, one of them a roadie, ride against traffic flow and head towards me. A taxi sees me and pulls out anyway. A roadie dressed in black overtakes me and waves. In the night, he can barely be seen. I crank it up and draw beside him and yell: "Your tail light is out!" He replies: "Must be the battery. Flat." He pulls away. I catch up with him at a traffic light. When the light turns green, he waves to me and vanishes into the dark. All he has are tiny, tiny reflectors.

For my insurance, I have a big tail light, two (small) reflectors on my bicycle (and two strips on my helmet) and a gleaming shoulder sash. If only I have such a safety margin elsewhere.

Wishbone Ash's Persephone plays in my head. I realise that when there's a song in my head, I can't think of anything else. It's a kind of meditation, a kind of hush to trouble and fuss.

Oh, the world is 41,000 km round. Today I cross the 60,000 km mark.

Caught in between vs best of both worlds

Apr distance: 182 km

Seletar, 31 km. I'm sandwiched. Rain before the ride and dinner appointment after. I debate whether to ride at all. I know I should; I've already eaten a cyclists' diet. All those calories need to go somewhere. That, plus habit.

Habit is a good thing so off I go, but not on my habitual route. I take a shorter route, and create it on impulse.

Look forward to my next ride; will be crossing the 60,000 km mark, which is 1.5 times the girth of the earth.

Ride or run?

Woodlands, 49 km. It's been a sucky week, as if a vampire has been sucking my blood. Today, I'm so drained, I just want to vegetate. But that's not going to help.

Shall I run or shall I ride? I choose the latter. I'm pleased yet not surprised that once I roll, I smile. It is simple to run but to roll is better.

Sweet start, wet finish

Woodlands, 57 km. I've never had pancakes, honey, peanut butter, bananas, ice cream and conversation before a ride. The sun goes down, it is pleasant, till the rain comes down. It's not heavy, but lightning arcs repeatedly across the night sky.

"Is it safe to ride?" C asks. I guess so. Lightning flashes, but the crash of thunder is absent. In any case, while cyclists hit by cars have been in the news, I not read about cyclists being hit by lightning while on the road.

The ride started dry, with tea in the tummy and ended this way, but at least we're safe though wet.

In the long run

Sembawang, 45 km. The last time I cycled was a month ago. Why the hiatus? Partly the rain, partly the train. No, I didn't get run over by a train. I stopped to train. For a long run. In the end, I covered 75 km last week. That's no big deal on wheels. But on foot, it's a big deal. It's my first ultramarathon.

Today, it's good to be back in the saddle. When the wheels started rolling, my face started smiling. Just like that. My face doesn't behave that way when I run. Let's face it, cycling needs way more equipment than a pair of shoes. But, cycling is more fun.

I'm a little embarrassed that today, I cycle less than I ran last week. But still, today is more fun and less pain than last week.

Sign of the times

Mar distance: 45 km (what? this is the only ride in Mar?!)

Sengkang, 45 km. I'm stewing in my juice. "Sky juice" isn't raining from the sky. Instead, sunshine is pouring down. So, to the outdoors I escape.

My chain is clean. Really clean. Instead of using a toothbrush and solvent, I'd dug out my Park Tools "Chain Gang", which had laid abandoned and forlorn for so, so long. It's done its job so well, my drive train feels so, so different.

I thought that cycling would cleanse me, just as the Chain Gang had cleaned my chain good as new. But that's not to be.

Troubled thoughts keep pace with me, though I've got to keep my wits up and eyes open on the traffic.

On a whim, I turn into a road with a "dead end" sign. It used to be a dead end, but no longer. Yes, the sign is still there, but things have changed, permanently. Sometimes, it makes sense to ignore the signs? On the other hand, if the sign turned out to be right and the road was a dead end, it's no big deal.