Cycling is like life. Cycling with no goal is meaningless. What meaning is there cycling in circles? Or living aimlessly? Meaning comes from direction and destination. Join me in my life's journey on a mountain bike :)

Blogging since 2003. Thank you for reading :))

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Nuclear-powered vs kerosene-powered

Jan distance: 498 km

To Tampines and Woodlands, 101 km. "She likes to ride at 30-35 km/h", says N of "nuclear-powered" SY. Well, that's to warm up. SY hits 41 km/h and chats at the same time. When I (being "kerosene-powered") moan, she still cycles at 41 km/h - uphill. Watching her stand on her pedals makes my knees go weak. But she isn't always in the lead; the group of nine is split into four in front including me and five in the rear. As the day wears on, riders start to drop out. It's just the three of us for lunch, but I'm glad for that. If it wasn't for cycling and cyclists, I might have lost my marbles. Or maybe I already have. I cycle a few rounds around the carpark so I can round off today's ride past 100 km.

Saturday, January 28, 2006

Bike paradise

To Tampines and Kaki Bukit Road, 71 km. Today, the eve of Chinese New Year, sees many bikers on the road. In fact, there are two groups at the start point. I happen to know some of them, and meet HCK for the first time (though we've emailed each other before). I reluctantly join the slower group, as the faster group zooms off quickly without asking me to tag along. But it turns out to be serendipity, as N leads me to the spiffiest bikeshop ever; it's so spick and span, we have to remove our shoes to enter. The shop is carpeted, airconditioned and stocked chock a block, from floor to ceiling. Bikes, frames, parts and accessories - even 1.20" tyres, which I never knew existed. And I did get a good workout as I charged up hills. The sight of the goodies in the bikeshop got my heart racing too.

Sunday, January 22, 2006

Black death

To Lim Chu Kang Road, 94 km. The black car passes so fast, so close to the three of us, I feel fear only after it clears the rider in front. The driver must've been unaware, or couldn't care less, as he overtakes us on the right to turn left. One decision in a moment in time may have far reaching consequences in the future. And it was someone's decision like that, made a few years back, that kept me working late into the night, night after night. The highlight of this week is today's ride, my first with BBB. I get to touch her sleek Lightspeed. After 30 or so km, she turns for home. I cycle on, hoping my fretting will blow away in the wind. But they don't. Instead, when I get home, I compile a to-do list. At least, I have people to delegate this to. So, this is how Monday morning blues are born.

Sunday, January 15, 2006

Winning number


To Mount Faber, 57 km. It's the first time I've body marking. The number: 103, which sounds like "surely third" in Cantonese. If I'm superstitious, it means I'm condemned to being third each time there's a podium finish, like in past races. Regardless whether it's an individual or team event or how many people take part. But superstitious I'm not. Today, the curse is broken. At Togopart's "King of the Mountain" time trial, I'm joint second at 4 min 10 sec, 7 sec behind the champ, a student (and 40 sec ahead of third place). It looks like I'm the oldest on the podium. And a crowded podium it was. The "queen" of the mountain is the sole roadie, who is so fast that the stopwatches don't stop in time. I could've done better. I got my gearing wrong. Lost air warning some pedestrians. I could've pushed myself harder at the end. But I could've been stuck behind a tour bus disgorging tourists. Or be third instead of second. The first time I did this (on a shorter route, on 16 Oct 05), I lost second place by one second. So, this is what it's like to be walking on air. This win is dedicated to my "coach" and friend, N. As a reward for the good performance, I see bikeshop man who saws off a few grams from my steerer tube.
Photo courtesy of Sehsuan

Saturday, January 14, 2006

Stuck up

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 20 km. It's supposed to be a recovery ride but I can't resist charging uphill. Back home, I clean and lube my drive train. The lube sticks to the container and when it comes out, it does so in globs. It's as stuck up as the roadie I met on the road.

Friday, January 13, 2006

Return of the sun

To Mandai Road, 33 km. The sun shines today. That's news. On prime time TV. But the heat is not just out there. There's heat in the office too, that keeps me back till the sun is down. I hit the road, doing sprints to prepare for this Sunday's time trial up Mount Faber (postponed from last Sunday, no thanks to rain). Go 100%, my "coach" N says by SMS when I seek her advice. I don't have a heart rate monitor, but I cycle so hard I don't dare to stand on my pedals, lest I keel over.

Tuesday, January 10, 2006

Water, water everywhere

To Jalan Chengam, 17 km. We're about three-quarters water, but there's such a thing as too much of a good thing. We have water inside us, but water on us is something else. It's been pouring, raining and drizzling for the past few days, including all day on Sunday and today, a public holiday. Today, it rains the moment I put on my cycling wear. It is about five hours later that I sneak out. The road is wet and droplets still fall from the sky and spray me from the road, but I've to cycle. I charge up slopes in the area for an intense ride. It's not the endorphins that make me feel better. It's being on a , to be free. The ride is marred by three close calls in 17 km. Singapore drivers ... compare that with no close calls in 1,000 km in Malaysia.

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Rebounded and refreshed

From Paya Lebar to Mount Faber to Ang Mo Kio, 46 km. $28 can buy happiness. Going to the bike workshop (to collect my bicycle after servicing) is like going to a doctor. Certificates hang on the wall. And charts state"consultation" fees for different services. The last time my drivetrain looked so new was when it was made. The last time it was silky smooth was on its virgin ride. The cause of the poor rear shifting is rust, says the bike doctor. And deterioration in the 6-month old cable housing, which he replaces. I cycle up Mount Faber. Another guy is on the hill; I slip past him and slow down at the peak. He passes, we chat at the foot of the hill and he blasts away after that. He says he trains on the hill daily. Man, I'm out of shape. I almost get rolled out of shape too, as a container truck overtakes me while I overtake an old man on a bike. "Slowly, slowly," he smiles. Our handlebars are "wingtip to wingtip". One false move, and I'd gone under the truck's wheels.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Derailed

To Paya Lebar, 14 km. Back to the master craftsman, to see whether my rear derailleur just needs a scrubbing or replacing. While I've lubed the cable (with lithium grease, no less, bought from another shop) and it feels good, it's still not perfect. It's got to work like clockwork (though not sound like one) when I need it most. Good is just not good enough! I leave it there as it needs to be "warded".

Monday, January 02, 2006

Look back to go forward

To Potong Pasir and Nee Soon, 45 km. I cycle with B to my old school and am astounded what they've done to it. Gone is the sandpit where I used to play marbles. The big foreboding banyan tree. And the rifle range. Gone, all gone. At first, I'm sad, even angry. Part of my past is gone for good. But then, what good is a sandpit? The students now have spanking new facilities that mean more to them. And that's part of changes in life. I lost something but in its place is something which others gain more from. And from a kid in shorts (hey, I still wear shorts - bikeshorts), I've grown taller and older. My past has shaped me, including having the brightest in school as classmates. Some of my dreams have been fulfilled, eg office high in the sky with a picture window and being somebody (sort of). Somebody who has more sense than to feed monkeys at Upper Pierce Reservoir, where we see a monkey on the road, with metres of crimson blood flowing out of its mouth. Another victim of a vicious driver. B and I chill out at a park beside a river, where I park my feet at a sandpit.