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 :))

Sunday, February 26, 2006

"Mountain biking" with roadies

Feb distance: 346 km

To West Coast Highway, 85 km. V says a group of mountain bikers are joining us. But they're all on road bikes. As it turns out, they're mountain bikers who've left their mountain bikes at home. Taking their road bikes out on a spin (including one with egg beater pedals), they cycle at a relaxed mountain bike speed. They break off at Lim Chu Kang, leaving three of us to go to the west coast. N asks to go up Bukit Chandu, which I introduced her to on 19 Feb. I lead her a tad further, to the canopy walk, and she beams. We see a chameleon. I ask: "Wanna ride my bike?" It (the lizard, not the bike) takes a running jump off the walkway into the trees. The wind blows, the trees sway and the birds chirp. We tear ourselves away when it starts to drizzle, then chill out later at the Esplanade. Rich cake and beverage. Mmm, best ride of the year so far. I go home with a smile on my face instead of a headache that comes from gritting my teeth to catch roadies.

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

When small is big

To Braddell Hill, 20 km. How is it possible to get busier? Emails, papers on my table, people in my face. Urgent, important. Time is of the essence. But somehow, it passes. I hit the road after work, looking for the highest hill nearby to climb. It turns out to be less high than I thought. But it's a quiet place for solace. I stop by a petrol kiosk and treat myself to an ice cream. Ah, small pleasures are a big deal. The radio is playing. It's light classical music. I've not heard it for years, but I like it. The kind of music that plays on Band of Brothers. Not a funeral dirge, but not normal programming either. This afternoon, former senior cabinet minister S Rajaratnam passes away.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Dog tired

To West Coast Highway, 103 km. You know how it is with dogs, they chase cyclists, get tired and slow to a trot, until the next peloton passes by, and the chase starts again. And that's how it is with me. The first Thomson peloton blasts past. I don't even bother to chase. Wave no. 2 draws nearer. I ready myself, then catapult into the slipstream as nuclear-powered SY waves at me. A jam at the Kranji dam separates us. I struggle ahead and hang on at 42 km/h behind two girls including SY, but soon drop behind (hence the expression "separating the man from the girls"). Wave no. 3 passes next and I draft at a more humane 38 km/h. We stop at Lim Chu Kang to wait for the rest. Soon, we are eight again. N leads me to a West Coast hawker centre, which is my first time there. I have, for the first time ever, a kuay teow goreng and a Horlicks dinosaur. Bleah. Today is also the first time I pump my tyres to 110 psi (10% more than recommended). It's easier to ride, but not enough to catch more roadies.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Smiling speedster

To Lim Chu Kang, 67 km. My legs pump rapidly like pistons. My heart pumps like they would burst. My lungs scream for air. The average speed for this ride, uphill and downhill, is ove 28 km/h. And HCK sails past me, smiling like Mona Lisa and once, even chatting on the phone before sailing away from me. She's a smiling speedster, with a titanium Soul. Her friends call her "slave driver". There's another mountain biker besides me in the group of nine. He looks like a schoolboy. He's fast on his track shoes, fast enough for the roadies to talk about him. He slows down only when he bumps my rear wheel and crashes. This has never happened to me before. His bicycle ends up in the next lane. Fortunately, no car runs over his unusual machine. Or over him. He has a bad case of road rash.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

Swept away

To Mandai, 71 km. Today's bike leader is HCK. She decides to take the rear. As I lead, a shaft of sunlight breaks through the trees. It's majestic, clear and I can take it at face value. Unlike the ritual of "we're riding slowly today", which became "look, we're in front, how did that happen". And soon, they are out of hailing range. What a fine turn of events. I'm in the ride, wanting to help out as a sweeper. As it turns out, I am a sweeper but not by choice, as the guy roadies and nuclear-powered SY drop me. I have my revenge on some other roadies on the return leg, as I drop them. Heh heh. At one stop to regroup, HCK tries out my little Tank; she's privileged to be the first gal to ride it. During lunch, O tells me about one of his accidents. He didn't just break bone, he lost some of it, through infection. I've never seen a finger tip without bone before.