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 :))

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

Laos: south to north, north to south

Dec distance: 1,165 km


Wed 19 Dec 07 - Wed 2 Jan 08: South to north, north to south
From Nong Khai (Thailand) to Luang Prabang (Laos), 907 km. This is my fifth cycling expedition in as many years. It is also the furthest north I've ever cycled, from Vientiane to Luang Prabang and vice versa. More

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Wet run on wet road

Mandai Road, 39 km. This is my last ride in Singapore for the year. A road test on narrow slick tyres, with Topeak trunk bag loaded at 7 kg. The load balances well. I cycle leisurely, until another mountain biker (with bike rack too) shoots past me, running a red light. When the light turns green, I give chase. A truck roars past me. I slip into the slipstream and reach 56 km/h. I feel a few rain drops and risk riding on. The risk materialises. I try to outrun the rain clouds, but fail. A few more minutes and I'd have been home dry. Risk taking is tricky. Too scared of gloomy skies, and I miss an opportunity to cycle. At least, I discover that my bag repels water.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

Adjustment

Yio Chu Kang Road, 24 km. My helmet shifts easily. Safety is illusory. I'm about to retire my brain bucket, then adjust the straps a final time. It works. My jury-rigged map carrier crashes into my legs when I stand on the pedals. I pull some strings and it sits nicely on the handlebar. I too, seem to adjust well to this post-cold, pre-Laos training regime. Two roadies cycle ahead. They catch the draft of a bus. I'd throw in the towel if I had one. I grip the handlebar grimly and grind away instead, and catch up on my fat squishy tyres. Someone wonders if I'll adjust to the new office structure. I think so.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Last stall, last customer

Mandai Road, 36 km. I'm wet and hungry. Wet because of sweat (and my spectacles still steam up in the cool aftermath of rain). Hungry because I Ieave the office late and want to cycle my bicycle while the star shines (I see only one in the cloudy night sky). If I can't do a century ride because of a washed out weekend, I can do it over a few nights; some training is better than none. I stop at a hawker centre for dupper (if brunch is breakfast/lunch, dupper is dinner/supper). There is only one food stall open. I'm the last customer, I reckon. The hot soup tastes sooooo good.

Monday, December 10, 2007

Hot and wet

Old Upper Thomson Road, 24 km. It was raining yesterday. Just as the sun peeks out, it ducks back into the clouds which then burst into showers. The roads are wet tonight. But the sky is dry. So I charge up the hills to make up for yesterday's inaction. It starts to rain. My spectacles fog up as heat from my face condenses on the water-cooled glass.

Thursday, December 06, 2007

Wild ride

Old Upper Thomson Road, 25 km. It stops pouring. I start cycling. As I round the bend, half a dozen wild boars cross the road. I squeeze my brakes and the rear tyre starts sliding on the damp road. The pigs crash into the undergrowth on the other side of the road. After years of cycling on this road, this is the first time I've seen boars. I continue my "circuit" training, more wary this time. In the past, the only danger was from cars parked in the shadows along the road.

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Sleep deficit, ride deficit

Almost round island, 110 km. When I'm sleep deprived, I catch up on it during the weekend. When I'm ride deprived, I do the same. Why all these deficits? Work stress = sick. I load up my trunk bag, clip it on my bicycle and ride on my squishy tyres. Singapore is getting more crowded. The traffic-light-free Tampines Road and Old Tampines Road are now punctuated by lights. The road outside Vivo City on Saturday night is like rush hour. My throat is hoarse as I yell at pedestrians and a driver. I exceed my lactate threshold with a fully-loaded century ride. I even ride up Mount Faber. I overdid it but I'm glad I did it.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

To buy a fat "peak"

Nov distance travelled: 313 km

To Changi Road, 24 km. To prepare for my furthest, highest expedition ever, I fall sick. It's all the stress at work, home and play. I've caught a cold now but to avoid catching a cold next month, I go to market, to market to buy a fat "peak". A Topeak trunk bag, to be precise, from a bike shop. Too bad I'm too sick to do a road test with it the rest of the weekend. I recall that it takes energy to fight disease, hence the lethargy.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Feeling the heat

To Woodlands, 64 km. I'm so tired, I want to sleep all day but am too restless to do so. I want to laze around at home but have to train. So I cycle at 11 am. The sun is so blazing, my top tube is warm. I head north, cranking up slope after slope and doing some "urban offroad". As my legs crank, my mind churns over higher order and lower order decisions. Is there much point ruing the outcome of lower order decisions when they are the reasonably forseeable consequence of higher order decisions? That'd be like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Unfortunately, who knew about the ice? At the surface, an iceberg looks like an ice floe. Anyway, the ship is unsinkable, no?

Sunday, November 11, 2007

"My baby is loose"

To Kampong Kaki Circuit, 72 km. 11 Nov, 11-hour race. At the 11th hour, I still can't form a team, nor join one. The feeling is like being jilted. So I cycle with some friends to stay sane. I meet a guy who's on his feet and cycling a bit after breaking his thigh a month ago. I meet a girl who's riding in a car to lunch instead of cycling. I ask, "Are you not well?" The reply I hear, "My baby is loose." My mind churns but is unable to process the information. I ask, "What?" Her reply, "My BB [bottom bracket] is loose." Ah. Come to think of it, her bicycle is her baby.

Thursday, November 08, 2007

$1 worth of stress

To Lim Chu Kang Rd, 84 km. Weary, wornout with weighty woes during the week, cycling has become toil but I'm on the road anyway. As my crank turns, my mind churns. I figure out some things but the intractable remain unsolvable. At NTU, I feed $1 into a vending machine. The coin keeps coming out and I keep shoving it in. When it stops coming out, the drink doesn't come out either. Grrrr! I wave to a security guard for help but he goes away. I slot in another coin (throwing good money after bad!) and it comes out alone. I fret, then realise $1 should buy only $1 of stress, no more.

Sunday, November 04, 2007

Try a little kindness

To Lim Chu Kang Rd, 69 km. After running my longest distance ever last Sunday (15 km), I'm back in the saddle. The two-week hiatus takes its toll as I huff up the hills of Mandai-Kranji-Lim Chu Kang. A roadie on a Cannondale overtakes me and I draft, keeping a respectful distance away. He signals me to follow. I overtake as I'm embarrassed he's doing all the work. He overtakes me effortlessly and says in a heavy accent: "It's ok you can follow me." With my fat squishy tyres, it doesn't last long. His kindness is welcome after the hard road I've been on. I'm disappointed and tired. I want to stop to eat, but push on until I get home.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Black diamond

Oct distance travelled: 178 km


To Pulau Ubin, 65 km. When the alarm clock screams, I lie in bed thinking, "to sleep or to go?" Stress level rises before I'm out of bed. I decide to go for the "focus group" ride at Ketam Mountain Bike Trail. It is a ride worth waking up for. I like the trails marked "blue diamond" as they are a relaxing ride, compared to the black diamond. One part passes a drop to oblivion. My tyres scrabble for traction and at one point, I hold onto a tree. Semi-slick tyres and road pedals not recommended, but front suspension is optional.

Sunday, October 14, 2007

Rainwear

To Woodlands St 81, 48 km. I have a white, expedition jersey. Whenever the team wore it during the 2005 expedition to Kuala Lumpur, it rained. I wore it a few days ago, because someone wanted rain - and it did. I wear it today, and am caught in the rain - thrice. Of course, I'd waxed my bicycle. But at least, I find the vegetable garden that was officially opened by a government minister, see Singapore's newest polytechnic and ride down a hill about three stories high.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Fit for purpose


To Lim Chu Kang Road, 65 km. Yesterday, I saw two types of bicycles. The first type is big, to attract attention. Its saddle is adult height, with each frame comprising two frames welded together. It belongs to some clowns. The second type is the compact type, with 20-inch wheels. They were designed with distinct purposes in mind. And that's why they work. It's a terrible waste when a screwdriver is used as a hammer, and vice versa. A good workman knows his tools and - most importantly - what he has to build. Also hard a work today are workers felling trees and clearing land - to build a "sand bank" by the sea at Kranji.

Sunday, September 30, 2007

Ride like the wind

Sep distance travelled: 908 km

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 68 km. "Is that it?" asks a guy who appears by my side. I'm clocking 47 km/h. "Yep", I say. "See you later," he says and cycles ahead. Not a good start as I head for my time trial start point. When it's time to go, I go. My chain slips a few times as I cycle uphill, though it was fine on the way to the start point. I guess the load is heavier on the actual route. A taxi blasts me three times though it's a three lane road with no other traffic. At Bukit Chandu, my mind starts to give way. More hills to go. I tune out and just keep riding on the edge between pacing myself and blowing my heart, lungs and legs out. At Mount Faber, I slip past a roadie whose heart rate monitor beeps furiously. He thanks me twice at the foot of the hill. I'm grateful too, that the sun is out today and I've clocked 63 min 57 sec. Woohoo!

Saturday, September 29, 2007

Clink clink, think think

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 38 km. When the transmission goes "clink", it's time to think. After installation at shop #1, shop #2 says the cassette isn't loose and sells me something else to fix the shifting problem. Shop #3 agrees with me that the cassette is loose, disassembles it and puts it back. Presto. When there's something as obvious as a clink, the ears simply can't be wrong. But since the cassette feels firmly in place, the mind naturally thinks the clink is caused by something else. It's sometimes easier to solve the wrong problems than to do the right thing. Unless there's a man who, just by listening to clinks, can tell the problem is with a cog not rear derailleur alignment. He even remembers how my old cables were routed compared to the new ones ...

Sunday, September 23, 2007

Weather beaten

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 82 km. The dark clouds overhead liquefy and pour down just as I start my record breaking feat. Cars part the water on the road like bows of boats, leaving a wake behind. From the overhead bridge, a sheet of water falls as traffic ploughs it aside. My bicycle decelerates as it cuts through water. At Labrador, it is dark. My sunglasses fog up and it's hard to see as I descend. Transmission still sounds funny. I finish the circuit at 67 minutes and some seconds. Bleah. After I togged out in my sleekest bike wear to reduce drag too (and with homemade armwarmers for the first time).

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Bye bye, ring ring

To somewhere in town, 30 km. When I cleaned my chain two weeks ago, I knew it was a goner. At the bike shop today, bike shop man says "confirmed, gone case". He shows me how shot the transmission is, even replicating chain suck. I replace the casette, chain, and the big and middle chain rings; XT for everything. It takes some doing, but the XT rings eventually fit the LX crankset. Brake cables fixed; they are now silky smooth. The transmission sounds different, but seems finely tuned the first time round. What joy it is to ride a system that's in harmony. Still, that's a feeling. Time will tell tomorrow, with data as hard as a stopwatch.

Sunday, September 16, 2007

Performance Bloody Terrible

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 66 km. I crawl out of my warm bed on a damp Sunday morning, thinking I'd achieve my personal best time (PBT) today. After all, I'm fresh from a 436 km hills ride a week ago and my body is in good shape. Traffic is light and with the cloudy sky, I divert energy from cooling to cycling. But my time is 67 minutes and some seconds; about three minutes better than with my fat tyres. Bleah. I should've oiled my transmission after the 436 km ride. During lunch, I talk to a cyclist who's worked in the same firm for a quarter century. He tells me to live one day at a time and don't think so much. His parting shot as I ride home: "Work hard."

Friday, September 14, 2007

The secret

To Mandai Road, 29 km. Having heard what happened with my own ears, I come to a sad conclusion today: something just isn't going to happen, so don't expect it. With that sad conclusion, I feel ... happy. So, I find happiness from a cooling breeze, or a clean table, because to expect a certain kind of action from a certain kind of thinking is to chase the wind.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

The hills are higher and I'm older

Fri 7 Sep - Sun 9 Sep
To Mersing, Johore, Malaysia, 436 km. Before this year's Charity Bike n Blade (in aid of Ling Kwang Youth Centre, Pertapis and The Salvation Army), I thought that having cycled this route twice in as many years, the hardest part would be the fundraising, while the ride would be a walk in the park. How wrong I am, as it is hard to walk after each day's ride.

Ahead of myself, behind others
Day 1: Fri 7 Sep, Singapore - Mersing (Johore), 184 km. Lack of sleep and training takes its toll eventually. I have a good start, riding in a pack of seven among 48 cyclists (and 15 bladers). Trying to do my part to pull instead of drafting all the time, I surge ahead too fast several times and am spent soon enough. "Mr Dahon" on a folding bike going at roadie speed drops me. I ride alone thereafter, my legs hurting unusually. My butt hurts too. I coast along, sitting to one side of the saddle. The last 20 km is the hardest. The road mocks me with its interminable hills. When the milestones bear a single digit, I seem to be moving but going nowhere in the 38-degree heat. I perk up only in the last 3 km. When I reach the hotel, I am numb and dumb; I can't even say a word. I go for a massage. The volunteers are hard at work, some even skipping dinner till past 11 pm. Feeling how stressed my body is, one of them insists on giving me a near full-body massage.

"Radio" for help
Day 2: Sat 8 Sep, Mersing - Desaru (Johore), 143 km. In the past two days, I've not had more than six hours' sleep each night. Still, I draft some roadies and Mr Dahon for about 50 km, then drop back. By the time I reach the rest stop about 80 km from Mersing, I've clocked my personal best: 3.5 hours in the saddle. My butt is bruised. I continue my solo ride after lunch, then draft the bladers' van. But the relief is short-lived as the van stops. I play with my cyclocomputer as if it is a radio. The station I hate most is "distance travelled". "Max speed" and "average speed" are boring, as the numbers hardly change. So I tune in to "time elapsed". If only the km moves as fast as the seconds over the hills. A support car draws near a few times to see if I'm ok. Five cows cross the road, fortunately they are not cross with me. A speeding car passes barely 1 m from me; it goes against traffic flow as it overtakes a stream of traffic. At the hotel, a volunteer doctor puts a drip into a cyclist.

This is my first expedition with multi-day contact lenses. At least, I don't have to poke my eyes two times a day.

ECP, GRC
Day 3: Sun 9 Sep, Desaru - Singapore, 109 km. My body is sore but I head out with the lead pack, going at 30 to 50 km/h. In the pack of a dozen, the whirring of machines is almost deafening, punctuated with clicks and clanks (depending on how skillful the riders are at gear-shifting). My goal is to end the Malaysia leg with the front-runners. I wonder why. Even drinking is a tad tainted with fear; an eye on the road and the wheel in front, a hand on the brake lever and the other on the bottle, swallowing, breathing while keeping up and staying in line to avoid taking down those around me.

The Singapore leg, I'm told, is the hardest to organise. It's also the scariest to ride, as we pass through East Coast Park - Easy Collision Possible. Too bad the auxilliary police don't follow us in the park to clear the way. We cycle in a pack, shouting warnings and "thank you" to those who make way. But the inevitable happens when a kid panics looking for the parents and veers into a bicycle.

At Sentosa, some road marshalls miss their cue or point vaguely where we're supposed to go. When there are several routes and the way is unclear, decisive direction is what's needed, not wish-washy thinking or action. We wait for about two hours, with some VIPS including a minister and members of parliament. We cycle to the end point - Harbourfront - in a GRC (Group Representation Cycling, with majority roadies, two folding bikes and a few mountain bikes). At the end of the road, beneficiaries from the charities put up a show for us.

Tuesday, September 04, 2007

First impression or second look?

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 25 km. I don't feel like training today, but if I don't, I might not have time to train later this week, since my time is not mine. A smile flits over my face as I hit 47 km/h but other than that, the workout is hard work. As I rush along the winding, uneven road, I see a dark patch. At a glance, it looks like a dog slinking along the road; perhaps it's the one that's been barking at me. I take a second look, but there's no dog in sight. Moral of the story: after forming the first impression, take a second look.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Efficiently ineffective

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 69 km. I'm back on my slim slicks again. I rocket ahead, and promptly get lost several times. While I've been on this route before, this is the first time I'm on my own. Leading is harder than following. Just being a good follower does not a good leader make. And the more twists and turns there are on a route, the easier it is to lose sight of purpose and direction. Followers who've been rewarded with leadership positions, take heed!

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Action vs intention

To Changi, 65 km. Today is the last, official training ride before the Bike and Blade Charity ride next week. I volunteer to help in the training and am assigned to look after some kids from a welfare organisation which the ride is raising funds for. One kid doesn't even make it out of East Coast Park. Another completes the ride, but swerves from side to side from time to time. At the start of the ride, a warning is given that anyone who fails to follow instructions will be dropped from the ride. So, is the kid testing me? I draw beside him. His silent face tells me the full story. He's pooped, and isn't swerving on purpose. While the action is the same, the intention is not what I'd imputed to him. Far from being a trouble maker, his good character shows as he pushes himself along the way.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

From plodding to spinning

Aug distance travelled: 223 km

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 27 km. To think that the last time I cycled on a weekday was in May. Having done my first 10 and 12 km runs on 22 Jul (Mizuno Wave Run) and 26 Aug (Singapore Bay Run) respectively, it's time to turn plodding feet into spinning ones. My toes still hurt from the "piston" effect on Sunday. But I've got to gear up for Charity Bike and Blade next week. As I pant on the road on my circuit, a dog in the shadow keeps barking at me. Hmm, a familiar feeling ...

Sunday, August 19, 2007

Converge and overwhelm

To Choa Chu Kang Road, 61 km. When work, community, family and personal activities converge over a few weekends, it's overwhelming. My alarm clock rings but I feel too tired to join group training. So I sleep on till I feel awake enough to train for next month's charity ride. It'll be hard to keep training for that ride, since I'm also training for the longest run in my life next week, and I've got work and family obligations in the coming weekends. Today, as if to make up for lost riding time, I pick on a guy with a triathlete's build on the road. I blast past him but can't shake him off. He cruises past me, I sit on his tail but part ways when he banks to port. I next pick on a mobile crane with a "40 km/h" decal. It pulls away from me even when I'm at 54.1 km/h. Cheater-bug. Still, I reach home sort of satisfied, having cycled 2 hours 42 mins over rolling hills, non-stop except at traffic lights. And home in time to beat the pouring rain.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

When less is more and more is less

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 60 km. Having completed the circuit in sub-70 minutes last week, I want to shave 60 seconds off today. I reduce the weight of my bicycle by a few hundred grams and pump my fat tyres to the limit to have more speed. I pedal furiously, have a few close calls on the road, hurtle downhill at almost 53 km/h ... only to end up with about 60 more seconds added to last week's timing. Bleah.

Sunday, August 05, 2007

No more kampong "virgin"

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 75 km. I've heard so much about the circuit (which goes up hills seven times), it's worth getting up early to try it. Some veterans suggest I try it timed. Though this is my "virgin" ride on the circuit, I bite the bait and shoot off after the lead rider. While I'm sleeping, he catches the draft of a vehicle and drops me as he beats a traffic light. As the light turns against me, I'm fortunately awake enough to stop before four lanes of traffic roar into life. A couple more roadies overtake me as I'm out of position and have to stop at another light - and because I haven't been riding hard for four months. My time is 70 minutes and some seconds. The timekeeper asks if I'd like my timing posted online with my photo. "Yeah, with a bag over my head," I say. Well, there'll be a next time. Next time, I'll lighten my mountain bike a bit to even the odds against them road bikes, and hopefully I won't be making wrong turns again either.
Today is the first time I read with a new pair of "continuous wear for six days" lenses.

Sunday, July 29, 2007

Back to the old way

Jul distance travelled: 157 km

To Choa Chu Kang Road, 60 km. The journey to the west is a pleasant, hard ride. Traffic is light and the hills, rolling. I hardly sweat as the rain falls. A falling branch misses me with less than a second to spare. I cycle like the wind to make up for the two months I've been running instead of cycling, and mull my experience of the two.
- Cost: running shoes and cycling shoes costs about the same, but what good are cycling shoes without the bicycle
- Speed: hard running at 10km/h, cycling at 35 km/h (cruising speed on slicks on flat road)
- Transmission: "automatic" for running, manual for cycling (single speed excepted)
- Terrain: off-road and on-road for both
- Danger: low for running, high for cycling, with metal monsters and flesh-bound fiends to deal with
- Injuries: high impact for running; low impact for cycling unless I crash. I hurt more running than cycling; with the latter, my pains disappear.

Back home, I fail to remove stains from my new jersey. I think about someone who says cycling clothes stay clean in the rain. My consternation is how strong conviction can be borne out of great ignorance.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Segregation

To Rifle Range Road, 46 km. The Bukit Timah Nature Reserve is mostly reserved for people on foot, not on wheels. Trails criss cross the area. They would be a mountain biker's heaven, but the pearly gates are open only to those on foot, to protect them from bikers. However, mountain bike trails are often traversed by those on foot, with no protection for bikers, who have shed blood to avoid collision with those who are slow-footed and who quickly think that bikers can levitate like in the movie ET.

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Personal bests


To Hua Guan Avenue, 51 km. This month, I run the furthest I've ever run in my life in a day: 8 km. I started jogging about a month ago; after leaving the army, there was no real need to run (except to catch elevators and trains), and I was told not to run after knee surgery in 1996. Today, I also cycle past the 35,000 km mark (since I started keeping count). Quite fitting that I spend some of the time in this pretty rich, pretty part of Singapore.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Happy anniversary

Jun distance travelled: 207 km

To Changi Village, 62 km. In Jun, four years ago, over 40 police cadet corp officers and some volunteers lead school kids on a Charity Cyclethon around Singapore. That was an eventful 120 km ride. There is excitement at tonight's anniversary ride too: one driver cuts across two lanes in front of me to turn left. Another driver shoots out in front of a cyclist, who falls and bleeds after emergency braking. Riding at East Coast (the start point) is scary too: cyclists who wear black and ride with no lights in the night, pedestrians who block the cycling path and roller-bladers who suddenly stop and u-turn against traffic flow. There are no other mishaps as seven of us ride to Changi Village to eat. Much has changed in the intervening years; some are completing national service or have changed jobs. One wins the women's open championship at Adventure Singapore this year; credit for tonight's ride is hers.

Sunday, June 24, 2007

Morning glory


To Bukit Timah Road, 48 km. I see some offroad and follow it, not knowing where it goes. Birds flit from the road to the tree branches two storeys up high. Morning glory flowers line part of the way, which ends in a fenced-up, abandoned quarry. I linger a bit. This must have been a busy place a long time ago. There's a bridge (which now leads nowhere) over a railway track. On the way to lunch, something hits my helmet and then my shoulder. There is a stinging pain I see something on it. I reach out in trepidation to brush away what I think is a brown biting thing with many legs but it is gone. It leaves two punctures. It must have hit a nerve. It might've been a falling twig hitting me at around 28 km/h. Blood seeps through my jersey. I lunch with a friend whom I've not met since Oct - someone rebel in character but noble in spirit.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Nightmare scenarios

To Bukit Timah Road, 43 km. I dream I'm rushing around campus as I can't find my exam hall. No one can tell me where to go. The clock is ticking. After a dream like that, I leave dreamland and go cycling. I duck into a side road off Woodlands. It leads to a cemetary. The bottom has fallen off a tomb built into a slope (ground subsidence?). I don't stop to peek in. As I cycle on, I have a premonition: this is dog country. It is. Mad barking breaks out. A cyclist's nightmare: dogs behind and a slope in front. I ride up the pitted, stony road. The dogs stop 50 m away; maybe they have a cold too. The road comes to a dead end. There is an overgrown footpath (snakes?) that doesn't seem to lead anywhere. The sky rumbles. I can't stay here, I can't go forward and the only way out is past the dogs. I peer at the road, note the wind direction then rattle past at 32 km/h. I don't hear or see the dogs. I keep up the pressure in case they're ahead, but the coast is clear. To celebrate, I blast past a pair of long legs on a Conalgo.

Sunday, June 10, 2007

Near-death x2

To Turf City, 54 km. For the past two weekends, I've been laying out my cycling togs in the night - and keeping them in the morning. That was all the exercise I got. This weekend is different. I get my bicycle out the door. The excitement today more than makes up for what I've missed. A bus driver and a taxi driver are so excited to see me, they want to embrace me. Near-death #1: a car pulls out from the roadside. The driver is oblivious to what she almost did, not looking at me even after I yell. Near-death #2: I push my bicycle up a 2-storey hill. A black, 1 m long snake slithers beside me, crosses my path then dives into the undergrowth. I make my way past a clump of ferns, with barely 30 cm space between the ferns and a 2-storey roll downhill. Further ahead, the ground is water-logged. Though there's sign of landslip, the ground holds firm beneath me. Which is just as well. Today is my first outing with my new digital camera.

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Urban offroad

May distance travelled: 179 km

To Bukit Chandu, 46 km. I meet some friends on top of a hill for a picnic. I'm the only one on a bicycle; the rest are pedestrians. Of course, no one wants my cycling grub. On my way home, I pass a wide open space beside Alexandra Hospital (a historical hospital with lots of character and the site of a World War 2 massacre). I explore the open space (exit hospital via the mortuary, you know what I mean) which is the size of several football fields. Besides an abandoned road, there's grass and little knolls. I have the whole place to myself - almost. I stop to marvel at some people using ropes to climb five storeys up a tree. All these, beside a busy road and a hospital. It is shady and quiet. Amidst the busyness and sufferings of life, sometimes there're pockets of peace if you look aside and pause.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Could've, would've, should've

To Changi Beach Park, 67 km. I could've been cycling in Malaysia today. I would've accepted the invitation but after an internal struggle I decline. Otherwise, I would've been telling myself: "I should've listened to my body". With the coming work week the way it is, going would've been asking for trouble. So I cycle on this little island. I feel a tad tired just going up the slopes of Tampines and Loyang. I guess having a cold leads to a cold engine. Not that the dog under a lorry cared. It shoots out, locking on like a heat-seeking missle. From my peripheral vision, I see the mutt closing in. Too late to flip flop and turn back. To hesitate now may mean me flopping on the ground with my throat torn out. I keep my eyes on the track, looking out for ruts, gravel and loose sand. I break away almost languidly. Practice makes perfect getaway. Since I can't go back the same way I come in, I sink 3 cm into mud as I find another way out.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Cut throat


To Marina South, 44 km. Now, there's a remote possibility that your throat is cut, by kite string, if you visit Marina South. It is has wide open spaces and filled with green. In future, there is a distinct probability that your throat will be cut, as the place will have become a casino where the odds are against you. I enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts. It rains. Make hay while the sun shines. Wash bicycle when the sun doesn't shine, and that's what I do.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Running and rolling

To Mandai Road, 22 km. My fat tyres are squishy, having been unpumped for weeks. They're almost as squishy as my running nose. To get my nose dried in the wind (evaporation!), I roll out my bicycle. I intend it to be a slow ride. The intent disappears minutes later, when a roadie with aerobars shoots past me. I shift gear almost as fast as my hormones and before I know it, my wheels are rolling at 39 km/h. The roadie and I throttle back before the traffic lights. He's on an errand - to Jurong ... My mission, besides drying out my nose, is to cycle away the calories from the high-sugar cough drops I've been sucking so my coughing doesn't disturb my co-workers so much. Yes, I know. I'm a sucker at work.

Sunday, April 22, 2007

Vicissitudes of life

Apr distance: 212 km


To Woodlands Street 13, 60 km. The sun beats down so hard, I sprinkle water on myself before heading out. A white man on a bicycle with rigid fork and rear suspension overtakes me, sweat pouring from his face. We play "leap frog" on the road at 36 km/h, he on slicks, I on fat tyres. We part ways at a fork in the road. I find a pretty park in Woodlands and linger there before heading home. The rain beats down soon after. So, it shines in the morning and rains in the afternoon. To rail at the weather is a waste of time. Maybe I should rail less at life too; just as I prepare for wet weather on the road, I should expect rain at work.

Sunday, April 15, 2007

Space and time

To Lim Chu Kang Road, 66 km. Life is not just about atoms and molecules. Matter can be there, but lifeless (as is the case with roadkill). Living takes place in space and time. It's strange how I want to get out of my home but hours later, want to be home. I rush home so I won't get wet in the rain, yet am glad to be get wet in a shower. To be home is to be in the same space but different time. To be in a shower is to be in a different space, different time. Ultimately, life is about time, for it takes time to transcend space. It takes time to do things. It takes time to live a life. And a "good" life is about how time is spent.

Sunday, April 08, 2007

Recce ride

To Bukit Chandu, 53 km. I've never cycled to Marina South before, so that's what I do. It's a nice flat place for cycling. I then head for the hilliest part of Singapore. Geographically, the highest hill in Singapore is in Bukit Timah, but the road uphill is off limits to cyclists. The most rideable place is thus in the south, with Bukit Chandu, Kent Ridge, Mount Faber, etc. I would've joined some people riding there, but receive mixed messages before the ride about whether it is an "invitation only" ride, so I have my shadow and my bicycle for company today, after a nice long snooze, getting up only when the sun is high up.

Tuesday, April 03, 2007

What do you really want?

To Singapore Zoo, 33 km. I've been on slicks since 24 Mar. Great acceleration, lighter and faster. But though they go further on the road, there're just some places it'd be foolhardy to go with them. They're more prone to punctures than my fat tyres. But since I've chosen to be on slicks, it's silly to miss my fat tyres. Sure, I could put on fatter slicks, but this'd be at the point where marginal cost exceeds marginal utility. Of course, these calculations make sense only if I know what's cost and what's utility. In a scarce world with unlimited wants, I've got to know what I really want. Then go for it. What's sub-optimal has to be judged in that light. Caveat: is what I really want what I really need? And then, some decisions are shaped simply by what's the right thing to do - even if there's a heavy price to pay. I meet two people today at work who're prepared to pay the price. It's my privilege to know them; they're priceless.

Sunday, March 25, 2007

The man who would be king

Mar distance: 410 km

To Mount Faber and Holland Village, 66 km. I'm nudged off the podium at the King of the Mountain (KOM) race. I'm fourth, the same as my race number. Still, I'm a pretender to the throne: KOMM (the last "m" being "mtb" since the top three are on road bikes.) Some guys who start later have their times messed up as they're slowed down by buses disgorging tourists. I'm ahead of a guy on a full carbon monocoque road bike including carbon aerobars - and an N95 mask. On the way home, I see a man lying chest down on the grass. He says he's been robbed and lost everything including passport and air ticket. I accompany him to a police station, where he stops crying and becomes more coherent. "God bless you", he says. Yeah, God bless me; with the peat fires at work, I need that. I stop by a bikeshop to look at bags. As today is race day, my wallet is already light.

Friday, March 23, 2007

Dangerous liaisons

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 29 km. There's safe sex, and unsafe sexual practices. Like stopping the car by the roadside with lights off. Then pulling out suddenly. With wanton disregard for a had-a-lousy-week-but-still-training-for-a-race cyclist passing by.

Double irony

To Mount Faber, 41 km. I've right of way across a junction when two ironic things happen. #1: I pass a fatal accident sign. #2: a car whizzes across my path - to head into a place of worship. I want to go to heaven, but not so soon, oh demented driver. Later on, a taxi passes me, too close for comfort (pun intended). As I do my one and only lap up the hill, I wonder about tomorrow's race. I started training a month ago and it's boring. On the way home, a car toots at a cyclist, who raises his finger. One finger is more aerodynamic than raising a fist, I guess.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

How would I know?

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 26 km. I rush to cycle and forget to bring my wallet, which contains my identity card and moolah. If I hurtle through someone's windscreen, I'd be an unidentified flying object. How would I know if that would happen? How would I know if I'd need to hail a cab home? How would I know if my training for this weekend's race would be in vain? How would I know if my work and personal planning for the years and decades would pay off? I don't know. But I know that if I don't do some things, there'd be more things I don't know. I also know there are people who don't have wallets and don't know where their next meal is coming from. Whereas, I know that my wallet is at home. What a difference that makes ...

Sunday, March 18, 2007

No-alarm-clock day

To Mount Faber, 52 km. Weekends are "no alarm clock" days. After working hard to wake me up five days a week, my alarm clock needs a break on weekends. I get out of bed close to 10. Yeah, perfect 10. I don't get a break from training: the usual five laps up and down the hill. A taxi driver honks me and asks me where I got my jersey from. At the end of my ride, just as I'm about home, someone asks me "are there any trails nearby". The enquirer: a young dad who's "just back from Colorado".

Saturday, March 17, 2007

National iconoclast


To National Stadium, 38 km. In a TV documentary, a political commentator points out where his home had been. Now, it is in the shadow of an overhead bridge for motorists. Plants now grow where he grew up. This week, letters appear in the press chiding those who'd decided that the iconic National Library had to go, to make way for motorists on the go, to save them five minutes. Where cavernous halls used to be filled with the atmosphere of learning, there's now a tunnel filled with traffic fumes. Another icon that'll be going down too is the National Stadium, opened by Lee Kuan Yew in 1973. I've puked there and led a contingent there. Watched decades of national days there. It's empty today, yet filled with memories. I walk the concrete one last time, including the spot where Mr Lee must have seen the nation on parade. Wow, the building is coming down but he's still standing ...

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Strange that it's strange

To Mandai Road, 26 km. I get an email today; someone wants to interview me about my life on wheels. How strange, just when I'm getting tired of cycling. Or maybe it's strange I think it's strange. The timing is right after all, if you believe in the Big Guy in the Sky. Anyway, for those tired of running, it's been said that the hardest step is putting on the running shoes. For those tired of cycling, I suppose the equivalent is putting on shoes, gloves, helmet, dragging the bicycle out of the house - then dodging road-borne big boxes of metallic death. Still, I have fun today, drafting (with fat tyres) a motorbike at 42 km/h until the ubiquitous traffic light puts a stop to this.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Still steel

To Mount Faber, 53 km. I come across a group of roadies by the road as I do my laps up the hill. I stop to chat on my fifth and last lap. I know some of them but the rest are strangers. Which didn't stop them from offering me isotonic drinks and buying me lunch. Most of them are on steel (vs aluminium / carbon / titanium) bicycle, lovingly polished and maintained, gleaming and looking like new. One-inch tubing, with threaded forks and at least one bicycle with friction shifters on the down tube. These bicycles would be at least 20 years old. The riders are older - they'd lived in kampongs. Hence their name: Kampong Kakis. They're among the friendliest roadies I've ever met. Today, I wear my self-dyed arm warmers for the first time. Someone says it looks nice, though to me it looks like some creature died on it and decomposed, leaving splotches (yes, like roadkill!).

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

Meetings

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 27 km. I'm in a meeting this morning when I'm called urgently to attend a second one. I cut short the first meeting and go for the second. Because of the second meeting, there's a third urgent meeting. All of this to get things right and beat the clock. I have lunch at 3pm; a lunch meeting. I have another meeting tonight: the one where the rubber meets the road. I tear around the circuit on my fat squishy tyres till I'm winded.

Sunday, March 04, 2007

Banking on trouble

To Mount Faber, 52 km. This week is like last week. At work, there's still heavy fire. And another banking fiasco. I wait an hour at bank #1, only to be told I should go to bank #2. At the latter, there's another 1,000 places ahead of me (based on queue number). Someone helps me before I become a fossil and says bank #1 is the place to go. Today, I do my five non-stop laps up Mount Faber, like last Sunday. And like last week, I notice the little things. At an Indian restaurant, I'm given a banana leaf big enough for two. The rice served is enough for two too. There's an Indian show on TV, which brings back pleasant memories of India. Today, I could've been maimed / killed twice by overtaking cars but I live to tell the tale. Unlike the little kitten that's splayed on all fours, with blood oozing from it's mouth.

Wednesday, February 28, 2007

On trial

Feb distance: 237 km

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 27 km. The road is wet from rain. Ordinarily, I'd stay home and stay warm. But these aren't ordinary times. I'm under fire and on trial. a) Under fire: I'm under heavy fire at work, with no respite in sight. My flak jacket is shredded; I'm considering coconut husks as stop-gap. b) On trial: there's an individual time trial next month. I've figured out what's needed, so training isn't drudgery any more. Having a goal (and a benchmark - last year's record), I know how to get there. I know what's relevant and what's not, what counts and what doesn't. So I cycle, in my Waveline shorts (a personal first). It rains. But I'm cheery, because I've figured out b). And because, as someone reminds me today, there are "little" things. Like friends who care (actually, this is a big thing!). And little things like having a hot cup of cocoa. We can't always fix the big things (like getting people to accept and apply (b), but the little things are in our grasp.

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Downs and ups

To Mount Faber, 52 km. Yesterday is a bad day. I go to three banks. At one of them, my queue number is 2015; number being served: 1035. Then it's a working lunch, giving advice on how communications strategy and dealing with audit findings. Then it's three hours with a friend going over our year-end expedition plans. My head hurts before I get home and I feel like puking (aka "merlion"). Today is a good day. I'm up after 12 hours of sleep. I cycle up Mount Faber with my fat tyres, in the noon-day sun. I want to stop after round 2, but meet my target of doing five non-stop, despite having to contend with a taxi going against traffic flow (ie going head-on towards me) as it overtakes a bus. I have lunch at a new place, cycle up Keppel Hill for the first time (where, by fluke, I see a man playing the flute) then head home.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

By the river, reprise


To Choa Chu Kang, 54 km. Just 24 hours ago, I was on foreign soil, in Yangon. It's a different world, with right hand drive. For over two days, I hear no honking, yet in Singapore, you'd be hardpressed in two hours to find a driver who doesn't press his horn hard. On the streets there, it's "eat first" (instead of "pay first then eat" in Singapore), right to life rules (instead of right of way), "we first" rather than "me first", and natural beauty abounds. Here, it's hard to find unspoilt beauty. Still, I manage to parts of old Singapore today, where yellow butterflies flit a frantic dance on an old abandoned road (Lorong Bistari).

Sunday, February 11, 2007

By the river

To Choa Chu Kang, 77 km. I'm on my fat tyres for the first time this year. A light turns green and I cross a junction. Another car beats the red light bearing down on me. The driver literally lifts her hands in despair. She must've lifted her feet off too. Since I've to hold on to my handlebars, I roll my eyes in despair and pedal away to explore some trails. I find a path by a river. It is just about as beautiful as it gets in Singapore; 2 km (and another 2 km back) along the concrete bank, surrounded by water on both sides.

Monday, February 05, 2007

Looks good (or what to look for when getting a jersey)

To Seng Kang, 27 km. I've been poisoned and off work for three days. I take it lying - and sitting - down. To see if I'm ready for work tomorrow, I ride my bicycle today, wearing a sponsored jersey. It looks good, with emphasis on "looks". It has many panels with inner lining on some panels, to cover the pin-hole type outer layer I suppose. I'm unsure which is the layer (if any) that wicks sweat away, but all that cloth makes the jersey heavier than usual. There's a pocket at the back; it's big enough but requires rummaging to get stuff out. The jersey is predominantly black and dark orange; not quite eye-catching enough for traffic safety. Designed with good intentions, but somehow the intent got lost in translation as the jersey is not designed for serious cycling. With all that work and material put in, I appreciate the gesture.

Sunday, January 28, 2007


Jan distance: 936 km

Thu 25 - Sun 28 Jan: Hearts on Wheels
To Malacca, Malaysia, 549 km.

Are we there yet?
Day 1: Thu 25 Jan, Singapore - Batu Pahat (Johore), 159 km. It's a bad start: it's raining when I get up just after 5 am. And I lose a contact lens in my eye. It (the lens, not the eye) finally pops out and I promptly lose it. I ride to Mandai to meet S. There's supposed to be three of us going north, now there's two. I'd have biked north even if it's just me. S and I are fully loaded, with backpacks. The agenda for S: to train for Ironman. My agenda is more mundane: to see if my new pedals are "expedition proven". Along the Johore roads, I see signs of flooding; the roads are dry but the drains have overflowed, sometimes stretching into homes. But over 50 cyclists have signed up for SWCT's charity ride in aid of Club Rainbow, which starts officially tomorrow (they ride to Malacca - in a bus).

It is cloudy; good cycling weather. We have three breaks (excluding a detour to see the Shimano factory; alas, there's no warehouse sale). Three breaks is a tad too little for a long, fully loaded ride. Dealing with the hills at the "entrance" to Batu Pahat after 150 km is tiresome. Also tiresome is the noise at night, no thanks to patrons at the coffee shop downstairs and at the karaoke across the street. Of course, I'm in a rumah tumpangan in a happening part of town.


Close call
Day 2: Fri 26 Jan, Batu Pahat to Malacca, 102 km. I have breakfast in bed. Why spend time and calories looking for food in town? We stop an hour later for breakfast, part 2, when we come across a decent place.

The weight of a backpack is a real pain in the butt. To liven things up, an overtaking lorry bears down on us. It flashes its headlights. Like a deer frozen in the lights, I just look - and keep riding. S swerves, commenting on the danger. I veer offroad too. The truck whizzes by. This might be my closest brush with death in over 30,000 km of riding.

Weekend warrior vs triathletes
Day 3: Sat 27 Jan, Malacca to Batu Pahat, 105 km. For months, I've been cycling once, at most twice a week. The triathletes train six days a week, sometimes twice a day. I stick to the lead peloton until most of them breakaway to draft a police car (we have police escort). I'm too slow in the head to figure out what's going on and too slow to catch up as the gap widens to 300m and beyond. The lead cyclists then split into three groups. Total time elapsed is about 3.5 hours; the only break my group has is at the traffic lights. I arrive about 10 minutes after the second group. My butt hurts less; the hard riding (max speed: 53.7 km/h) must've taken some weight off my rear. The triathletes arrive about 10 minutes after me. Weekend warrior wins, so I think, until I find out that the triathletes run and swim after arriving.

Bringing a rainbow
Day 4: Sun 27 Jan, Batu Pahat to Singapore, 183 km. The first leg is supposed to be free and easy. K and I set off at a brisk pace - but where is everybody? We stop at a bus stop. When the "bike bus" of riders in two columns comes by, we "board" it. I find myself braking too often. This is three hours of non-stop riding, in a 50-strong peloton. We stop for lunch at my favourite coffeeshop by the Straits of Malacca in Pontian. The food dropping into stomachs seems to affect cyclists in a strange way; they start dropping things when the ride starts: tools, light, food. I drop off too, for a toilet break, than scramble uphill to catch up. At a stop to regroup, a roadie warns me about the wind that topples bikes. No worries, my mountain bike is twice as heavy as his.


My white jersey has turned as grey as the drizzly sky. The sun comes out and I'm glad. I'm also glad when the toughest ride (going from Mandai to Club Rainbow, negotiating the traffic and stopping at the many traffic lights) is over. The closing ceremony is simply touching. The charity auction of paintings done by the seriously ill kids of Club Rainbow, and the sale of calendars (featuring biker babes) raises $30,000; I hear we raise another $30,000 through our pledge cards. The money goes to help the kids. The guest of honour and head of Club Rainbow thank us, and we thank N (who conceptualised, planned and led the ride), the support crew and sponsors.

Riding home, a jaywalking pedestrian waves me away like I'm a fly. A car turns a corner and stops abruptly. Welcome to Singapore ...

Sunday, January 21, 2007

New toy, old problem

To Lim Chu Kang, 63 km. This is my last ride before next week's charity ride. I'm still not used to my new toy; it seems to change how I pedal. The problem is, is the pain real or imagined? To simulate a long ride in less time, I cycle with higher gears, stopping only at traffic lights and to adjust my saddle (again). The pain eases when I remind myself which plane my knees should move - which is what I told myself when I first got clipless pedals. To keep my new toy company, I have other new toys: a water bottle (sponsored by Rodalink yesterday) and a watch.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Water, water everywhere

To Mandai Zoo, 35 km. The roads are wet. I look at the night sky and see white clouds (so much light is thrown up by urbanites). It looks safe to cycle, rainwise (though not so safe that I cringe when heavy vehicles pass close by). I'm in such a hurry, I forget my water bottle. Water, water everywhere (on the roads) but not a drop to drink. Why am I cycling? Perhaps because I rode 1,794 km less in 2006 compared to 2005. It's as if I didn't cycle for over four months last year - that's how bad work was.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

Like or dislike?

To Lim Chu Kang via Changi, 110 km. I look at the grey sky and feel blue. It's been raining all day, all over the island. When the rain stops in the evening, I hit the road. But it feels like a chore. Which spells trouble. Without cycling, there's no "cycle-therapy" and I'll go crazy (since I can't afford psychotherapy). If the cure is driving me crazy ... A family of pedestrians try to kamikaze into me. Then a bus gets so close. A a pair of cyclists weave into my path though the road is three lanes wide. Ah, I get it. I just dislike cycling in Singapore, not cycling as such. Proof: I'm looking forward to cycling in Malaysia in two week's time. And grimly satisfied that I log a century ride despite the weather.

Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Only time will tell

To Mandai Road, 35 km. I take my new headset out for a spin. It feels good, without that spooky tug on the handlebars as was the case with the old, pitted headset. I think of doing laps but the thought of training depresses me. So I ride for leisure, until I see a cluster of red blinking lights ahead. The chase begins. It's only at 40 km/h that I start to close the gap. I never manage to overtake the two lead riders, one of them on a mountain bike. Among the things I blame for my dismal performance is my seat height. I'd gotten it just right, after hundreds of km from consecutive days of riding. I marked the height but the mark was rubbed off when the seatpost got cleaned. While the height can be approximated, only time will tell if it's right - from the presence or absence of pain.

Saturday, January 06, 2007

Weathering the weather

To Woodlands, 101 km. I don't want to cycle today as Saturday traffic is heavier. But it is sunny. Instead of being angry with the weather in case it messes up my traditional Sunday ride, I ride bike while the sun shines. I vow not to go home till I cover 100 km. In little Singapore, that's hard. I cycle to get used to my shiny new toy. I find that wearing thinner socks ($13 for 6 pairs! Branded too!) gives more pedal "float". My steering is messy - a pitted headset. As the bearings can't come off, I buy a new headset. And seatpost clamp. I don't know if my bicycle is lighter, but my wallet is.

Thursday, January 04, 2007

To believe my feelings or my eyes?

To Mandai Road, 43 km. I got a shiny new toy yesterday, made by an original equipment manufacturer (OEM). Being excited, I adjust my toy without reading instructions. A piece falls out, taking my heart along with it. It takes a while to put it back together, then install it on my bicycle. I take it for a test ride today: my first ride of 2007. The Q-factor doesn't feel right. But to the naked eye, it looks OK compared to the old component. What should I believe: my feelings or my eyes? Time will tell - when I test my new toy on a multi-day ride. Maybe I should've bought peace of mind by buying a branded (instead of OEM) version. But who knows if the former (which costs more and heavier) would cause me grief, or would I feel it's better since it costs more and is branded?