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, 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.