Lim Chu Kang, 77 km. What a week it’s been. A member of parliament dies. A helicopter (an Apache, no less) falls from the sky. Mrs Lee Kuan Yew dies. And I see a throwaway line in an article in the most influential local newspaper which sets off alarm bells and keeps me awake. All these, in the tail end of the week.
All this is too much for me. The thought of the next five days is scary too. And after that, about 800 km of uphill climbs in Borneo. Time to start rolling. I blast past a few roadies, but when I’m spent, they zip past. They stop to rest, I don’t; a few short minutes later, they overtake me again. Suitably chastened, I fall in line obediently. But I can’t keep up and fall behind. They stop, I don’t but this time they don't chase.
After over two hours in the saddle, I stop too. It’s been a hard week, surely an ice-cream will cool things down. I choose a rainbow-coloured one to brighten up my life and catch my breath. I’ve aged and slowed down, haven’t I? Or is it that run last night? Or the Fri night at work?
I look at my rear tyre, I see the wear and tear. It’s a matter of time before it retires, which is a nice way of saying, it’s refuse. But that’s the fate of a tyre isn’t it? it doesn’t even have a choice of where it’s rolling. We’ll all die, at least we have some say where we’ll go in life.
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