Bikes, babes and a little blood

To Paya Lebar, 44 km. This is the third consecutive year I've taken part in Runway Cycling. It's a bike fest. I see: a single speed decked out like a roadster, with chrome and shoulder-high handlebars. A motorbike with a folding bicycle on board. Biker babes too, but just a scattering of them. I'm at the start line early, so that at flag off, I only have scores instead of thousands of people ahead of me. Moments after flag off, we're cycling at 39 km/h and above. Strangely enough, there are few roadies ahead. There are some rollerbladers in front, but they are soon left behind. And so am I, by the lead riders - two guys drafting the lead vehicle. A dozen others overtake me. I cross the finish line barely 30 minutes after flag-off. I cycle around in circles, waiting for the lucky draw. I reckon there are many unclaimed prizes that day. There aren't any goody bags either, unlike before. Still, I get to chat with the legendary WC, with her smiley orange bunny buddy on her handlebar. I have a health check-up too, including a blood test, courtesy of NKF. "You look tired," says one of the staffers. Well, I've had four hours of fitful sleep. So much work, so little adventure.