Sore loser

To Sentosa, 47 km. I confess, I'm a "sore loser" at the Subaru International Mountain Bike Race 2004. Sore, because of my abrasions and contusions from crashing. Loser, because I didn't win anything. I feel bad about it, until I read in today's newspaper that the elite champion describes the terrain as "one of the most technical that I have come across ... a lot of bike-handling skills are required ...". Another elite rider says: "There is also very little recovery time between each climb and descent". I'm especially familiar with the "descent" part since I do some of them without my bike.

Photo courtesy of JL

It's still a blur, but I must've crashed 3-5 times. A couple of times, it's because I hear competitors' bikes rattling behind me. As I've never raced before, I get rattled too; I fumble and lose control. On my second and last lap, at a downhill corner, I somehow crash. The marshall yells a warning. I drag myself and my bike out of the way of the guy behind me. "Hey buddy, are you ok?" he asks. "After you," I reply. "Thank you," he says, and whizzes past mere inches from my bike.

Twist of fate
At other times, I'm just too tired. My worst crash is when I stop my downward slide with my head - against a tree. The marshalls look at me in stunned silence. I get up and find that my handlebar and saddle are twisted. I fix them (the bike parts, not the marshalls) and get on with the race. So far, two guys have overtaken me. It doesn't help that on my first lap, I take a wrong turn in the direction the marshall is pointing with his flag, which happens to be the same direction taken by another biker. I try to make up for lost time. I see two bikers ahead of me, at the !@#$ muddy grassy slope, where we move latitudinally along the side of the slope and then go uphill.

Finally, I see the gravel road. I shift to my biggest chainring, but don't push myself all the way. It'd be embarrassing to crash before the finish line in front of the spectators, who are cheering - presumably because I'm on a rigid bike, which the commentators have helpfully pointed out. (And the only Iron Horse too, I should add, though not the only rigid bike.)

Jerking with pain
After warming down, my legs remind me they are unhappy. I shuffle over to the first aid tent, where people clean the mud off me to assess the damage. Ouch, ouch, ouch. My legs get back at me for ignoring them. At times, my whole body jerks involuntarily. A medic places a reassuring hand on my shoulder; he also checks if I've damaged my skull, spine or bones. A guy takes over from the people (girls?) who dab gently at my wounds. He doesn't dab, but rubs! Someone else comes by, looks at my wounds and says: "It looks bad." But perhaps it's because of my yelping. And for all that pain and suffering, I don't win anything.

To console myself, I go for the Nature Ride, a "unique blend of mountain biking, biketrail and urban riding". The idea is to complete a series of riding tests at different stations, eg riding around or on obstacles, or on sand, without putting a foot down. Alas, though I'm awarded A Class 1, I'm aiming for a perfect score. Only one !@#$ point away from perfection ... I mess up because of auto-suggestion; the scorer had warned me: "this is where people fall".

Still, if I psycho myself, there are reasons to be happy. After all, there are answered prayers:

A taxi gets me to Sentosa in good time for the race; there's only a bit of fuss (the first cabby who stops drives off, perhaps because he sees my bike)
It doesn't rain today, though the ground is muddy enough from rain on other days
My forearms, which hurt from my practice ride on 4 Jun, don't hurt today
I don't end up in an ambulance (I see one rider who does). I don't break any body part or lose my two front teeth. I complete the race, though I hardly cycle off-road.

I stick around for the results of my race. Of the 18 who start, three are DNF ("Did Not Finish"). I'm a few minutes behind the chaps who overtake me. The guys who go up the podium look like hardcore mountain bikers. The champ is a teenager, at least half my age. Still, if I'd been 10 minutes faster, I would've won a nice prize too, including a new saddle. Instead, I walk away with a token - a meal voucher, paid for with my sweat and blood. Ah well, food replaces sweat and blood.

This is my first bike race of my life. (The Penang Jamboree last year doesn't count, because I didn't know it was a race when I agreed to go.) Today, I finally understand what "single track" means. Yesterday is also the first time I've been a road marshall. I see cyclists who go two, three times as fast as I can. But even if they go slow, I respect them. Especially the guy in the Spiderman jersey, who goes five laps in the Men's Masters. Though he comes in last, he's still got the energy and high spirits to smile and laugh.

Acknowledgements

My thanks to Ling the Merciless who hints that I shouldn't sign up for the Men's Masters, though I'm old enough to qualify. To Flanker, for his cycling tips (yup, I made it past the sandbags without crashing or stalling). And to AF, who cycles home with me, via kinder terrain instead of the hills of Queensway-Farrer Rd-Lornie Road. What a sight my mud-encrusted bike must've been at fashionable Orchard Road. And thanks, of course, to God for answering my prayers (come to think of it, I didn't ask to win ...).

Tech note Back home, I recall why I prefer cycling on the road instead of off-road (this year, I've only gone off-road three times, the third time being this race. And all my life, I've only biked up Bukit Timah once). It's all that cleaning and maintenance; not only must I clean the chain and chain cleaning equipment, I must also clean the kitchen and toilet since the mess gets everywhere. My rear wheel is wobbling and horsey has fresh gashes. Has the tree trunk knocked sense into me, that horses are happy on wide open plains? Or will I continue to be an ass up them hills?