A world of change

Upper Thomson Road, 16 km. More than a year has passed since I hit the road (not literally of course, whew). More has changed in multiple realms in the past three months, than in the past three years!

Religion: places of worship that remained open during war time are closed

Military: it might be more deadly, or at least more sickly, to be among civilians than to remain on base.  Even on an aircraft carrier, crew are scared though not a shot has been fired. 

Industry: many factories have fallen silent. Worldwide, air is cleaner. 

Agriculture: people are going hungry because they lost their jobs, but crops are rotting, livestock killed and milk poured away because the big buyers (restaurants, hotels, convention centres) are closed

Energy: demand has fallen as factories and workplaces are closed

Workplace: those who wanted flex-time and flex-place couldn't get it, but now, it's mandatory

Health: everyone is at risk, everyone is a risk. 

What a strange, novel (coronavirus) world. 

Fortunately, it's legal for me to ride my bike (solo, of course, as group rides are banned). I thought that traffic would be light, which is why I'm on the road. But no, traffic seems normal. Since 7 April, the neighbourhood has been quiet. So quiet, like a graveyard. I suppose that as "circuit breaker" draws to a close, people are rehearsing for the new normal, as the economy slowly opens up.

Well, I'm glad that traffic is keeping a social distance from me!

Change

November distance: 54 km

Upper Thomson, 20 km. Decades pass and little changes. Then someone, somewhere, decides to widen this two-way road one way. Don't know whom, don't know why.

Things remain the same, then, within a year, or even within the blink of an eye, so much can change.

Change may come about by accident; someone somewhere makes a mistake, and someone else may end up paying the price, be it careless driving or unhygienic food practices.

Change may come about because of an impulsive decision, or a life decision made after much agonising.

Because of change, what was once important becomes unimportant. Like km clocked in a year.

I used to cycle as cycletherapy, for my mind. Now, it's for physical therapy.

What goes around, comes around

Upper Thomson, 18 km. One reason I started running years ago was, I got tired of dragging my bike out, the accoutrements and paraphernalia. Running was much easier; just about the only equipment I needed (besides clothes) are running shoes.

Instead of cycling in trails, do trail running.

Then, the injuries came. Injuries that last and last from single-day ultra marathons, which I didn't suffer from mountain bike multi-day stage races.

I reckon it's better I get back on my bike, for physiotherapy more so than cycletherapy!
 
And so, my bike tyres are going round and round again.

Back in the saddle, looking back

Upper Thomson, 16 km. It's been nine months since I last cycled. Many days, few rides, few km.

Much has changed. Then, I had to look out for mobile phone zombies jaywalking across the road. Now, it's not only them, but also PMD users zipping past at electric motor speeds, from pavements to roads and all over the place.

The road I've cycled on for over a decade used to be two lanes, two way. It's wider now - and one way! What used to be a nice loop is no more.

When we were younger, life used to be mostly play. Then mostly school and some play (school holidays). Then mostly work and little play (annual leave). These life stages are undergirded by family, friends, health and financial matters, in varying proportions.

The time will come when work is no more and other things come to the fore. Like family and the meaning of life.

Over hydrated, over wrought

Mandarin oranges symbolise abundance. This crime scene
(littering, feeding wildlife) has abundant abundance.

Woodlands, 87 km. Today is my first ride in 2018. I don't mean it's my first ride in the Chinese New Year, I mean it's my first ride in Common Era 2018. I apply sunblock but I needn't have bothered.

Less than an hour after I start cycling, thunderclouds block the sun, from one end of the sky to the other. Instead of cycling on the road, I feel like I'm cycling in a stream. Water pours down on me from the sky, gushes over my shoes (that's how high the spray from the front wheel is), sprays me from the side from passing traffic.

At Sembawang Hot Spring, people sit in the rain, using wash basins as umbrellas, soaking their feet in hot water, as cold rain pours around them.

I get lost (literally). Thrills and (almost) spills, as a truck brakes behind me instead of running me over.

So exciting! This is my first ride since Jun 2017, a break of eight months. It's my longest break from cycling since I started cycling.

Life is unpredictable. Perhaps that is why I cycle: it is mostly predictable. It involves physics and engineering. It is physical: push / pull the pedals, it turns. Something squeaks? By the process of elimination, I can find the cause and eliminate the squeak. It may be tedious and frustrating, but diligence will do the job. Emotional stuff? That is a different world, with a whole new language and culture ...

Days gone by, place gone by

Apr distance: 64 km

Woodlands, 45 km. The rain has stopped. Dark clouds are still overhead. In the past months, that’s a good reason to stay home. But today, I want to ride. I’m off to see a place before it gets torn down: Woodlands Point.

To be here used to mark the start of adventures across the border, into the great beyond. We'd wait here, outside McDonald's, till everyone was here, then we'd ride over there.

Malaysia was the great big yonder. I've spent many happy hours there years ago, cycling with new friends, exploring, eating and talking.

Those days are pretty much gone.

And this place will be gone too.

Then and now

19 km, Upper Thomson. Over 71,500 km on the road. Assuming an average speed of 20 km/h, that's over 3,500 hours on the road. Only 19 km today. Still, it’s been 15 years since I started serious riding. So much has changed, when I look back at how I started, and now. A newbie then, riding some km for a lark, with inferior equipment. Jaded now, riding some km with superior equipment.

But still riding :p

Chore and bore

Buangkok, 33 km. Cycling is starting to feel like a chore all over again. If the roads were long and the scenery nice, I could happily head out and ride long. Instead, I stop ever so often at traffic lights and shake my head now at then at dangerous and oblivious drivers. Dangerously boring?

So why do I still ride? Because of "use it or lose it": health is important (provided I don't get maimed or killed on the road), and i want to maintain my base for a charity ride coming up.

5,000 km

Feb distance: 62 km
Buangkok, 25 km. Matt Black has covered 5,000 km. Is that a lot? That depends. Compared to what and to whom? Yesterday, I met some people I used to cycle with. All but one have stopped riding. So 5,000 would be a long distance, especially when compared to the 62 km I cycled the entire month. That’s like an average of 2 km per day!

Same route, different life

Life has twists and turns, unlike this road

Sembawang, 37 km. My life used to be predictable. While daily stresses vary, they’d be from a
defined range and the overall pattern of my life would be identical. For instance, I’d work in the same company year in, year out. And I’d ride (and run) the same range of routes year in, year out.

In 2016, I changed career and industry. Through sheer exhaustion, I barely rode or run, until I changed employment terms.

In 2017, the first working day, 3 Jan, was also my last working day. A few weeks later, I start work in a new industry (again), and a new level of stress. The hours are long and so is the commute. I barely ride or run.

Until today, one month after my last ride. What hasn’t changed is the same range of routes: this country is just sooo small.

No traffic, no traffic lights

Jan distance: 716 km

Punggol, 35 km. I’m supposed to go for a walk with friends today. But it became a solo ride when one of them calls in sick at 4 am.

The weather is cool, the roads almost empty. Rather than let the time go to waste, I go ride. At one point, there are more cyclists on the road than cars. I’m overtaken by a mini velo. I want one of them for travelling. It should be able to fit into a standard suitcase and taxi.

At Seletar, I reminisce about riding abroad: cool weather, cool sights, no traffic and no traffic lights.

This ride serves another purpose: if my bicycle was damaged during the trip from Myanmar, I'll know and will claim insurance.

Hot, tired, hungry but not unhappy

Pasir Ris, 40 km. I’m hot, tired and hungry. But I keep going, as I’m training for a long ride, as  one leg is 175 km long. I expect to be hot, tired and hungry on that ride, so I train for the feeling.

If this was my job, I’d be unhappy with my boss. How can one work when hot, tired and hungry? But this is not my job. Since I’m not working, this is supposed to be play. Same ride, same conditions, yet the feeling is different. Hot, tired and hungry, yet not unhappy.

And that’s what purpose is about. Make sense?

Planning vs worrying

Admiralty, 43 km. On the way: 175 km fully loaded on fat tyres in a foreign land. Longer, if I get lost. I know from experience that 160 km (a “century” of miles} is the upper limit of tolerance. 140 km or less is leisurely, and that’s what cyclotouring should be about. But 175 km? A painful ride.

I’d a boss who said I’m stoic. Perhaps stoic on the outside, but not on the inside. Eric Barker writes: “A key part of Stoicism is just asking yourself, ‘Can I do anything
about this?’ … Next time you're worrying, pause and ask yourself, ‘Do I have control
over this?’ If you do, stop worrying and get to work. If you don't have control, worrying won't make it better.”

So, what can I control?

• Ride time: I’ll need lights so I don’t have to win the race against the sun(set)
• Weight: improve power-to-weight ratio. It’s weight weenie time, eg, I fuss with lights and spares: high power yet low weight (especially “button” batteries, lighter than AA). I don’t know how “barren” Myanmar is, but I’ll pack light yet calorie dense food
• Route: don’t get lost! I pour over maps, mark out distances and plot routes. With the “terrain” feature on Google Maps (click the three horizontal lines at top left corner of Chrome browser), I drastically change my route.

Will the plan work? I don’t know. I worry it won’t. I ask myself: “Is there more I can do? I should’ve trained more. I add km, but time is running out and it’s been raining. Can’t do more? Stay home, pack and check equipment.”

As Eric writes, there’s no point cursing the rain. “You accept the rain. It's here. Denial and shoulds won't change anything... but that doesn't mean you can't grab an umbrella.”

Why running is hazardous for cyclists

Nov distance: 38 km

Upper Thomson, 21 km.

She: So, who is she? You’re seeing someone else, right?

Me: Huh?

She: Don’t pretend. You come home from work, change, then go out. We don’t go out anymore.

Me: Oh, that. I’ve been out running, training for an ultra.

She: Sure. It takes three months to train for a marathon. And you are training for an ultra in two? 

Me: Really! See! [Shows finisher medal]

She: I knew it! There is someone else!

Me: No, no. Your wheels are rounder and stronger than the medal. When I was running on the trails and saw mountain bikes, I missed you so much.

She: Now that your race is over, let’s go for a spin.

Me: Uhhh, my legs hurt.

She: Do your hands hurt?

Me: No, why?

She: You haven’t lubed my drivetrain. Get to work, boy. After that, let’s go shopping for bling bling!

Me: You know what? What I need is "active rest". Let's go ride :)

Weekend rush

Oct distance: 104 km

Woodlands, 34 km. A five day week offers 2.5 days of weekend (it starts in the evening of Day 5). Having been deprived if that for six months, I 'fold" time to make the most of it.

I could've taken a train to pick up some gifts from M. It'd be faster than taking a bike ride. But I choose to cycle. A train ride would save me about 30 minutes in travel time. But if I cycle 90 minutes after that, I need an additional 1 hour. So cycling there actually saves me time.

Back home, I look at M's stuff. They are years old, but look as good as new!

Like the wind

Sembawang, 38 km. Like a bird bolting from a cage, I ride like the wind towards freedom.

Free, beneath the blue sky. Free, no need to pay money: for petrol, tap water or race fees. A roadie passes, I crank up the pace and hang on until he fades into the distance.

Down by the water, I soak in the sights and breeze.

It’s great to be free.

PS: today's ride is double my "usual" distance per ride in the past half year!

Ride and run

Upper Thomson, 15 km. Reduced working hours has increased my energy. Today I run, then I ride. A cyclist in fluorescent yellow overtakes me and we ride like the wind.

Winded, I slow to a crawl up a slope.

A girl jogs past, going faster than me :0 Increased energy my foot?!

Version 3.1

Kelulut Hill, 17 km. My new life, version 3.1, has begun. Instead of working 60-hour weeks ("full time"), I now work part time, which is pretty much some other people's full time. Back to a five day week, something which I used to take for granted.

I realise I've taken many things for granted, even simple things such as being able to drink coffee whenever I want.

I don't know if I'll be back in the saddle as much as I used to before 60-hour weeks, but I find myself exploring again. When I see a sign point to Kelulut Hill, I check it out. Not much of a hill, the name is more picturesque than the place is.

Still, I've not been here before
This is what it's like to explore
Sometimes, there isn't much
Sometimes, there's much more

PS: version 1 started when I left school. Version 2 started when I changed sector. Version 3 is when I changed sector again.

Impromptu

Sep distance: 81 km

Upper Thomson, 22 km. Cyclists are out in force. Not in pelotons (which seems to be a weekend phenomenon) but singly. A guy in running shoes on an old bike overtakes me. I don't mean he's running with his bike; he's riding his bike while wearing running shoes, long tights and shorts.

Going uphill, I ride past him. He sits on my tail and the impromptu race begins. I slow down near traffic lights, then stop. He asks if I train everyday. Every day? No way. I didn't even intend to train today. I'm just riding my bicycle.

Danger girl

Upper Thomson, 23 km. She’s cycling on the pavement along a busy road, one hand on handlebar, the other holding her mobile phone. She’s looking at the phone, its glow lights up her face. Otherwise, no lights. And no protection: no helmet on her head, no gloves on her hands, slippers on her feet.

“So dangerous”, I thought. When accidents happen, there’s sometimes no time to scream. And the “landing gear” tends to be head, hands, feet.

I stop at a red light. “Where are you going?” she yelled. Turns out she's lost, having cycled from Sengkang. Her friend is lost too. They agree where to meet and I lead her there to wait for him. When we stop, she asks why. “Red light,” I reply.

As we wait, we chat. Jessica wants to be an UAV pilot for the military. She seems to think cycling in Cambodia is more dangerous. Having cycled in all three places, I think the risk of accidents is higher at Orchard Road and East Coast Park.

Danger is relative.