Going around in circles

Seletar, 42 km. I’m fed up after going around in circles at work these past weeks. But today, I don’t mind going in circles, furiously cycling along a 2.3 km loop I discovered. Traffic is light and there is only one traffic light along the entire route.

When I cycle loops, I tend to get bored and frustrated: all that effort but going no where really. Ironically, cycling round in circles this time, I feel better. Perhaps going at speed with just one stop per loop gives the illusion of progress?

Micro adjustments, major pain

A dead end is a pain; a poorly adjusted saddle is a rear end pain

May distance: 156 km

Seletar, 39 km. Millimetre by millimetre, I adjust my saddle, because I know the pain that comes from thousands of kilometres of pain that comes from a “maladjusted” saddle. Too high or too low? Too far forward or too far aft? Nose tilted too high or too low? Trail and error is a pain, and only time will tell.

I got my current beau, Matt Black, in Sep 2014. Why adjust the saddle again after taking a year dialling in the stock Selle saddle that came with Matt Black? Because I decided to replace the stock saddle with my Brooks saddle, which I bought in 2011 for my now-retired Little Red Bike.

Fast and furious

Seletar, 45 km. This residential area, with names like Picadilly Circus, used to be a quiet, idyllic place to cycle. It also has an airport.

Besides the airport, the area is increasingly more and more an aerospace hub, with Airbus and other giants here. The aircraft traffic is still light, but road traffic is heavy: fast and furious.

Cycling here would be hair raising, but for the helmet I am wearing.

Cycling here used to have the thrill of speed without traffic lights.
It's a good place to train. Now, the thrill is filtering without being killed by speeding traffic.

Photos:
Top right, 2011: it used to be a path, leading to wooden houses with zinc roofs. The only things buzzing around were mosquitoes.
Bottom left, 2014: construction for buzzing traffic.

Excuses and reasons

Add some colour to grey

Seletar, 41 km. I knew I should ride yesterday. The sky was clear, I’d eaten too. But instead of burning fuel, I stayed home. My excuse: I stabbed my hand last week. It still hurt and hurting hands don’t go with handlebars. Wait till Sunday.

Today is Sunday. Dark clouds are overhead, so I shouldn’t ride. But I need to train for my charity ride. Otherwise, I’ll suffer and worse, get a “DNF” (ok I exaggerate, such status is given only during races and this isn’t a race).

Well, since I have a reason to ride, that beats any excuse. I look at the weather app, see where the clouds have been going with the wind, and ride.

Life happened

Pasir Ris, 31 km. It looked like it was going to be a dark and stormy night: dark clouds hang overhead, thunder rumbles. I even see lightning flash in front of me. What a great reason to stay home. But I ride.

I'd signed up for a charity ride. That leaves me four weeks to train.

How things have changed. In the past, I'd have trained for months. Now, barely a month. In the past I'd grab every opportunity to ride. Now, I grab every excuse not to ride. I even thought of doubling running and stop riding.

How big would've the change been? In the past, I blog only after cycling. Now, I was going to blog without cycling.

What's happening? Life happened: there are physiological, psychological and preferences changes.

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?

Adventure, not adversity

Dec distance: 193 km

Woodlands, The last morning and last ride in the last month of 2016. This month’s mileage is decent. Today, I cover about 1/3 of the dreaded 175 km distance I’d be covering in Myanmar. But I shouldn’t dread it. I’ll frame this as a challenge, not a chore. Adventure, not adversity.

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.”

Working holiday

Sembawang, 35 km. I've a cycling holiday coming up. Not a holiday from cycling, but a holiday for cycling.

Trip preparation involves:

• Route planning. This includes looking at distances, terrain, sights and sites (for food and sleep). Sitting at a table, looking down, pouring over data: sounds like work but doesn't feel like it.
• Cycling to keep in shape for the big ride, That sounds like fun but it feels like work. 

Weird. Why does sitting on a bicycle, slicing through the air feel like work? Perhaps it's the traffic. Dodging traffic is no fun. But that's only a partial explanation. Perhaps cycling to be in shape, rather than solely for fun, makes it no fun.

Tech note: at several bike shops, I was told the solution to wailing brake pads was to replace them. So, new brake pads each time I ride in the rain? Twice, I remove the pads, wash them with soap and soaked them overnight. It works, until the next downpour; a cheap but tedious solution. Next, I tried "flossing" the brake pads: soak cloth in water (without soap). Slip the cloth between the pads (remove wheel first) and floss. It works: a cheap and easy solution.

Training for holiday

Time to explore!

Pasir Ris, 39 km. Another year is coming to an end. Another holiday is coming. It's easy for an office worker to leave for a walkabout vacation. While I don't sit on my behind all day, would I be able to be on the saddle all day for multiple days? So I train for my holiday.

Someone said that the first few days of a long trip is the training ride. After that, the body adapts to the new regime. While that seems to be true for long rides in my experience, I wish that applies to ultramarathons. Surely the first few days of a multi-day run would be detrimental for the untrained?

I wonder if I should find out. Time to look for a multi-day ultra run?

One bird, two stones, one bike, two rides

Woodlands, 73 km. I didn't ride last week. And riding this weekend is best avoided. At least, it would be prudent not to ride, with so many other things happening.

Some things, like household chores or reading a book, don't take hours. But riding a bike, like watching a movie, does.

Today, I combine two rides into one, doubling my usual paltry distance. I cycle within sniffing distance of coastal sea air until it gets dark.

Choices

Old Upper Thomson Road, 29 km. This post has an odd label: "training". I'm not training for a race. Or for a charity ride. I'm training for a long ride. It could be 400 km. Or 1,000 km.

I have a choice of distance. I know that if I don't train, it's going to harder. So, do I spread suffering over time, like instalments, or pay in one lump sum? Well, that lump sum will be spread over time too: during the multi-day ride. But, with training, instalments are spread out during the training period and the ride itself.

And why am I unsure whether it'll be 400 or 1,000 km? Because I don't know how my injured limbs will hold up. And it'll be Matt Black's maiden expedition too.

Today, for the first time, I remove her brake pads, which have been screeching complaints at me. I brush it with toothbrush and water (but no toothpaste) and the complaints stop.

If only I could brush away the misfortune that's befallen me again and again, at work and at play. But then, these are the vagaries of life.

Lap it up

Around my home, 21 km. The ominous black clouds hover above, see? Will the sky open up and the rain pour down? As I'm short of time and don't want to get drenched and fall ill, I do something I've never ever done before in over 60,000 km of cycling.

I cycle around my home, a 2 km loop. There's a little slope, two pedestrian crossings, two traffic lights and some lousy drivers. And if it rains, I don't have to wait it out at some bus stop. I can go home in a jiffy and do other things.

Round and round I go. Easy. Well, it's meant to be a recovery ride since I ran yesterday. It's kinda like a training ride too.

Let's see: one charity ride last week. A 5-hour run yesterday. Another charity ride in a this weekend. And the longest run (so far) of my life the week after that. Whew! Tough?

Not as tough as the puzzling things at work ...

At last

Jun distance: 193 km

Admiralty Road West, 50 km. My new WTB tyre is on its maiden ride. It buzzes loudly compared to my Merida tyre; the latter is lighter, with lower rolling resistance.

I cycle loops, pushing myself hard. Traffic is heavy and I sprint a few times to get away from heavy metal, including a transporter big enough to carry a bulldozer.

Without intending to, I've found a new training route: it's quiet, with no cars even after several rounds. There's a dog which lunged at me, then charged alongside towards an open gate. Fortunately, that was its neighbour's gate, with a fence between it and me.

Back home, I check my bicycle, do some maintenance then box it up. It's only after I'm done that I realised I've not referred to my packing instructions. After several trips (this is the fifth time I've packed this bicycle box), getting a bicycle expedition ready is muscle memory.

What the blazes

The wispier the clouds, the less cloud cover there is and the hotter it gets

Woodlands, 61 km. It is hot. So hot, I sweat even when I'm sitting still. At 6 pm, it's still sweltering. But
I didn't cycle last week, so, I've got to train.

Regardless of: how hot it is, how my back hurts, and even though I ran yesterday.

I purposely cycle with soft tyres at 40 psi. The higher rolling resistance means more effort in less time but also less distance on dangerous roads where cars and buses come too close for comfort.

As the ride grinds on, I get that sleepy feeling.

Soon, the training will end. And the unknown will begin!

Goodbye again

Lim Chu Kang, 82 km. Time to train hard. Buzzed by a bus, I head into some grassland. But it's overgrown in places. Tall grass whips me and a thick strand of spider web dangles from my bar end.

I used to do this long route as a routine, in 2010, 2011. My last ride there was in Oct 2013. Now, I wonder if I've got what it takes. Well, yeah, though it's 2x what I've been doing in recent years.

Today, I say goodbye to my chain, prematurely discarded because it broke last year while on expedition in Sumatra. I replace it with an old model, HG73. I hear Shimano doesn't make it any more. I couldn't get it from two other shops today, so I go back to a really old shop. There, someone I know lets me jump queue while she goes for dinner.

Too bad the shop closes next month. Bikeshop man says he'll be back, someday, somewhere. Meanwhile, instead of being boss, he joined someone's staff.

Saturday night fever

May distance: 267 km

Sembawang, 52 km. I'm so sick and tired, I sleep more than ten hours before I awake. I want to rest more to recover fully from my cold and intend to train tomorrow, but a loud party tonight puts paid to that. And so I cycle.

Again, what was meant to be a shorter ride ends up 2.5 hours long, including several rounds of an old road where I keep my eyes peeled for wild pigs darting across the road. Well, none tonight but on the big roads, a big bus buzzes me.

Fear of fur

Mandai 51 km. Thunder rumbles in the distance. I cycle in search of grass and clear skies. In a park, I cycle on a slope so steep, my pedal hits the side as I cycle along the contour.

Along the road, I see that it has rained. It is misty. Rays from the setting sun filter through the trees. It is red. It is beautiful.

But pain and suffering is nearby. I have close calls with pedestrians crossing the road without looking, a motorcyclist who bullies me the way drivers bully him, and close call with a car and a bus.

Coming closer than people are dogs. As I turn into the road where they used to hangout, I hope they are gone. I peer under the parked lorries and in the distance. Even black rubbish bags could be dogs. Suddenly, I see them. I turn back. As I pass a parked lorry, a furry face peeks out. The chase begins. I speed to safety.

Three hour's of training, longer than I'd intended.

The F word

Caldecott, 34 km. Yesterday, I dismantled my headset to remove the creak. Though it is stainless steel sealed bearing, somehow rust formed on the aluminium part of the system. Without a bicycle stand, it is hard to hold everything together, balance the bicycle and clean all at once. It's a sunny day but I do this instead of cycling as I wish to recover from my cold.

Today, it rains, so I wait till it stops. To avoid mud and mess (and muck in my headset), I stick to the road. There are 15 traffic lights on this route. Two drivers and a pedestrian come close to giving me grief. But I do not end up like the crushed mango I cycled past.

Mango that fell from a tree near a place full of long-dead people. There are more uncrushed mangoes on the road, for the picking, but I ride on by.

My knee hurts, so I ease off a bit from my Fartlek. When time is short, make the most of it. When the pain goes away, I put more back into the training. Back home, I prod myself. Tender tendon, not a meniscus mess. All I need to do is tend to my thigh. Whew.

Unexpected

Kranji, 51 km. My knee hurts when I go up and down stairs, and I feel a cold coming on. So, I will be
an easy rider today. I'll just do a short, scenic ride then head home. Yeah, right.

Instead of pedalling a piddling 40 km, I end up cycling over 50, including over grass. Just what I need to train for my race. And the views are nice too.

I didn't expect today to be even tougher than the past weeks; all that hard riding after a hiatus since Dec has taken its toll. But I made it back.

Similarly, I was hit by the unexpected at work. After six months, I seem to be making it back too.