Cat fight

Nov distance: 376 km

To Seletar Hills, 22 km. With a hiss and a snarl, the two caterwauling cats (one a Siamese) spill onto the road. I yell back and they back off. Cycling among the landed gentry is interesting, to see how the rich and famous live. But, to paraphrase, richness isn't having the most, but being able to be happy with the least.

Overtaken

To Lim Chu Kang Road, 78 km. Another ride with the Singapore Women's Cycling Team. There are like four times more guys than girls, but I guess that's the way us guys are ... We take the Thomson route. The lead Thomson rider passes me. I surge ahead but flame out soon after reaching 48 km/h. The first peloton overtakes me, some passing real close. The second peloton passes me too; I guess they're going at 39 km/h. It turns out to be a solo ride for me but I don't mind that as it's a good ride. I've been wondering when it's time to oil my chain. The answer is obvious enough; when it squeaks. Wet lube lasts me for over a month but it's hard to clean. Dry lube dries up fast, but is easy to clean. Trade-offs; that's what life is about I guess. But some things are absolutes: chain should be lubricated!

Stop and go

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 26 km. It's been ten days since I last cycled. On Sunday, I didn't even make it out the door despite waking up at dawn. Someone had told me: "If you have to ask whether you should ride, you shouldn't." So, I went back to bed. The only exercise I got was turning in bed. And that really helped to unclog - not my arteries, but my nose. I felt a lot better on Mon. When you stop, it sometimes helps you to go. Wisdom is knowing when to stop to go. I'm still sniffling a little, but when I sit on my saddle today, a smile flits across my face. For a while, office hard labour is forgotten. On the road, the incursions continue. A car crosses the line literally but veers away in time. As for the three walkers, they ignore me and I cross the line to veer away. Brushes with death on either side.

Still not easy

To Lim Chu Kang, 77 km. I join Singapore Women's Cycling Team charity training ride for a hospital. Thinking it'll be an easy ride, I have soft tyres. As it turns out, I'm the sole mountain biker among the six who show up. Another roadie overtakes us. In a flash, I'm on his tail. He makes a rapid S-turn while I slow down and he drops me for good. While I stop to wait for the rest of my group, I see the the lead peloton of the Thomson ride shoot by. It's a sight to behold, compared to the middle group who come in twos and threes. I continue chasing roadies who pass by, until I'm winded. And hungry. The charity riders are still fresh and I drop further to the back.

Easy? Not easy

To Rifle Range Road, 52 km. This morning's ride with Singapore Women's Cycling Team is called off because of rain. I decide to cycle solo anyway. It's supposed to be an easy ride. I venture to the end of Jalan Kampong Chantek and my heart leaps with joy at the sight of hills. And a bit of offroad too. And, for the first time, I find myself on Rifle Range Road. Sloping up and down, curving left and right. Exciting, and I'm not talking about women. I'm glad I cycle all the way to the end instead of turning back. Sometimes, success is just round the corner, if you hang on long enough. The hard ride isn't over yet. Along Lornie Road, a roadie in matching Bianchi togs passes me by. We exchange greetings and I crank away. 44 km/h, but the white man continues to pull away.

Beautiful village road

To Jalan Kampong Chantek, 49 km. The name means "beautiful village road". Lining the road are triple-story bungalows, with floor-to-ceiling windows, spiralling balustrades, multi-car car porches and swimming pools. One house is so big, it has a sign stating which entrance to use. It is a quiet neighbourhood of landed gentry. One house is abandoned, with a gaping hole in the roof. I check out the former turf club. Now, it's largely the hoi polloi who come here. Then, there were landed gentry too. In life, there are the haves, the have-less and have-nots. It's a troubled ride; only when I come across two groups of roadies do thoughts of my work woes fall behind.

Long ride around

Deepavali
To Lim Chu Kang Road, 72 km. It's a long ride. Not the distance, but the time taken: 8 hours. The six of us spend a long time sitting and chatting about bicycles, bikers and even what goes into Harvard Business Review. We cycle around Singapore - not round island (which I'd thought it was going to be), but just around. We lunch at Kranji Sanctuary (our first). This is the first time I cycle with MW and I play tour guide part of the way, riding beneath a glorious "Simpson's" sky. At Woodlands, I almost crash thrice. I could've met my Maker, or stare at the ceiling for the rest of my life. Singapore drivers ...

Bird flew

Oct distance: 533 km

To Lim Chu Kang, 70 km. The plumage would make a cyclist proud: red and iridescent blue. The kingfisher was hanging out with egrets. I admire the egrets; how do they stay so white without detergent? How far have they flown? Where are they going? There's a flock of them, but none of them give me the answer. One of them takes flight - its wings spread out, its legs trailing behind. With one flap of its wings, it glides through the air at 30 km/h. Such majesty, yet, invisible viruses may befall it. The bird banks lazily perpendicular to my direction and it flies out of my life. The good thing about cycling alone is, I can savour such moments at my own pace. I can even wake up at my own time: an alarm-free day. Cycling beneath the little puffy white clouds against the clear blue sky like in "The Simpsons". I stop by a bikeshop; he charges me $5 to tighten my cassette. He spots a problem with my brake pad and fixes that too.

Little pleasures, big blessings

To Lim Chu Kang, 63 km. There were four rides yesterday. I go for none, but think all weekend about one of them: a double American century. 320 km in less than 24 hours. I'm so drained. I wake up this morning, go back to sleep and cycle only after lunch. At Mandai, as I cycle the long stretch without stop lights, my mind wanders to the long days at work. I cycle into Kranji Sanctuary. A modern-day dinosaur (chameleon?) skittles across the road. Two vintage cars driven by vintage drivers ripple past my space-time continuum. An egret races ahead of me at more than 30 km/h. I blink as my extended wear lenses (first time I'm riding with them) suck the moisture from my eyes. A truck cuts me off. I wave my arm vehemently. Twice. Back home, I munch on a chocolate bar. Life's little pleasures. Life's big blessings.

Right prediction, wrong prediction

To Mount Faber and Lim Chu Kang, 78 km. When I see the race list, I know who's going to win the NUS Cycling Club King of the Mountain time trial. I'm right. DC, reputedly Singapore's fastest guy on rollerblades, clocks 3 min 58 seconds up Mount Faber. "Doc" Chin clocks 4:09. I come in a second later, third among the nine mountain bikers. A crummy second and I could've been joint second. Still, it's my first ever time trial. I tag along with the gang for breakfast then head west with a handful of them. I think it won't rain, but I'm wrong. It dawns on me that the sky is getting greyer. Soon, it rains buckets. The diagonal rain soaks my soaks as I shelter at a bus stop at Lim Chu Kang. I head out when the rain lightens out, but it pours again. I shelter at Upper Thomson Road, with bikeshop man. He whips out a thick Shimano 2006 catalogue and gives me a critique. It looks like it'll not stop pouring. I sprint in the rain to keep warm; I feel like a goldfish being hosed. I puff my cheeks to blow air out so rain water doesn't get in. When the rain hits my lips, it stings. When it hits my bell, it rings. Somehow, the exertion makes my running nose clear up...

Photo courtesy of WQ Ong