Weighty matter

Oct distance: 353 km

To Upper Thomson Road, 20 km. Obsessed with weight loss, I visit bikeshop man to cut off a cm or so each from my handlebars and bar ends. So my is a few grams lighter. And more aerodynamic? Not quite. As my hands are now closer, I ride a little higher. That's the law of unintended consequences in operation.

Direct or inverse relationship?

To Jurong, 98 km. I decide to wake up early today for a group ride with SWCT. There's just four of us and I find out how unfit I am, spinning my wheels chasing after a 55 year old roadie. A fringe benefit of the ride is going to a bikeshop in River Valley - a shop I never knew existed. I am mesmerised by a wheelset that costs about $1,700 per pair. I wonder how much my wheelset weighs. I know that the lower the weight, the higher the cost (inverse relationship). Or, the lower the weight, the lower the bank balance (direct relationship). Tonight, I'm in a BMW convertible. I wonder what it's like to own this set of wheels. I also wonder what type of relationship exists between the wheels and the work that makes the wheels affordable. Well, my wheels don't need COE or parking coupons - and they're fully paid for.

True impressions

To Changi, 67 km. The PSI reading on TV states 74, but I smell smoke. Turns out to be incense; my nose is  "right"; I did smell smoke, but not all smoke is haze. I hit the trail, making a detour at Tampines to check out the new trail (picture). At Changi, the trial seems to go on and on, and the trees look alike. I'm not sure where I am. I think I hear traffic, but it's just the wind in the trees. If I'd followed blindly, I'd be truly chasing the wind. By dead reckoning, I make my way out. I never thought seeing a lamp post peeking out from the trees could cause such happiness.

Smell test

To Upper Pierce Reservoir, 28 km. Triangulation is where I use three different ways to verify data to make a decision: is it safe to cycle today? My eyes tell me it's hazy. The PSI reading is in the 70s. I smell no smoke and head for the hills, doing laps. Joggers and monkeys are out in force. It's the right decision. Triangulation is what I use to decide about my work. I do a chart, talk to people and talk to God. Time will tell if I've made a right decision, but my mind - not just my heart - tells me it will be so.

Daze of haze, ride with haste

To Lim Chu Kang, 72 km. The pollutant standard index (PSI) hit 150 yesterday, a nine-year high. Every year, Indonesia clears land with fire, leaving us burning helplessly with rage. But overnight, the PSI drops to 30. Not believing my nose, I message a friend. "Hammer away, dude," is the reply. I waste no time getting on the road. I find a legal trail at Kranji. One stretch is muddy, but looked easy. It was, after all, only 25 m. But things may look easy until you're caught. Mud envelopes my drivetrain and brakes. I can't even clip my pedal in. I explore another trail and head home, my chain squeaking in protest, in vain. With doctor's orders in mind, I eat lightly. That doesn't stop me playing leap frog with a three-water-bottled, long-limbed white man on a Sycip. At a petrol kiosk, a kind man washes off the gunk for me with a water jet. He wouldn't let me do it and I hope my bearings are spared.

Technique

To Changi, 68 km. I've been struggling with my contact lenses; they're the most comfortable brand for me among the brands I've tried, but the hardest to remove from their containers. Until I look at the instructions again. It's amazing how looking with an open mind at a few lines on paper can make such a difference. On the road, I feel so lethargic; I cycle so little nowadays. I pass a biker in denim shorts. A "race" starts. He sits on my tail even at 48 km/h downhill. I slow down as I run out of hill. He overtakes. I sit on his tail, going uphill at 41 km/h. I'm glad when he veers away towards Changi Village. I explore the unknown until four dogs bark. I reckon this pack barks but won't bite, but I turn back anyway. At the start of the ride, I'm thinking of how a dog took a chunk of out a biker's calf ...

Misadventure race

Sep distance: 269

To East Coast Park, Labrador Park, 75 km. I sign up for the NUS Rovers Cyclohunt. NUS Cycling Club Team 1 already has the full complement of four. There aren't enough people to form Team 2, until my friend agrees to join on the eve of the race. Most of the competitors seem to be newbies, which means there's hope of getting the top $300 prize. The clues seemed easy enough, but we spend 45 minutes in vain just on Checkpoint 1. A team member then pulls out there, recalled home because of a "domestic situation". That ends our hope of winning anything. We cycle to half the other checkpoints just for fun, stopping even for supper. I lead the way to the Labrador checkpoint, which the rest haven't been to. They (all roadies) "repay" me by cycling back to the finish line at up to 38 km/h, with me the only one on fat tyres. Thumbs up to the organisers for their imagination ("5 points for a live cockroach, 1 point for a dead one").

WAT kind of ride

To Changi Village, 121 km. Today is the first time I'm riding with Wheels Are Turning (WAT). It's a leisure ride, but two in the group are more hardcore than I am. One of them has cycled in New Zealand, and is taking part in an offroad race in India this year. The other has done endurance races in the US and France. I ask how is it their bosses allow them so much time to get away to cycle. As it turns out, they are the bosses. Today is also the first time I enjoy riding at East Coast Park, going at a languid pace. The day starts out with heavy cloud cloud and I want crawl back into bed. But since I'm already up, I get up my . I prepare to get soaked in the rain, but I soak up too much UV rays instead and end up sunburned. Funny how life turns out ...

Having it both ways

To Mandai Road, 51 km. I'm supposed to cycle to Sungei Tengah today but S calls me to warn me of ominous clouds in the west. So I cycle north, stuff the cumulo nimbus clouds. I see an inviting patch in the foilage by the road and plunge in, but the trail peters out. On the way out, thorn-studded foilage slams into my mouth. A small scratch appears on my finger as I push the vegetation away. I'm glad I'm going slow; if not, my lips might've been shredded. That would've made drinking soup difficult. An ant bites me. That's par for the course. I expect this in the jungle. Next time I walk into peril in the concrete jungle, well, I'd expect that too. But today, I ride bike while the sun shines. And in case it rains, I've got my muddy shoes and mud-encrusted . All's well that ends well; I get to cycle and when it pours, it cleans my bike. Today, I have it both ways.

"Just do good"

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 22 km. "Anyone can get to heaven, just do good", reads the car sticker. But the car is in the wrong lane, turning and putting others at risk. The driver isn't doing good. How good must one be anyway? And good for how long? I look the the barely visible hole in my water bottle. The bottle looks good but it isn't really good, as it leaks. The bottle can't heal itself. I couldn't fix it either though I tried to melt the plastic to cover the hole. To be good, you need someone better than you to help you.