Black diamond

Oct distance travelled: 178 km

To Pulau Ubin, 65 km. When the alarm clock screams, I lie in bed thinking, "to sleep or to go?" Stress level rises before I'm out of bed. I decide to go for the "focus group" ride at Ketam Mountain Bike Trail. It is a ride worth waking up for. I like the trails marked "blue diamond" as they are a relaxing ride, compared to the black diamond. One part passes a drop to oblivion. My tyres scrabble for traction and at one point, I hold onto a tree. Semi-slick tyres and road pedals not recommended, but front suspension is optional.

Rainwear

To Woodlands St 81, 48 km. I have a white, expedition jersey. Whenever the team wore it during the 2005 expedition to Kuala Lumpur, it rained. I wore it a few days ago, because someone wanted rain - and it did. I wear it today, and am caught in the rain - thrice. Of course, I'd waxed my bicycle. But at least, I find the vegetable garden that was officially opened by a government minister, see Singapore's newest polytechnic and ride down a hill about three stories high.

Fit for purpose

To Lim Chu Kang Road, 65 km. Yesterday, I saw two types of bicycles. The first type is big, to attract attention. Its saddle is adult height, with each frame comprising two frames welded together. It belongs to some clowns. The second type is the compact type, with 20-inch wheels. They were designed with distinct purposes in mind. And that's why they work. It's a terrible waste when a screwdriver is used as a hammer, and vice versa. A good workman knows his tools and - most importantly - what he has to build. Also hard a work today are workers felling trees and clearing land - to build a "sand bank" by the sea at Kranji.

Ride like the wind

Sep distance travelled: 908 km

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 68 km. "Is that it?" asks a guy who appears by my side. I'm clocking 47 km/h. "Yep", I say. "See you later," he says and cycles ahead. Not a good start as I head for my time trial start point. When it's time to go, I go. My chain slips a few times as I cycle uphill, though it was fine on the way to the start point. I guess the load is heavier on the actual route. A taxi blasts me three times though it's a three lane road with no other traffic. At Bukit Chandu, my mind starts to give way. More hills to go. I tune out and just keep riding on the edge between pacing myself and blowing my heart, lungs and legs out. At Mount Faber, I slip past a roadie whose heart rate monitor beeps furiously. He thanks me twice at the foot of the hill. I'm grateful too, that the sun is out today and I've clocked 63 min 57 sec. Woohoo!

Clink clink, think think

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 38 km. When the transmission goes "clink", it's time to think. After installation at shop #1, shop #2 says the cassette isn't loose and sells me something else to fix the shifting problem. Shop #3 agrees with me that the cassette is loose, disassembles it and puts it back. Presto. When there's something as obvious as a clink, the ears simply can't be wrong. But since the cassette feels firmly in place, the mind naturally thinks the clink is caused by something else. It's sometimes easier to solve the wrong problems than to do the right thing. Unless there's a man who, just by listening to clinks, can tell the problem is with a cog not rear derailleur alignment. He even remembers how my old cables were routed compared to the new ones ...

Weather beaten

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 82 km. The dark clouds overhead liquefy and pour down just as I start my record breaking feat. Cars part the water on the road like bows of boats, leaving a wake behind. From the overhead bridge, a sheet of water falls as traffic ploughs it aside. My bicycle decelerates as it cuts through water. At Labrador, it is dark. My sunglasses fog up and it's hard to see as I descend. Transmission still sounds funny. I finish the circuit at 67 minutes and some seconds. Bleah. After I togged out in my sleekest bike wear to reduce drag too (and with homemade armwarmers for the first time).

Bye bye, ring ring

To somewhere in town, 30 km. When I cleaned my chain two weeks ago, I knew it was a goner. At the bike shop today, bike shop man says "confirmed, gone case". He shows me how shot the transmission is, even replicating chain suck. I replace the casette, chain, and the big and middle chain rings; XT for everything. It takes some doing, but the XT rings eventually fit the LX crankset. Brake cables fixed; they are now silky smooth. The transmission sounds different, but seems finely tuned the first time round. What joy it is to ride a system that's in harmony. Still, that's a feeling. Time will tell tomorrow, with data as hard as a stopwatch.

Performance Bloody Terrible

Kampong Kaki Circuit, 66 km. I crawl out of my warm bed on a damp Sunday morning, thinking I'd achieve my personal best time (PBT) today. After all, I'm fresh from a 436 km hills ride a week ago and my body is in good shape. Traffic is light and with the cloudy sky, I divert energy from cooling to cycling. But my time is 67 minutes and some seconds; about three minutes better than with my fat tyres. Bleah. I should've oiled my transmission after the 436 km ride. During lunch, I talk to a cyclist who's worked in the same firm for a quarter century. He tells me to live one day at a time and don't think so much. His parting shot as I ride home: "Work hard."

The secret

To Mandai Road, 29 km. Having heard what happened with my own ears, I come to a sad conclusion today: something just isn't going to happen, so don't expect it. With that sad conclusion, I feel ... happy. So, I find happiness from a cooling breeze, or a clean table, because to expect a certain kind of action from a certain kind of thinking is to chase the wind.

The hills are higher and I'm older

Fri 7 Sep - Sun 9 Sep
To Mersing, Johore, Malaysia, 436 km. Before this year's Charity Bike n Blade (in aid of Ling Kwang Youth Centre, Pertapis and The Salvation Army), I thought that having cycled this route twice in as many years, the hardest part would be the fundraising, while the ride would be a walk in the park. How wrong I am, as it is hard to walk after each day's ride.

Ahead of myself, behind others
Day 1: Fri 7 Sep, Singapore - Mersing (Johore), 184 km. Lack of sleep and training takes its toll eventually. I have a good start, riding in a pack of seven among 48 cyclists (and 15 bladers). Trying to do my part to pull instead of drafting all the time, I surge ahead too fast several times and am spent soon enough. "Mr Dahon" on a folding bike going at roadie speed drops me. I ride alone thereafter, my legs hurting unusually. My butt hurts too. I coast along, sitting to one side of the saddle. The last 20 km is the hardest. The road mocks me with its interminable hills. When the milestones bear a single digit, I seem to be moving but going nowhere in the 38-degree heat. I perk up only in the last 3 km. When I reach the hotel, I am numb and dumb; I can't even say a word. I go for a massage. The volunteers are hard at work, some even skipping dinner till past 11 pm. Feeling how stressed my body is, one of them insists on giving me a near full-body massage.

"Radio" for help
Day 2: Sat 8 Sep, Mersing - Desaru (Johore), 143 km. In the past two days, I've not had more than six hours' sleep each night. Still, I draft some roadies and Mr Dahon for about 50 km, then drop back. By the time I reach the rest stop about 80 km from Mersing, I've clocked my personal best: 3.5 hours in the saddle. My butt is bruised. I continue my solo ride after lunch, then draft the bladers' van. But the relief is short-lived as the van stops. I play with my cyclocomputer as if it is a radio. The station I hate most is "distance travelled". "Max speed" and "average speed" are boring, as the numbers hardly change. So I tune in to "time elapsed". If only the km moves as fast as the seconds over the hills. A support car draws near a few times to see if I'm ok. Five cows cross the road, fortunately they are not cross with me. A speeding car passes barely 1 m from me; it goes against traffic flow as it overtakes a stream of traffic. At the hotel, a volunteer doctor puts a drip into a cyclist.

This is my first expedition with multi-day contact lenses. At least, I don't have to poke my eyes two times a day.

ECP, GRC

Day 3: Sun 9 Sep, Desaru - Singapore, 109 km. My body is sore but I head out with the lead pack, going at 30 to 50 km/h. In the pack of a dozen, the whirring of machines is almost deafening, punctuated with clicks and clanks (depending on how skillful the riders are at gear-shifting). My goal is to end the Malaysia leg with the front-runners. I wonder why. Even drinking is a tad tainted with fear; an eye on the road and the wheel in front, a hand on the brake lever and the other on the bottle, swallowing, breathing while keeping up and staying in line to avoid taking down those around me.

The Singapore leg, I'm told, is the hardest to organise. It's also the scariest to ride, as we pass through East Coast Park - Easy Collision Possible. Too bad the auxilliary police don't follow us in the park to clear the way. We cycle in a pack, shouting warnings and "thank you" to those who make way. But the inevitable happens when a kid panics looking for the parents and veers into a bicycle.

At Sentosa, some road marshalls miss their cue or point vaguely where we're supposed to go. When there are several routes and the way is unclear, decisive direction is what's needed, not wish-washy thinking or action. We wait for about two hours, with some VIPS including a minister and members of parliament. We cycle to the end point - Harbourfront - in a GRC (Group Representation Cycling, with majority roadies, two folding bikes and a few mountain bikes). At the end of the road, beneficiaries from the charities put up a show for us.