Head for the hills

To Mount Faber, 94 km. I wish it'd rain so I can stay snug in bed, but it's just cloudy. I head for another Bike N Blade training ride. I'm the only one on a mountain bike. It's nice to hear the tyres hum. The wind is whistles through my helmet. I'd whistle too but I'm trying to keep up with a guy with a triathlete's build. We stop and wait. Someone has multiple tyre punctures; not just the inner tube, but the tyre itself. I file off sharp points on the rim with a tyre valve. N pumps up the tyre. "It's a good pump", says V. "It's not the pump, it's the pumper," I say. Two and a half laps round Mandai, three laps up Bukit Chandu, one lap up Mount Faber and we call it a day. Some roadies have beehoon goreng, I have mee goreng. As befits our respective tyre widths. I'm glad to have a mountain bike, it's so versatile and robust, eg less prone to punctures.

Beyond an American century, on knobbies

To Kota Tinggi, Johore, Malaysia, 186 km. Triumphant from my race on 7 May, or perhaps brain damaged after hitting my head twice in less than two weeks, I cycle longer than an American century on my knobby tyres (a first in my personal history). Today's training ride for the Bike N Blade charity event sees about 20 riders, mostly roadies. Two mountain bikers, including I, and a triathlete, set the pace. At one point, I'm pulling along five bikerbabes. But in the noonday sun, without lunch, I turn sluggish. It's my turn to draft and I follow a tribabe; someone who's swimming, running or cycling everyday. Back on the causeway, we're stopped. In the rain, to let some VIP comfortably ensconed in a black vehicle pass.

Talk shop six

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 26 km. The last time I was away for more than half a day (excluding weekends and public holidays) was on 3 Jan. Now, it looks like my five days of leave in Jun is going up in smoke. Time for some window shopping therapy. I chat with bikeshop man and he tells me the intricacies of tyre treads. Darn, I could've done better in my 7 May race (see below) for just $50. He offers to give me a ride if I'm joining another race. Woohoo, I've got a race sponsor! When he closes shop, I tear up and down the road, dodging joggers who are to the left, centre and right of the road. If my new bar ends are horns, I could be goring them.

Three firsts and half-past six

To Tampines Mountain Bike Trail, 64 km. For the first time in my life: I cycle in SACA's Men's Masters. I keep upright in an offroad race (I filled my quota for falling yesterday). I win a medal. Thanks to CC and N for the winning advice. I would've been #6, but for half a bike length. #6 hears me coming; yesterday's crash had disabled my stealth mode. Though I leap ahead, he has too much of a headstart. Still, I shouldn't have won anything. My hand hurts from yesterday's fall, the jolts on the road as I cycle to the race venue remind me so (I wish I'd a support vehicle like my competitors). My bent rear D is a drag. And I didn't sleep well because of pain. When the race starts, it seems everyone surges ahead of me. I feel hungry. Somehow, I overtake 3-4 riders without falling. Some people congratulate me after the race. I struggle to open a bottle of water because of the pain in my hand. Chasing after a medal is like chasing a girl. It takes serious effort, time, money and pain. The difference is, the medal you keep. The girl, you have to work at keeping.

From whining to winning?

To Tampines Mountain Bike Trail, 34 km. Today is the eve of race day. It's supposed to be an easy ride but it starts to rain. It also looks like the race route has changed; it goes the other way. Along the way, there's a huge forked branch on the trail. It looks like it was placed there for boobies like me. Crash! That familiar sound. I hurt my hand and my butt, tear my shorts (the first time I ever tear my bike clothes, and it has to be my newest pair of shorts) and bend my rear D the third time. Still, it could've been worse. I'll still race tomorrow. A medal awaits, notwithstanding the rear D.

Ups and downs

To Mandai Road, 26 km. I sprint up the uphill stretch beside the reservoir and coast down, doing a few laps. I drop by to see bikeshop man; his shop is still open though it's past 10 pm.

Many at Mandai

To Mandai Road, 31 km. Taking N's advice, I tear up the hills and rest on the way down. Some roadies pass me the other way. And going my way is lots of traffic. I wonder why.

Keep your head down

To Bukit Timah and Tampines Mountain Bike Trail, 95 km. The alarm clock rings. I don't want to wake up but there's a clinic today. The doctor: Cycling Dutchman, winner of Mar's SACA race (Men's Sports category). So it's true: he won using slicks (2.35"). I learn from him today. Like, what "keep your head down" means (and look up to the top). The "feel test" for tyre pressure (no need to figure out when marginal utility of increased traction equals marginal cost of increased rolling resistance!). When it's better to dismount and run. When in danger, brake, keep low then fall. After one round with him and some FWNR bikers (like Tiny, who fixes my rear D despite its hanger being bent), we break up. I head for Tampines. I do better with 45 psi tyres. Even at a somewhat relaxed pace, one round takes me 7:38.

Circle game

To Tampines Mountain Bike Trail, 45 km. Next weekend, they'll know if they've won the parliamentary elections. Next weekend, I'll know if I've won a medal. They've been wondering who contests in which constituency. I've been wondering which category to race in: Weekend Warrior or Men's Masters? Strategic choices, tactical choices. The similarity doesn't end here. All parties at the hustings have circles in their logos. As for me, I cycle on circles and in circles at the trail. For the first time, I cycle five rounds non-stop. On my fifth circuit, a guy blasts past me. I crank up but the gap widens. At least, I get confirmation that I'm on the right track; it's hard to gauge from the 2004 photo of the the last race here. I skid while cornering; somehow my leg lifts, my rear wheel regains traction and I regain balance. My drive train rattles like a kid's toy, while there's mud over the , the chain's rollers are shiny. Where did all the lube go?

Dripping blood, dangling flesh

Apr distance: 691 km

To Tampines Mountain Bike Trail, 58 km. I've gone down this circuit a few times and have had a few close calls. But today is the first time I overtake someone. And the first time I crash. Simulating race conditions, I push myself to the edge and fall off it. Going fast, I overshoot a corner. I right myself. But fall. It's as if the trail edge of gravel gave way. I fall on my face. I lie there, conscious that the seconds are speeding away. Should I give up? I see some lacerations on my leg, the longest one being 7 cm of white flesh and dripping blood. I pull the skin dangling off it and get up. My helmet saves me again. I finish five laps in almost 38 minutes, with a bent rear D (again). How awful. Back in the shade, the guy I overtook says, "It's not worth it." He's right. How many micro-seconds can I save in one corner, vs the minutes and damage that attempt may cost if it goes awry? Risk vs reward: a lesson that's valuable for play and work.