Adjustment

Yio Chu Kang Road, 24 km. My helmet shifts easily. Safety is illusory. I'm about to retire my brain bucket, then adjust the straps a final time. It works. My jury-rigged map carrier crashes into my legs when I stand on the pedals. I pull some strings and it sits nicely on the handlebar. I too, seem to adjust well to this post-cold, pre-Laos training regime. Two roadies cycle ahead. They catch the draft of a bus. I'd throw in the towel if I had one. I grip the handlebar grimly and grind away instead, and catch up on my fat squishy tyres. Someone wonders if I'll adjust to the new office structure. I think so.

Last stall, last customer

Mandai Road, 36 km. I'm wet and hungry. Wet because of sweat (and my spectacles still steam up in the cool aftermath of rain). Hungry because I Ieave the office late and want to cycle my bicycle while the star shines (I see only one in the cloudy night sky). If I can't do a century ride because of a washed out weekend, I can do it over a few nights; some training is better than none. I stop at a hawker centre for dupper (if brunch is breakfast/lunch, dupper is dinner/supper). There is only one food stall open. I'm the last customer, I reckon. The hot soup tastes sooooo good.

Hot and wet

Old Upper Thomson Road, 24 km. It was raining yesterday. Just as the sun peeks out, it ducks back into the clouds which then burst into showers. The roads are wet tonight. But the sky is dry. So I charge up the hills to make up for yesterday's inaction. It starts to rain. My spectacles fog up as heat from my face condenses on the water-cooled glass.

Wild ride

Old Upper Thomson Road, 25 km. It stops pouring. I start cycling. As I round the bend, half a dozen wild boars cross the road. I squeeze my brakes and the rear tyre starts sliding on the damp road. The pigs crash into the undergrowth on the other side of the road. After years of cycling on this road, this is the first time I've seen boars. I continue my "circuit" training, more wary this time. In the past, the only danger was from cars parked in the shadows along the road.

Sleep deficit, ride deficit

Almost round island, 110 km. When I'm sleep deprived, I catch up on it during the weekend. When I'm ride deprived, I do the same. Why all these deficits? Work stress = sick. I load up my trunk bag, clip it on my bicycle and ride on my squishy tyres. Singapore is getting more crowded. The traffic-light-free Tampines Road and Old Tampines Road are now punctuated by lights. The road outside Vivo City on Saturday night is like rush hour. My throat is hoarse as I yell at pedestrians and a driver. I exceed my lactate threshold with a fully-loaded century ride. I even ride up Mount Faber. I overdid it but I'm glad I did it.

To buy a fat "peak"

Nov distance travelled: 313 km

To Changi Road, 24 km. To prepare for my furthest, highest expedition ever, I fall sick. It's all the stress at work, home and play. I've caught a cold now but to avoid catching a cold next month, I go to market, to market to buy a fat "peak". A Topeak trunk bag, to be precise, from a bike shop. Too bad I'm too sick to do a road test with it the rest of the weekend. I recall that it takes energy to fight disease, hence the lethargy.

Feeling the heat

To Woodlands, 64 km. I'm so tired, I want to sleep all day but am too restless to do so. I want to laze around at home but have to train. So I cycle at 11 am. The sun is so blazing, my top tube is warm. I head north, cranking up slope after slope and doing some "urban offroad". As my legs crank, my mind churns over higher order and lower order decisions. Is there much point ruing the outcome of lower order decisions when they are the reasonably forseeable consequence of higher order decisions? That'd be like rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Unfortunately, who knew about the ice? At the surface, an iceberg looks like an ice floe. Anyway, the ship is unsinkable, no?

"My baby is loose"

To Kampong Kaki Circuit, 72 km. 11 Nov, 11-hour race. At the 11th hour, I still can't form a team, nor join one. The feeling is like being jilted. So I cycle with some friends to stay sane. I meet a guy who's on his feet and cycling a bit after breaking his thigh a month ago. I meet a girl who's riding in a car to lunch instead of cycling. I ask, "Are you not well?" The reply I hear, "My baby is loose." My mind churns but is unable to process the information. I ask, "What?" Her reply, "My BB [bottom bracket] is loose." Ah. Come to think of it, her bicycle is her baby.

$1 worth of stress

To Lim Chu Kang Rd, 84 km. Weary, wornout with weighty woes during the week, cycling has become toil but I'm on the road anyway. As my crank turns, my mind churns. I figure out some things but the intractable remain unsolvable. At NTU, I feed $1 into a vending machine. The coin keeps coming out and I keep shoving it in. When it stops coming out, the drink doesn't come out either. Grrrr! I wave to a security guard for help but he goes away. I slot in another coin (throwing good money after bad!) and it comes out alone. I fret, then realise $1 should buy only $1 of stress, no more.

Try a little kindness

To Lim Chu Kang Rd, 69 km. After running my longest distance ever last Sunday (15 km), I'm back in the saddle. The two-week hiatus takes its toll as I huff up the hills of Mandai-Kranji-Lim Chu Kang. A roadie on a Cannondale overtakes me and I draft, keeping a respectful distance away. He signals me to follow. I overtake as I'm embarrassed he's doing all the work. He overtakes me effortlessly and says in a heavy accent: "It's ok you can follow me." With my fat squishy tyres, it doesn't last long. His kindness is welcome after the hard road I've been on. I'm disappointed and tired. I want to stop to eat, but push on until I get home.