The toughest, the highest

Sat 4 Sep - Sun 5 Sep

Kota Tinggi to Kuala Rompin to Kota Tinggi, Johore, Malaysia 361 km.

Different cyclists, same results

Day 1, Sat 4 Sep, Kota Tinggi to Kuala Rompin. The rule is, at the start, start slow. Let those who want to go fast, go. Time and again, the rule has proved to be immmutable - especially if you know the lead cyclists. Full carbon road bicycles vs aluminium mountain bike. I've barely five hours of sleep. And I cycle to the start point.

"But this time it's different," I tell myself. I don't know the lead riders, maybe I can keep up. And I do. For a while. Then, I drop back like a kite with a cut string. I end up cycling alone. The support crew drive by to check on me once in a while, to see if I'm alive or a zombie. To help me save calories, one of them, from sponsor Equinix, even tops up my water bottle and peels bananas for me. From what he tells me, I gather I'm in the 40-50th percentile. I'm fast, but not as fast Father Time, who's fast catching up with me. To keep up with the young triathletes on tri-bikes, I rest less frequently - just a few minutes at water points and I'm off.

This Charity Bike & Blade (the 5th in the series) is mind-numbing. It used to be just to Mersing, with one long stretch of rolling hills. Now, there's those hills, plus those at Endau. It take too much energy to even play songs in my head. So I just aim for the crest of each hill and focus on my form, including my breathing. That's living in the moment. No more music in the head, that's too tiring.

One breath at a time

Day 2, Sun 5 Sep, Kuala Rompin to Kota Tinggi. It rains heavily at night. The road is wet, the rooster tail of water sprays from wheels, whirring and humming. Cycling at 16 km/h at the start to warm up is too slow for me. I do my usual 20 km/h warm up then crank it up to 25 km/h. The roadies catch up. Unlike yesterday, this time, I don’t chase. Until someone in white shorts comes along at 32 km/h. We take turns to draft each other.

As cyclists pass, I see compression leggings, aero-bars, high-end full carbon bicycles. Shorts are in different colours, but we wear identical white Uvex helmets and lilac jerseys - the official colour of St Luke’s Eldercare. There are 98 or so cyclists, we raise about $360,000 for charity, the highest ever.

Unlike in the initial 3 years of Bike n Blade, where there were more people on mountain bikes, the numbers dwindle in the subsequent two years. This year, there are only 2 mountain bikes. My small wheels and small crank churn to keep up. At one point, I end up pulling a peloton along as no one wants to take the lead. I soon end up cycling solo; spent after pulling people along and I can’t keep up thereafter. What a difference a few km/h makes.

Few people stop to eat, except for lunch. This is a high performance crowd, stops are only at support vehicles - especially the 100-Plus truck that comes with ice-box. someone asks if he can have a few cans to put on his burning butt.

This year’s Bike n Blade is toughest. Besides the rolling hills to Mersing, there's the Endau hills. My heart falls when I am at a crest and see a series of rolling hills ahead. As I cycle, I think of Laos - if I can make it up those 1,500m mountains, i can make it here. Near the end, I think of my marathon run. If i can finish that, i can finish this.

I see road kill, grotesque in death. If it’s too mangled, I look away. Otherwise, I identify it - to keep my mind off the ride. There are snakes, cats, dogs. Sometimes, birds peck away at scraps on the road. If the road kill is fresh, I hold my breath. I also see hills, denuded of oil palm, with trails snaking up. How I want to ride there instead of on the road.

I hurry to catch the 3pm bus ride back to Singapore. Bicycles are gingerly placed in luggage compartments or on passenger seats, with cling-wrap or bubble wrap. When we disembark, I choose to cycle home, the same way I start the ride.

Tips: when tired, moaning doesn't make the climbs easier. Instead, focus on form, live in the present - how to pedal, how to breathe. All that's needed is to cycle up this crest, and the next, one at a time. Break time up into 15 minute chunks, with a sip of drink as a treat. Don't have to last hours, just last 15 minutes, and the next, one chunk at a time.

Shouldn't have, could have

Aug distance: 355 km

Changi, 55 km. Changing a bottom bracket shouldn't affect the front derailleur shifting, but it does. I turn the barrel adjuster, turn the screws, then cycle to bikeshop man for expert opinion. He fiddles some more then says "ok". He could've charged me for the service, but doesn't. My front derailleur plates shake though the entire assembly is clamped tightly on the seat tube; I ask if it's time to change it. He says, "no need" and declines to make a quick buck off me. I cycle around his shop, with his screw driver in hand, until I'm content that the shifting is just so. Then I cycle to the easternmost end of the country, to buy a bag for my top tube. So I can stuff it full of calories and other stuff for the coming weekend's two-day, 400 km charity ride.

I'm going to need the calories and the sleep. This week, an intense week including a 1-hour forum on radio and some human resource matters. Then 400 km to cycle. And, 21 km to run the weekend after that :0

When early is late

Lim Chu Kang, 71. I usually cycle in the late morning (except that, for most people, cycling so late in the day is unusual since they ride at dawn). Today, I laze about and have lunch before I cycle, which means I'm on the road in the early afternoon. Early afternoon is usually when I get home, followed by the view of the inside of my eyelids. Instead, I'm awake as adrenalin pumps as fast as my heart as traffic buzzes me. I see there's a new sport in town among motorists, to see how close they can brush past cyclists.

As I cycle, I can't wait to get home. My mind is filled with thoughts of a nice cold drink, with lots of ice. Meanwhile, my head pounds, my eyes smart from being dried out by the wind and my legs burn. And I soon feel sleepy, because my legs pump like pistons when they are usually still in sleep as I nap. I want to keep going but dark clouds hang low on the horizon, sort of like the sword of Damocles hanging over my head. Any excuse to cut short the ride, so I head home.

Double trouble, double pedal

Lim Chu Kang, 95 km. Two bad things happen on Fri, which affect my sleep. On Sat, I don't quite want to eat. On Sun, I just feel like doubling my usual mileage, partly because of next month's charity ride and partly because I have so much energy - or is it angst? or a new bottom bracket that feels so good? As I head out, a neighbour sees me in my cycling gear and says "wow". Not because of how good I look, but because it is drizzling.

On the road, I see a roadie ahead and give chase. To narrow the gap, I shift to the big chain ring. Click, click, click, where's the power surge? I look down and see the chain around the crank. As this is a non-stop ride, I get the chain back on the chainring and overtake the roadie. I play with the front derailleur cable, until the chain somewhat behaves. But at a steeper slope; under higher load, the chain sticks again. More fiddling, and the shifting seems to work fine.

I start to weary, my legs burn, but I keep going. Strangely enough, I don't feel hungry though all I have for breakfast is a little packet of cereal (without water, just chew it like cereal in a cereal bar - but without a bar that gets crushed). The only water I drink, I what I carry. The only rest stop I get is when I stop at traffic lights. And for a train. It would be ironic to say, "I'm out to train, I won't stop, not even for a train."

When I get home, the sun shines.

I wonder if the cereal packet holds a lesson for me. It's frustrating to eat a cereal bar or biscuit that's all crumbled. So, might as well eat crumbs right? Just pour it down the hatch. From making a virtue of necessity to double loop learning?

Worn out and cranky

Serangoon, 16 km. My crank shakes even when the bicycle is stationary. I cycle to see bikeshop man. He tells me the bearings are worn out and the entire bottom bracket has to be replaced. Although his shutters (the shop's, not his eyelids) are half shut, he doesn't turn me away. As I didn't expect that I have to replace the entire assembly but just ball bearings, I didn't have much money with me. I hand bikeshop man all my cash. Bikeshop man rounds the price down so I have $5 left in my pocket.

When I left home, I'd wanted to train for next month's charity ride. But dark clouds hang menacingly overhead. The overcast leaves me downcast and I cycle home. Yesterday was a sad day - a team member's last day in the office. And another member gives me bad news in similar vein. I wonder if the sun will shine tomorrow. I desperately need some sunshine in my life.

Tech note: the broken bottom bracket, installed in Jan 2005, has spun for almost 30,000 km. At home, I listen to my new toy. To hear your bottom bracket sing, place your ear on the saddle (with ear still attached to head of course, or else sound quality will be affected). Then turn the crank. If the bottom bracket makes a racket, it sounds like trouble. My new toy sounds so good, a nice smooth rrrrrr. It rides smooth too.

Bait and switch

Lim Chu Kang Road, 71 km. How I want to laze about on this public holiday, National Day. The thought of training for next month's charity ride puts me off. Ok then, no laps, no interval training. I pack my camera. Just go out and cycle for fun, that’s the bait. The sun is out and blazing. As it to be expected. It hardly ever rains on National Day. Don’t rain on the parade!

I stop and snap photos wherever, whenever I like. Places that had unforgettable memories (eg where I donated blood just to get beyond the barb wire a couple of hours out earlier). Places that had dogs chase me in the dead of night. Places where, in 1942, people fought to the death to defend the mangrove shoreline from invading Japanese. It’s so peaceful now.

When there are hills and slopes, I charge uphill. That’s the switch, no mind-numbing laps, just the thrill of cranking uphill.

As I cycle past military installations, I hope I’ll see the hardware on the roads or take to the air. I see none of them; I must be too late. I rush home to watch the parade on TV. Majullah Singapura!

Pull factors, push factors

Mandai, 47 km. I’m so tired, from sleep deficit bulit up over the work week. When a key appointment holder quits, someone I dearly want to keep, there's the emotional load and the workload to be spread around the team with care. Soon-to-be ex colleague even recommends a replacement and goes through the CV :0

Today, I feel tired even after an afternoon nap. Being tired of feeling tired is the push factor for me to go out the door to cycle. But even before I’m out of the house, I already look forward to coming home. The pull factor is that by training, I won’t suffer so much during next month’s charity ride.

Cyclists are out in force. I see a recumbent and a dozen foldies, in addition to the usual roadies and mountain bikers. Also out, to get me, are two dogs. I hear them before I see them. Fierce barks from across the road. Two black shapes hurtle out across two lanes, locked on my scent, hot on my trail. Their nails click on the road. I am fortunate in my misfortune: I could’ve been on their side of the road going uphill. They have no chance of gnawing on my bones as I crank it up, speeding downhilll. By now, I’m wide awake.

Slow leak vs blowout

Jul distance:  187 km

Mandai, 39 km. My tyre is flat. How does a tyre go flat after I park my bicycle? I expect grit has cut through the tyre into the inner tube. I'm wrong. There is a big hole at the base of the Presta valve. And that's the end of the inner tube; not only is it beyond economic repair, how can such a hole be repaired in the first place?

I change the tube and do interval training for a charity ride next month. Training is boring. As I cycle, I ruminate.

Life has been likened to a roller coaster, with ups and downs. Life has also been likened to a railway track. While one part of life may be up, parallel to it is another rail that may go down. With respect, the second metaphor reflects life better than the first, but is more metaphysical than physical. One rail that goes up while the other goes down  spells "train wreck".

For me, life is like an inner tube. No pressure and life is flat. Too little pressure, roll along fine, even comfy, until there's a pinch flat. Too much pressure, explode. If punctured, get to the destination if there's a slow leak.  Or not, if it's a blowout and there's no spare tube or and tools. And it's no use having tools without the know how to change the tube. The ride is over dude unless someone helps out. And the puncture keeps recurring unless the cause is fixed: remove whatever is embedded in the tyre. Otherwise, keep changing the tube and pump up the tyre and patch the inner tube ad infinitum.

Ending like the beginning

Woodlands, 48 km. Yesterday morning, it rains so hard, parts of Singapore flood again; it seems more rain fell in a few hours than usually falls in July. This morning, the roads are wet and the skies are grey. I wait till the roads are less wet, so that spray from the road doesn't end up on my cycling togs. When I head out the door, I see the drizzle. I'm committed mentally to cycle so I do. I don't like cycling in the rain. We wear "quick dry" clothes so we stay dry, don't we? The drizzle turns into a shower. I could turn back, but I don't. The task is the same but the purpose has changed. Now, I want to see how big the rain cloud is. As it turns out, really big. The sky from the centre of the island all the way into the next country is a monotone of grey. The rain pours down. Even motorcyclists shelter at bus stops. This time, I'm physically committed; I'm just too far from home. To go home, I have to finish the ride. As I near home, the rain turns into a drizzle and the roads start to dry. Just like when I started. Only, this time, I'm chilled to the bone instead of bone dry.

Do I feel better after the ride? Yes, because the ride is done. If I didn't cycle, I might've rued not cycling at all. And to be warm and snug after a cold ride sure feels better when it's well earned.

A little distance, a big difference

Woodlands, 50 km. My handcrafted-in-Italy, titanium-railed Selle Italia Flite has seen better days. 49 months ago, thousands of km ago. While it is not torn, scratched nor cracked, it is wrinkled. As wrinked as a weather-beaten, aged face that has been sat on. It seems to sag a little in the middle, which is enough to give a pain in the butt after a few hours of cycling. So I shift it (the saddle, not the butt) 5 mm forward, so that the sit bones sit properly on the saddle again. This little distance seems to make a difference to comfort, but time (and over a hundred km day after consecutive day) will tell.

Yesterday, I went for physiotherapy. The therapist says my back ache has to do with the tightness in my hamstring and calf. He also says my right leg is clearly stronger than my left. Which might explain why my right leg got injured from marathon training and saddle sore is not equitably spread across the bum.