Something is better than nothing

Caldecott, 39 km. By the time I'm on the road, it is almost dusk. It's dark but not just became it's late. Black clouds hover overhead. I look where it is light and head there.

When I get there, I realise the clouds are in a pincer movement: over where I start and where I head. Ah well, I train anyway. A nice loop, several km long, with no traffic lights at all.

Though I don't have much time to train, I put what I have into it, keeping my heart rate up. I keep my tyre pressure low for more rolling resistance. And it doesn't rain. Nice.

Loop de loop

Caldecott, 40 km. Traffic averse, I look for a more efficient way to train, one with less time and less traffic. So I go around in circles, with one loop six km long. As I head up one of the steepest hills in the country, someone shouts "100%!" then goes "oh!" A car comes up, I squeeze my brake, my rear tyre skids.

I go downhill safely. Nice, going round in circles can clock some distance.

Something of everything

Apr distance: 114 km

Caldecott, 31 km. Because of stress, I want to play. Because I want so much, it leads to stress. To finish a book, to train for a race (but look at the grey sky), and win a computer strategy game.  And to rest. How much of this matters?

Things turn out well. The sky is dark and rumbles but does not rain. I read some, ride some, play some. In moderation: something of everything but not all of everything.

Still missing

19 Apr Bukit Brown 25 km. The missing piece of plastic from my shaken-apart tail light remains missing. Is it somewhere in the cemetary? Did it get washed away in the rain? In any case, it's gone.

Just a missing piece of plastic, but it's ruined the entire light. There are many lights to be had, but that one was different. It was a gift. Just like there are billions of people in the world, but ...

This route I'm on is half the distance of my Woodlands route. But it takes more than half the time. It's got off-road and at least a dozen slopes. One of which is neck-breakingly steep.

Missing

File photo

Bukit Brown,  22 km. I'm tired and I hear distant thunder. I drag myself out to cycle. The moment I'm on the road, I feel good. I travel back to where I was last week and I find what I seek: the missing cover from my tail light, which was shaken apart. How that happened, I don't know.

Back home, I fit the missing piece back but realise that another piece is missing.

I thought it was so easy to find the missing piece. Too easy.

When something is broken, it's hard to put everything back together. When you miss someone, it's hard too. To move on when the person is gone, especially when gone for good from this world, forgive yourself.

Small wonder

Bukit Brown, 36 km. I'm so bored today, I cycle in the mid afternoon sun - not literally of course, I
mean I ride under the sun. I have several options: go north? east? In the end, I head south, the way things seem to have gone.

What a journey. From roads with traffic whizzing past (this is Sunday, in the suburbs, but the traffic volume exceeds peak hour traffic in Auckland or Adelaide), to a trail with no one in sight, to a busy cemetery (busy with live people, I mean). And grassland, where I can train for my race.

Yes, living on a small island sucks, but it's so compact, there's variety to be had in a short ride.

Mental toughness

Mar distance: 129 km

Buangkok, 26 km. As I do my loops, I see the road sweeper open drainage covers and sweep their undersides. Why does she do that? Who asked her to and what difference does it make? I wonder what she thinks as she sweeps in the deepening darkness of dusk.

Back home, I fiddle with my front shifter. When I press the lever, it moves but does not click and the derailleur does not shift. In other words, the shifter is merely going through the motion. I spray lube to dissolve the gummed up grease and shift it furiously. Until it stops shifting. Oops. My heart sinks. I probe the inside with a screwdriver from the outside and everything clicks.

Memory lane

Punggol, 46 km. It wasn't meant to be this way. It was meant to be a short ride, down memory lane.
Wherever the wheel turns, I'll go. Just an hour or so.

As I wandered, time and distance passed quietly by. Before I knew it, more than two hours passed.

Last Sunday, she passed away. Gone, light as the wings of a butterfly, leaving a heavily-burdened life behind, where luxuries were just simple pleasures. I wish I was there, just one more time, but I wasn't. I've said goodbye several times, I wish I was there to say it just one more time. Goodbye.

Systems thinking

I see the light!

Tampines, 31 km. The haze is back, in the moderate range. As I cycle the trail, my tyres are low pressure, suited for hard pack, grass, sand and gravel. Not quite suited for road in terms of speed, but good for comfort. I don't bother to pump the tyres up then let the air out. While there are variables (not to mention tyre tread), the constant is traction and balance.

The slope is so steep, I lean forward to shift the centre of gravity forward. Near the top, the front wheel lifts up and I fall. I go so slowly, I 'm not punctured but twist my ankle as I fall at an awkward angle.

At its core, cycling is about balance. You need gravity for traction; gravity is your friend and enemy. When it comes to people, the core is about care. Self-sacrifice vs self-preservation, friend vs enemy, thinking your enemy is your friend or vice versa, treating your enemy like a friend. There's a system there somewhere?

This post is dedicated to NY, has it been eight years since I last cycled with you?

A sudden message, a sudden adventure

Tampines, 26 km. Yesterday was a crazy day. A sudden message, a sudden visit to hospice. I've seen
dead people, but never someone dying. There's nothing left to do but wait.

Today, I ride. At first, it's aimless. First, dog territory. I skirt them, along a single track, if you can call it that in the expanse. The wind blows and I wonder if my scent will draw them.

Look hard enough, and see the jungle in the concrete

Ahead, I see a shimmering. I hope it's the sun glinting off gravel, but it's not. It's water. Soon, I am more than rim deep in muck. Imagine the quagmire I'd be in if it wasn't for the regional drought. I hear grinding from below me. Yup, the brake pads are grinding down my rims.

I grab a fence to skirt the muck, while untangling vines from the handlebar with the other hand and balancing all this while. At one point, I see a leaf 30 cm long, covered with fiery red ants as big as my thumb nail. I'm glad I didn't grab it nor did it brush against me. They're just a face-length away.

The trail goes on. I see a group of people sitting on the grass. Soon, it's desolation again. Where am I? It's getting dark. I gotta get out of here!

I see a human figure in black. As I approach, I see he's got wild vegetables. I ask him where he's going. He speaks some English and points. I follow him through an obstacle course. Adrenalin flowing, I heave my bike like it's a pillow. It goes over railings, hedges, a drain, then I'm safe.