Short time, short route

Upper Thomson, 20 km. I used to find this route boring. It's scenic, with the winding road surrounded by trees on either side and occasional non-dangerous wildlife such as monkeys. While there are dangerous drivers, they are few.

I found it boring because the route was short and to stay on it meant loop after loop. Now, as time is short, I take this short route and it is great.

It's marred only by the memory of bumbling bureaucrats who didn't admit they bumbled, much less apologise or make amends.

I sometimes wish I live in another country, where roads, nay, trails, wind through the countryside. Where the only high rises are trees, hills and waterfalls.

Cool night

Upper Thomson, 16 km. Last week, haze fell from the sky. No way I'm going to clog up my lungs. This week, it rains. No matter; I'm not getting fluid in my lungs. Though the road is wet, I head out to listen for silence. Yes, the mysterious click is still gone. I’m glad the mystery is solved.

It is cool after the rain. Though it is Sunday night and Monday morning is hours away, I see three other cyclists on the road. And a wild boar.

"Elementary, my dear Watson"

Aug distance: 57 kn

Upper Thomson, 16 km.  After weeks of suffering and wondering what caused my bike to click on pedal downstrokes, I finally found out.

What it wasn't:

• seatpost or seat; 
• fork
• headset.

If it was so, there'd be clicking even as I coasted over bumps.

It wasn't:

• chainrings, bolts seemed tight
• bearings; there was no "play" in the crank
• crankarms; bolts were tight
• chain. This was a major suspect, as I'd botched up installation. But it wasn't, as I'd lubed it, and the links weren't stiff. 

What ut was ... the right pedal. There are reasons why it couldn't have been, so it was the last thing I checked. As Sherlock Holmes said, "when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth".

Double click

Upper Thomson, 25 km. First, it was one click. Now, with each pedal downstroke, there are two clicks. A properly functioning computer mouse must double click. A smoothly functioning bicycle does not single click, much less double click.

The sound, while small, is ominous. There is no play in my cranks. So what is malfunctioning, such that single click has become double?

By the numbers

Upper Thomson, 16 km. In the past, as I cycle, I’d think about km, km/h, hours, minutes, even calories. This evening, I’m preoccupied by ROI, PE ratio, payout ratio, yield.

If I make the numbers, I can do more km and think about the other numbers!

Small is big, big is small

Jul distance: 100 km

A firefly is tiny, the size of a fingernail. Yet, seeing it creates a big sense of wonder. Fireflies have been sighted on this island, so what I saw might not have been a figment of my imagination. I saw a wild boar piglet too, rooting about in the ground.

Another big deal for me is the tiny clicking sound when I downstroke at the 11 o’clock position. Having failed to isolate its location, it is driving me round the bend.

Making the best of a mess

Upper Thomson, 16 km. I've sprayed and lubed. Tightened and hoped. But my bike still clicks when I downstroke.

When I improve my pedal form and pull up with my left foot, the click disappears. So, the click reminds me to pedal properly.

Alone with my thoughts on a quiet road (but for the clicks), I think I see a light float in the cool night air. Am I seeing things? No, it's a firefly!

Then I think I'm seeing things - a large blob of neon, then it's gone. Must be my imagination ... until, round the bend, I see a runner with lights. I'd say he's an ultramarathoner type, rather than a marathoner.

Fate

Upper Thomson, 16 km. I'm alone on the dim and winding road. Then, I'm alone no longer. One dark shape crosses the road, followed by half a dozen smaller shapes. Wild boar! Good to eat but not good to be run into.

Making noise

Sembawang, 32 km. There's an irritating click when I pedal. I'd cleaned my chain, for the first time without degreaser but with lube, then lubed it. It's clean, but something still clicks.

I also hear a strange noise, a "toink" that could be from my inner tube (or is that from air fork?). In all my years of riding, I've not heard anything like this.

Baffling, and anxiety inducing. Dreadful even, if this is related to my front wheel, as that would mean immediate loss of steering control and up to 80% of braking power.

So close, yet so far

Upper Thomson, 20 km. The child sits on his bike by the roadside and cries, while mom persuades him to go on. She says he's near home. But the road slopes up, which makes the going hard.

So near and yet so far. Sometimes, something feels that way. At other times, like when you can see the finish line in an ultra, it is exhilarating.

I've waited three long months to find out how things work out. Will I find out, or the wait be extended? Time will tell. Well, since I've waited so long, I can't wait some more. It helps I have a choice.