Surprises

May distance: 341 km

Sun-Sun, 24-25 May: Surprises
Tanjung Piai, Johore, Malaysia, 220 km. This is the third time I've cycled to Tanjung Piai, but the first time I've stayed overnight. It's been more than a year ago since I cycled to western Johore. It's a journey of surprises. #1: a new row of shophouses, new roads and junctions. Sometimes, things don't change for a long time, but when they change, they change beyond recognition. #2: riding on knobbies is fun because they hum. I keep up with the "fixies" who can't coast; they pedal even when going downhill. But as time wears on, knobbies wear me out. #3: a bikeshop in Pekan Nanas (turn at the junction with the huge stone pineapple) that has Jamis, Da Bomb and Iron Horse bicycles. #4: an official at Singapore checkpoint who opens up a lane just for us six cyclists (we're among the first Singaporeans in Malaysia after the International Court of Justice rules on 23 May that Pedra Branca flies the crescent and five stars).

Highway to hell or stairway to heaven?

Mandai Road, 44 km. Explorers want to go there because it is there. Economic refugees want to go because where they come from sucks so much, it's worth the risk to get away, to get hope. Escapists just want to forget. But I remember being chased by a pack of dogs here, at Lorong Lada Hitam, years ago. Still, I hope they're no more there. I cycle on, until the road runs out, then I start riding beside a drain until I come across a stream that plunges into the drain. The water flows copiously, I wonder where it comes from. later on, I see a bird that reminds me of a kingfisher. It's hard to photograph it, when the sun is bright and there is no viewfinder. For a while, I escape.

Sweet vibration

Mandai Road, 44 km. I feel the sweet vibration of knobby tyres with my feet on the pedals. I'm rested after 10 hours of sleep and a 2-hour nap. Three roadies pass me and I fail to catch up, but I did catch up on sleep. I thought of struggling to arise but, instead of fighting hard against my body, I let it be. I still get to cycle, albeit in the afternoon after lunch. It is the easy way out, but doing things the hard way doesn't mean it'll be the right way. The hard way may be the easy way to not getting things done. Being deaf to what's going on can be dumb. I test my bicycle, feel another kind of vibration and visit bikeshop man to get it fixed - for free. Today, my wheels roll over the 39,000 km mark.

Asleep, awake

Lor Halwa, 33 km. I'm asleep for 10 hours, awake to eat, then go back to sleep. One news report says it takes a week to recover from a cold. For me, a month is normal. At 3 pm, I start cycling; this late hour must be a personal record. Unlike cycling in the morning, I know that with a late start, the longer I ride, the cooler it gets. Awake, I ride into the land of the dead: Bukit Brown Cemetary. Some graves are meant for 2-3 people. One grave is particularly well-tended; it has to statues of Sikh guards by either side. Others fare less well, being swallowed by the undergrowth. Some must've disappeared, totally unseen, totally forgotten. Outside the cemetary, a man lies beneath a vehicle, working to bring it to life.

Confidence in confidence?

Apr distance: 237 km

Holland Plain, 40 km. A pack of dogs bark at me at Bukit Brown Cemetary but I ride past them as the people around somehow give me confidence that the dogs won't attack. If I were alone, I'd have turned tail at the mere sight of the beasts. Somewhere in Bukit Timah, there is a trail that leads to another land. The trail bends about 45 degrees to the right and tilts about the same angle up. Twice, I assault it and twice I fail. The bend scrubs speed off and the stones uphill stall me. When I'm up there, my confidence falters. If I am faster, I might've picked the right line. Since I'm not confident, I don't ride fast enough and sure enough, I fail. Or is confidence over-rated; such that no matter how much I try, the slope is unassailable? Well, two tries isn't enough, given the low cost of the assault.

Colonial bar

Portsdown Road, 35 km. Wessex. Tangier. And a colonial bar ("Colbar") built over 50 years ago in a place that must've reminded the colonial masters of home. The bar is dismantled after an uproar from patrons when the bar was to be bulldozed to make way for progress, then is redesigned, relocated and rebuilt (with original weathered wood and peeling paint). It retains its original feel on the inside (including black and white photos) but a lot more space (and new building material) on the outside. Now, that's progress. Also making me feel good (despite my nasty sore throat) is the company for today.

Riding in "porridge"

Tampines, 35 km. The part of the trail named "monster mud madness" is part slush, part "porridge". This is historic; I've never seen conditions like this. Or seen an Olympian (Tinker Juarez) upclose. This is Singapore's longest mountain bike race: 100 km of "wheel torture". Somehow I (mostly) keep upright though the rear wheel slides when it loses traction or when it catches on a rock. Other parts of the trail are hard-packed, sometimes rocky, sometimes sandy. My team mate W falls on her face but is ok. I fall once and have a few other near-falls as I let competitors overtake me on single-track. What a day (which follows a sleepless night). It starts with me dropping a contact lens at home, losing a headband on the way to the race (left it on my bike on the car rack) and a back pocket tears such that stuff falls out. What went well: right tyre pressure and good lap times. The race ends with it being stopped because of thunderous rain. First I bake in the sun, then am chilled in the rain. But we have done enough laps to be considered finishers.
Photo courtesy of Freddy Foo

Granularity and opportunity

Tampines, 49 km. Forecast: widespread rain in the afternoon. Nowcast: no rain where I am or where I'm going. The nowcast is updated every 15 minutes. It might rain later, but it isn't raining now. I note where it has been raining. Having gone deep into the data, I seize the opportunity to train on the race track. Aha. The trail last Sunday is different from the one today. Look at those narrow, slick planks! So we don't get splinters when we fall eh? I crash twice; once on the planks and once when my wheel digs into the mud as I corner downhill. Silly me, it's as if I left my brains in the carpark. Two laps, 1 hour 35 minutes (including crash time). I run out of water and have sudden hunger pangs. I'm so tired, I don't even bother to race the clouds. But I get home fairly dry; the only liquid falling on me is mud that falls up from the ground as my tyres churn.

Tired of tyres

Mandai, 35 km. I have three pairs of tyres. Slicks: the brand I use is prone to cuts and punctures (seems endemic to this brand, when I compared notes with world wheelchair racing champ William Tan). Semi-slicks: can't blame it for loss of traction in certain trail conditions. Knobbies: 13 years old and tough, but heavy. The last time I used it - and my Camelbak (which came out literally from cold storage) - was Apr 06 (both work fine despite the 2-year break). Also heavy on my mind: this weekend's race. Usually, I train several times a week for 2-3 months. This race, I barely have two nights to train. I do some urban off-road to build up tenacity and lacerate my arm against a bush. At least, weather and work permit me to cycle tonight.

Neither here nor there

Tampines, 43 km. Indecisiveness is terrible. It's like chasing my own tail - all that effort, go nowhere and get nothing but nausea. The known unknown is: is there going to be a certain marathon? The known known: a 100 km mountain bike race. The unknown unknown: can I take part in the bike race and the marathon (if it takes place) while training only for the marathon, and finish both? To reduce the unknown, I check out the bike race route today. It's not an impossible dream, but it's possible I don't make it. Because I've been training only for the run; I don't have time or energy to train for both. I want the bird in the hand and the one in the bush. I might end up tangled in the bush with bird shit all over me and no birds, or I might be singing like a lark. Foolishness, ambition, foolish ambition ... thin line, thin ice ...