Exhilaration acceleration

Feb distance: 220 km

East Coast, 70 km. Once in a while, I have a good day. For warm up, I cycle 12 km to the start point: the Formula 1 pit. I've wanted to cycle on the race track and now I can. There's 2,400 of us doing the 40 km OCBC Cycle Singapore challenge. We're packed like cattle but when the ride starts we somehow space out. I see dropped water bottles (which must've bounced out of bottle cages as we speed over speed bumps). I also see two cyclists go down in separate incidences in shuddering turns but I'm without a scratch as my mountain bike is oh so nippy. In the risky East Coast Park area, we're early enough to avoid the misguided kids and pedestrians (though they must be especially foolhardy to venture on the wrong track with pelotons bearing down). I hang on grimly at 35-38 km/h and start overtaking in the last few km. Near the finish line, I sprint and hear the commentator say, "Here comes a mountain bike, it's not built for speed ... but look at that, faster than a racing bike" as I overtake a spent roadie. I might've been the first mountain biker to cross the finish line but kudos to the guy on knobbies who kept up until the last few km. Oh yes, what a beautiful day.

Drag and drop

Mandai, 28 km. Off with the knobbies, on with the slicks. Up goes the speedo, isn't that neat. Moral of the story: if something is a drag, drop it. Unless you've made a commitment. Commitment? What's that? For some, commitment lasts until it is inconvenient.

Smoked and stoned

Lim Chu Kang, 64 km. This is my longest ride of the year so far but that's not why I'm stoned. First, a guy using aerobars overtakes me and the gap grows though I'm going at 42 km/h. Second, a guy in sandals on a creaky mountain bike sits on my tail effortlessly. Third, I pass the farms along Old Lim Chu Kang Road. I'm stupefied to see they are gone. Even the bus stop shelters are gone. Those farms have been there for years. Where have the farmers gone? What next? When there's nothing left, one hopes in hope to keep going. Helplessness is when time is the only weapon ...

Pain and rain

Old Upper Thomson Road, 25 km. 1939, World War 2 breaks out. 1940, 41, 42: the Allied world reels. Amidst the gloom, there are some "bright" spots, eg Dunkirk, the Battle of Britain. Fighting spirit and grit. I'm not in a life and death situation but in my context, it is gloomy enough. If the world is the world, dropping a stone makes little difference. If the world is a bowl, goodbye bowl. So, what can I do? As I cycle, my right knee hurts. But I push on, as there's a race in 10 days. I don't know if the pain will go on, but until it becomes unbearable, I cycle on. The pain goes away on the right, but the left knee starts to hurt. So I call it quits. For now. But I'll be back in the saddle again. Back in the real world, a "small" gap can make a big difference. A tiny hole in a big inner tube makes a bike pretty useless, right? And unless you're a cyclist, how would you know what that means? Does anyone have a patch? Or an inner tube to inflate my spirits?

Emotion and reason

Sembawang, 32 km. It's comfortable at home. And grey clouds are overhead. But I head out instead of staying home. Riding hard while sniffling from a cold feels bad. Emotion says stay home but reason says, if there's a race this month, train. Why do I race? Well, there's emotion about that. So, this is a mix of emotion and reason: to brave the rain, choose a route that gives a hard ride in a short time without being boring, judge speeds, feel the burn and dodge dumb drivers. But why do people make life-changing decisions based on emotions, when what's at stake is not whether vanilla, strawberry or chocolate taste better? Even if one chooses whether to cycle in Laos or Cambodia based on emotion, expedition and route planning is all reason.

Half a car is better than none

Jan distance: 226 km

Kranji, 49 km. Something has to be delivered by a certain day. The clock is ticking and is not negotiable. You have no car. Do you spend time looking for a car? Or is half a car better than none: get what you can and look for another half; and if you find a whole car in the meanntime, good for you. If it's wrong to get half a car, is it wrong to expect delivery without a car? What counts is whether the non-negotiable delivery is made, isn't it? And if the issue is hunger, would you turn down quarter of a loaf on account that it isn't half?

Appearances and patches

Mandai, 53 km. The roadie overtakes me and I slip into his slipstream. His jersey is unzipped and a walkie talkie (or an ancient mobile phone) is in his pocket. He appears to be a pro as I struggle after him on my fat tyres. As we slow at a traffic light, he appears to intend a track stand but unclips his shoes from his pedals at the last moment. When he tries a few times (rather than in one fluid motion) to insert his bottle into his carbon bottle cage, I reckon he's not been riding that much. Back home, I inspect an inner tube with a hole at the base of its valve and the seal of special glue I'd applied. The "patch" appears to hold up but it remains to be seen if it'll hold up on the road.

What's going on?

Kranji, 55 km. Situation 1: bike shop moves, a pet shop eventually takes its place. Bike shop moves again, another pet shop takes its place. Video shop closes ... and a pet shop takes its place. Coincidence? Situation 2: someone is afraid and to avoid the situation wants to go into a more fearful situation. But is the current situation so fearful when there is much data including first hand experience that says it isn't? Is the other situation less fearful when there is so little data, not even first hand experience? Situation 3: there's a strange sound after I cycle through some undergrowth. I look down and see nothing stuck on my drive train or frame, but still hear something. I'm tempted to ignore the sound but ignoring it doesn't make it go away. I stop for a closer look. A cable has somehow worked itself loose and is rubbing against a tyre. There no friction without sound, no smoke without fire. If it's not desirable or possible to avoid or to change a situation despite best effort, then the only thing left is to accept the situation and change ... me.

Road sights

Kranji, 52 km. Seven elderly gents are out in their Sunday best on the road, one on a mountain bike, the others on road bikes with 1-inch tubing. They are dressed in bermudas, complete with belts. One of them has a silver thermos flask in his bottle cage. Six youths are out on their BMX, dressed in jeans on the pavement. Here and there, is a solitary roadie. It is a pleasant ride, until I'm a housing estate where a demented driver swerves into my lane multiple times within a few hundred metres. He looks back to glare at those he considers to have transgressed, oblivious to what he's doing. The last I see of him, he is gesticulating at a pedestrian crossing a driveway.

New year ride

Serangoon, 17 km. This is an orientation ride of sorts, to get used again to Singapore riding conditions. Somehow, it's easier to adjust to Cambodia compared to Singapore, though the former is right-hand drive. Over there, it is hot but not humid. And I don't have two pedestrians hurling themselves into my path or a woman pushing a baby in a pram to greet my front wheel. All these, on a short ride to get bikeshop man to true my front wheel. That costs me ten bucks, but he also gives me a practical session on how to true a wheel (which I didn't get from reading a book) and solves the failing cyclocomputer puzzle for me. As his business card says, he could be a (bike) doctor ... I reread the instructions (no kidding, the cyclocomputer is a computer) and he's so right.