Cycling is like life. Cycling with no goal is meaningless. What meaning is there cycling in circles? Or living aimlessly? Meaning comes from direction and destination. Join me in my life's journey on a mountain bike :)

Blogging since 2003. Thank you for reading :))

Monday, May 29, 2006

No loss of blood, just some loss of face

May distance: 1,240 km

Sat 27 May - Mon 29 May
To Mersing, Johore, Malaysia, 491 km. In this year's Charity Bike n Blade (in aid of St Andrew's Mission Hospital), I ride better than last year but behave more badly. I break away from the peloton and a girl brings tears to my eyes ...

Mid-air refuelling
Day 1: Sat 27 May, Singapore - Mersing (Johore), 171 km. This year's charity ride (the second in as many years) is harder than last year's, as the number of official rest stops has halved to one per day. Today's stop is 66 km away. I run low on water. A support vehicle pulls up on my right and the passenger hands me a bottle, which I uncap and gulp (the fluid, not the cap). I'm already burnt out less than halfway through today's ride, as I'd failed to pace myself. Instead, I chase any roadie that comes along. The funniest sight is of nuclear-powered SY pulling six guys along (the guys are going forward with reverse sexism). I drop out and cycle alone, arriving around 4.30 pm. Instead of being the first mountain biker, I'm second to J. I'm even second to newbie VN. Still, I reckon I'm in the first quartile of 70. The highest "hill" for today is the three stories I have to climb to the hotel room. I avail myself of a massage (my first by a lady). Her kneading brings yelps and tears to my eyes but I feel better later.

Strategy? What strategy?
Day 2: Sun 28 May, Mersing - Desaru (Johore), 153 km. Like yesterday, I'm first off the starting line but the roadies catch up seconds later. But I've learnt not to draft RM when he passes by. The lead peloton (Group 1) surges past as well and I end up with SY for 77 km to the official rest stop. She gives us only 15 minutes break and then we're off moments after Group 1 arrives; they at least had stopped for an impromptu break before this stop.

I'm glad when J calls for a stop but barely had I stretched when I'm asked if i'm ready to ride. Well, just barely, unlike VN (which could stand for "Victory over Numbness". She drafts SY intently. Once in a while, I tell her "look left" when we pass scenic sights. Once, she peeled off the road but recovered magnificently. Inspiring as she was, I just couldn't stay on her tail and end up solo.

The headwind is so strong, I see a bird flying backwards. I also wonder about the roadkill. These creatures move faster than people; why does the former end up minced? I reckon it's because they're low on the ground and can't see the traffic bearing down fast enough to avoid death. Hence, the importance of different perspectives.

Abandoned and despondent, I stop, stretch and eat. The blader's support van stops. The blader's chief, JW, tops up my water and tells me Group 1 is coming. When they overtake me, I hang on to them grimly, like a stray dog looking for a home. Then, on what I think is the last of the interminable hills, I sprint ahead. We reach Desaru at 1 pm (six hours after flag-off), beaten by SY & Co and way behind the first cyclist B (his time: 12.07). This was my goal, to be with Group 1. What the strategy was, I didn't know but made it.

Key performance indicators
Day 3: Mon 29 May, Desaru - Sedili (Johore) - Singapore, 167 km. I'm a bad boy today. When a support car passes, I break away from the peloton to draft the former as it surges ahead. Today is also the first time in my life I've been so hydrated on a long ride. A support car passes Group 1. Out comes a bottle, which gets passed down the line. As the last man, I pick up the least water and the most saliva. When the peloton of roadies crank up the pace, my sweat pours and my Orbea bottle empties fast.

On my right, a support car appears. The water maiden hands out drinks. With her doe eyes and hair blowing in the wind, I guess whether a biker looks at her or the drink depends on how thirsty he is. I hand her my Orbea bottle to fill up and take an isotonic drink from her, which I guzzle. She takes my empty isotonic bottle with her left hand and hands me my Orbea bottle with the other. All this at over 30 km/h, yet I have to sprint to keep up with the pack after my aqua aerobics. When one of the cyclists says we can turn back if we want to, that's what I do. I drop out and ride solo until I meet VN and E. I keep them company, serving occasionally as windbreaker. Back at the hotel, I flash my radio frequency identity (RFID) to show I'm still alive. This is another ride where I've lost no blood.

For the grand finale, we cycle to Tanjong Belungkor for the ferry ride home. As usual, the roadies crank out a mean pace, at over 40 km/h even on the rolling hills. I wonder how long I can keep this up. As a key performance indicator, speed isn't quite appropriate, nor are its component indicators of distance and time. Ultimately, it's how good my heart beats and how bad my heart wants to stay in the pack. When someone has a problem with his pedals, we surge ahead until someone shouts "Come on guys, let's finish this together." At the end of the ride, so many photos are taken, it's as if one is taken for every km we've covered. Still, it's a ride worth remembering, thanks to the organisers and support crew from Avanade, many labouring unseen behind the scenes. Thanks also to the roadies who took pity and let this guy with short legs and small wheels draft them.

Friday, May 26, 2006

Ungrateful and unhappy

To Simei, 18 km. Ripple effect. Knock-on effect. Butterfly effect. Whatever you want to call it, doing (or not doing) one thing leads to another. Things happen when someone makes a decision and doesn't stick to it (not that the situation has changed; only the mind has changed). I miss an important dinner then I cycle to Simei, the site of tomorrow's Charity Bike n Blade flag-off. I arrive when it is "lights off" and wake up my slumbering friends who are trying to get enough sleep as we have to arise at 4.30 am. So, what can I be thankful for? A room all to myself. And I suppose I did get out of the office to go for this charity ride, though I'd to bail out on the Bike-Aid one next month.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

Nice screech

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 18 km. The bus starts pulling out of the bus bay, then screeches to a halt to let me pass. How nice. I'm tired and cycle reluctantly today; I'm on the road only because I've been promised delivery of a new hangar for my rear derailleur several times in the past two weeks. Let's just say that bikeshop man has a supply chain problem ... anyway, I reckon he gives me a discount today for the inconvenience caused.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

The office

To Tanjong Pagar, 32 km. Today is the first day in my life that I've cycled to the office. I do it after work. Turns out to be 10 minutes faster than by train, door to door. On the way home, there are three close calls on the road, the last time involving a lady who goes straight while in a lane for turning. My bicycle feels skittish; I'm back on slicks after being on knobbies since early Mar. It takes some getting used to. And I'm still revelling in this month's race victory; I see the detailed results today. Missed one position by a second. If I'd joined the Weekend Warrior category, I'd have been fifth. And if I was young enough for the Men' Junior, I'd have been 4th!

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Torn in seven places

To Mount Faber, 99 km. I'm cycling so hard, the sweat flows copiously and drips down on my top tube. My knobbies hum, sounding more melodious than my laboured breathing. Today is my last full day of training before next week's Bike N Blade charity ride. I'm wearing my newest - and "holeiest" - bikeshorts. They aren't holy as in "blessed" but they went through a baptism of fire when I crashed in them on 6 May. A seamstress patched them up. They look OK but there's some chafing. This is an expensive sport. I should've picked something more sedate, like chess or knitting, which I can do in a rocking chair. I see some oldies on high-end road bikes. I shudder to think what I'll be like at their age; I hope I too can tear around the roads at that age. In a decade's time or so, I'll get a road bike.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

New togs, old gripes

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 26 km. I've a new helmet on my head. It (the helmet, not the head) is German-made and has a recommended retail price of $400. I've got a new jersey on my back. It's priceless, being intended only for participants of next week's Bike N Blade charity ride. The hardest part of a charity ride is not the ride, but the charity - fundraising. I exceeded the target comfortably, with the lowest and highest donations being $5 and $500 respectively. It seems at least one person raised less than a twentieth of the target, yet got the same sponsored goodies as the rest of us. That's turning the rich-poor divide on its head; those with riches gripe about those without. Ah well, the ride will restore equity. Those who put in more training will literally get ahead. And so I train, tearing around the circuit on my beloved knobbies. The joggers are all over the road again. One of them is in full battle order, sans helmet and rifle.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Head for the hills

To Mount Faber, 94 km. I wish it'd rain so I can stay snug in bed, but it's just cloudy. I head for another Bike N Blade training ride. I'm the only one on a mountain bike. It's nice to hear the tyres hum. The wind is whistles through my helmet. I'd whistle too but I'm trying to keep up with a guy with a triathlete's build. We stop and wait. Someone has multiple tyre punctures; not just the inner tube, but the tyre itself. I file off sharp points on the rim with a tyre valve. N pumps up the tyre. "It's a good pump", says V. "It's not the pump, it's the pumper," I say. Two and a half laps round Mandai, three laps up Bukit Chandu, one lap up Mount Faber and we call it a day. Some roadies have beehoon goreng, I have mee goreng. As befits our respective tyre widths. I'm glad to have a mountain bike, it's so versatile and robust, eg less prone to punctures.

Friday, May 12, 2006

Beyond an American century, on knobbies

To Kota Tinggi, Johore, Malaysia, 186 km. Triumphant from my race on 7 May, or perhaps brain damaged after hitting my head twice in less than two weeks, I cycle longer than an American century on my knobby tyres (a first in my personal history). Today's training ride for the Bike N Blade charity event sees about 20 riders, mostly roadies. Two mountain bikers, including I, and a triathlete, set the pace. At one point, I'm pulling along five bikerbabes. But in the noonday sun, without lunch, I turn sluggish. It's my turn to draft and I follow a tribabe; someone who's swimming, running or cycling everyday. Back on the causeway, we're stopped. In the rain, to let some VIP comfortably ensconed in a black vehicle pass.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

Talk shop six

To Old Upper Thomson Road, 26 km. The last time I was away for more than half a day (excluding weekends and public holidays) was on 3 Jan. Now, it looks like my five days of leave in Jun is going up in smoke. Time for some window shopping therapy. I chat with bikeshop man and he tells me the intricacies of tyre treads. Darn, I could've done better in my 7 May race (see below) for just $50. He offers to give me a ride if I'm joining another race. Woohoo, I've got a race sponsor! When he closes shop, I tear up and down the road, dodging joggers who are to the left, centre and right of the road. If my new bar ends are horns, I could be goring them.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Three firsts and half-past six


To Tampines Mountain Bike Trail, 64 km. For the first time in my life: I cycle in SACA's Men's Masters. I keep upright in an offroad race (I filled my quota for falling yesterday). I win a medal. Thanks to CC and N for the winning advice. I would've been #6, but for half a bike length. #6 hears me coming; yesterday's crash had disabled my stealth mode. Though I leap ahead, he has too much of a headstart. Still, I shouldn't have won anything. My hand hurts from yesterday's fall, the jolts on the road as I cycle to the race venue remind me so (I wish I'd a support vehicle like my competitors). My bent rear D is a drag. And I didn't sleep well because of pain. When the race starts, it seems everyone surges ahead of me. I feel hungry. Somehow, I overtake 3-4 riders without falling. Some people congratulate me after the race. I struggle to open a bottle of water because of the pain in my hand. Chasing after a medal is like chasing a girl. It takes serious effort, time, money and pain. The difference is, the medal you keep. The girl, you have to work at keeping.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

From whining to winning?

To Tampines Mountain Bike Trail, 34 km. Today is the eve of race day. It's supposed to be an easy ride but it starts to rain. It also looks like the race route has changed; it goes the other way. Along the way, there's a huge forked branch on the trail. It looks like it was placed there for boobies like me. Crash! That familiar sound. I hurt my hand and my butt, tear my shorts (the first time I ever tear my bike clothes, and it has to be my newest pair of shorts) and bend my rear D the third time. Still, it could've been worse. I'll still race tomorrow. A medal awaits, notwithstanding the rear D.

Friday, May 05, 2006

Ups and downs

To Mandai Road, 26 km. I sprint up the uphill stretch beside the reservoir and coast down, doing a few laps. I drop by to see bikeshop man; his shop is still open though it's past 10 pm.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Many at Mandai

To Mandai Road, 31 km. Taking N's advice, I tear up the hills and rest on the way down. Some roadies pass me the other way. And going my way is lots of traffic. I wonder why.

Monday, May 01, 2006

Keep your head down

To Bukit Timah and Tampines Mountain Bike Trail, 95 km. The alarm clock rings. I don't want to wake up but there's a clinic today. The doctor: Cycling Dutchman, winner of Mar's SACA race (Men's Sports category). So it's true: he won using slicks (2.35"). I learn from him today. Like, what "keep your head down" means (and look up to the top). The "feel test" for tyre pressure (no need to figure out when marginal utility of increased traction equals marginal cost of increased rolling resistance!). When it's better to dismount and run. When in danger, brake, keep low then fall. After one round with him and some FWNR bikers (like Tiny, who fixes my rear D despite its hanger being bent), we break up. I head for Tampines. I do better with 45 psi tyres. Even at a somewhat relaxed pace, one round takes me 7:38.