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 :))

Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Weighty matter

Oct distance: 353 km

To Upper Thomson Road, 20 km. Obsessed with weight loss, I visit bikeshop man to cut off a cm or so each from my handlebars and bar ends. So my is a few grams lighter. And more aerodynamic? Not quite. As my hands are now closer, I ride a little higher. That's the law of unintended consequences in operation.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Direct or inverse relationship?

To Jurong, 98 km. I decide to wake up early today for a group ride with SWCT. There's just four of us and I find out how unfit I am, spinning my wheels chasing after a 55 year old roadie. A fringe benefit of the ride is going to a bikeshop in River Valley - a shop I never knew existed. I am mesmerised by a wheelset that costs about $1,700 per pair. I wonder how much my wheelset weighs. I know that the lower the weight, the higher the cost (inverse relationship). Or, the lower the weight, the lower the bank balance (direct relationship). Tonight, I'm in a BMW convertible. I wonder what it's like to own this set of wheels. I also wonder what type of relationship exists between the wheels and the work that makes the wheels affordable. Well, my wheels don't need COE or parking coupons - and they're fully paid for.

Sunday, October 22, 2006

True impressions


To Changi, 67 km. The PSI reading on TV states 74, but I smell smoke. Turns out to be incense; my nose is  "right"; I did smell smoke, but not all smoke is haze. I hit the trail, making a detour at Tampines to check out the new trail (picture). At Changi, the trial seems to go on and on, and the trees look alike. I'm not sure where I am. I think I hear traffic, but it's just the wind in the trees. If I'd followed blindly, I'd be truly chasing the wind. By dead reckoning, I make my way out. I never thought seeing a lamp post peeking out from the trees could cause such happiness.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Smell test

To Upper Pierce Reservoir, 28 km. Triangulation is where I use three different ways to verify data to make a decision: is it safe to cycle today? My eyes tell me it's hazy. The PSI reading is in the 70s. I smell no smoke and head for the hills, doing laps. Joggers and monkeys are out in force. It's the right decision. Triangulation is what I use to decide about my work. I do a chart, talk to people and talk to God. Time will tell if I've made a right decision, but my mind - not just my heart - tells me it will be so.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Daze of haze, ride with haste

To Lim Chu Kang, 72 km. The pollutant standard index (PSI) hit 150 yesterday, a nine-year high. Every year, Indonesia clears land with fire, leaving us burning helplessly with rage. But overnight, the PSI drops to 30. Not believing my nose, I message a friend. "Hammer away, dude," is the reply. I waste no time getting on the road. I find a legal trail at Kranji. One stretch is muddy, but looked easy. It was, after all, only 25 m. But things may look easy until you're caught. Mud envelopes my drivetrain and brakes. I can't even clip my pedal in. I explore another trail and head home, my chain squeaking in protest, in vain. With doctor's orders in mind, I eat lightly. That doesn't stop me playing leap frog with a three-water-bottled, long-limbed white man on a Sycip. At a petrol kiosk, a kind man washes off the gunk for me with a water jet. He wouldn't let me do it and I hope my bearings are spared.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Technique

To Changi, 68 km. I've been struggling with my contact lenses; they're the most comfortable brand for me among the brands I've tried, but the hardest to remove from their containers. Until I look at the instructions again. It's amazing how looking with an open mind at a few lines on paper can make such a difference. On the road, I feel so lethargic; I cycle so little nowadays. I pass a biker in denim shorts. A "race" starts. He sits on my tail even at 48 km/h downhill. I slow down as I run out of hill. He overtakes. I sit on his tail, going uphill at 41 km/h. I'm glad when he veers away towards Changi Village. I explore the unknown until four dogs bark. I reckon this pack barks but won't bite, but I turn back anyway. At the start of the ride, I'm thinking of how a dog took a chunk of out a biker's calf ...