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 :))

Saturday, May 26, 2007

Urban offroad

May distance travelled: 179 km

To Bukit Chandu, 46 km. I meet some friends on top of a hill for a picnic. I'm the only one on a bicycle; the rest are pedestrians. Of course, no one wants my cycling grub. On my way home, I pass a wide open space beside Alexandra Hospital (a historical hospital with lots of character and the site of a World War 2 massacre). I explore the open space (exit hospital via the mortuary, you know what I mean) which is the size of several football fields. Besides an abandoned road, there's grass and little knolls. I have the whole place to myself - almost. I stop to marvel at some people using ropes to climb five storeys up a tree. All these, beside a busy road and a hospital. It is shady and quiet. Amidst the busyness and sufferings of life, sometimes there're pockets of peace if you look aside and pause.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Could've, would've, should've

To Changi Beach Park, 67 km. I could've been cycling in Malaysia today. I would've accepted the invitation but after an internal struggle I decline. Otherwise, I would've been telling myself: "I should've listened to my body". With the coming work week the way it is, going would've been asking for trouble. So I cycle on this little island. I feel a tad tired just going up the slopes of Tampines and Loyang. I guess having a cold leads to a cold engine. Not that the dog under a lorry cared. It shoots out, locking on like a heat-seeking missle. From my peripheral vision, I see the mutt closing in. Too late to flip flop and turn back. To hesitate now may mean me flopping on the ground with my throat torn out. I keep my eyes on the track, looking out for ruts, gravel and loose sand. I break away almost languidly. Practice makes perfect getaway. Since I can't go back the same way I come in, I sink 3 cm into mud as I find another way out.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Cut throat


To Marina South, 44 km. Now, there's a remote possibility that your throat is cut, by kite string, if you visit Marina South. It is has wide open spaces and filled with green. In future, there is a distinct probability that your throat will be cut, as the place will have become a casino where the odds are against you. I enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasts. It rains. Make hay while the sun shines. Wash bicycle when the sun doesn't shine, and that's what I do.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

Running and rolling

To Mandai Road, 22 km. My fat tyres are squishy, having been unpumped for weeks. They're almost as squishy as my running nose. To get my nose dried in the wind (evaporation!), I roll out my bicycle. I intend it to be a slow ride. The intent disappears minutes later, when a roadie with aerobars shoots past me. I shift gear almost as fast as my hormones and before I know it, my wheels are rolling at 39 km/h. The roadie and I throttle back before the traffic lights. He's on an errand - to Jurong ... My mission, besides drying out my nose, is to cycle away the calories from the high-sugar cough drops I've been sucking so my coughing doesn't disturb my co-workers so much. Yes, I know. I'm a sucker at work.