I used to think one's bicycle and components provided a quantum leap in one's performance. That was when I was new to the sport and saw how the stronger cyclists sported Pinarellos and flagship groupsets with carbon wheels. I was on a Polygon-branded aluminum frame, Shimano 105 gruppo and Aksium wheels. Soon I caught up with them, became faster and stronger than a few, but I felt like I could never equal them with my current equipment. In any case, the groupset, wheels, saddle and frame were irreparably damaged in a race crash - because someone in front panicked and took us all down while he got away scot free.
Then I came to Melbourne. People did the 3 Peaks on steel bikes. 'A' and 'B' graders raced and won on Giant and Cannondale aluminum frames with 105 gruppos and Aksium wheels. I realised that I didn't need better equipment - I needed the right sort of training, the terrain and time to do it, and the patience to understand that improvement came from consistent, progressive training. There is no overnight leap. Now I'm an aspiring D-grade racer. I want to consistently win B-grade races by the time I graduate (incl. Hons.) in another 3 years.
The racers on aluminum bikes I had in mind while writing the previous paragraph are in MUcyc. It's quite inspiring to see their results, then realise they were on sub-par equipment. Not that their equipment is lousy - far from it - but that they do what they do in spite of the field's carbon fibre frames and fancy kit. I told myself that I would get a Cannondale CAAD 10 in my current 6 Carbon Ultegra fails (it already has 4 cracks of uncertain severity). The CAAD 10 is aluminum bike that can contend with many carbon frames on paper in terms of weight and field-tested stiffness. If I were to get one, it would just be the frame - my current components are more than enough for amateur aspirations. An Ultegra 6700 groupset, FSA SL-K BB30 crankset, and Mavic's famed Ksyrium Elite wheels are more than enough for the aspiring racer. In fact, I specifically sought these components because they will be able to accommodate my aspirations as an amateur. These components will be on par with any frame an honest amateur racer could ever need.
But nothing lasts forever. I wish cycling wasn't so expensive. After 11,500+ Km in my 15 months of cycling, my basic Shimano pedals have worn out. The base-plate has been worn though, exposing the shell of the pedal body beneath it. I just noticed it today while cleaning my bike. The black paint on the exposed portion has also been worn through, showing the silver grain of the metal beneath. It must have been there for longer than I thought. These pedals were my 'learning pedals' from my first bike. They have been heavily scratched from falls, over-ambitious cornering, and foiled attempts at cleat engagement. To Shimano's credit, the axle hubs have never needed servicing and I only had to tighten the retention mechanism once. Now, before I focus on training again (tomorrow morning), I need to think of money because nothing lasts forever...
Shimano 105 5700 pedals - SGD $ 86.18 /pair
Worn pedals. This model is the cheapest from Shimano that have replaceable base plates.
Shimano RS 80 wheelset - SGD $646.54
My Ksyriums have odd braking surfaces - screeching despite professional servicing, and silver-coloured dust - presumably the rim's aluminum - rubs off on the green Swiss Stop brake pads. It is not reassuring. In a perfect world, I'd go for another pair of Ksyriums but these Shimanos weight about the same and sound like they do the job just as well, and cost $200 less.
Ultegra 6700 brakes - SGD $197 /pair
Cannondale made a big mistake supplying their frames with Tektro brakes. I've found that, under pressure, the brake arms actually bend towards each other rather than downwards. Aside from lost braking power - not assuring on descents - it also warps the position of the brake arms and positions the brake shoes in the wrong toe-in angle over time. From experience, I'm not confident about Shimano's 105 model either when the roads get wet.
Elite Custom Race Resin bottle cage - SGD $17.93
An old cage from a different brand broke in a crash (two in fact), and the other cages I've tried deform the bottle. The Elites are flexible and adapt to bottle shapes. The material allows it to bend rather than break on impact - it's like a semi-solid 'lace' that holds the bottle snug. It'll be a good long-term investment, as my current one attests to.
That's in excess of $1000 Singapore dollars. I'm just a student. I have no idea how I'm going to find that kind of money... I wish I had a sponsor...
Monday, April 11, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Academia in Lycra
After a Melbourne University Cycling Club training ride one day, I realised I would have to turn up for a psychology lecture in lycra. It generated an interesting discussion on Facebook...
The ever elusive definition of the 'Serious Cyclist' - one of the defining dilemmas of our cherished sport! :)
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Melbourne Criteriums - "For fuck's sake!"
I did my 1st criterium last weekend on the 20th and my 2nd today. I have to admit it's EXTREMELY addictive! The thrill of jostling for your place, the hypnotic drawing of deep breaths, split-second decisions - it's like a drug!
The criteriums are held by St. Kilda Cycling Club (SKCC) at White St., south Melbourne. It's a pretty good course - the corners vary between wide swings where most people can pedal through and sharp, sub-90 degree bends where everyone's got to hold their line. Best of all, everyone knows what they're doing! My greatest worry was the possibility of wrecking my bike because of someone's misjudgment. That was how my 1st beloved race bike was ruined, and there was no way I would jeopardise this one - especially when it's my 21st birthday present.
Turns out these fears aren't important in Australia. People here know what they're doing - they've been taught how to race properly in the guided E Grade bunch before moving up the proper racing grades - D to A. No one undercuts on corners, everyone holds their line, there isn't any jam-braking by jittery idiots (which was how my 1st bike was destroyed). Everyone knows what they're doing, and race marshals riding alongside the peloton make sure everything works well!
Strategically speaking, my 1st crit was a farce. It wasn't the fitness that was the problem - keeping up wasn't an issue - it was my position in the pack. I placed myself in the pack of the bunch thinking it was the most economical position. After every corner, I had to work so much harder to regain speed because the back of the bunch tends to lag behind the front by a considerable margin. People were constantly trying to move up and everytime I held a god wheel near the front, I'd lose it because I let down my guard or stayed too far left on a corner, allowing others to overtake on the right.
The excess layer I wore and the lack of a warm-up was another newbie mistake. The crits tend to start hard, mellow a little along the way, then pick up again as the final 3 laps approach. Talking to a former Grade A racer, he told me that you have to whack yourself on the warm up. He's right - once you're that warm, the inner layer of clothing isn't necessary and you're ready for the quick accelerations of the initial third of the race.
Today, I took his advice. I warmed up hard, staying just at the border of my lactate threshold while wearing a gillet. The removable gillet acted like a track suit - it kept me warm until I took it off at the start line. This time, I started up front and stayed there. When someone moved up on my right, I followed. I kept my placing, enjoyed a good draft, kept a lot of speed on the corners and was in the 6th or 8th wheel on the final 2 laps.
Then we caught up with the B Grade bunch who were racing simultaneously. The assholes blocked the entire race course. Whenever they caught us, we'd give way. When we caught them, they didn't reciprocate. The marshals were yelling, the D Graders swearing - "Keep left B Grade!" "For fuck's sake!" "We did the same for you!"
I lost sight of my bunch. By the time we were clear of the B Graders (who should perhaps return to E Grade), I realised my race was over. Literally - the marshal had stopped waving the checkered flag. I didn't even realise we had finished the last lap. The D Grade peloton was fractured beyond all recognition. "For fuck's sake!"
Last week, D Grade averaged 36.4 Km/H. Hamley said "That was a fast D Grade today", and we were often going in the low 40's. Today, we averaged 39.4 Km/H ! Hamley said "That's the fastest I've ever seen for a D Grade". In comparison, the average for the C Grade winner is 40.3 Km/H. Hmm, it didn't feel too bad on the body. It seems like the secret lies in keeping your pedaling rhythm, knowing how to take places and keep them - especially through corners - and sprinting out of them again.
And for fuck's sake warm up HARD!
Next week, I'll go for Coburg Cycling Club's criterium. I heard it's easier? The MUcyc guys were placing in every grade, with one winning B Grade.
The criteriums are held by St. Kilda Cycling Club (SKCC) at White St., south Melbourne. It's a pretty good course - the corners vary between wide swings where most people can pedal through and sharp, sub-90 degree bends where everyone's got to hold their line. Best of all, everyone knows what they're doing! My greatest worry was the possibility of wrecking my bike because of someone's misjudgment. That was how my 1st beloved race bike was ruined, and there was no way I would jeopardise this one - especially when it's my 21st birthday present.
Turns out these fears aren't important in Australia. People here know what they're doing - they've been taught how to race properly in the guided E Grade bunch before moving up the proper racing grades - D to A. No one undercuts on corners, everyone holds their line, there isn't any jam-braking by jittery idiots (which was how my 1st bike was destroyed). Everyone knows what they're doing, and race marshals riding alongside the peloton make sure everything works well!
Strategically speaking, my 1st crit was a farce. It wasn't the fitness that was the problem - keeping up wasn't an issue - it was my position in the pack. I placed myself in the pack of the bunch thinking it was the most economical position. After every corner, I had to work so much harder to regain speed because the back of the bunch tends to lag behind the front by a considerable margin. People were constantly trying to move up and everytime I held a god wheel near the front, I'd lose it because I let down my guard or stayed too far left on a corner, allowing others to overtake on the right.
The excess layer I wore and the lack of a warm-up was another newbie mistake. The crits tend to start hard, mellow a little along the way, then pick up again as the final 3 laps approach. Talking to a former Grade A racer, he told me that you have to whack yourself on the warm up. He's right - once you're that warm, the inner layer of clothing isn't necessary and you're ready for the quick accelerations of the initial third of the race.
Today, I took his advice. I warmed up hard, staying just at the border of my lactate threshold while wearing a gillet. The removable gillet acted like a track suit - it kept me warm until I took it off at the start line. This time, I started up front and stayed there. When someone moved up on my right, I followed. I kept my placing, enjoyed a good draft, kept a lot of speed on the corners and was in the 6th or 8th wheel on the final 2 laps.
Then we caught up with the B Grade bunch who were racing simultaneously. The assholes blocked the entire race course. Whenever they caught us, we'd give way. When we caught them, they didn't reciprocate. The marshals were yelling, the D Graders swearing - "Keep left B Grade!" "For fuck's sake!" "We did the same for you!"
I lost sight of my bunch. By the time we were clear of the B Graders (who should perhaps return to E Grade), I realised my race was over. Literally - the marshal had stopped waving the checkered flag. I didn't even realise we had finished the last lap. The D Grade peloton was fractured beyond all recognition. "For fuck's sake!"
Last week, D Grade averaged 36.4 Km/H. Hamley said "That was a fast D Grade today", and we were often going in the low 40's. Today, we averaged 39.4 Km/H ! Hamley said "That's the fastest I've ever seen for a D Grade". In comparison, the average for the C Grade winner is 40.3 Km/H. Hmm, it didn't feel too bad on the body. It seems like the secret lies in keeping your pedaling rhythm, knowing how to take places and keep them - especially through corners - and sprinting out of them again.
And for fuck's sake warm up HARD!
Next week, I'll go for Coburg Cycling Club's criterium. I heard it's easier? The MUcyc guys were placing in every grade, with one winning B Grade.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Degani 3 Peaks Challenge 2011
Screw it let's do it!
My Journey Across the 3 Peaks
Victorian Alpine Region
235 Km
5334 vertical metres
Now that I've settled some of my schoolwork (it's never completely done), it's time to think about the 3 Peaks Challenge I've completed last weekend. I have NEVER cycled in any alpine region. The mountain I train on - if a foggy peak at 550m elevation can be called a mountain - had a much gentler gradient than anything I encountered during the Challenge. I can casually spin at 18-19 Km/H up the main climb of Kinglake, which apparently consists of a Category 1 and 2 section.
To be perfectly honest, I find the climb TO the main climb of Kinglake more laborious than the actual ride UP Kinglake. This is reaffirmed each time I tackle it... a grand total of 3 times so far. Most of my training was in Singapore where mountains don't exist, and my 'climbing' training consisted of one 100 Km ride against headwinds and a mild gradient in Desaru, Malaysia. There is no such thing as a headwind in Singapore, not after riding for months on Beach Road in Melbourne. I hear my riding buddies talk about wind - and I just stare puzzled...
Strategy
But I digress. I've found that the main challenge of the, well, Challenge, wasn't about climbing. It was about strategy and endurance. For me, the strategising starts with planning my gear. The weather bureau says it's 10-16 degrees. Yea right. With the sun out, it feels like 22 degrees, but at the peak of Mt. Hotham and Falls Creek you'll feel hypothermic dressed in gear for 22 degrees. I know I did on the 2nd leg when I left my winter gloves, booties and gillet at the midway lunch stop at Dinner Plain. Aptly named, I know. Just like neighbouring Mt. Beauty (a volunteer and resident of the said place said that). Coach Bruce... well, ex-coach now I guess... he told me that my initial 'dress code' wasn't right. A neck scarf might be fine for Beach Rd in winter, but I'll overheat on the climbs. I reckon he's right. I thought a jersey-n-gillet would be sufficient, but he said I needed a base layer too. I reckon he's right on that too. And I didn't use to say "I reckon" - I think I picked that up from talking to the locals. So, $100 bucks for 2 Sugoi base layers that were, well, quite 'sugoi' (Japanese for "incredible"). I already had Gatorskins and Ksyrium elites - Mavic and Continental are hot favourites in Melbourne - and the other gear. Coach suggested I get a 12-28 cassette, but I went an extra step and got a compact crankset instead. For reasons later made clear, most of the cyclists I talked to had both.
The 2nd aspect was nutrition. I know from experience that I should consume about 1 energy bar every hour or so. Bicycle Victoria recommended some funky formula per hour based on body weight, but I honestly can't translate that into bars/time. In any case, I found that eating a whole bar at one go makes me feel happily full for about 40 minutes, then utterly hungry. It's more satiating to chew off a third of a bar every 20 minutes - it keeps me sufficiently full for longer. By accident, I bought Winner's energy bars instead of the usual ubiquitous PowerBar. PowerBars tend to get squashed and loose their shape, resulting in one bite taking more than another while creating a sticky mess that's hard to handle. The Winners bar - which I admittedly bought just because it was endorsed by Aussie world champ Cadel Evans - was another story. It wasn't as filling, but it wasn't as gooey either. I could bite off even chunks without feeling like I'm chewing on a spoon of peanut butter. It's flavour was pleasant and natural, not synthetic, and it didn't cling to the wrapper (which came off nicely). Guess what? Bicycle Victoria was providing the same thing en route! How serendipitous!
Of course, this is complemented by a steady swig of sports drink at least every 15 minutes. The powerade mix they provided was horrid... gatorade is still the best, but it still got me through. BV recommended a bottle of water and another with a sports drink, but I prefer having both filled with isotonic fluid. It seems to help me ride better, placebo or otherwise.
The 3rd strategic element was psychological. I wanted to arrive at Falls Creek relaxed and focused on the ride ahead. The schoolwork usually left for the weekend had to be done within the preceding week, the clothes and gear packed and waiting, the bike ready to go. The schoolwork refused to be compressed - I'm still a week behind on neural psychology as I write this, which is making me slightly neurotic - but everything else went well. This is the 1st set of clothes, this is what I'll change into mid-way, this cardboard piece goes on the top tube, this goes on the seat-tube, and... HANG ON! THERE's A CRACK ON THE SEAT-TUBE!?!? Ok, it looks superficial... *gulp*... let's just give it a fair go and see how it turns out. Flying off a mountain seems to be quite a nice way to die...
On the bus ride up to Falls Creek, I was still working on the synapse. No, not the Cannondale Synapse - although I ride the now archaic Six Carbon - I mean synaptic processes. Yes, I brought homework up the mountain. Thank goodness it was done by the time we arrived. I stayed at cosy Diana Lodge, where Blossom the border collie welcomed me with a happy wag of the tail. It cost half the price of the official accommodation packages, gave me a quiet room to rest and a homely dining area for breakfast. And they had my favourite - oats! In fact, everything seemed specially prepared for the healthy cyclist - oats, fruits, grain cereals, juices and... er, pancakes. Ok, almost ideal. Sure, we're all serious cyclists, but I wish I tried the pancakes...
The Day of Reckoning
I got a shock when I pedaled to the start line. There was low cloud - it was freezing. My hands were feeling the chill through my fleece-lined windproof gloves. On the bus ride up Tawonga Gap and Falls Creek I already heard "what-was-I-thinking" bubbling under what Freud would call my pre-conscious membrane. Tyna - who recently finished her 1st Ironman in NZ - and a few other guys (Mamils) from the Joyriders club in Singapore were supposed to come ride this too. And I was the only one at the start line - crikey mate! When the cold made its presence felt, what-was-I-thinking quickly morphed into screw-it-let's-do-it, which was the only reason why my unprepared comrades and I contemplated it in the 1st place. Team Global became a very small world indeed...
Tawonga Gap
I didn't see much on the descent towards Tawonga Gap because I was concentrating on holding a proper line on the damp road, fighting the shivers, and trying to overtake jittery guys who slowed too much on every bend. All I remember were flying lycra bums. At the bottom, I took off the full-finger gloves and put on a half-finger pair. Off came the gillet. Then up came Tawonga Gap. If it was a single straight journey uphill, it wouldn't be a problem. But the sharp turns and switchback - those I didn't have much experience aside from one trip up Arthur's Seat in Sorrento. I could've just stood up and breezed past it but I reckon it was too early for that. My motto at this point was "discretion is the better part of valor". Tawonga Gap was soon done, and I thought "hey that's not too bad is it?".
Mt. Hotham
The trip to the foot of Mt. Hotham is a blur to me. I only remember coming across that disgustingly this and unfulfilling yellow Powerade powder. Shielded by someone through drafting against a mild headwind - someone who didn't want to take turns even though I offered - I arrived at the foot of Hotham. My memory has another blank until clouds started popping up. I kept pace with two other young chaps at 12-14 Km/H. It got cold, and visibility was at times down to just 4 metres. Our lights were on and flashing, the lights in our head struggling to stay focused. Each of us stood up every now and then to stretch our legs although everyone else we past seemed content to sit. I've heard about altitude training but, in all honesty, there wasn't any perceptible difference in every inhalation. I was aware of being wet and waterlogged because of the damp fog and earlier rain rather than sweat. Towards the summit, I met a guy who climbed up on a steel bike. I asked incredulously "You're doing it on steel?", and he replied "Is there any other way? Next time I'll do it on a singlespeed." He's not as fast of course, but he wasn't that slow either. I counted 10 steel bikes in total. Somewhere near the top, I met a granny who finished it last year. She told me that it snowed, and 600 out of the 1200 participants or thereabouts didn't finish. She did, and she's back for more - wow! Tough Aussie stuff!
To Falls Creek
With Hotham done, it was now time for the descents again. With the full gloves and gillet back on, I headed down. Alone. For some reason, I hardly saw anyone else. Not that I'm complaining - at 80.1 Km/H (the maximum I've ever reached by, as we know at this speed, ducking down & NOT pedaling) at 4m visibility, it was probably a good thing. I quickly reached Dinner Plain - the midway lunch stop and clothes swap point - and I must say I really enjoyed the lunch. Pasta salad, a ham & cheese sandwich and a banana muffin sure hit the spot. The announcer kept saying we're half way through and shouldn't stay too long, and one of the guys in the clothing tent went "aww... shut the fuck up". We laughed! Feeling the sun on my back, I took a gamble and left my booties, full gloves and gillet behind. Then I lost my sunglasses. A Uvex Crow Pro - black gloss half-frame with black lenses. If you see it, please let me know by commenting on this post below. I seem to lose a pair on every BV ride, 1st during the Around the Bay 2010 and now this. Thankfully, the glare wasn't too bad as I headed towards Omeo Plain, and getting rid of the excess gear and water-logged kit made me feel a lot fresher and ride a lot faster.
"Argh... how long does this f******* hill last?" That was from one of the guys I formed a paceline with. There were 3 of us, the other two wearing last year's 3 Peaks Finishers' jersey. We took turns, until Mr. F******* Hill decided to pick up the pace and go at 38 Km/H. I decided it was a little too much for the terrain and waited to form another paceline with 2 other guys we passed awhile back. One great thing about the riders on a ride of this level is that they usually know what they're doing - and a volunteer I talked to later said that that was why there were relatively few accidents despite the course. Around swooping bends, they knew how to corner smoothly without nervous braking and kept as much momentum as possible. Each knew how start wide, approach the apex as they turned and finish wide again. There were 3 or 4 times when I thought I was going to crash (in my experience, Gatorskins don't provide the surest of grips and I didn't lean out as much as I should) but thankfully emerged unscathed.
Falls Creek was an utter shock. We turned left and it immediately hit 20-30%. At this time, I realised that climbing with a compact crankset and 12-25 cassette at 4 km/H wasn't enough to prevent rollback and standing climbing was something I neglected in my training. I decided to walk. Yes, I know! Horror upon horrors! It looks like some satirical Tour De France commercial! But, at the risk of using a Freudian "reactive formation" ego defense, I recalled that discretion is the better part of valour, and Johan Bruyneel wrote in We Might As Well Win that he made Lance sit on climbs. Apparently I wasn't the only one walking... Mr. F******* Hill said that he didn't remember such a sharp and sudden gradient last year. In any case, I walked at 4 Km/H and cycled up the more reasonable sections. I eventually caught up with guys I rode alongside on Omeo Plain. Imagine that! Oh, and I recalled how one guy up Hotham told his mate "Remind me how again how half of this ride is downhill?" Now I know why the other guys on the bus back used compact cranksets AND 12-28 cassettes.
That's It?
After another amnesic length of time, I started to realise the terrain changed. The tall trees were gone and replaced by the occasional shrubs and boulders. It was similar to my camping experience in New Zealand's Tongariro national park: one of the unpronounceable and impossibly difficult to spell peaks next to Mt. Ruapehu (fyi, that's Mt. Doom in Lord of the Rings) had a similar plateau at the top. Such terrain, combined with the rolling terrain around a large lake, led to the inference that I was at the top of Falls Creek. Now, big chainring. I went a lot faster and harder, but still with plenty to spare. I didn't know for sure it was the top, but I knew the cold was making me hungry and I've ran out of food having gobbled one bar at the base of the climb and consumed the other by the time I reached the top. In fact, having ditched my gloves and such, I was probably bordering on hypothermia - hands red and swollen, barely sensible, stiff to move in whatever little way they could, clothes wet and cold. Again, discretionary valour.
A photo point - look smart! Then I rounded a bend and - hey presto! Lights, cheering, buildings - it was the Finish Line! Out of nowhere, just as the sun was setting behind a peak! Hunker down for the descent in, dodge the jittery ones - and there! Name announced, Finisher's jersey collected. It seemed appropriate that a screw-it-lets-do-it rationale for registering should meet with a oh-that's-it-? finish. But I was glad it's over. I later heard that the police made some folks retire from the race at Angler's Rest - the stop before Falls Creek - half an hour after I left because they didn't want riders on the trail at night. Road bikes you know, not downhill mountain bikes. And so I ended my ride strong, with enough energy to ride home (walking up the sharp slope) to Diana Lodge. I heard some guy bonked and crashed into the barricade at the finish line. A warm bath and dry clothes was all I craved. And a buffet dinner! Alta restaurant, penne pasta in 3 sauces, roast beef and pork, fruits and - wait for it - FRENCH ONION SOUP! My favourite! Rob, the guy I was supposed to eat with, called the restaurant and they told me he felt very bad and went home early. No idea if he actually ate - the waitress certainly didn't see him, but he was all perky the next morning.
Obsidian Skies
Walking back to my room, I took the time to reflect upon how far I've come. The announcer at the Finish line was certainly right when she said "Congratulations guys. You've done what very few in their lifetime would ever do". I only started cycling 15 months ago. I've completed the biggest ride in Oceania, on my own, with little relevant training in the way of alpine climbs. I took a deep breath and savoured the fresh, chilly mountain air. Unsullied by city lights, I saw the moon's half-face illuminate the obsidian sky. It's the first time I actually saw the Orion constellation in full strength. She called me that, my special someone, because I she thought I was strong. What a good night's sleep I had.
In the morning, we packed our bikes into the bus and sat on the sag wagon trailer talking about the ride and figuring out how the bikes were loaded on. Some bloke had just woken up while we were all waiting and ready to go. Most of the guys rode slightly more than 235 Km as measured by wheel revolutions, but I got 234.10. "That's because you took a shortcut mate". Uh huh... ride straight mate. Anyway, a volunteer came up and we talked. I thanked him, an old chap named Jeff, for all the work he and his colleagues have done. The logistical demands of setting up stations across a 235 Km alpine route must have been gruelling - the task inducing fatigue as the sun drew across the sky - and then the packing up. They weren't paid, these volunteers, but every one of them was warm, friendly, and all smiles. Thanks Jeff, I really appreciate you guys being out there for us. As we all sat there, I took the time to take a good look around. The trees were white, appearing ossified to my untrained eye, but en masse on the hillsides they looked like a fossilised coral reef from Noah's days - leafless branches like coral ferns in barnacle white. It appeals to a very basic instinct. Is it aesthetic? Is it Darwinian? The evolutionary theory of art would approve. I took a picture of the scene, remembered the grandeur of the ride and the warmth of Falls Creek village before I boarded the bus.
One last look, one everlasting memory.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Kota Tinggi
Extended lunges, deep stances, bouncing knuckle push-ups - the usual exercises encountered when training with Karate-do Goju-Kai Singapore. I thought I'd be beat after that, seeing how I've been away for 9 months. Not so. I still had enough left in me for a 120 Km ride to and from Kota Tinggi today!
Coach showed me the route. I surprised him by bringing his fee unannounced, as I usually do, because he tolerates my endless questions and queries. "You're a good man you know that? That's what they'll say in New Zealand." Gee, thanks Coach. Apparently he had done some military training in that area before, hence his familiarity with the area. It used to be a Kampong, now there's no trace of anything remotely reminiscent of that lifestyle.
The route was easy. The round trip was 120 Km, but it was reasonably smooth compared to Singapore's. However, there are many large potholes that require quick dodging. By large, I mean at least a vertical fist deep - the sort that WILL send you flying or at least break your fork. I couldn't avoid one and nearly lost control. The loud 'crack' made my heart jump. I thought I broke a spoke, or at least burst the front tyre. Thankfully, Mavic's Ksyrium Elites managed to hold it together and the Continental Gatorskins remained steadfast despite the gravel, cement and glass i rolled through. I can see why the Mavic-&-Continental combination is so popular in Melbourne. That leaves one last question... Is the fork of my Cannondale 6 Carbon intact?
Coach said my progress was decent: "I'm pretty impressed with your progress". *shrugs*, maybe it was the easy pace. He also said I wrapped my bar tape up "pretty good actually". As long as I keep improving - and someone who knows what's what say I am - I'm happy. Take it step by step. Next up, the Degani 3 Peaks Challenge in Victoria's Falls Creek alpine region. 3 mountains, 5000+ vertical meters, 235 Km. Sounds like fun! :D
After that, I'll start racing. Coach says I should start in Category C but the guys in the Melbourne Uni club recommended starting at the lowest grade - D. Discretion is the better part of valour. Get it? D-iscretion? Nevermind...
Right then! Hard club ride tomorrow, intervals the day after, and 70 Km on Saturday and Sunday with an average in the high 30s. Sounds like it'll be a god week ahead! ;D
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Cultural Exchange
Brit meets Chinese in-laws. Introduces Hamlet...
Brit (with strong accent): 是， 或不是，這就是問題。
In-laws: @媽的。。。
You get to meet interesting people through cycling! ;D
On another note, I've officially cycled more than 9000 Km since I started last January! :D
I'll buy the guys a meal when I hit 10,000! :D
Brit (with strong accent): 是， 或不是，這就是問題。
In-laws: @媽的。。。
You get to meet interesting people through cycling! ;D
On another note, I've officially cycled more than 9000 Km since I started last January! :D
I'll buy the guys a meal when I hit 10,000! :D
Sunday, January 2, 2011
My 1st Year of Cycling in Retrospect
I first started cycling in January 2010. Almost a year and more than 8700 Km later, I'd like to take stock of how far I've come. 2010 is a year of many firsts for me and I'm sure cycling will see me through to my last days.
Around the Bay in a Day (ATB) is Victoria's premier annual cycling event. This year's edition drew a record of 16,500 participants. I never intended to join the ride because the guys in the club weren't keen, but I found a group who would by chance.
The first time I cycled up a full mountain happened during one of the ATB training rides. I didn’t know it was a mountain until I read up on it later on. Previous encounters with sustained elevations were mere hills, such as the Dandenongs, Arthur’s Seat, and perhaps Kew Boulevard. The road to Kinglake consisted of many ups and downs with the elevation gradually increasing till we reached the foot of the mountain itself – where it was up all the way. The place was ravaged by a bush fire some years back and the scarred, black tree trunks that littered the landscape was reminiscent of Mordor a la Lord of the Rings. No kidding.
The Joyriders
I used to think I was fit - but then everyone in Joyriders Singapore seemed to be a stage racer, Ironman, triathlete or plain stupendous on two wheels. The first time I rode the 'newbies' ride, I got dropped. There was no Guardian Angel and the 5.30 bunch often rode at race pace. Soon, I could keep up and met a few kind Angels who showed me the ropes - riding in traffic, the concept of overtraining, and soon I was riding happily with the pack.
Later, I joined the Saturday 6.20 group. I remember feeling exhausted after just 36 Km on the newbies Mandai Loop and joined the East Coast ride with a sense of trepidation. The advertised length was 60 Km, but I found it to be a much easier ride. Speed wise, it was about the same back then, but the 6.20 ride was on rather flat terrain. More riders sat down for drinks after the ride compared to the weekday runs, and that's where I began making friends. At first, it was unnerving. To be thrust into a room full of strangers without knowing a soul is... disorienting. And I was lonely at first. Soon I realised that I have to tought it up, put on a game face, and just introduce myself and find some common topic, typically being the ride. But that's how I started meeting so many new people and learning so much!
By accident, I joined the fast pack on Wednesday, headed to Amoy St Hawker Centre via Keppel Flyover. I stayed with the group as it became faster and faster, eventually catching the attention of Joyce, the founder, who suggested that I fill a vacancy in a group of 4 riders for a team time trial. That's how I met Murli, Martin & Nic - great guys to ride with and have a beer later. It made me realise that cycling was truly international. Murli is from India, Martin from Germany, and Nic from Canada+UK. Our team, the Jetpack Joyriders, didn't place very high on the rankings but we were proud of what we achieved. Nic was on titanium, I was on a humble aluminum Polygon 500, Martin on aluminum as well, and Murli on... a borrowed bike! Still, we beat teams with more riders and carbon bikes, even though we only had one practice session together. I'm happy that we were all off the same level, and extremely pleased that I didn't let them down.
It wasn't my first competitive event. In March, I did the OCBC 40 Km Challenge, although we did feel slightly cheated because it was only 36 Km. It was scary - sharp hairpin turns, pitch black sections, literally thousands of cyclists with vast disparities in ability and speed. I also hired a coach to prepare for this event. Zuyi gave me a training plan, and me a very good bike fit which I followed with religious dedication. Unfortunately, we had to part ways because he was very busy with the national youth squad. Sticking to this plan, I took part in the Cyclone ITT 36 Km. The preparation was severely hampered by incompetent bike mechanics and foiled on the last day when the wrong drink was mixed. I can't say I'm proud of it, but I learnt many important lessons - that you've got to check and double check your preparation yourself.
Somewhere along the line, I joined the Saturday 6.40 ride. It followed the same East Coast route as the 6.20 one, only faster. Once I pulled the 6.20 ride for the whole journey, some riders who recognised me by now - usually Terry - would tell me that it's time to up the ante. I've never been dropped on a 6.40 ride, but it took me some time before I could pull at that pace or come 1st in the Coastal Rd sprints. This ride and the extended one on Wednesday really built me up. While I clocked personal best times on my training rides, I was only able to test my mettle on these slightly competitive group rides.
Coach Bruce and Eugene
I met Eugene when I was looking for a new coach. He became a sort of mentor to me. A former national rider, he updated my bike fit and showed me new places I could go to for training. Sprinting along Punggol, full-out intervals on Olive Rd, pushing myself to new heights. I found myself growing more each week, and eventually joined the Joyriders on a trip to Desaru. We started out at sea level but I soon found myself gazing down into lush valleys. The sun was unbelievably hot, but I knew how to pace myself and ration my fluids. I was the 7th rider to roll in at the finish. My new coach, Bruce, said it was an especially good result given my inexperience and bike. The guys who came in before me rode carbon bikes with experienced legs - but many more were behind me, also with Pinarellos. I felt proud of myself, achieving something I never thought I could do. It was 90 Km in total - the first of many sportives to come.
Bruce, affectionately hailed as Coach, taught me so much. He's the former president of NZ's umbrella cycling association and it's thanks to his dedication and guidance that I stand where I am today. He taught me the most valuable skill in cycling - how to spin a high cadence. It made everything so easy - climbing, sprinting, resting in the draft, or just steady riding. It's amazing how such a simple technique can make you that much better. He met me every week, showed me how to climb, sprint, spin, taught me that cycling was ultimately a matter of heart. He's right: even with all the aerodynamic wheels, bikes and equipment that some cyclists sport, training and dedication still wins the day. It's not about the bike, it's about the cyclist. On an aluminum Polygon and a disciplined training regime, I was still faster than carbon fiber cyclists who didn't train as much. The TTT, Desaru, and every event since then, I make it a point to remember that "Coach Bruce said that I should... spin/relax shoulders/bend elbows/drink/spin some more". Thanks Coach! You're the greatest!
Alvan
On one ride, I met my good friend Alvan. Like me, he was out of JC and new to cycling. We rode and trained together, talked bikes and literature (we both did E.Lit for our 'A' Levels), even raced together. The first race we entered was the Dermalogica TRI-Bike 40 Km ride. Unfortunately, we got separated somewhere along the line. I came in 17th out of 72, my best placing yet. I was 51st out of 441 in the OCBC (yes, there were that many in just my age category). I was happy with myself, proud that I bypassed many on time-trial bikes. Some other cyclists were also riding MY bike - the same model with carbon deep-dish wheels - yet I easily sauntered past them or, as I like to think of it, 'tralala-ed' by. Everything had gone right in this race. I was happy to fly to Melbourne for further studies with this result, but Alvan sweet-talked me into joining the nationals...
I was willing to pull for Alvan. I already had what I was looking for. Coach was there, by the sidelines waiting for his category to start. Some nut decided that a 2-lane crit course with 2 very sharp hairpins would be a good place to hold a race, and there was a crash in EVERY category. The bloke in front of me jam-braked on a straight stretch for no reason. I went down, Alvan behind me, and another 5 or 6 riders. I got up, checked my bike and tried to ride off, but it wouldn't budge. I knew it was over. Looking around, I finally saw Alvan. He was pale as a ghost, said he felt faint. I got the paramedic to check him - broken collar bone, 3 pieces - but the organisers wouldn't let them take him to the hospital! Damn cyclone bastards. That was also the end of our 1st bikes. His argon had a crack, as did Cumulus, my Polygon 500. My wheels, saddle and groupset were also finished. Thankfully, the guys at Entro Cycles were nice enough to bring my bike to their workshop along with Alvan's while his cousin drove us to the hospital. I recovered from a hairline fracture on my thumb without interrupting my training. Sadly, Alvan is still recovering 6 months down the road. I still talk bikes with him, bought him a book on boutique bikes for his birthday and shipped it from Australia. I really hope he recovers - he's a great guy, really nice, and I know he can be a very strong cyclist!
Melbourne
University of Melbourne, Victoria, Australia. Shivering on a bike isn't fun - I wasn't prepared for winter riding. No matter what I put on - from jackets to fleeced gloves and booties, nothing seemed to work. My hands and feet were numb from the cold after every ride while my torso felt too hot. I soon learnt that a wind vest, arm/leg warmers, booties and a neck scarf would do the trick. The headwinds were another shock - 36 Km/H to 19 in 10 seconds, blown across the road, pushing a single-digit speed that jeopardised one's equilibrium. I was wrong - there is no such thing as a headwind in Singapore, only light breezes.
You can't understand my Singaporean accent; I can't get your Aussie lingo. But we can still talk bikes! That's my first foray into the Melbourne University Cycling Club. But I knew from my time with the Joyriders that you have to stick around to make friends. It took awhile, but I met many great guys and gals. Even went for a cycling camp with them, it was great! 368.51 Km over 5 days. I saw what stronger cyclists ate: couscous, spaghetti, tuna, vegan stuff, oats. So that's a training diet! The oats worked prfectly for me. I loved the taste, texture, and how it fills you up so well for so long. It became my daily breakfast, training or not. But I didn't tell them that I snuck out for a chocolate cake one night! :PP
I trained along Beach Rd, did laps on hilly Kew Boulevard, learnt more about climbing and riding into the wind. Sure I didn't train as much - I had to study after all - but these hills and winds made me work at a higher intensity and continued to provide the physiological overload necessary for improvement. It's nice cycling in Melbourne - you don't really sweat. You can go faster, farther, and still finish feeling fresher that you were at the start. No greasy limbs with black road grime sticking to it.
Commuting
That's also the reason why I decided to commute by bike. I initially bought a sweet blue SE Draft Lite singlespeed, named the Tardis - it rode fantastically. I understand why people swear by steel - it's comfort, it's smoothness, and how it rides itself once up to speed. But its components were horrible. The Alex Rims wheels were out of true after just two months, the single-pivot brakes were always rubbing and underpowered, and the saddle rail snapped after one hard bump one night - nearly sent me headfirst into a car. I knew I had to change my ride, something more reliable, something made by a manufacturer with class. I was quite sad though, I really loved this bike and took very good care of it.
Nic recommended Bike Life, his local LBS. I found that the Surly singlespeed everyone talked about was too expensive. But the boss showed me a catalogue of the Trek District range. There was a white bike with tasteful gold accents, just like my 1st Helios 500. It was the last Trek 3rd District in Australia, and it so happened to be in my size. The original market price at the beginning of the year was $1200 AUD, but the distributor wanted to clear stock asap and offered it at $600. After selling the Tardis at it's cost price of $300, I effectively bought the $1200 Trek at a mere $300. That's the biggest deal I've EVER landed! :D
The Trek was stiff, allowed me to go lower, came with a single gear ratio that seemed to be able to do anything from sprinting to climbing, and a carbon fibre fork that one only finds on high-end racing steeds. The brakes were even dual pivot brakes and matching deep-dish Bontrager wheels! The aluminum frame and wheels may not have the smoothness of steel, but it was much stiffer and inspired confidence for even the sharpest corners - and yes, I did test it out. Track stands at lights were easy too!
I live 10 minutes from everywhere that's anywhere in Melbourne. Lygon Street, University, Woolworths, Swanston Street, Elizabeth Street - anywhere I could possibly want to go to for daily affairs. The cost of a daily tram ticket is $10.80, and international students don't get concession rates. A bike is simply the cheaper solution and, given the somewhat fickle tram timings, the most practical as well. The trip to school also provides a good wake-me-up.
Incidentally, I began to see many interesting car plates while cycling around. I've started a collection of them together with a friend. Here's one fine example:
Around the Bay
Around the Bay in a Day (ATB) is Victoria's premier annual cycling event. This year's edition drew a record of 16,500 participants. I never intended to join the ride because the guys in the club weren't keen, but I found a group who would by chance.
I was cycling to Beach Road, the local cycling hotspot, for my own steady training ride when I bumped into Meng. He asked if I wanted to join his group from the Lewis Holdway legal firm for their ATB training ride and I agreed. Soon we were riding regularly and Krystyna, an exchange student from Canada and fellow MUcyc member. This was a great bunch of guys (and 2 ladies). Sure, they weren't racers but they were warm and friendly. We waited for each other and Meng had a very funny cramp on one trip. It was up Kinglake Mountain via the Kangaroo Grounds. "I'm a sprinter" he says - fair enough. The cramp was hilarious. He said "that wasn't fun", to which Michelle replied "but it sure was funny!" with an evil grin! Hahas, yes it was funny!
The ATB itself was fine. I could’ve gone faster but thought it would be nice to wait for everybody. The trip was 210 Km in length, which was surprisingly easy since I hardly sweat in Melbourne’s cool spring weather! It was an interesting experience. Firstly, we were bound to see a punctured tyre every 500m, making me very relieved to have chosen Continental’s famed Gatorskin tyres. The most common sight were these tyres paired with Mavic’s famously durable Aksium and Ksyrium wheelsets. Secondly, I came to recognize some cyclists by sight. They would pass me when I waited for friends, after which I would pass them. A few cycles (pun intended) of these hi-bye encounters and we eventually recognized each other by sight. It was slightly hilarious, but very gratifying each time I caught up to them after a 10-minute gap.
Once we finished the loop around Philip Bay and returned to the city, I decided to make a break for the finish. The marshal said we had 3 Km to go, but it was more like 5. I crossed the finish line with a sprint, egged on by young volunteers with clapper sticks. I had a kebab immediately after to refuel my cold, hungry self. The protein for ‘recovery’ was an excuse I used to justify the mayo that came with the roll. The next day, I managed to sleep without pills. One last picture to celebrate our trip.
Kinglake Mountain
The ease of the 1st ride was deceptive. I did it again with Cam and while I was slightly ahead on the climbs, I reminded myself that he was on an aluminum, Tiagra-standard bike while I was on a carbon fibre, Ultegra-class steed. Guess what? I cramped on the return trip! It was the first time I have EVER cramped on the bike! It took 15 minutes and a packet of chips to resolve it. I believe I pushed too hard in spite of the fact that I haven’t been training during the exam season and tried to keep a certain speed anyway. This conceit or hubris cost me. That cramp was the most embarrassing thing that has ever occurred while riding – retribution for laughing at Meng I suppose – and I’ve learnt my lesson. Conquering a mountain the first time doesn’t make it any flatter or give you superpowers. One still needs to ride smart at a sustainable pace.
Back to Singapore – Joyriders & C3 6.4
Many things have changed over the half-year I was gone. All the Joyrider rides have become faster – and more unruly. Many display utter contempt and disregard for traffic rules and treat each ride like a race. The attacks, spreading the pack over 3 or 4 lanes, forcing motorists to give way while rationalizing that “if they give way we better go” were horribly unacceptable. It was not the conduct of gentlemen, only hooligans. On one ride, they cut across a pedestrian’s path while he was legitimately crossing, forcing him to jump back in shock. That was enough. T said it when he called for a stop at the next traffic lights with his trademark “Good Citizenship Award” line for those who did. “We have K, we have B”. And that was how we started.
C3 6.4 was mooted over some prata after a ride one day. We decided that the JR Saturday 6.40 ride was no longer conducive for our training goals and formed our own little group, initially named Saferiders. I know it sucks, that’s why I suggested C3 6.4, which stands for Casuarina Curry Cyclists, 6.40 AM. It so happened that our rendezvous was at Casuarina Curry Carpark, giving the C3 additional meaning.
Those who ride with us are typically seasoned JR riders who have also found the unruly behaviour to be a turnoff. In terms of absolute or modal speed, our speedometers register the same speed but the overall average is slower because we stop at each traffic light, and consequently take time to decelerate and accelerate back to speed again. Our ethos revolves around safe cycling, respecting pack discipline and traffic rules. We make it explicit on our Facebook page and warn riders who do not behave considerately. So far, this has made our rides consistent and reassuring. Everyone takes turns to pull at a high pace. Membership is usually by word of mouth or invitation because we want to attract safe cyclists who are of a certain athletic standard – the pace isn’t realistically suited for beginners.
On one of our rides, a number of the JR 6.40 folks decided to leave their pack and join us instead, brining our normal number of 15 to 40 in an instant. It was heartening to see that others felt the same way. Of course, we are still Joyriders and proud to be so. It’s just that we ride on our own now too. The founding 5 have set up a Facebook page to coordinate our activities. I’m sort of the general secretary, handling the administrative aspect of things. All 5 founding members are tacitly expected to pull the pack at some point or other so it’s fortunate that we have so many strong riders joining us to share the load.
Apparently, our name has spread a little. At a Joyriders post-ride coffee-shop drinks session, people were asking if anyone knew about some 6.40 group that started from Casuarina Curry carpark. While not many members have Facebook (yes, I know it’s surprising), our turnout often exceeds the number shown on facebook because people just rock up expecting the ride to happen. It shows that we’ve become a regular part of their cycling life, and it’s something I’m secretly pleased with. Cycling and cyclists have reinvigorated my life so much. I’m glad that I can play a part in making their’s better too. Regardless of race, nationality, religion or any other arbitrary social divisor, we are all cyclists at heart and become good friends through that. I guess I’ve moved from being a passive member of a club to someone who can make a difference. I hope I can live up to that.
2011
Come 2011, I’ll be attempting the Degani 3 Peaks Challenge in the Victorian alpine region. I hope my friends will be joining me too. It’s a goal I want to achieve, and it would be a great feather in my cap to have done something so grand at my level of experience. Train hard, train smart, train with heart. And a heart rate monitor of course. OUS! The Karate spirit is still useful.
Maybe I’ll try a beginner’s criterium or road race as well and really dig in to all the cycling Melbourne has to offer. As a fellow Joyrider remarked when I came back as fitter than I was before, “he’s made in Australia now”.
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