Last night’s CycleWorx ride looked promising, but turned out, at least for me, to be much of a solo ride. Not to say that was bad. I really enjoyed just listening to the grinding of my chain, the swish of my pedal strokes and my rhythmic breathing amid the cool, dark and quiet Mandai roads. It was great to be back on the bike, legs feeling resurrected again after a two- to three-month long break from the saddle. The tightness in my hip flexors were gone, my ITB was loose as a rubber band and climbing hills seemed more enjoyable than I last remembered. But, even as I enjoyed some time alone with my Pinarello, I missed the dynamics, chatter and chases that a group ride promised.
Over 20 people had gathered at the shop for the regular Wednesday night jaunt, and we rolled off a little past 7.15pm. I was one of the first five to roll off, so we just spun lightly along Upper Thomson Road, waiting for the bunch to re-group. In the meantime, Kenneth sped past us, in his usual incapability to go slow, towing another rider with him. At the Sin Ming/Flame Tree condo junction, the group was caught at the red but I broke the light and joined up with the leading duo. The three of us rode up Peirce for a bit, then two more people joined up with us just before we hit Sembawang. We spun along, ever so often looking back to see if the others were catching up. We slowed down. No one in sight behind. We reached Woodlands. Still nobody. Kenneth, who had dropped the four of us early on, was waiting at a bus stop. Two others stopped, myself and another didn’t. I wanted to get home to my baby.
Just past Kranji, the other guy went straight towards Bukit Timah and I turned left on Mandai, deciding that if I was going solo I would put myself through some extra labour. My speedo read 2hr 2min and 61km when I got home to hugs from Damo, all sweaty from his ride back from his weekly football sesh. Not a bad speed, considering it included all the twittering and sauntering before traffic lights, weaving through traffic and waiting for the group to catch up.
We dragged our tired arses to dins across the road, then returned home and was about to turn into bed when my cousin Amelia called to tell me how Ben and Scott call me “Wangless” and how I should be very offended by it. I told her no, I’ve known those two for ages. She asked me where I was, I said I was home. She said she was at the tapas bar at Holland V. So, we got out of bed and walked over to join a huge noisy bunch obviously in a very festive mood, our intended “hi-bye” extending to a couple of beers for Damo and an hour of crazy chatter.
What can I say? It was a great Wednesday. Back to the grind today.