Bangla talk

(This entry is very strange. There are awkward switches from first person to third person accounts, suggesting that this Uzbekistan zebra will need risperidone soon.)

After the decidedly serious entry about his dilemmas with the future, Jerome sits down and pens the lighter moments he had over the weekend with his friends.

He will begin with a simple formula, which he calls “the common sense law”.

It states: Training + Night cycling + Training = Pain many many

For some reason, Jerome entertained the crazy idea of heading for night cycling with his friends after his training on Saturday afternoon at Bedok Reservoir. So what happened was a mad rush as he came out of TP at 7pm, took about 15mins to find a cab (Murphy is always right, you know), then find himself stuck in a ECP jam before reaching Macs at 8pm (Murphy is also omnipresent, you know).

Our originally planned meeting time was 7.30pm.

Anyway, fortunately some other members of the group were also late. After grabbing a footlong sandwich from Subway (yum!), some Milo and a Snickers bar, we set off with high spirits, and a full stomach. No, we didn’t have to take prophylactic maxalon.

In any case, I was riding this bike from JC that had a seat too high for comfort. I’m not too good at biking, so the start-stop sequence with this "tall bike" was often jarring, painful and disturbing. This was exacerbated by the fact that our first leg of the journey involves tight (and illegal) 90 degree turns on overhead bridges and tricky negotiations across paths filled with people that obviously do not have spidey-senses to feel your approach and give way.

Anyway, MF graciously exchanged bikes with me, and JC unceremoniously announced that I have turned down his $10K prized bike for a $200 market bike. The difference was obvious. Although I could now put my feet firmly on the ground, this 7-gears-only market bike could hardly give me the high when I charged down the stretch beside Changi Runway. Yet Jerome finds solace in the fact that he can protect his family jewels from unnecessary trauma. Yes, Jerome always gets his priorities right.

Rolling down the Changi stretch was particularly exciting because it was the exact same route we took for our 24km route march, and I could still remember the field packs on our shoulders, blisters on our feet, and CT twisting his ankle without warning to leave me as the sole rear scout for the rest of the journey.

We completed the whole 42km route close to 2am, if I’m not mistaken. In between we had a hearty supper at Changi Village, where each of us, on top of the “main course”, took 2 x dessert servings to rehydrate and replenish glucose stores.

Jerome is grateful that JC offered to send him back. He reached home around 2.30am, showered, and realized in the usual “water touch raw skin = pain” way that he has two abrasions on his feet, strategically placed under the strap of his sandals so that the maximum pain can be inflicted every step he takes. Yes, Murphy, you win ok.

Next morning, training at 9am. Jerome is obviously mad. He woke up, eyes not quite connected to his brain yet, and dragged himself to Kallang at a cost of $17. (Honestly Jerome has never doubted the fact that time = money. This means for the extra hour of sleep he is getting by not taking MRT, he comes to the conclusion that each minute costs 28 cents. Peak hour, 35% more thank you).

Jerome sat on the boat, under the freaking sun. Race sets x 7 was no joke. Blister on hand is not funny. Salt water on blister is also not funny. But Jerome survived.

All in all, he has 2 x blisters on his hand, 2 x abrasions on his feet, 1 x large scratch on his left calf, 1 x painful butt, 1 x super sleepy head.

Training + Night cycling + Training = Pain many many (proven)

And work starts tomorrow, with call, RT cover and ad-hoc cover.

Oh pain many many many!