It's been twenty days after Tour De Bintan. I've been meaning to write about it ever since I came back but I've been procrastinating too much.
So, let's get things started with lessons I learnt and feelings I felt during my most enjoyable 3 days of this year.
1. Going to Bintan was really the best decision I made, despite what I may have previously thought.
a) It offered me the chance to go overseas with my teammates whom I am really bonded to and feel a great deal of connection with. That in itself, is the best part - travelling with teammates/close friends.
b) It was the first time I went on an overseas trip (not counting Malaysia) on MY OWN ACCORD (so school camps not counted) without my parents.
c) The disconnection from the outside world was actually very nice. I liked how I couldn't reply messages or take calls, and wasn't able to connect back to Singapore without paying exorbitant fees. For once, I was literally away from Singapore. It taught me that a part of our lives do need this disconnection once in a while, especially while we are on holiday. While we are physically overseas, it is important that we are mentally overseas too, and for that, I'm happy that my phone was basically useless for the weekend.
d) The whole environment there is very therapeutic. Firstly, the people there lead really simple lives, with no luxuries, yet you can see that they are very happy. Shows you that material wealth isn't 100% necessary to lead a happy life, and a stress-free life probably is more important. Secondly, the whole island is very peaceful and natural, with hardly any man-made skyscrapers or heavy traffic, it's just forest and hills. Thirdly, because of the race weekend, everything was about bikes. Other competitors riding around exploring the place, or wearing cycling-themed T-shirts, and bikes everywhere. You could walk around in lycra and a helmet and nobody would give you weird looks.
e) It gave me a break from the real world, and put me in a fantasy world. In the real world, there is stress and so many distractions and other things we have to take care of. For 3 days straight, there was no distractions from the outside world, and all our focus were put into bikes and the sport of cycling. Nutrition was tailored for the race and recovery. Bikes were maintained and ensured to be in prime condition for the race. Our lifestyle basically revolved around cycling for all three days. It was basically doing what we were passionate about, for 3 days straight. Every conversation was bike-related. Everyone we looked, bikes or bike-related. How great is that. This part, I can't describe in words how good it was. It was like, suddenly you forgot about all your problems you had in the real world.
So all in all, trip with closely-bonded teammates, doing what we were passionate about 100% of the time, for 3 full days, in an environment where we were away from all troubles, worry-free, and had an awesome chalet/villa to live in.
My favourite parts of the trip
The feeling of setting off on our trip to explore the Start/Finish of Stages 1, 2 and 3. It really gave us a taste of how it was like to travel as a team and train together. We put on our kit, set up the bikes, loaded up on the necessary fuel, water and spare equipment, then took our bikes onto the road and set off together. Together with the sun and the wind, this part really made me think "Wow, this is how the pros feel when they go for overseas training camps".
Riding in the massive thunderstorm in Stage 1, after 80km of undulating hills. Yeah, you must be thinking I'm sick to think this way. During the ride itself, it was mad horrible. Terrifying too. You're already cramping up after going on such a fast pace through so many rolling hills, and you look at the computer. "Shit, only 80km done?? That's just slightly over half, how am I going to finish this?" I thought to myself. My teammates have crashed out, and I'm basically the only Team Recycling-SP guy in the peloton. The temptation to just drop off the pack and board the sag wagon (bus which follows the race to pick up stragglers) is immense. Then you see dark clouds all over the hills and greenery ahead. And a few moments later, you're in the middle of the biggest thunderstorm you've encountered, and you're IN IT. Lightning streaks on the left, right, in front, and they're so bloody close. The floor is slippery and chances of skidding and crashing were high. Then I start to think about how much I have sacrificed for this. The cost is WAY MORE than just the $250 race fee and $226 accomodation fee I paid. The sacrificed weekends, the leaves, offs, and people. In the first place, I was definitely not one of the weaker guys in Cat 3. And the sag wagon is meant for the weak guys, people who didn't train hard enough, hoping that they can leach off the peloton and make it through 150km. Secondly, if I dropped off, that would mean that I would definitely be out of the top 90 and I would have to start with the Gran Fondo (recreational category) on stages 2 and 3. And then truly, it would have meant everything I put in, and everything I sacrificed, would have equated to NOTHING. I knew that if I stopped and waited for the sag wagon, within moments, I would've felt much less tired and have the thought of "shit, I could've hung on", only to be left feeling disappointed because my race would've been over by then. I also knew that the suffering I was going through was only temporary, and that after the race, this suffering would immediately disappear and turn into immense satisfaction. Which is exactly what happened. I was to come in 15th for this stage. The great sense of achievement I felt after the race is indescribable. And the suffering? Never stuck with me after the race. In fact, my body has this ability to somehow feel stronger and stronger after prolonged periods of riding. Around the 120km mark, I felt normal and un-crampy once again, while everyone else were in complete suffering mode. I even decided to relief the front guy of pulling duties. On the slopes, I unintentionally went metres ahead of the group, without realising, until I turned back and saw everyone so far back. Then I noticed the situation: with the motion of my legs pedalling like the pistons of an engine and the heavy rain pelting down heavily, riding in a peloton in a foreign land with amazing scenery, with everyone pushing on, gave me a strong sense of feeling like I was riding in a pro peloton. Like one of those TV scenes where they show a group of riders suffering in the rain, faces grimacing but yet unfaltering. That feeling was awesome.
Engaging in a sprint on the final run-down to the finish line on stage 2. Stage 2 was the stage I was initially hesitant to join, after seeing the brutality of a crash in stage 1. The crash resulted in 3 out of 6 of my teammates going down and subsequently pulling out of the tour, and many others from other teams were seriously injured as well. One guy broke his rib, another his collarbone, and another guy his elbow. Well, obviously all these information I got after completing stage 1 did frighten me, and I was wondering if I should stay safe and just join the Gran Fondo even though I made it to the top 90 on stage 1 anyway. But finally, I decided that since I made it, I might as well not waste it. So with a very cautious mentality, I joined Stage 2. No regrets, there were no crashes at all during stage 2 for the Cat 3 peloton. I sat right in the back of the pack instead of the centre to make sure I was safe from any impending crashes. Everyone was cautious as well due to stage 1's massive crash. The scenery on stage 2 was excellent as well. So anyway, beginning from the last 5km of stage 2, I made my way towards the front of the peloton to line up for the sprint. Being alone, I had nobody to bring me up, and nobody to give me a leadout so I had to work alone. The best part is the experience of timing everything well and being in the right place at the right time. At about 500m away, the front 3 guys went ahead with their sprint. I was blocked from them and was also nowhere as fast as them, so I knew there was no use trying to chase. But anyway, top 10 positions were still there for the taking. I hung around some angmoh riders' wheels till about the last 100/150m and decided to move to the side and make a sprint. The best part: about 50m from the line I was neck and neck with the angmoh guys on the right (I was on the far left). But I was off the saddle and giving it my best kicks like the Anson Road sprint I usually do with Wen. Very slowly, I noticed that I was edging over them and getting ahead. Finally, I crossed the line 7th, ahead of all those in the same pack as me for the sprint :)