If an individual decides, for whatever reason, to do the shortest possible race distance, does that individual deserve to be treated any less special?
i think not. i think any person who chooses exercise over sleeping in on a sunday morning, should be given due merit for their efforts.
i realised as i signed up for the KLIM 10k that it would be my first 10k race. honest! i've done 10k during od tris, but never signed up for 10k as a stand alone race (i ran the mizuno 10k with mac last year but i gate crashed to keep him company, so that doesn't really count as a race participation)
my first ever run race was the GE30k last year. here are the 'first time' run race distances i've covered chronologically:
1. GE30k 2007
2. NB15k 2007
3. Addidas King of the Road 21k 2007
4. Penang Marathon 42k 2007
i notice my distances are very erratic as well!
so, seeing that this was my first official 10k race i was extremely excited.
**plus i have managed to convince my colleague, jo, to join in the fun with the promise that i'll run with her all the way, at whatever speed she can manage. as i had also volunteered to accompany mac throughout the race, the deal was whichever of the two were behind, i will hang back and support. they both kept up very well with each other and we finished 1:19 - 1:20!
heroes! good job guys.
(admittedly, this is also a PB timing for my 10k. my other 10k during tris have always been 1:30 onwards, so really i wasn't hanging back too much during the race)**
anyway, my first task was to sign jo and i up for the race and collect our race numbers.
arif helped out here, and i was disappointed that the 10k race kit did not even have proper receipt/registration coupons (they were photocopied coupon and numbers written individually!)let alone the rules and regulations booklet. our numbers were not determined upon online registration, rather allocated on the spot using mass produced cloth prints. Our kit paled in comparison to arif's 21k kit which had nicely printed registration coupons, full rules and regulations booklet and artcard race numbers that allow you to write emergency numbers and allergies at the back (don't we 10k-ers deserve to tell the organisers what we're allergic to?). also at registration, the 10k counter according to arif was a small little makeshift one at the corner.
i felt so discriminated! :(
my next task was to help jo buy a new pair of proper run shoes.
we went to the NB shop at 1-utama. feeling hyped up about jo doing her first 10k we "arrogantly" asked for the sales guy's assistance. this is how we were slapped on the face for asking:
senn: could you please recommend the type of shoes for long distance running?
salesguy: o! 42k?
(senn and jo exchanges sheepish looks)
senn: er... no. for now, 10k
salesguy: 42k is long distance. 10k is short distance
... piak! #1
he then showed us 5 shoes that were suitable. of course being women, when restricted, we automatically didn't like any of those he shortlisted for us.
senn: how about this? (pointing at another model out of shortlisted scope)
salesguy: nope. only these 5 for you
jo: how about this? (picking up a red one out of shortlisted scope)
salesguy: nope. only these..
jo: but i like this design better
salesguy: NB is not for fashion. we are not nike. it is for function. to run short distance, 10k (thanks for reminding us bro!) only these are suitable
... piak! #2
i then picked up this lovely pink(!) running-lightweight model.
senn: how about this, do you have my size?
salesguy: no, this is for serious runners! for your 10k (yeah - yeah, we know...) only these!
... piak! piak! piak! #3
more discrimination... :(
feeling disheartened, jo decides on one of the 5 while i said i'll think about mine. we went for dinner and returned after. by which time the salesguy had left and i just told the shop owner which model and size i wanted. (the running-lightweight model is incredible btw. for all you serious runners out there, you should try it!)
so, race number in, shoes ready... time for race day!
of course at race day, the 10k and 7k 'second class citizens' were placed in a different section from the 21 and 42k aristocrats. which was fine. it just makes it easier for the organisers anyway.
but!
10k runners do not get timing chips and as i later found out, 10k times are not even recorded! whatever time you clocked your watch is whatever time you finish.
the finishing was a total anti-climatic experience. we had to line up (about 20-30 people length to the finishing tape) to get our mass produced certs which we need to write our own names and medals in pre-inserted plastic covers. our earlier plans to have a final dash to the finish line were crushed! sure know how to make us special, don't they...
then of course there were the recovery tents and water stations only for 21k & 42k runners which no one else were allowed access to. i can understand the recovery tent being an exclusive thing seeing that 21k & 42k are quite gruesome distances and deserve priority.. but water stations?! after a brief runaround, a kind organiser showed us to a water dispensary tent some distance off the finishing line where we could quench our thirst.
full on discrimination! so much so that after seeing how i was treated, arif refused to remove his race number in case he loses his privileges as well!
admittedly though, despite feeling second class, the run on sunday was full of fun. seeing that i was quite bummed about being treated so casually, arif suggested i added some spice and wear a pair of white, feathery angel wings. i thought it was a great 'pick-me-up' and quite cool since i volunteered to be guardian to two runners.
the angel wings made quite a blast with other runners. here are some of the comments i received/overhead during the run:
1. are you in the right category?
2. do the wings give you an advantage?
3. why are you running when you can fly?
4. nice.....wings... (wtf? was that a pick up line?)
5. so, when are you taking off?
6. haiyo! angel girl pass ady... faster! (seems i'm a race bunny as well! perhaps next run with bunny ears?)
maybe the salesguy was right after all. which 'serious runner' would run with angel wings? perhaps the organisers were right too, to treat us so casually. it's only 10k, why would we need a full leg massage and foot dip?
but i just wish they'll understand that 10k runners are possible newbies with a serious intend to run longer distances in future.
just wish they'll realise that if a newbie is turned off by how they are treated they may not even join longer distance races.
just wish they'll see that we 10k 'underdogs' are the ones that need the highest level of encouragement and credit - we're like kids in the running world. you don't shrug a kid on his first bike ride do you? no, you don't. you praise them and encourage them to learn more.
Just wish they wouldn't be so race-ist!
Monday, March 31, 2008
Sunday, March 23, 2008
This is not a race..
…something I had to constantly tell myself while on our great trip to Mt Kinabalu last weekend.
Last weekend a group of 20, decided to pack their bags, leave their rat race and head to the land behind the winds to conquer South East Asia’s highest mountain: Mt Kinabalu (which originated from the Kandazandusun word “Aki Nabalu”, literally translated as Aki – ancestors, Nabalu – Mountain). They were: Bunny, Cass, Brandon, James bak, Christina, Jamie, Alex, Soh, Sallina, Alice, BK, Jesster, Annie Soh, Ivan, Annie Chee, Demi, William, Oneill, Arif and I.
The objective was fun in the sun, but Arif and I being the only triathletes in the group and the only ones that have been competing regularly found this very hard. It was extremely hard to suppress our competitive mindset and try to relax and enjoy to activities at leisure pace.
Here’s the funny part: neither of us wanted to admit to each other that we couldn’t help being secretly being competitive throughout the trip.
Here’s my share of secret competition:
Day 1: White water rafting
I slept most of the way there so I can’t really say I know where the location is or how our journey was, but I do know I occasionally woke up to see some extremely steep slopes which the group said would be interesting to see if we can pedal up on our bikes. And I do know we eventually ended up in a cold-water stream, which was extremely welcoming.
We were divided in groups of 5 per raft (arif and I together), and off we went. Our raft was the first out and I immediately intended it to remain pole position. Whenever the second raft came nearby I pedaled harder to break away.
I faced two problems breaking away:
1. Since I’m the only one in the raft that got the message to pedal harder, there isn’t much response in speed as the others were taking it easy.
2. It becomes even harder to move forward when I’m the only one pedaling while the others were resting (something that often happened after a row of rapids and the guide asks us to stop pedaling and relax to enjoy the scenery. Imagine a relaxed group and one hamster behind pedaling furiously just because her auto-competitive mindset kicked in when another raft approaches… hilariously stupid!)
Here’s another funny part: none of the other rafters and even those on my raft were racing!
Kept reminding myself “this is not a race”. Finally, the hamster got the message and I managed to relax but within seconds later, our raft hit the river wall and capsized. That was fun! Enjoyed the rest of the rafting after that, which was a pity because we capsized on our last 100m or so.
O well… perhaps Day 2 will be better
Day 2: Island hopping and hot springs/canopy walk
It was a nice hot day. Perfect for island hopping.
We marched to the jetty, got on a boat and off we went. The islands were serene with nice clear water (although the first island we went to had oily shores… euww). No competition here so I had a good time (and not much to write about either!)
After a couple of hours on the islands, we headed to Poring hot springs. Nice shady park where you can either dip yourself in healing sulfuric water or take a hike up to the canopy walk about 1km away. Seeing that we just had lunch, Arif and I decided to head towards the canopy walk instead of dipping in the hot springs.
Again, no competition here, just lots of trees and heights and swaying suspension bridges.
Day 2 a success!
Day 3: Climb up Laban Rata via Mesilau trail
We started the day nice and fresh. The air at Mesilau park was crisp and cool. All were joyful and excited…
Then we started trekking up.
Immediately, hamster power kicked in and I wanted to make my way to the front. It was difficult as the front pack was really full charged. Finally, one by one they stopped to rest and take pictures. Eventually, arif and I caught up with James, Jesster and Annie Chee who had stopped to take pictures. Passing them Arif said “ok, we’re in the lead now”. “How strange!” I thought, as I imagined I was the only one with the hamster power turned on. So we trekked and trekked ahead of the pack, happy and relaxed.
Few kilometers in, the trail started heading for a downhill.
Now, hamsters by nature have chubby bodies, short legs and a very small heart. Very much like me. Going downhill with such a built meant:
1) body too fat to respond quick to bends
2) legs too short to stretch for uneven downward stepping
3) heart too small to brave jumping down uneven trail.
As a result I got dropped. Very badly until nobody else was in sight. I trekked alone for a while till I saw arif just ahead, waiting for me.
The rest of the way was with arif. With no one else in sight the hamster power went on standby mode and I finally started to enjoy the scenery.
Then it started raining.
How horrid! We started getting drench and I asked arif to push off without waiting for me and we’ll meet at laban rata. Alone again, I started my slow trudge up the final 1.5km to laban rata. Slippery conditions made me lose my walking stick. It dropped and flowed downward with the rushing streams made by the rain.
Ok-ok.. that’s what I told the group and arif. Here’s what really happened:
1. I was trudging along till I realized that my cigarettes and handphone in my pouch could be getting wet
2. I stopped, placed my walking stick against a tree to check my pouch
3. My suspicions were right, they were getting wet
4. I relocated these items into my windbreaker pocket
5. I started walking again and slipped less than 2 steps away
6. Wondering how it happened, I realized that I left the walking stick leaning against the tree
7. I turned back and the stick was gone… :(
Shocked, soaked and probably suffering early stages of altitude sickness I stood there in the heavy rain puzzled over my missing stick. A porter was following me and I asked him “where’s my stick?”. He pointed downwards indicating it was gone. My eyes saw the action, my brain didn’t read it. I stood there, still in puzzlement. A guy passes and asked what I was doing. I looked at him and said “where’s my stick?”. “Gone down there” he pointed. Eyes and ears got the message, brain still blur. I asked again and this time he shouted in the rain “Gone! Your stick is gone! Move on!” Brain finally got the message.
I reached laban rata 30mins after arif did. Boy, was I glad to be there!
Well, not quite. I was quite the drama queen because:
1. soaking wet and freezing at 9.6oC
2. porter with my clothes hasn’t arrived
3. arif said my lips were blue
4. I had to remove my pants and sit wrapped in a towel to stay dry (didn’t help at all!)
5. after waiting more than an hour for the porter the stress and cold was too much, I started panicking, hyperventilating and crying, shocking everybody and ending up with 3 jackets, a pair of gloves, and a pair of socks. I looked like a Christmas tree with the mixed colours
6. more panic and tears when I found my clothes that the porter carried were wet! My water bottle cap popped off because of altitude pressure
One thing that did make me feel proud was that I was the 5th person to arrive laban rata. I know I know, this is not a race! And it’s even funnier that no one else even knew it was one, let alone wanted to race!
Day 4: Climbing to the peak and back down to Timpohon, Kinabalu Park
My tears dried up and clothes were returned to me dry from the makeshift laundry area they had at base camp. The night before, I slept with damp clothes and stuffed toilet roll to keep my skin away from the wet clothes. Even my toes were wrapped in toilet paper to simulate socks!
We started climbing at 3am to the peak. So many people lining up the winding steps! Hamster power was in full rage! “We’ll never catch the sunrise with all these mowers” it whined. Our porter skillfully guided us through slower climber and at last we were fast approaching the peak.
Well, not THAT fast…
The high altitude made it hard to breathe. I felt my heart rate going mad and I could even feel it in my ears! Every 3 steps forward, rest to lower the heart rate. It took us close to 3hours to cover the 2km walk to the peak.
At the peak, arif and I were relieved and rewarded by the most beautiful clouded sunrise ever. Colours of orange, blue and yellow filled the sky. Extremely romantic.
Having Soh propose and Sallina going “I want! I want!” made it even more memorable and sweet.
After awhile, we started our journey down to laban rata and eventually Timpohon park. By now it was close to noon and I had fallen 3 times enroute to laban rata. The first fall was so bad, the bruise recently won Most Ugliest Moment by James Bak.
Arif and I took 2.5hours to reach the junction of Mesilau (about 2km from laban rata). He was clearly upset. We had another 4km to go, we were last in the group and the restaurant at Timpohon closes at 5pm. Even more upset because he told the guide that we had planned to cover laban rata to Timpohon in 3 hours. To which the guide said “For you, no problem. But for your ah moi… very hard to say”.
“Babe, it’s now 2.30pm and we’re last. At this speed we’ll take another 4 hours to reach the park. I’m hungry and the restaurant closes at 5pm. We need to pick up speed..” he said in his ‘loving yet very firm and annoyed’ manner.
It helped that the terrain improved after that junction, we moved a lot faster. It also helped that arif started pointing out which route downward I needed to step. This cut my thinking time to zero because it was very visual to have him move ahead, turn around and point with his walking stick the rocks to land on. “Here, here, here” he would say as he pointed (but as his frustration of being lugged by a fat hamster grew, it later became silent pointing, no words. Very nazi-like)
I finally thought we could relax when we caught up with Jesster and Annie Soh and later BK and Alice and later still Christina, Soh and Sallina. But no, we marched on with full speed as if to see how far we could drop our friends. It was beginning to feel ironic that my mental chanting of “this is not a race, this is not a race” became a rhythm meter for me to move forward faster!
I later found out that Arif suffered the same mental torture and had tried to stay ahead of this particular couple (not from our group) that kept close distance to us on our last 2km! We both refused to slow down to let them past! And they seem to have the same thought because they speed up every time we did!
Finally reached Timpohon gates at about 4pm. 2.5 hours to cover first 2km, 2hours 15mins to cover last 4km. Hamster power!!
Day 5: Night at Shangri-la and home!
Ahhhh! The joys of a proper bed and hot shower at the Shangri-la..
I showered and washed everything twice. We had a great dinner and an even greater night’s sleep.
The next day, it was beach volleyball, bruise admiring, winning Ugliest Moment Award and heading to the airport at 2.30pm. What a great way to end the heavy weekend.
Or so we thought!
Arif and I took the 4.20pm flight while others like James and Christina, Annie Chee & Family, BK and Alice, Oneill etc took the 5.10pm flight on Air Asia.
4.20pm came and went and there was no sign of our plane. We finally took off at 5.10pm with two other Air Asia flights taxing behind us. “Wouldn’t it be funny if that was James’ plane?” Arif said as we took off.
True enough we landed at LCCT the same time they did although we were on an earlier flight. We exchanged pleasantries with them and went out to have a last cigarette before our long cab ride home.
While smoking, we saw the group appearing at the exit gate. I thought for a bit and told arif “you know, if we were in The Amazing Race Asia, we would have lost a positioning just by smoking here while the others hoped onto their cabs.”
Ah! But then again….. this is not a race.. :)
Footnote: I would like to thank everybody for the great time and warm clothes when I was feeling really tortured. You guys are great company and even greater traveling buddies. Special thanks to Bunny for organizing it and making all of us feel like we won something over the weekend. Great job guys! Let’s do Everest base camp next!
Last weekend a group of 20, decided to pack their bags, leave their rat race and head to the land behind the winds to conquer South East Asia’s highest mountain: Mt Kinabalu (which originated from the Kandazandusun word “Aki Nabalu”, literally translated as Aki – ancestors, Nabalu – Mountain). They were: Bunny, Cass, Brandon, James bak, Christina, Jamie, Alex, Soh, Sallina, Alice, BK, Jesster, Annie Soh, Ivan, Annie Chee, Demi, William, Oneill, Arif and I.
The objective was fun in the sun, but Arif and I being the only triathletes in the group and the only ones that have been competing regularly found this very hard. It was extremely hard to suppress our competitive mindset and try to relax and enjoy to activities at leisure pace.
Here’s the funny part: neither of us wanted to admit to each other that we couldn’t help being secretly being competitive throughout the trip.
Here’s my share of secret competition:
Day 1: White water rafting
I slept most of the way there so I can’t really say I know where the location is or how our journey was, but I do know I occasionally woke up to see some extremely steep slopes which the group said would be interesting to see if we can pedal up on our bikes. And I do know we eventually ended up in a cold-water stream, which was extremely welcoming.
We were divided in groups of 5 per raft (arif and I together), and off we went. Our raft was the first out and I immediately intended it to remain pole position. Whenever the second raft came nearby I pedaled harder to break away.
I faced two problems breaking away:
1. Since I’m the only one in the raft that got the message to pedal harder, there isn’t much response in speed as the others were taking it easy.
2. It becomes even harder to move forward when I’m the only one pedaling while the others were resting (something that often happened after a row of rapids and the guide asks us to stop pedaling and relax to enjoy the scenery. Imagine a relaxed group and one hamster behind pedaling furiously just because her auto-competitive mindset kicked in when another raft approaches… hilariously stupid!)
Here’s another funny part: none of the other rafters and even those on my raft were racing!
Kept reminding myself “this is not a race”. Finally, the hamster got the message and I managed to relax but within seconds later, our raft hit the river wall and capsized. That was fun! Enjoyed the rest of the rafting after that, which was a pity because we capsized on our last 100m or so.
O well… perhaps Day 2 will be better
Day 2: Island hopping and hot springs/canopy walk
It was a nice hot day. Perfect for island hopping.
We marched to the jetty, got on a boat and off we went. The islands were serene with nice clear water (although the first island we went to had oily shores… euww). No competition here so I had a good time (and not much to write about either!)
After a couple of hours on the islands, we headed to Poring hot springs. Nice shady park where you can either dip yourself in healing sulfuric water or take a hike up to the canopy walk about 1km away. Seeing that we just had lunch, Arif and I decided to head towards the canopy walk instead of dipping in the hot springs.
Again, no competition here, just lots of trees and heights and swaying suspension bridges.
Day 2 a success!
Day 3: Climb up Laban Rata via Mesilau trail
We started the day nice and fresh. The air at Mesilau park was crisp and cool. All were joyful and excited…
Then we started trekking up.
Immediately, hamster power kicked in and I wanted to make my way to the front. It was difficult as the front pack was really full charged. Finally, one by one they stopped to rest and take pictures. Eventually, arif and I caught up with James, Jesster and Annie Chee who had stopped to take pictures. Passing them Arif said “ok, we’re in the lead now”. “How strange!” I thought, as I imagined I was the only one with the hamster power turned on. So we trekked and trekked ahead of the pack, happy and relaxed.
Few kilometers in, the trail started heading for a downhill.
Now, hamsters by nature have chubby bodies, short legs and a very small heart. Very much like me. Going downhill with such a built meant:
1) body too fat to respond quick to bends
2) legs too short to stretch for uneven downward stepping
3) heart too small to brave jumping down uneven trail.
As a result I got dropped. Very badly until nobody else was in sight. I trekked alone for a while till I saw arif just ahead, waiting for me.
The rest of the way was with arif. With no one else in sight the hamster power went on standby mode and I finally started to enjoy the scenery.
Then it started raining.
How horrid! We started getting drench and I asked arif to push off without waiting for me and we’ll meet at laban rata. Alone again, I started my slow trudge up the final 1.5km to laban rata. Slippery conditions made me lose my walking stick. It dropped and flowed downward with the rushing streams made by the rain.
Ok-ok.. that’s what I told the group and arif. Here’s what really happened:
1. I was trudging along till I realized that my cigarettes and handphone in my pouch could be getting wet
2. I stopped, placed my walking stick against a tree to check my pouch
3. My suspicions were right, they were getting wet
4. I relocated these items into my windbreaker pocket
5. I started walking again and slipped less than 2 steps away
6. Wondering how it happened, I realized that I left the walking stick leaning against the tree
7. I turned back and the stick was gone… :(
Shocked, soaked and probably suffering early stages of altitude sickness I stood there in the heavy rain puzzled over my missing stick. A porter was following me and I asked him “where’s my stick?”. He pointed downwards indicating it was gone. My eyes saw the action, my brain didn’t read it. I stood there, still in puzzlement. A guy passes and asked what I was doing. I looked at him and said “where’s my stick?”. “Gone down there” he pointed. Eyes and ears got the message, brain still blur. I asked again and this time he shouted in the rain “Gone! Your stick is gone! Move on!” Brain finally got the message.
I reached laban rata 30mins after arif did. Boy, was I glad to be there!
Well, not quite. I was quite the drama queen because:
1. soaking wet and freezing at 9.6oC
2. porter with my clothes hasn’t arrived
3. arif said my lips were blue
4. I had to remove my pants and sit wrapped in a towel to stay dry (didn’t help at all!)
5. after waiting more than an hour for the porter the stress and cold was too much, I started panicking, hyperventilating and crying, shocking everybody and ending up with 3 jackets, a pair of gloves, and a pair of socks. I looked like a Christmas tree with the mixed colours
6. more panic and tears when I found my clothes that the porter carried were wet! My water bottle cap popped off because of altitude pressure
One thing that did make me feel proud was that I was the 5th person to arrive laban rata. I know I know, this is not a race! And it’s even funnier that no one else even knew it was one, let alone wanted to race!
Day 4: Climbing to the peak and back down to Timpohon, Kinabalu Park
My tears dried up and clothes were returned to me dry from the makeshift laundry area they had at base camp. The night before, I slept with damp clothes and stuffed toilet roll to keep my skin away from the wet clothes. Even my toes were wrapped in toilet paper to simulate socks!
We started climbing at 3am to the peak. So many people lining up the winding steps! Hamster power was in full rage! “We’ll never catch the sunrise with all these mowers” it whined. Our porter skillfully guided us through slower climber and at last we were fast approaching the peak.
Well, not THAT fast…
The high altitude made it hard to breathe. I felt my heart rate going mad and I could even feel it in my ears! Every 3 steps forward, rest to lower the heart rate. It took us close to 3hours to cover the 2km walk to the peak.
At the peak, arif and I were relieved and rewarded by the most beautiful clouded sunrise ever. Colours of orange, blue and yellow filled the sky. Extremely romantic.
Having Soh propose and Sallina going “I want! I want!” made it even more memorable and sweet.
After awhile, we started our journey down to laban rata and eventually Timpohon park. By now it was close to noon and I had fallen 3 times enroute to laban rata. The first fall was so bad, the bruise recently won Most Ugliest Moment by James Bak.
Arif and I took 2.5hours to reach the junction of Mesilau (about 2km from laban rata). He was clearly upset. We had another 4km to go, we were last in the group and the restaurant at Timpohon closes at 5pm. Even more upset because he told the guide that we had planned to cover laban rata to Timpohon in 3 hours. To which the guide said “For you, no problem. But for your ah moi… very hard to say”.
“Babe, it’s now 2.30pm and we’re last. At this speed we’ll take another 4 hours to reach the park. I’m hungry and the restaurant closes at 5pm. We need to pick up speed..” he said in his ‘loving yet very firm and annoyed’ manner.
It helped that the terrain improved after that junction, we moved a lot faster. It also helped that arif started pointing out which route downward I needed to step. This cut my thinking time to zero because it was very visual to have him move ahead, turn around and point with his walking stick the rocks to land on. “Here, here, here” he would say as he pointed (but as his frustration of being lugged by a fat hamster grew, it later became silent pointing, no words. Very nazi-like)
I finally thought we could relax when we caught up with Jesster and Annie Soh and later BK and Alice and later still Christina, Soh and Sallina. But no, we marched on with full speed as if to see how far we could drop our friends. It was beginning to feel ironic that my mental chanting of “this is not a race, this is not a race” became a rhythm meter for me to move forward faster!
I later found out that Arif suffered the same mental torture and had tried to stay ahead of this particular couple (not from our group) that kept close distance to us on our last 2km! We both refused to slow down to let them past! And they seem to have the same thought because they speed up every time we did!
Finally reached Timpohon gates at about 4pm. 2.5 hours to cover first 2km, 2hours 15mins to cover last 4km. Hamster power!!
Day 5: Night at Shangri-la and home!
Ahhhh! The joys of a proper bed and hot shower at the Shangri-la..
I showered and washed everything twice. We had a great dinner and an even greater night’s sleep.
The next day, it was beach volleyball, bruise admiring, winning Ugliest Moment Award and heading to the airport at 2.30pm. What a great way to end the heavy weekend.
Or so we thought!
Arif and I took the 4.20pm flight while others like James and Christina, Annie Chee & Family, BK and Alice, Oneill etc took the 5.10pm flight on Air Asia.
4.20pm came and went and there was no sign of our plane. We finally took off at 5.10pm with two other Air Asia flights taxing behind us. “Wouldn’t it be funny if that was James’ plane?” Arif said as we took off.
True enough we landed at LCCT the same time they did although we were on an earlier flight. We exchanged pleasantries with them and went out to have a last cigarette before our long cab ride home.
While smoking, we saw the group appearing at the exit gate. I thought for a bit and told arif “you know, if we were in The Amazing Race Asia, we would have lost a positioning just by smoking here while the others hoped onto their cabs.”
Ah! But then again….. this is not a race.. :)
Footnote: I would like to thank everybody for the great time and warm clothes when I was feeling really tortured. You guys are great company and even greater traveling buddies. Special thanks to Bunny for organizing it and making all of us feel like we won something over the weekend. Great job guys! Let’s do Everest base camp next!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Bitter sweet victory
Thank you mom, for bringing me lomotil pills in case i had the runs again on raceday, it saved my race.
thank you team imcyclist.com for the tough love and great company. thank you ivy, CK, jaja, lin, alisa, haimi and jason for smiling and making the heat more bearable. thank you adzim for the fab pictures. thank you team iron-monyets for your crazy ride distances during training. thank you all my sweet friends back home, who tracked my race progress till wee hours of the morning (sorry i got you worried on my last 6k) and those who gave me well wishes and good luck. thank you ishsal for saying 'i'm catching up with you!" on the bike. thank you shen for shouting "run, babe!" at kenyir OD 2006 (the memory never left and still haunts me at every run leg). thank you KC for bringing shen to langkawi. thank you patrick for your company on my last 500m and setting me off like an eagle last 50m towards the finisher's tape saying "go, enjoy your victory. you've earned it".
thank you dad, for catching me at the other end of the finisher's tape.
********************************************
i wanted to write about everything. i wanted to share the excitement, the joy, the happiness, the success of our trip to langkawi.
i wanted to share how my heart stopped and everything became like a dream. moving slowly with a blurred voice shouting "629.... YOU. ARE. AN. IRONMAAAAAAAAAN!".
i wanted to share everything.
people say no victory comes without pain. guess that's why they call it bitter sweet victory.
my heart is too heavy to share everything about my bitter sweet victory, so i'll sum it up in two lines:
sunday 12:33am - i crossed the finisher's tape after 16:48:03 of gruesome race conditions.
monday 2:35am - my mah-mah (paternal grandmother) passed away after more than 10 days of hospitalisation.
there is joy in me yet i mourn for mah-mah. is this really what they mean by bitter sweet victory?
how should one feel given such extreme milestone opposites in life? The person who can answer this question with confidence would truly be a master of his own heart.
in my previous entries i spoke about how mah-mah has totally forgotten who i am, yet she stroked my face in her last days in hospital as if to say "i know you, i love you" while she could. i also spoke about how i wouldn't want to inherit her memory lapse. later, i spoke about how my pee-with-audience debut at 5 years old could be my calling and i was meant to be an ironman after all.
i now know what i inherited and what i was meant to be.
the sunday before traveling to langkawi, i visited mah-mah. she was asleep and breathing with great difficulty. for the first time, i had her to myself. i spoke to her while she slept. i told her how i was about to travel to langkawi to do the ironman. i told her how it was a race of great importance to me and i have every intention to finish it. i told her i was scared. scared that i would fail to meet cut off again. scared that my family and friends had such high hopes and spirits for me that i would let them down. scared that so many of them, including mom and dad were coming, that the pressure to finish was almost unbearable.
above all, i was scared that she wouldn't be here when i come back.
our 'conversation' was interupted by her sudden wake. i said hi and she went back to sleep.
i spent a quiet moment in prayer with her and i walked out of the hdu to meet a cousin outside. while outside, the nurse advised us to re-enter the hdu and to call all relatives. mah-mah's breathing was getting weaker with no signs of recovery.
we rushed to her bedside and she was in and out of consciousness. as we waited for the rest of the relatives to come we called her to wake up and encouraged her to breathe more. we told her to hang on. we said others are on their way.
and then it happened.... she smiled... through her oxygen mask!
the next hour felt like an eternity. uncles, aunts, cousins took turns to say their goodbyes. an uncle was heading a christian prayer, he was asking her to not be afraid and walk towards the light, the lord had come to guide her way.
she did not die that sunday.
we waited another 2 hours and nothing happened. i later found out that my uncle had to say the same prayer on 3 different occassions, but she still hung on.
before i left that day i whispered into mah-mah's ears "wait for me. i will finish the race". she was asleep.
that was the last time i saw my mah-mah.
on sunday morning, after the race i couldn't wait to write this entry. i imagine a beaming face that cannot stop smiling while i typed. i imagined pausing to laugh at something stupid that happened during the race. today, my heart hurts and i only feel the lump in my throat and welling of my eyes.
she kept her end of the deal. she waited for me.
and i kept mine.
after receiving news of her death, my journey home have been so confusing. we travelled in a group and it wasn't fair to mourn in the presence of so many ironman successors. it wasn't fair to bring the group's spirit down after what they have worked so hard to achieve.
i received many smses of congrats for finishing the race, shortly followed by condolences of mah-mah's passing. it was such a strange feeling.
the imcyclist.com group knew of her death but were sensitive and played their part to ensure the atmosphere did not remind me too much of the pain.
in return, i put up a brave front and help keep the group's spirit high, saving my tears and heartache only in arif's company.
thank you arif, for cheering when you saw me fly and catching me when you saw me falling.
***********************************************
now thinking back, it was a week filled with silent pacs, the one with mah-mah being my most treasured.
at her wake, my uncle said mah-mah can be described in three words: loving, strong and determined. he told us the story of how mah-mah drove from kuantan to kuala lumpur to meet my grandfather. she was alone with 13 of her young children, and had no driver's licence. it's stories like these and how she refused to 'go to the light' even after being told more than 4 times (once by an official priest who gave her an hour, at most, after his prayer - mah-mah lasted more than 8 days after his prayer), and how she was probably waiting for me to finish that makes me believe my uncle was right.
and i now believe i did inherit something from her that i can truly be proud of - her strength and determination. i was wrong to say maybe i was meant to be an ironman. it was her inherant strength and determination that helped me cross the finsher's tape.
thank you mah-mah for making me an ironman.
*************************************************
thank you team imcyclist.com for the tough love and great company. thank you ivy, CK, jaja, lin, alisa, haimi and jason for smiling and making the heat more bearable. thank you adzim for the fab pictures. thank you team iron-monyets for your crazy ride distances during training. thank you all my sweet friends back home, who tracked my race progress till wee hours of the morning (sorry i got you worried on my last 6k) and those who gave me well wishes and good luck. thank you ishsal for saying 'i'm catching up with you!" on the bike. thank you shen for shouting "run, babe!" at kenyir OD 2006 (the memory never left and still haunts me at every run leg). thank you KC for bringing shen to langkawi. thank you patrick for your company on my last 500m and setting me off like an eagle last 50m towards the finisher's tape saying "go, enjoy your victory. you've earned it".
thank you dad, for catching me at the other end of the finisher's tape.
********************************************
i wanted to write about everything. i wanted to share the excitement, the joy, the happiness, the success of our trip to langkawi.
i wanted to share how my heart stopped and everything became like a dream. moving slowly with a blurred voice shouting "629.... YOU. ARE. AN. IRONMAAAAAAAAAN!".
i wanted to share everything.
people say no victory comes without pain. guess that's why they call it bitter sweet victory.
my heart is too heavy to share everything about my bitter sweet victory, so i'll sum it up in two lines:
sunday 12:33am - i crossed the finisher's tape after 16:48:03 of gruesome race conditions.
monday 2:35am - my mah-mah (paternal grandmother) passed away after more than 10 days of hospitalisation.
there is joy in me yet i mourn for mah-mah. is this really what they mean by bitter sweet victory?
how should one feel given such extreme milestone opposites in life? The person who can answer this question with confidence would truly be a master of his own heart.
in my previous entries i spoke about how mah-mah has totally forgotten who i am, yet she stroked my face in her last days in hospital as if to say "i know you, i love you" while she could. i also spoke about how i wouldn't want to inherit her memory lapse. later, i spoke about how my pee-with-audience debut at 5 years old could be my calling and i was meant to be an ironman after all.
i now know what i inherited and what i was meant to be.
the sunday before traveling to langkawi, i visited mah-mah. she was asleep and breathing with great difficulty. for the first time, i had her to myself. i spoke to her while she slept. i told her how i was about to travel to langkawi to do the ironman. i told her how it was a race of great importance to me and i have every intention to finish it. i told her i was scared. scared that i would fail to meet cut off again. scared that my family and friends had such high hopes and spirits for me that i would let them down. scared that so many of them, including mom and dad were coming, that the pressure to finish was almost unbearable.
above all, i was scared that she wouldn't be here when i come back.
our 'conversation' was interupted by her sudden wake. i said hi and she went back to sleep.
i spent a quiet moment in prayer with her and i walked out of the hdu to meet a cousin outside. while outside, the nurse advised us to re-enter the hdu and to call all relatives. mah-mah's breathing was getting weaker with no signs of recovery.
we rushed to her bedside and she was in and out of consciousness. as we waited for the rest of the relatives to come we called her to wake up and encouraged her to breathe more. we told her to hang on. we said others are on their way.
and then it happened.... she smiled... through her oxygen mask!
the next hour felt like an eternity. uncles, aunts, cousins took turns to say their goodbyes. an uncle was heading a christian prayer, he was asking her to not be afraid and walk towards the light, the lord had come to guide her way.
she did not die that sunday.
we waited another 2 hours and nothing happened. i later found out that my uncle had to say the same prayer on 3 different occassions, but she still hung on.
before i left that day i whispered into mah-mah's ears "wait for me. i will finish the race". she was asleep.
that was the last time i saw my mah-mah.
on sunday morning, after the race i couldn't wait to write this entry. i imagine a beaming face that cannot stop smiling while i typed. i imagined pausing to laugh at something stupid that happened during the race. today, my heart hurts and i only feel the lump in my throat and welling of my eyes.
she kept her end of the deal. she waited for me.
and i kept mine.
after receiving news of her death, my journey home have been so confusing. we travelled in a group and it wasn't fair to mourn in the presence of so many ironman successors. it wasn't fair to bring the group's spirit down after what they have worked so hard to achieve.
i received many smses of congrats for finishing the race, shortly followed by condolences of mah-mah's passing. it was such a strange feeling.
the imcyclist.com group knew of her death but were sensitive and played their part to ensure the atmosphere did not remind me too much of the pain.
in return, i put up a brave front and help keep the group's spirit high, saving my tears and heartache only in arif's company.
thank you arif, for cheering when you saw me fly and catching me when you saw me falling.
***********************************************
now thinking back, it was a week filled with silent pacs, the one with mah-mah being my most treasured.
at her wake, my uncle said mah-mah can be described in three words: loving, strong and determined. he told us the story of how mah-mah drove from kuantan to kuala lumpur to meet my grandfather. she was alone with 13 of her young children, and had no driver's licence. it's stories like these and how she refused to 'go to the light' even after being told more than 4 times (once by an official priest who gave her an hour, at most, after his prayer - mah-mah lasted more than 8 days after his prayer), and how she was probably waiting for me to finish that makes me believe my uncle was right.
and i now believe i did inherit something from her that i can truly be proud of - her strength and determination. i was wrong to say maybe i was meant to be an ironman. it was her inherant strength and determination that helped me cross the finsher's tape.
thank you mah-mah for making me an ironman.
*************************************************
Monday, February 11, 2008
ironMAN
Ever wonder why some titles are just more gender skewed?
and it's not because ironWOMAN or ironLADY sounds strange..
i truly believe it's because some races are not meant for women or ladies!
now, before you throw cabbages at me, let me explain and set the record straight:
1. i am a supporter of ladies being included in all sports, especially male dominated ones.
2. there are ladies who beat men square at races
3. at a race, to a certain extent, both genders are equal
4. i will be truly honoured to be called an ironman
point 3 is what i would like to use to best illustrate why i believe races like the ironman is not meant for ladies.
gender equality.
does this really exist in races? well, let's see:
1. race timing? yes and possible
2. equipment? yes definitely
3. strength, skills and experience? yes quite possible although the average male is 20% stronger than the average female but sometimes, this is not a disadvantage to the ladies
4. training hours? yes, can be equal
you can probably think of a million more equalities, so what tips the scale and makes it ironman and not ironlady?
... the wilderness...
women and men react differently to the wilderness.
men on one hand (or the other, whichever one they choose) can pee/poo at any point in time and place. and sometimes it's not even during a race! you often see taxis at the side of the highway, both doors open, cabby standing in the middle, only thing in sight is a thin stream shooting out into the wilderness. I once dated a guy who was waiting for me while the whole household was out and he needed to pee. mom never really understood why her baby roses died overnight.
ladies on the other hand, think really hard and contemplate if they can hold it to avoid the wilderness. a doctor once told me, urinary tract problems are more common amongst women because of our natural habit of holding in our pee till a proper rest stop. he mentioned "especially for chinese women"... he must be referring to the large number of chinese women on tour buses across china longing for a proper toilet or one with a door!
it must be the way we are built differently. men do not have to be inches from the ground to pee hence saving them the worry that any creepy crawlies can nip them in the process. if anything, they probably had fun shooting the creepy crawlies at a distance.
we're pretty much the same when we poo in the wilderness, but this only happens when it's really bad. by which time, you're too consumed with the tummy churns to bother about creepy crawlies... mr crawlie better be on vacation before sh*t happens!... know what i mean?
but the wilderness is not the reason why we do not have ironlady titles or that the ironman is not meant for women.
the fact for me is, it's called the ironman because the race is 17hours (and some 40mins more for me). you've got to go sometime during that period and a proper loo is a luxury. so women and men just 'go' as they go. no qualms, no gender boundaries. ladies react like their male counterparts.
admit it. it isn't a very lady like thing to do.
during a race, women are not coy. we are just as strong as the guy next to us in spirit and courage. we no longer act very lady like either. we become athletes... not women and definitely not ladies.
we are strong, confident and honestly... can't give two hoots about who spotted our fannies in the rush of the race.
we dump our bikes, and hit the nearest bush clearing. helmets visible... nothing else. i've once shared a bush with a triathlete friend during my first OD at kenyir. sweet guy, threw me his water bottle to clean up after..
as I looked at pictures from that kenyir race, i thought "how ironic!". the day before i had taken a picture dressed in white, with slight make-up on.. smiling sweetly in front of a bunch of kept dears. some other shots had me feed them through the fence. and the very next day, i was sharing a bush with a guy and his water to wash... without even blushing or feeling awkward after.
what is even more ironic is the person who taught me how to pee while on the bike was shen. sweet shen, now happily married and pregnant with her first child. sweet in real life, tyrant survivor during races (makes you wonder which is her real self and which her alter ego).
how ladies change at the bang of the start gun..
so to me, the ironman title is quite apt seeing that it really isn't a time or place to be lady like. we become one of the boys and it is always in great admiration that some ladies beat the guys at their own game.
but we couldn't have just adopted this tyrant survivor gig. i'm quite sure all women have it in them.. we're just too lady like to do it other than in races.
for example, the first ever wilderness I can remember is locking myself up in the toilet with my cousin su-en.
there we were, sweet young things of 5.
i came up with the idea that since our parents have started letting us feed ourselves, we must be matured enough to lock the toilet door. su-en couldn't agree more. So we marched up to my mom's room, went into her toilet and closed the door.
su-en asked how does the lock work and like a pro i said, "you just push this button. see?" once locked, we realised that there was only one toilet bowl. being my guest, i let her go first. while I waited cross legged my mom called from downstairs. i instinctively wanted to open the door to answer when i realised that i couldn't unlock the door. i panicked and su-en, still seated, started to cry.
ever notice how, when you panic, your pee just feels like gushing out even more?
well, that was how i felt. su-en did not help either by being fixated to her seat. I wanted to pee right there but was too shy because at 5, you are matured enough to know that that's not what you should do.
meanwhile, my mom had rushed up with a bunch of keys to open the door from the outside. all was calm until we heard my older brother say (and i'm very sure it was said on purpose)"wah! so many keys-a? it'll take us forever to find the right one!" su-en started crying again...i only two things on my mind:
1. i need to pee... how?
2. how can anybody pee THAT long? i'm sure she's just sitting there on purpose!
the moment of truth arrived and i knew i had no other choice... and like an organised crime raid, my mom found the key, busted through the toilet door and found me peeing my life away... ... into her toilet sink...
:)
ok, maybe that was a psuedo wilderness situation. but thinking back that must have been my first pee-with-audience encounter. and when it was time to deliver, i roughed it out like the boys and delivered.
who knows, maybe that was my first calling and i was meant to be an ironman after all...
and it's not because ironWOMAN or ironLADY sounds strange..
i truly believe it's because some races are not meant for women or ladies!
now, before you throw cabbages at me, let me explain and set the record straight:
1. i am a supporter of ladies being included in all sports, especially male dominated ones.
2. there are ladies who beat men square at races
3. at a race, to a certain extent, both genders are equal
4. i will be truly honoured to be called an ironman
point 3 is what i would like to use to best illustrate why i believe races like the ironman is not meant for ladies.
gender equality.
does this really exist in races? well, let's see:
1. race timing? yes and possible
2. equipment? yes definitely
3. strength, skills and experience? yes quite possible although the average male is 20% stronger than the average female but sometimes, this is not a disadvantage to the ladies
4. training hours? yes, can be equal
you can probably think of a million more equalities, so what tips the scale and makes it ironman and not ironlady?
... the wilderness...
women and men react differently to the wilderness.
men on one hand (or the other, whichever one they choose) can pee/poo at any point in time and place. and sometimes it's not even during a race! you often see taxis at the side of the highway, both doors open, cabby standing in the middle, only thing in sight is a thin stream shooting out into the wilderness. I once dated a guy who was waiting for me while the whole household was out and he needed to pee. mom never really understood why her baby roses died overnight.
ladies on the other hand, think really hard and contemplate if they can hold it to avoid the wilderness. a doctor once told me, urinary tract problems are more common amongst women because of our natural habit of holding in our pee till a proper rest stop. he mentioned "especially for chinese women"... he must be referring to the large number of chinese women on tour buses across china longing for a proper toilet or one with a door!
it must be the way we are built differently. men do not have to be inches from the ground to pee hence saving them the worry that any creepy crawlies can nip them in the process. if anything, they probably had fun shooting the creepy crawlies at a distance.
we're pretty much the same when we poo in the wilderness, but this only happens when it's really bad. by which time, you're too consumed with the tummy churns to bother about creepy crawlies... mr crawlie better be on vacation before sh*t happens!... know what i mean?
but the wilderness is not the reason why we do not have ironlady titles or that the ironman is not meant for women.
the fact for me is, it's called the ironman because the race is 17hours (and some 40mins more for me). you've got to go sometime during that period and a proper loo is a luxury. so women and men just 'go' as they go. no qualms, no gender boundaries. ladies react like their male counterparts.
admit it. it isn't a very lady like thing to do.
during a race, women are not coy. we are just as strong as the guy next to us in spirit and courage. we no longer act very lady like either. we become athletes... not women and definitely not ladies.
we are strong, confident and honestly... can't give two hoots about who spotted our fannies in the rush of the race.
we dump our bikes, and hit the nearest bush clearing. helmets visible... nothing else. i've once shared a bush with a triathlete friend during my first OD at kenyir. sweet guy, threw me his water bottle to clean up after..
as I looked at pictures from that kenyir race, i thought "how ironic!". the day before i had taken a picture dressed in white, with slight make-up on.. smiling sweetly in front of a bunch of kept dears. some other shots had me feed them through the fence. and the very next day, i was sharing a bush with a guy and his water to wash... without even blushing or feeling awkward after.
what is even more ironic is the person who taught me how to pee while on the bike was shen. sweet shen, now happily married and pregnant with her first child. sweet in real life, tyrant survivor during races (makes you wonder which is her real self and which her alter ego).
how ladies change at the bang of the start gun..
so to me, the ironman title is quite apt seeing that it really isn't a time or place to be lady like. we become one of the boys and it is always in great admiration that some ladies beat the guys at their own game.
but we couldn't have just adopted this tyrant survivor gig. i'm quite sure all women have it in them.. we're just too lady like to do it other than in races.
for example, the first ever wilderness I can remember is locking myself up in the toilet with my cousin su-en.
there we were, sweet young things of 5.
i came up with the idea that since our parents have started letting us feed ourselves, we must be matured enough to lock the toilet door. su-en couldn't agree more. So we marched up to my mom's room, went into her toilet and closed the door.
su-en asked how does the lock work and like a pro i said, "you just push this button. see?" once locked, we realised that there was only one toilet bowl. being my guest, i let her go first. while I waited cross legged my mom called from downstairs. i instinctively wanted to open the door to answer when i realised that i couldn't unlock the door. i panicked and su-en, still seated, started to cry.
ever notice how, when you panic, your pee just feels like gushing out even more?
well, that was how i felt. su-en did not help either by being fixated to her seat. I wanted to pee right there but was too shy because at 5, you are matured enough to know that that's not what you should do.
meanwhile, my mom had rushed up with a bunch of keys to open the door from the outside. all was calm until we heard my older brother say (and i'm very sure it was said on purpose)"wah! so many keys-a? it'll take us forever to find the right one!" su-en started crying again...i only two things on my mind:
1. i need to pee... how?
2. how can anybody pee THAT long? i'm sure she's just sitting there on purpose!
the moment of truth arrived and i knew i had no other choice... and like an organised crime raid, my mom found the key, busted through the toilet door and found me peeing my life away... ... into her toilet sink...
:)
ok, maybe that was a psuedo wilderness situation. but thinking back that must have been my first pee-with-audience encounter. and when it was time to deliver, i roughed it out like the boys and delivered.
who knows, maybe that was my first calling and i was meant to be an ironman after all...
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
"Did you cycle here?"
... My grandma's favourite question... every time i see her.
in fact she loves this question so much, that she can literally ask me an average of 3 to 4 times in half an hour.
of course, she is also one who likes variety, so she'll interact in different ways:
1. are you cycling home?
2. don't cycle home
whatever form the question or comment is made, my answer is always the same:
"no poh-poh... i drove here."
my grandma (mom's side) is 87 this year.
a lovable old lady with a gentle heart and loves spoiling her grandchildren. i like to think i am her favourite because she is always feeding me whenever i visit. and not just feeding me with everything.. mainly fruits.
she knows i love fruits and she always says with a cheeky smile and a twinkle in her eye, "a-senn, there's fresh fruits in the fridge". this, of course, is followed by the usual tale of how, as a kid, i had loved fruits so much that even the ones on the altar is not safe. i would give a courtesy nod and say a little prayer (my way of asking 'permission' to the god idols) and whoop! the apple is taken, washed and chewed on before anybody can stop me. i am almost certain i am her favourite because after awhile, she would place more fruits on the altar when she knew i was coming by.. kinda like 'contingency' fruits in case i went for the altar instead of the fridge. so if you asked me, placing extra fruits on the alter just so i can take them makes me pretty special.
we had a lot more to talk about in the past but our conversation has not progressed much since i started cycling. now, it's become very predictable:
senn: hi poh-poh
grandma: hey! did you cycle here?
senn: no poh-poh... i drove here
grandma: that's good... it's too far to cycle
(she breaks to fuss over her plants/channel/boiling water)
grandma: there's fruits in the fridge
senn: no thanks, maybe later
grandma: did you cycle here?
senn: no poh-poh... i drove here
(she breaks to watch her favourite chinese soap)
senn: ok poh-poh, i'm leaving now..
grandma: so soon? there's fruits in the fridge..
senn: yes, i've had some..
grandma: are you cycling home?
senn: no poh-poh... i drove here
grandma: dont cycle home
senn: i won't... i drove.
by now you would have probably guessed that my grandma's somewhat senile. and i believe so too. on some days, it can get much worst! these are the days when she would say i have mistaken my roots and i'm actually my granddad's sister, and not grandchild. mistaken identity, which she strongly believes is my confusion. apparently she does the same with my other cousin su-en.. claiming that su-en was the one that cycled, not me! a full dialogue would happen with su-en involving my grandma telling su-en that su-en's forgetful and confused and should remember that su-en is the one cycling, not me. (my cousin, by the way, is candle white, plans to stay that way and thinks i'm mad)
but poh-poh isn't as bad as my other grandma (dad's side).
My other grandma is 88 this year.
Not as strong, but just as sweet...when she remembered who i was. this is how my conversation has been with her for the past 3 years, maybe more:
senn: hi mah-mah!
grandma: who are you?
senn: i'm a-senn
grandma: who?
senn: senn-senn la..
(she turns to the person, any person, next to her)
grandma: who is she?
senn: hinn-chai's (dad's nick) daughter
grandma: oooooo...
(she falls asleep at the table while we eat)
senn: ok, bye mah-mah
grandma: who are you...?
i kid you not... it is that bad.
she was recently hospitalised and we had the same conversation. but it was a little different this time. when she remembered who i was, she stroked my cheek and smiled. then her memory would lapse and i had to tell her who i was all over again (those of you who have watched and remembered the old movie "the notebook" would understand what i mean by goldfish memory.)
she touched my face and stroked my cheek and forehead 4 times during my last visit when she was hospitalised. at first is was sweet, then somewhat saddening.. as if she knew her memory would lapse again and she wanted me to know she knew me and loved me very much while she could.
with an ailing mah-mah and a blissfully senile poh-poh, i can't help but wonder if goldfish memory syndrome is hereditary. (my granddad (dad's side) past away with perfect memory when i was about 20.)
my other granddad(mom's side) passed away last weekend. he was 91 and had perfect memory.
his health started declining july 2007 after a series of colds/fever and diarrhea. towards november he had to be wheeled around and spoon fed. he had also stopped talking.
but he never stopped smiling.
that's how he greeted me. always with a bright smile and as firm a grip as he could manage on my hand or arm. he knew who i was, what i did and what transport i took to his house.
though i am greatly sadden by his passing, i am also happy that he went peacefully and filled with memories.
i am happy he led a life full of love for his grandchildren (of course to the parents he was a tyrant) and was adored by all. i am grateful his passing was quick and he did not suffer much discomfort. in his final days he was surrounded by his loyal children who took turns feeding him and grandchildren who took turns giving him light back rubs and massages and telling him funny stories which he couldn't contribute but managed light giggles and shoulder shrugging.
above all, i am happy he kept his memories right till the end.
thinking back and seeing how my grandmas are living, i would want to take after my granddads. i would want to remember all my adventures: what it felt like during my first tri, my first marathon, my first over-distance ride
and MISadventures: my first fall, and able to categorise them as first ever, clipless, uphill, downhill, high speed etc. my first wilderness during a race, first time i squirted gatorade into my eyes thinking it was water... you know.. sh*t like that.
i want to be able to repeat these stories to my children, and my children's children.
i realise how much we take our days for granted. how each session is a "o! a training ride/run", a "o! a recovery ride" or "o! my timing was better last session". these are memories we are living each day now and god forbid, if grandma genes are superior, memories forgotten as i age.
so next time you go on a routine training or race, take a step back and realise whatever you are about to do or achieve is a precious memory that might just disappear later in life.
i know i'll be trying to appreciate the moment because for all you know, this could be me at 90, pointing at an old photo of me at some race, to my grandchild and saying "...and this is your grandcousin aunty su-en, she did the ironman you know..."
in fact she loves this question so much, that she can literally ask me an average of 3 to 4 times in half an hour.
of course, she is also one who likes variety, so she'll interact in different ways:
1. are you cycling home?
2. don't cycle home
whatever form the question or comment is made, my answer is always the same:
"no poh-poh... i drove here."
my grandma (mom's side) is 87 this year.
a lovable old lady with a gentle heart and loves spoiling her grandchildren. i like to think i am her favourite because she is always feeding me whenever i visit. and not just feeding me with everything.. mainly fruits.
she knows i love fruits and she always says with a cheeky smile and a twinkle in her eye, "a-senn, there's fresh fruits in the fridge". this, of course, is followed by the usual tale of how, as a kid, i had loved fruits so much that even the ones on the altar is not safe. i would give a courtesy nod and say a little prayer (my way of asking 'permission' to the god idols) and whoop! the apple is taken, washed and chewed on before anybody can stop me. i am almost certain i am her favourite because after awhile, she would place more fruits on the altar when she knew i was coming by.. kinda like 'contingency' fruits in case i went for the altar instead of the fridge. so if you asked me, placing extra fruits on the alter just so i can take them makes me pretty special.
we had a lot more to talk about in the past but our conversation has not progressed much since i started cycling. now, it's become very predictable:
senn: hi poh-poh
grandma: hey! did you cycle here?
senn: no poh-poh... i drove here
grandma: that's good... it's too far to cycle
(she breaks to fuss over her plants/channel/boiling water)
grandma: there's fruits in the fridge
senn: no thanks, maybe later
grandma: did you cycle here?
senn: no poh-poh... i drove here
senn: ok poh-poh, i'm leaving now..
grandma: so soon? there's fruits in the fridge..
senn: yes, i've had some..
grandma: are you cycling home?
senn: no poh-poh... i drove here
grandma: dont cycle home
senn: i won't... i drove.
by now you would have probably guessed that my grandma's somewhat senile. and i believe so too. on some days, it can get much worst! these are the days when she would say i have mistaken my roots and i'm actually my granddad's sister, and not grandchild. mistaken identity, which she strongly believes is my confusion. apparently she does the same with my other cousin su-en.. claiming that su-en was the one that cycled, not me! a full dialogue would happen with su-en involving my grandma telling su-en that su-en's forgetful and confused and should remember that su-en is the one cycling, not me. (my cousin, by the way, is candle white, plans to stay that way and thinks i'm mad)
but poh-poh isn't as bad as my other grandma (dad's side).
My other grandma is 88 this year.
Not as strong, but just as sweet...when she remembered who i was. this is how my conversation has been with her for the past 3 years, maybe more:
senn: hi mah-mah!
grandma: who are you?
senn: i'm a-senn
grandma: who?
senn: senn-senn la..
grandma: who is she?
senn: hinn-chai's (dad's nick) daughter
grandma: oooooo...
senn: ok, bye mah-mah
grandma: who are you...?
i kid you not... it is that bad.
she was recently hospitalised and we had the same conversation. but it was a little different this time. when she remembered who i was, she stroked my cheek and smiled. then her memory would lapse and i had to tell her who i was all over again (those of you who have watched and remembered the old movie "the notebook" would understand what i mean by goldfish memory.)
she touched my face and stroked my cheek and forehead 4 times during my last visit when she was hospitalised. at first is was sweet, then somewhat saddening.. as if she knew her memory would lapse again and she wanted me to know she knew me and loved me very much while she could.
with an ailing mah-mah and a blissfully senile poh-poh, i can't help but wonder if goldfish memory syndrome is hereditary. (my granddad (dad's side) past away with perfect memory when i was about 20.)
my other granddad(mom's side) passed away last weekend. he was 91 and had perfect memory.
his health started declining july 2007 after a series of colds/fever and diarrhea. towards november he had to be wheeled around and spoon fed. he had also stopped talking.
but he never stopped smiling.
that's how he greeted me. always with a bright smile and as firm a grip as he could manage on my hand or arm. he knew who i was, what i did and what transport i took to his house.
though i am greatly sadden by his passing, i am also happy that he went peacefully and filled with memories.
i am happy he led a life full of love for his grandchildren (of course to the parents he was a tyrant) and was adored by all. i am grateful his passing was quick and he did not suffer much discomfort. in his final days he was surrounded by his loyal children who took turns feeding him and grandchildren who took turns giving him light back rubs and massages and telling him funny stories which he couldn't contribute but managed light giggles and shoulder shrugging.
above all, i am happy he kept his memories right till the end.
thinking back and seeing how my grandmas are living, i would want to take after my granddads. i would want to remember all my adventures: what it felt like during my first tri, my first marathon, my first over-distance ride
and MISadventures: my first fall, and able to categorise them as first ever, clipless, uphill, downhill, high speed etc. my first wilderness during a race, first time i squirted gatorade into my eyes thinking it was water... you know.. sh*t like that.
i want to be able to repeat these stories to my children, and my children's children.
i realise how much we take our days for granted. how each session is a "o! a training ride/run", a "o! a recovery ride" or "o! my timing was better last session". these are memories we are living each day now and god forbid, if grandma genes are superior, memories forgotten as i age.
so next time you go on a routine training or race, take a step back and realise whatever you are about to do or achieve is a precious memory that might just disappear later in life.
i know i'll be trying to appreciate the moment because for all you know, this could be me at 90, pointing at an old photo of me at some race, to my grandchild and saying "...and this is your grandcousin aunty su-en, she did the ironman you know..."
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Seren-TRI-dipity
Serendipity - a fortunate accident
those who have watched the romantic, 'divine intervention'-filled movie serendipity (starring john cusack & kate beckinsale) would be amazed by how little misfortunes can lead to one great love. in the movie, john cusack explained to kate his theory of how their paths were meant to be crossed by "some serendipi-tatous reason".
i've watched this classic hopeless romantic movie for at least 10 times in the last 6 years. every time is the same: i watch, i become love sick, and i become hopeful that there is someone out there just for me. someone who isn't afraid to plunge into the unknown with me, knowing that whatever happens we would be ok because he has me in his arms. someone who would love my quirky ways and while may not naturally accept my inner monsters, would at least learn how to tame it and lock it safe in the deepest dungeons of my heart.
while i haven't met mr serendipi-lious yet. i must admit certain great 'epic' episodes in my life occurred by accident.
seeing that it's been 6 years since i watched the movie for the first time, let's go back 6 years..
6 years ago, i met whom many know today as the person i desperately love: arif. while our meeting wasn't by chance (we just 'happened' to be colleagues), my acquired taste for escargot was.
as a kid, my more affluent cousins loved escargots. every nice dinner that i tagged along, they ordered escargots while i played it safe with lamb chops. and as a kid i always wondered what they taste like but never had the courage to try them. as i grew up, julia roberts did the famous flying escargot scene in pretty woman. as the years went by, i associated escargots with wealth, class, great taste and c'mon... it even has a sexy name... es---car---go...
so when arif started showing interest in me, my initial thoughts were "gosh! he's cute... too bad he looks like a racerboy. definitely player material". this later turned into "o dear! rich kid syndrome". but by which time i had already been swooned by him and had started working on trying to impress him with my 'class' and erm... 'great taste'. being the silly girl in infatuation (at that time) i thought "ok, my 'social status' might not be way up there, but by golly i'm going to ooze charm and fine dining!"
so finally it happened.
we went on one of our first few dates at san francisco steak house near damansara kim. not exactly fine dining, but slightly more up market. there and behold, the menu stated: 1/2 dozen escargot in creamy garlic/butter cheese melt.
my heart sank.
can't remember the exact conversation but i think it went something like this:
arif: o! they have escargots
senn: yes, they do....
arif: you said you like them, right?
senn: er... yes.. do you?
arif: honestly... never had them!
(mental note to self: next time, don't oversell about being classy enough to try exotic garden snails when in fact one has only seen what it looks like on a platter!)
senn: o! let's have something else then. it's an acquired taste.
airf: no-no.. let's order and i'll have a go at it
senn: you sure?
airf: yup!
(mental note to self: whatever you do, do not puke on your date!)
what happened next was brilliant!
i've never tried it. lied point blank to impress the guy. suffered in inner silence, waiting for the waitress to serve the dreadful escargots. feeling like on death row and just knowing the angels were laughing at my retribution.
the escargots came.
all 6 of them.
out of 'grace' i let him try first:
arif: .......
senn: is it strange?
arif: no, it's good!
senn: really?
and it was good... it was soooooo goood....
many dinners after that included the must have 1/2 dozen escargots. the best ones are served at flamanco's in plaza damansara.
serendipity - a fortunate accident.
our relationship took a break for 2 years later that year, but i took with me, my new acquired taste for slimy snails. i swear the french are the true romantics of the world to create gorgeous food out of slimy slugs.
when arif and i got together again 2 years ago, i was fresh out of a break up and dying for salvation. i had quit my job for my ex-boyfriend 3 months earlier, thinking that a change of industry on his advice would save the relationship. i searched for a new job outside my comfort industry, found one, tendered my resignation, and broke up 1 month later.
so fresh out of painful break up, feeling frumpy, quit job in industry i love and embarking on a total career shift: so much uncertainty... so much grief & loss... so many insecurities.
then i met shen.
shen was hired to replace me and what a small world: she knew arif too! for 10 years prior at that. and she also knew my ex as a childhood friend so pouring my heart out became natural.
she told me to get on with life and that i needed to achieve something. she asked what my main priority was for myself now and i said "i want to lose weight. look super hot and make him regret ditching me"
shortly after, shen and arif took me on my first bike ride.
during one of our first weekend rides, shen brought up the topic of triathlons. i still remember the short debate shen and arif had:
shen: you guys should try triathlons
arif: nah.. cyclists and triathletes hardly mix
shen: how come?
arif: well, in a way cyclists feel that triathletes are jack of all trades, master of none. at least being a cyclist, you can master something and be really good at it.
shen: well, don't knock it till you've tried it.
arif: it's an admirable hobby, i've tried it once when i was 15. but i think i'll rather be a master than a jack
shen: well, like i said. don't knock it till you've tried it.
at this point in time, arif and i were strongly drawn to each other and being the girl that never learns fast i tried to impress him... again...
the monday after that weekend's conversation i sent an email to both shen and arif. the plot was simple. just send the email, shen will reply favourably, arif will keep at being a master not a jack and i should be able to wriggle my way out by saying i don't think i can heck it alone.
my email:
guys, are we really going to do this?
shen replied:
yes, there's one coming up in april, it's only december, you'll have loads of time to train.
arif replied:
sure. why not.
damn.... and so it began.
we started training, i found muscle aches i never knew existed. i was tired. i was slugging it out. i was having loads of doubt. i was kicking myself hard each time on the way to training. "stupid senn... this is stupid. why did you have to open your big fat mouth and appear gungho. stupid. stupid stupid..."
i held out till 5 minutes before my first a'famosa sprint. reality hit but i was too embarrassed to back out. i had bought nice race stuff to hype my excitement and suppress my fear and stupidity.
kept thinking: you've done it a again... escargot syndrome...
what happened next was equally brilliant.
we finished in moderate time. had beer to celebrate and watched shen do the olympic distance the next day. and i've never felt this great in my entire life.
2 years - about 2000km on bike mileage (maybe more.. but who's counting?), 9 triathlons, 2 interstates and 1 ironman later, i am again... heartbroken and alone.
but i have had a blast.
great memories, and i'm glad i have a big mouth that made me experience things i would otherwise not have the courage to. i have learnt alot about myself, became impossibly mental when it comes to physically challenging my physically challenged body and have been blessed by so many supportive and encouraging friends.
so the next time you think your making the wrong move, suffered from foot-in-mouth disease or 'accidentally' said something you think can't possibly achieve, have faith. life might just be leading you to another great love.
serendipity - a damn fortunate accident.
those who have watched the romantic, 'divine intervention'-filled movie serendipity (starring john cusack & kate beckinsale) would be amazed by how little misfortunes can lead to one great love. in the movie, john cusack explained to kate his theory of how their paths were meant to be crossed by "some serendipi-tatous reason".
i've watched this classic hopeless romantic movie for at least 10 times in the last 6 years. every time is the same: i watch, i become love sick, and i become hopeful that there is someone out there just for me. someone who isn't afraid to plunge into the unknown with me, knowing that whatever happens we would be ok because he has me in his arms. someone who would love my quirky ways and while may not naturally accept my inner monsters, would at least learn how to tame it and lock it safe in the deepest dungeons of my heart.
while i haven't met mr serendipi-lious yet. i must admit certain great 'epic' episodes in my life occurred by accident.
seeing that it's been 6 years since i watched the movie for the first time, let's go back 6 years..
6 years ago, i met whom many know today as the person i desperately love: arif. while our meeting wasn't by chance (we just 'happened' to be colleagues), my acquired taste for escargot was.
as a kid, my more affluent cousins loved escargots. every nice dinner that i tagged along, they ordered escargots while i played it safe with lamb chops. and as a kid i always wondered what they taste like but never had the courage to try them. as i grew up, julia roberts did the famous flying escargot scene in pretty woman. as the years went by, i associated escargots with wealth, class, great taste and c'mon... it even has a sexy name... es---car---go...
so when arif started showing interest in me, my initial thoughts were "gosh! he's cute... too bad he looks like a racerboy. definitely player material". this later turned into "o dear! rich kid syndrome". but by which time i had already been swooned by him and had started working on trying to impress him with my 'class' and erm... 'great taste'. being the silly girl in infatuation (at that time) i thought "ok, my 'social status' might not be way up there, but by golly i'm going to ooze charm and fine dining!"
so finally it happened.
we went on one of our first few dates at san francisco steak house near damansara kim. not exactly fine dining, but slightly more up market. there and behold, the menu stated: 1/2 dozen escargot in creamy garlic/butter cheese melt.
my heart sank.
can't remember the exact conversation but i think it went something like this:
arif: o! they have escargots
senn: yes, they do....
arif: you said you like them, right?
senn: er... yes.. do you?
arif: honestly... never had them!
(mental note to self: next time, don't oversell about being classy enough to try exotic garden snails when in fact one has only seen what it looks like on a platter!)
senn: o! let's have something else then. it's an acquired taste.
airf: no-no.. let's order and i'll have a go at it
senn: you sure?
airf: yup!
(mental note to self: whatever you do, do not puke on your date!)
what happened next was brilliant!
i've never tried it. lied point blank to impress the guy. suffered in inner silence, waiting for the waitress to serve the dreadful escargots. feeling like on death row and just knowing the angels were laughing at my retribution.
the escargots came.
all 6 of them.
out of 'grace' i let him try first:
arif: .......
senn: is it strange?
arif: no, it's good!
senn: really?
and it was good... it was soooooo goood....
many dinners after that included the must have 1/2 dozen escargots. the best ones are served at flamanco's in plaza damansara.
serendipity - a fortunate accident.
our relationship took a break for 2 years later that year, but i took with me, my new acquired taste for slimy snails. i swear the french are the true romantics of the world to create gorgeous food out of slimy slugs.
when arif and i got together again 2 years ago, i was fresh out of a break up and dying for salvation. i had quit my job for my ex-boyfriend 3 months earlier, thinking that a change of industry on his advice would save the relationship. i searched for a new job outside my comfort industry, found one, tendered my resignation, and broke up 1 month later.
so fresh out of painful break up, feeling frumpy, quit job in industry i love and embarking on a total career shift: so much uncertainty... so much grief & loss... so many insecurities.
then i met shen.
shen was hired to replace me and what a small world: she knew arif too! for 10 years prior at that. and she also knew my ex as a childhood friend so pouring my heart out became natural.
she told me to get on with life and that i needed to achieve something. she asked what my main priority was for myself now and i said "i want to lose weight. look super hot and make him regret ditching me"
shortly after, shen and arif took me on my first bike ride.
during one of our first weekend rides, shen brought up the topic of triathlons. i still remember the short debate shen and arif had:
shen: you guys should try triathlons
arif: nah.. cyclists and triathletes hardly mix
shen: how come?
arif: well, in a way cyclists feel that triathletes are jack of all trades, master of none. at least being a cyclist, you can master something and be really good at it.
shen: well, don't knock it till you've tried it.
arif: it's an admirable hobby, i've tried it once when i was 15. but i think i'll rather be a master than a jack
shen: well, like i said. don't knock it till you've tried it.
at this point in time, arif and i were strongly drawn to each other and being the girl that never learns fast i tried to impress him... again...
the monday after that weekend's conversation i sent an email to both shen and arif. the plot was simple. just send the email, shen will reply favourably, arif will keep at being a master not a jack and i should be able to wriggle my way out by saying i don't think i can heck it alone.
my email:
guys, are we really going to do this?
shen replied:
yes, there's one coming up in april, it's only december, you'll have loads of time to train.
arif replied:
sure. why not.
damn.... and so it began.
we started training, i found muscle aches i never knew existed. i was tired. i was slugging it out. i was having loads of doubt. i was kicking myself hard each time on the way to training. "stupid senn... this is stupid. why did you have to open your big fat mouth and appear gungho. stupid. stupid stupid..."
i held out till 5 minutes before my first a'famosa sprint. reality hit but i was too embarrassed to back out. i had bought nice race stuff to hype my excitement and suppress my fear and stupidity.
kept thinking: you've done it a again... escargot syndrome...
what happened next was equally brilliant.
we finished in moderate time. had beer to celebrate and watched shen do the olympic distance the next day. and i've never felt this great in my entire life.
2 years - about 2000km on bike mileage (maybe more.. but who's counting?), 9 triathlons, 2 interstates and 1 ironman later, i am again... heartbroken and alone.
but i have had a blast.
great memories, and i'm glad i have a big mouth that made me experience things i would otherwise not have the courage to. i have learnt alot about myself, became impossibly mental when it comes to physically challenging my physically challenged body and have been blessed by so many supportive and encouraging friends.
so the next time you think your making the wrong move, suffered from foot-in-mouth disease or 'accidentally' said something you think can't possibly achieve, have faith. life might just be leading you to another great love.
serendipity - a damn fortunate accident.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Chronicles of the DIVA
I've been riding my pretty Diva for almost a 6 months now..
and what a time it has been!
right from her debut ride up fraser's in may, she has proven to be a lady only few can handle. i was humbled by the fact that with wrong settings (new saddle and crank) she can be quite a pain. she can also be intimidating on steep, narrow decents. needless to say, our first ride together left me in tears and longing to return to the cow.
over the next few weeks, i struggled to earn her respect without much success resulting to doing many things for her just to ease her hostility. truly eccentric.
i did a couple of tris with her and she proved difficult. she didn't respond well if not at all, she was a total snob to me and i could hear her mumble..secretly being ashame of her new owner.
things took a turn when i decided enough was enough and i dressed her up the way that made me most comfortable. i did away with the durace crank i bought specially for her, thinking it looked really nice on her and i pushed the new saddle way forward.
the shock of being adorned by a humble compact crank and a less aggressive seating position must have hit her hard and got her thinking "o gosh! i've taken my new mistress for granted so badly and made her prove her worth in such a rediculous way that she no longer cares about making me look good anymore!"
strange, but i guess when things have always been your way, when someone was gladly giving and then suddenly that someone is fed up of being taken on a painful ride and retracts everything, you will suddenly feel humbled and very small.
things started to change when i stood up for myself with the diva.
she started responding better, in fact absolutely obedient! she was quiet, patient and ready to go when i was.
in return, i showered her with more care. i developed a fierce protection over her well being and i never let strangers touch her. and i was very proud to flaunt her beautiful curves wherever we went.
we had a total blast at this year's interstate. being the only diva made her estatic! all the admirers!
riders came up to me asking if they could take a closer look. i knew she would be happy about the attention, so i stood back a graciously allowed them to admire her at all angles. i lost count of the number of riders drooling at her sensuous curves, carrying her lightweight frame and giving her a gentle finger-flick to hear her. it didn't stop at re-grouping/start points, while riding, a pelaton will zoom pass but slow down to take a quick look and of course a courteous hello to her mistress.
i may not have been the superpowered rider she may have initially hoped to be with, but my ease and pride of owning her gave her loads of compliments and envious looks.
6 months into our relationship, we are happier than ever.
she gave me great timing at desaru and helped me survive the horrors of long weekend rides like broga reverse, klawang, bentong, bangi-pd and genting.
what started as a relationship skewed to a diva has become one of comfort and mutual respect.
i had initially fought hard to gain acceptance and recognition from my diva. even had thoughts of 'humbling' her at our next IM 2008. and she did the same by retaliating and inflicting more pain on me, making sure i knew where i truly stood in her life (which was no where next to her, and everywhere in the shadows).
but now i realised, just like any relationship, we can give all we can but we must stand up for what we want in return, in order to gain mutual respect, admiration and common ground.
while we have developed basic foundations for respect and admiration, common ground needs a lot of work. we are still in occasional clashes especially on hills she thinks i'm geared up for, when i can't deliver the power but i do believe come IM 2008 we will put our differences aside and work together towards a common goal - finishing with grace and legs for the run!
and what a time it has been!
right from her debut ride up fraser's in may, she has proven to be a lady only few can handle. i was humbled by the fact that with wrong settings (new saddle and crank) she can be quite a pain. she can also be intimidating on steep, narrow decents. needless to say, our first ride together left me in tears and longing to return to the cow.
over the next few weeks, i struggled to earn her respect without much success resulting to doing many things for her just to ease her hostility. truly eccentric.
i did a couple of tris with her and she proved difficult. she didn't respond well if not at all, she was a total snob to me and i could hear her mumble..secretly being ashame of her new owner.
things took a turn when i decided enough was enough and i dressed her up the way that made me most comfortable. i did away with the durace crank i bought specially for her, thinking it looked really nice on her and i pushed the new saddle way forward.
the shock of being adorned by a humble compact crank and a less aggressive seating position must have hit her hard and got her thinking "o gosh! i've taken my new mistress for granted so badly and made her prove her worth in such a rediculous way that she no longer cares about making me look good anymore!"
strange, but i guess when things have always been your way, when someone was gladly giving and then suddenly that someone is fed up of being taken on a painful ride and retracts everything, you will suddenly feel humbled and very small.
things started to change when i stood up for myself with the diva.
she started responding better, in fact absolutely obedient! she was quiet, patient and ready to go when i was.
in return, i showered her with more care. i developed a fierce protection over her well being and i never let strangers touch her. and i was very proud to flaunt her beautiful curves wherever we went.
we had a total blast at this year's interstate. being the only diva made her estatic! all the admirers!
riders came up to me asking if they could take a closer look. i knew she would be happy about the attention, so i stood back a graciously allowed them to admire her at all angles. i lost count of the number of riders drooling at her sensuous curves, carrying her lightweight frame and giving her a gentle finger-flick to hear her. it didn't stop at re-grouping/start points, while riding, a pelaton will zoom pass but slow down to take a quick look and of course a courteous hello to her mistress.
i may not have been the superpowered rider she may have initially hoped to be with, but my ease and pride of owning her gave her loads of compliments and envious looks.
6 months into our relationship, we are happier than ever.
she gave me great timing at desaru and helped me survive the horrors of long weekend rides like broga reverse, klawang, bentong, bangi-pd and genting.
what started as a relationship skewed to a diva has become one of comfort and mutual respect.
i had initially fought hard to gain acceptance and recognition from my diva. even had thoughts of 'humbling' her at our next IM 2008. and she did the same by retaliating and inflicting more pain on me, making sure i knew where i truly stood in her life (which was no where next to her, and everywhere in the shadows).
but now i realised, just like any relationship, we can give all we can but we must stand up for what we want in return, in order to gain mutual respect, admiration and common ground.
while we have developed basic foundations for respect and admiration, common ground needs a lot of work. we are still in occasional clashes especially on hills she thinks i'm geared up for, when i can't deliver the power but i do believe come IM 2008 we will put our differences aside and work together towards a common goal - finishing with grace and legs for the run!
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