Monthly Archives: October 2012

It Started With a Loud Pop

And a crunch.  Those were the noises my right knee made as the anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) tore.  Whatever self-preservation reflex existed in my brain, it didn’t extend to keeping my 50 year-old knees and I off the futsal court that lunchtime.  And so it was that I ended up in the capable hands of Dr. Chan Kin Yuen at the Gleneagles Hospital.  An initial manipulation of my knee and a follow-up MRI confirmed Dr. Chan’s diagnosis of a Grade III tear, where the ligament is completely ruptured.  To literally add insult to injury I had also torn the anterior and posterior menisci.

Imagine an empty space where the ACL is in the picture below and you have a good approximation of what the MRI of my knee looked like.

Illustration courtesy of uabsportsmedicine.com

Fast-forward eighteen months or so.  I will spare you the painful details.  Suffice to say that in that time Dr. Chan has rebuilt my knee.  The physiotherapists had restored my knee’s full range of motion.  Despite their best efforts I had moved to Houston with one leg significantly skinnier than the other.  I had lost a lot of upper leg muscle mass after months on crutches while my knee healed.  I needed regular exercise to build up the muscles again.  The limiting factor was that my knee hurt whenever I jogged or ran.

I don’t know what prompted the thought but one day I decided to buy a bicycle.  I did a bit of online research and decided that a hybrid bike was what I needed.  A comfort bike in other words.  More specifically a Trek 7.5 FX.  I went to Bike Barn and looked at what they had in stock.  I hardly knew anything at all about bicycles so my decision-making process was rudimentary at best.  The bike had good online reviews.  Bike Barn had one in my size (more on this to come!)  It felt okay as I rode it once around the parking lot.  I liked the colour.  While I was in the shop I did look at road bikes.  Trek Madones and various Specialized bikes.  I remember my eyes watering at the prices.  If only I knew then what I was getting myself into that day.

I rode home on one of these:

Photo courtesy of Viaciclante.com

My initial forays onto the streets of downtown Houston were exciting.  One of my favorite routes was the Columbia Tap Rail toTrail.  This was a paved trail that had been created along the path of a disused railroad route.  The trail runs through the campus of Texas Southern University and through the Third Ward to Brays Bayou.

Photo courtesy of Raj Mankad at offcite.org

I would come home exhilarated at the fact that I had managed to ride 16 kilometers in only an hour.  Sometimes I would ride along Brays Bayou to add a three or four more kilometres to my ride.  I was a cyclist!

A rude shock was to come.

“Toto, I Have a Feeling We’re Not in Kansas Anymore.” *

My last urban night ride was in Houston in April 2010.  The Six Thirty West End group still does a Tuesday evening and a Thursday evening ride through downtown Houston.  I can still hear Juan R’s “Two Minutes” call at 6.28pm.  And I can still taste the Tex-Mex at Jax Grill where we had regular post-Thursday ride meals.

I was delighted to hear that Van’s hosts urban night rides in KL.  They start at 9pm so lights are essential.  Of course when I was packing up my riding stuff in Den Haag I didn’t think I would need lights right away.  My Niterider MiNewt Mini and Planet Bike Super Flash are in the sea freight, not to be seen until November sometime.  So if I was going to ride on Tuesday evening I needed lights.  When I was at Van’s on Monday, creak hunting with YC, I bought a Cateye Rapid 5 tail light.  Raymond T at Van’s kindly lent me a headlamp.  Good to go!

The Racun Cycling Gang met at the Decanter restaurant on Jalan Setiabakti in Bukit Damansara at 8.45pm for a 9pm start.  We were a mixed group of nine riders.  As was the case with the Genting Sempah ride the majority were on folding bikes, although Wan A was on a rather tasty looking yellow Specialized  S Works Tarmac SL3.  We headed out onto quiet residential streets with YC following behind in a car.  The roads were still a bit damp from the afternoon rain.  And my bike was still creaking!

Those were the least of my concerns though.  Here is the elevation profile for the first twelve kilometres from my last ride in Den Haag:

Here is the elevation profile for the first twelve kilometers from the Tuesday night ride:

We weren’t even two kilometres into the ride and my heart rate was pushing 150 bpm.  Which is not far short of my maximum heart rate.  The rest of the ride was more of the same.  A series of  7% to 9% gradients packed fairly together.  Those low-geared folding bikes were starting to look good.

We were fortunate to have YC in a car following behind us.  At the 4km mark we were all descending at some speed.  I heard the unmistakeable sound of a bike hitting the pavement behind me.  The damp road surface, wet leaves and speed had brought down one of our group.  Fortunately he came away with only scrapes and bruises.  YC took our unlucky rider to get his road rash cleaned up.  The rest of us looked around for my headlight, which had fallen out of its handlebar mount at about the same time the accident happened behind me.  We found the batteries and the light, less the battery cover and lens cover.  The LED was still working so I stuck it back in its mount and rode on.

We made it safely up and down the rest of the climbs that made up this ride.  We regrouped at the Decanter, loaded our bikes into our cars and drove down to a roadside stall for a lime juice and cycling chat.  Which stretched to another lime juice and more chat.  And a third lime juice and yet more chat.  I’m not sure that “I was just out for a bike ride” worked as an excuse for why I got home at almost 1am.

* Title courtesy of The Wizard of Oz.

Creak (verb): To Make a Harsh, Grating Sound When Pressure or Weight is Applied

To quote the late, great Sheldon Brown:

Aside from the whoosh of the tires on the road, and the clicking of the freewheel, a bicycle should be silent.

I subjected YC to a continuous cacaphony as I rode beside him toward Genting Sempah.  A rasping noise accompanied each and every pedal stroke.  YC was the guy I called from the McDonald’s parking lot for directions to the meeting point for this, my maiden ride in KL.  More pertinently given the noise my drivetrain was making, he is also is the technical expert at Van’s Urban Bicycle Co.

We chatted about what the cause or causes could be.  In the back of my mind I worried that my bike had taken a hard knock during shipping.  We did what little diagnosing by eye was possible whilst spinning up a 6 degree slope.  My wheels looked true.  My chainrings weren’t bent.  There wasn’t any play in my cranks.  All the while the creaking seemed to get worse.  Perhaps the boost in volume was just in my mind but I was getting increasingly embarrassed by all the racket my bike was making.

I stopped and looked over my bike.  I had to at least give the impression that I was doing something about the noise.  I checked my chain ring bolts.  I loosened and retightened the quick release skewers on my wheels.  I gave my saddle a twist.  I ran through the gears.  I poked at my cleats.  Then I remounted my bike and grated the rest of the way up the hill.  At the top of the climb YC and I, hex wrenches in hand, made another attempt to find the source of the creak.  Unsuccessfully.

The next morning my bike was on the work stand at Van’s.  YC and I took the cranks off the bike, disassembled the chain rings and cleaned all the parts.  We checked the torque on the bottom bracket cups.  We put Loctite on the bolts when we reassembled the chain rings.  We reinstalled the cranks.  I went for a spin outside the shop.

My bike went back onto the work stand.  This time we removed the rear wheel and checked the hub for play.  We lubed the spoke heads where they exited the hub flange.  We checked the spoke tension.  We greased the dropouts and axle.  I went for another spin outside the shop.

There was an improvement.  However not enough to have impressed.  But was time for lunch.  Everything stops for lunch in Malaysia.  So with the hope that lubricant would continue to work its silencing way between the various parts on my bike, YC and I went to the cafeteria next door for a rice and curry feast.

Step One: Find the Meeting Point

The instructions for the Sunday morning ride with the Racun Cycling Gang seemed simple enough:

Meet at the McDonald’s – Middle Ring Road 2 @ 7.45am

I was familiar with the road if not that particular McDonald’s outlet.  I fired up the Tom Tom and selected my destination.  I pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot on the MRR2 at 7.40am, pleased that I was right on time.  I walked into the restaurant and looked around for anyone clad in stretchy fabrics.  The first warning bell rang in my head.  I was the only one sporting bib shorts.  Fortunately I wasn’t fluorescent as well.  I looked outside.  The second warning bell rang.  There were no bikes to be seen.

A hurried phone call revealed that there is more than one McDonald’s on that section of the MRR2.  I wasn’t on time after all.  But not to worry.  This was Malaysia; the land of the never-on-time,  and not the Netherlands; the land of the fastidiously punctual.  Ten minutes later I was amidst a group of new-found fellow Lycra-wearers.

I hadn’t hauled my bike out of the back of the car upon my arrival.  Which was a good thing as the ride didn’t start there.  We all piled back into our cars and drove for another six kilometers or so to Kampung Batu Dua Belas, Gombak.  That translates literally as Twelfth Mile Village, in Gombak.  Naturally enough the village is at mile 12 on the Gombak Road.  And it wasn’t renamed after the country went metric.

The Gombak road used to be part of the main route from KL up over the spine of the Malaysian peninsula and down again to towns and cities on the east coast.  It has been superseded by the Karak Highway.  Which means that there is now hardly any motorised traffic on the old road.  Bicycles were another matter entirely.  I hadn’t expected so many and such a variety of bikes on the road.  I saw between eighty and one hundred cyclists during my ride that morning.

We found parking spots and got our bikes ready.  Three of us had road bikes; I had my purple steel bike, but the rest of the guys in the group pulled folding bikes out of their cars.  I quickly learned that folding bikes are very popular here.  At least for the distance we planned to ride that morning.  Which was about sixteen kilometers – straight up.  I did say that the road goes up over the spine of the peninsula.  Here’s the route:

Genting Sempah

We regrouped at the top of the climb to catch our breath, and in my case to also wipe the sweat out of my eyes and off my face.  Here are some of the Racun Cycling Gang:

Christine D saw this photo and sent me the following sweat control advice – which I definitely needed:

Using unflavored, uncoloured (no mint!) lip balm, draw a line on your skin, above your eyebrow, extending down past the side of your eye, to make a “hydro barrier” – do this over each eye. don’t put it on too thick or smear it. this channels the sweat away from your eyes.

Here’s some of the competition we had for the shade at the top of the climb.

Once our pulse rates stopped hammering in our ears we rolled down the other side of this slope to the McDonald’s that is a rest stop on the Karak Highway for coffee and Cokes.  Then it was a sharp one kilometer climb back up to the point in the photo above, followed by a long sweeping descent back to our cars.

What a fabulous first ride!  The road runs through the rain forest that covers much of the country.  So while it was rabbits, ducks and geese on the bike paths in Den Haag, here I had to watch out for monkeys on the road, in this case long-tailed macaques.  The road surface is generally very good and there was very little traffic to contend with.  On my way down I passed perhaps three cars coming the other way, all driven by learner-drivers with instructors at their sides.  Presumably practicing hill stops and starts.  So I was able to descend with some speed.

The only niggle in my morning was a creak that developed at the start of the climb.  All creaks seem to emanate from the bottom bracket, but I am fairly sure that wasn’t the source.  A bit of a mystery to solve in the next few days.

Two Degrees of Separation

I had been home for two days.  The jet-lag made it feel like I hadn’t slept in all that time.  The default action would have been to hop on a bike and go for a ride.  If I had had a bike to hop on to.

I had not heard about when my bikes would be delivered.  My Cyclistis friend was travelling on business.  It was starting to look more and more like I would not be riding on the weekend.

The bright spot in the day was dinner with BP alumni friends at Cava.  We are a group of about a dozen who manage to get together once or twice a year for good food and lots of laughter.  A number in the group keep up with my cycling addiction via Facebook.  Alice K mentioned that her brother had been similarly stricken, and that she would send my contact details to him.

I was hardly back at the hotel when Alice’s brother Albert K messaged me.  There was a ride on Sunday.  Was I interested?

Was I ever!  I had to calm myself though.  It would all depend on whether I had possession of my bikes by Saturday evening.  SMSes zipped between us as ride location details and so on were exchanged.  I was invited to join the Racun Cycling Gang group on Facebook.  Natuurlijk!  Especially when I read the group’s ‘About’ statement:

A Cycling Group which always takes care of each other…. no one will be left behind!
We ride not for the best time
But we ride for a good time

That in essence is what I really liked about my previous cycling groups:  West End Bicycles in Houston and The Not Possibles in Den Haag.  That and the fact that we ate breakfast tacos every Sunday in Houston and apple pie at every opportunity in Den Haag.

The final piece fell into place on Friday morning.  Allied Pickfords called to say that our air freight would be delivered the following morning.  Well, in reality the final piece fell into place when the Allied Pickfords guys handed my bikes to me at 10.30am on Saturday.

My first ever road ride in Malaysia was imminent.

“Welcome to Kuala Lumpur International Airport.” Now What?

The wait at the KLIA baggage carousel gave me time to turn on my mobile and swap my Dutch SIM card for my Malaysian one.  Electronically reconnected to family, friends and the World Wide Web in moments.  Could I get organised enough to be able to ride on the weekend?

Our air freight was scheduled to leave Amsterdam on the same day that we boarded our flight to Kuala Lumpur.  Perhaps my bikes had been on KLM 809 as well.  Delivery was expected by the end of the week.

I already knew that road cycling had taken off in a big way since I last lived in Malaysia 4 years ago.  Seeing copies of Cycling Malaysia and Cycling Asia magazines on news stands was the first clue.  Being invited by a Malaysian friend to join the Cyclistis group on Facebook was another clue.  Seeing a cyclist pedaling along the Maju Expressway as we drove to our hotel merely confirmed it.

My first purchases after getting settled in the hotel were the latest issues of Cycling Malaysia and Cycling Asia.  It was a bit disconcerting that the first articles I read were titled “Safe Roads?”  and “Are Cyclists Free From Mugging?”  Riding in a group rather than riding alone seemed like the smarter option.

So job one was to get connected with a cycling group in KL.

Listen up bikes! We are moving to Malaysia.

It was time for final rides and farewells with friends in Den Haag.  Time to imagine what it would be like to ride in Kuala Lumpur and elsewhere in Malaysia.  The country of my birth and upbringing.  A country where roadies were a rare breed when I left it four years ago.  A country where the past few years have seen an apparent explosion in the number of cyclists of all persuasions.

It was soon time to prepare for the move.  I ordered a South East Asia map card from Garmin for my Edge 705.  A few days later Ride With GPS announced the availability of an OpenStreetMap (OSM) map for South Asia at a quarter of the price that Garmin was asking.  Ain’t that the way?  Perhaps I’ll write up a comparative review of the maps one day.

The week before my departure my friend Richard B asked me to go with him to Rose BikeTown in Bocholt, Germany.  This is reputed to be the largest bike shop in Europe.  More than 20,000 items spread over 6,000 square metres of floor space.  A literal Aladdin’s Cave for cyclists.  Needless to say I succumbed to temptation and came away with a Ritchey WCS 4-Axis Stem and a WCS Evo Curve Carbon Bar to replace the Comp Stem and Road Logic Bar that were on my steel bike.

There was no question that the bikes were going to be air-freighted to Kuala Lumpur.  I assembled a collection of tools, a couple of pairs of bib shorts, some jerseys, socks, shoes, a pair of gloves and a helmet to travel together with the bikes.  It was touch and go to get the new stem and bar mounted on the steel bike and get the rear wheel bearings replaced on my titanium bike before the packers came to box them up.  I had until 3pm on Wednesday.  The bike with the new wheel bearings came out of the shop at 1pm that day.

A few hours later everything was boxed and in the back of a truck.  Hopefully to be seen again, intact and looking like they do below, in ten days time.

My steel bike:

My titanium bike: