King Of Kong

IT’S A COOL, grey October morning on the waterfront in Kowloon, as 5000 cyclists sit hunched over their handlebars, waiting for the starter’s gun in Cyclothon, an annual 30km spin through the wild and winding streets of Hong Kong.

- Alex Dalrymple

As we set off I’m relieved that the course is reasonably flat, hugging the shoreline as it weaves between skyscrapers, over bridges and through tunnels. Hong Kong’s urban scenery reminds me of playing Out Run on my Commodore 64, though at a significantly slower speed.

I pass cyclists from all around the world (well, many more pass me), including one chap who has the theme music from Teletubbies blaring from loudspeakers on his back. The buzz of cycling among thousands of other lycra-clad loonies pushes me to dig deep, upping my cadence well above my usual pace: my average speed today will be a respectable 24 km/h. But after 20 minutes my legs are aching and the humidity is blanketing my T-shirt in sweat.

Did I mention that, until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t been on a bicycle since I was 14? Now I remember why. I attempt to distract myself from the pain by thinking about the Peking duck and ice-cold beer I’ve been promised for dinner tonight.

I’m in Hong Kong with 2011 Tour de France winner Cadel Evans. The night before, over a gin and tonic at M Bar atop the iconic Mandarin Oriental Hotel, Evans had confided that he had no plans to win the race. “Ex-professional athletes shouldn’t win amateur events,” he said matter-offactly. “Hong Kong can be very humid, so being hydrated is important,” he added. Maybe that second G&T wasn’t such a wise choice, after all.