The Driver's Seat.

"Have you noticed, that... your life has been very... challenging?"

I knew she was on to something. And I knew, she was about to help me discover something magical, something that smelled refreshing and nostalgic and ancient and fresh. So I stayed on track, trying to catch a whiff of the trail.

"Yea, I have. But what am I to do?"

Silence.

"So, what are you saying?" I asked, smiling a little, not wanting to sound confrontational.

"What I'm saying is, I've noticed that your life seems to consist of climbing one mountain after the next, and all I'm wondering is, whether you feel tired, and if you exercise enough self-care. Like what we talked about at our last session."

We were on the topic of my next book. About it going to be published soon, about the difficulties which came with it and which will come along with it. We were talking about my upcoming final examinations, my ruminations about how my previous illness had taken away what I wished it hadn't. We were talking about that recurrent topic in our conversations, about that melancholic sense of lonliness inside of me because of my desire to do missions and to live my life differently.

"So how does doing all these things make you feel?"

"I mean, I guess I feel fulfilled. But to be honest, sometimes I do feel lonely. I mean, on the outside it looks great. Like, people think I have it all together- studies, community service, friends etc. But hey, I only got 24 hours in a day, so something's gotta go- I end up doing a lot of "purposeful" things. You're right. Sometimes, I get tired. And it feels lonely. But I mean, I've come to accept it- because, I feel called to do this sorta thing."

"Sure."

Silence.

"But I guess, part of the roller-coaster bit of my life, part of my previous illness was because I tried so hard to be in control. There're so many factors in life- I can't control the results of my studies, I can't control my future residency, I can't control what people think of me, I can't control where I'll be headed next, so the eating disorder was the best way for me to feel in control."

"Absolutely."

Silence.

"So do you see, how you've compartmentalised God? Like you give Him control over this, this and this, but not over that, that and that? And because of that, do you see how you tend to climb your own mountains, one after another, to experience that temporary high? But they're barren mountains. They're all barren. All that unecessary drama was from you driving by yourself because you feared that God would take you elsewhere you feared you wouldn't be able to cope."

Epiphany moment.

"Yea... you're... right."

Do you, like me, struggle to be in the driver's seat? Do you fear the change in scenery, the feeling like you don't know where you're being driven to, and if you'd be taken to a place where, gasp, you might not be able to cope?

I know I do.

I've always striven to be behind the wheel, so I think I know exactly where I'm going. The truth is, even with both hands behind the steering wheel, we never do. How can we, for only God knows our futures and our lives. The ironic part is, we, in our ignorance, in spite of our best intentions, then often drive ourselves up mountains that we were never meant to climb.

"Why do you want to drive up barren mountains, when God wants to bring you to lusher, grander, more beautiful mountains on the other side? Has it occurred to you, that perhaps, in spite of all your fears about not knowing where He might take you, you may very well be driving yourself up a far more difficult terrain than what He has planned for you?"

I thought about my previous illness, my publishing journey in writing and illustrating books as well as my self-striving in terms of training in triathlon. I saw the common pattern of how my own ideas of success became my own stumbling blocks- caused me unecessary afflictions, anxiety and injuries. It was time-consuming and on restrospect, silly.

God wants to bring us to grander scenery- why do we fear? He wants to take us on the best ride. His cross for us to bear may not be as big as the ones we impose on ourselves.

"So yea, continue to let go. Let Him take over the wheel."

Towards the end, I brought up an issue which I had been thinking about a great deal over the past few months. About a friendship which I wanted to cut off and abandon because I was too afraid.

"I mean, this is crazy. What's going to happen?"

"Precisely. You don't know. Let God decide, let Him drive. Because when you do, you'll feel a sense of freedom."

"Aw man, no. You don't understand, this is a mountain coming. You said that my life is full of roller coasters, didn't you? This is, for sure, going to be a huge mountain and He's driving me right into it! I haven't been able to stop it, He drove me right into it!"

"Who said life was about avoiding mountains?"

"Ah, I see. So it's about climbing the right ones."

"Exactly. And as far as I'm concerned, this is the one opportunity where you can finally give God the chance to show you that He's a better driver than you."

Okay God, I'm getting out of the driver's seat and onto the passenger seat. But before you take off and hit the road, let me fasten my seat-belts. I know you're a safe driver and will never let me come to harm, but I know, you're a much bigger adventure junkie than I could ever be.

Let go. Let Him take over.

And hang on tight.

“For this is God, our God forever and ever;
He will be our guide even to death.”
- Psalm 48:14

Not for naught.

It's funny. I think it's easy to see God in volunteer work, in humanitarian trips and in charitable deeds. But how about in seemingly more frivolous things, like in what you do in your free time... say for me, like swimming, biking and running for example?

Like some of you already know, I've been struggling with the T-word for the longest time. After tearing my hamstring, I struggled with God and asked Him to show me if Triathlon was something meaningless, something sandcastled on pride, something that took time away from real work, from helping others etc. At one point, I was ready to give it up. I gave away all my medals. I fasted from cycling for more than 3 months. I sat down to reflect on things.

God, was this all just a frivolous waste of time.

Sometimes, God answers in funny ways.

That day, in Smokey mountain in the pouring rain, as I held that wounded 7-year old boy who was shivering naked in the rain in my arms, it suddenly made sense to me. Suddenly, at that moment, triathlon made sense to me. I'd always asked God how the sport could be reconciled with medicine or missions.

There and then, it suddenly made sense.

The rain bothered everyone, and the 3 photographers worried if I was able to tolerate the conditions. To be honest, after all those times of training in dirty open water and cycling and running after, feeling wet and sticky had become natural; when I had to carry the little boy in my arms because the rest of them had too much bulky camera equipment to lug around, I found myself strong enough because of how swimming had changed my arms, shoulders and lower back; when we had to trudge through the cold over the treacherous terrain for the entire day, I found that I had the stamina to do so because of my aerobic base.

I realized, that all those times during my surgical internship where I had to be fast enough to run up and down storeys in the hospital to get things done for patients were possible because of how training had changed my body. I realized, that I could push myself to work harder and put in more effort for my patients in the middle of the night on a 36-hour call when I reminded myself of the hardships endured in racing- completing the 90km bike of the half-iron man relay had been a defining moment.

I could, because that was God had used, has been using triathlon to do, to strengthen me for this sort of unexpected work.

Just a few years ago, even holding a bag was difficult for my frail, emaciated body. I was like chaff in wind.

So I'm not looking back. Triathlon has not been for nothing. I got my medals back, because I realised, that they belonged not only to me, but to the community of friends and my family, whom God had brought to me through the sport to bring me to a place of health, joy and freedom. My prof understood, and thanked me for giving him the privilege to hold them for 7 months while I realigned my priorities and made a commitment not to race till after my final examinations.

All this while when I was recovering from my hamstring, God used the pain to teach me self-restraint, moderation and respect for my own body. Just this week, a fellow triathlete phoned me because he needed advice- he had suffered the exact same injury as I.

I learnt, that God gives us hobbies and activities, not only to shape our characters and to mould us, but to offer the same encouragement we found through common experiences to others going through similar battles. Our "frivolous" hobbies may not be so, after all.

Do you have something you enjoy doing but think is meaningless, too? Have you tried asking God to show you the beautiful meaning behind your love for baking, your ability to carry conversation or your stamp collection, ha?

My cycling buddies and I did a round-island 70km ride today, and for the first time cycling since my injury, I have no pain.

Thank you God for healing me, and for showing me meaning in this beautiful sport. Thank you for the gift of hobbies that you use to sharpen us, and for giving us that divine present called Joy, which we can exult in guiltlessly when we open our hearts to the possibility of learning life lessons through them. Thank you for my friends and cycling buddies, whom I miss so very much since I've been missing our regular rides due to extra lectures at school.

Most of all, thank you for showing me that through it all, you had a purpose for everything, and nothing was for naught.

I'm looking forward to doing a triathlon next year, God permitting. I'm not through with you just yet.

Back.

"Today, today I lost.

But tomorrow, tomorrow'll be a better day.

Tomorrow, I'll be back."

-Dr Lee Kim En from National Neuroscience Institute, on rough days.

It's supposed to be my two-week study break. It's supposed to be a time of refreshment and restoration before my 1-month slavedriving surgical internship with 15-hour workdays and 36-hour calls begin next week, before we go all out for our final exams in March. But it was not to be.

"It's no wonder you're emotionally wrung out," said Jn, "It's just been one blow after another. Take some time off by yourself."

Jn is the therapist I still see from time to time, not because I'm still ill, but because I've chosen to follow-up with the team regularly even as my second book about my journey to recovery from depression and anorexia prepares for its launch. We've decided to use this time to work on some underlying deep-seated issues.

It was on Sunday when I was beginning to feel defeated, and the day seemed to unfold seamlessly into Tuesday and Wednesday before I saw Jn and had decided it was enough.

Sunday was a day of reflection and melancholy. Somehow, a part of me began to be acutely aware of how important Community is to us. Some part of me thinks my classmate, and many others in their final years of university, passed away due to lack of belonging in a Community. When I watched the video that day, what struck me was that the man found joy not merely through his achievements because that can be empty, but through finding himself in a community of people who supported his endeavours. It made me think about the initiatives I've been spearheading in the student body regarding raising awareness of and strengthening mental health support in the medical community. It made me recall, that at the time I was ill, I didn't have much of a community in school as well. It made me reflect, that though church, friends, professional help all played a role, the primary reason for my speedy recovery might just have been my finding a Community through my cycling and triathlon group.

Monday. For some reason, I couldn't get over the fact that you had signed up for the half-iron man, because I kept feeling like it was just the beginning of my losing a friend to the sport. Monday. I got a text-message from a lady in charge of student affairs at school, Ms Y, saying that she needed me to return to school because she had misplaced my photograph for an award submission and would like a photographer to retake a photo.

Tuesday. I woke up with a heavy heart- how could Miss Y have misplaced it? She had requested a stack of supporting documents which I had painstakingly collated a month ago- the deadline was this friday, what happened? Why was only the photograph lost? Didn't you ask me to pass them all to Ms S at X hospital so you would pick it up from her?

Tuesday. We decided to train together with another friend. I made the effort to accommodate to your timing and venue because I knew you needed to train. It was at a somewhat dangerous time, but I assumed that because we'd be in a small group, we'd be riding more safely. You assured me we would be going at an easy pace. But you were late, as usual, and as we rode, the two of you sped off into the distance, leaving me behind. There were many cars. You beat one amber light, without looking behind for me or waiting for me after. There were so many cars. I told myself it was okay, that perhaps, you were too focused. But that stabbed me- I felt this was just the beginning of training taking you away. Wasn't training in a group about Community? Wasn't it about looking out for one another and enjoying one another's company and encouragement?

Then you beat another amber light. That was enough, and I turned back. I rode all the way home by myself. Ele was with me, her trunk all curled up- she sat heavy on my bike and wept.

It didn't take long before you two discovered I was gone. I didn't pick up your call. I only text messaged to say that after being left behind at two amber lights, it didn't feel like my presence mattered. I think the two of you felt terrible, and very sorry. I don't know why it broke me so much to be left behind.

I cried a lot that day. Something deep in me just set off. The straw which broke the camel's back, however, was when after an hour's journey back to school after a tiring day, I found out that Ms Y had "misplaced" not only the photograph, but all the supporting documents which I had painstakingly collated and submitted for an award the school had nominated me for. She was very chirpy, apologetic in an unapologetic way. She hadn't realised that much time, effort, money and resources had been put into preparing those documents for her on time, which was a month ago.

"I'm so sorry," she said chirpily, " let me search for it now." Wait a minute, I thought, weren't you supposed to make a search for it before troubling me to make a special trip down? I waited for half an hour outside her office before she came out smiling, "I'm sorry I can't find it. I'm sure we'll find it tomorrow. But anyway, at least we have your photograph." She waved her digital camera at me.

I was appalled.

When I talked to Jn about this, I remember sharing with her my utter sense of loss at the traffic light, and the sense of betrayal. Why was it so profound? It's just two lights, woman. It's not like you can't take care of yourself. Suddenly I felt the entire sport was tainted. I didn't want to do it anymore. Suddenly, I saw the pride and competition and self-seeking and wanted to abandon everything and everyone associated with it.

Then the revelation came.

In psychology, one school of thought suggests that we tend to find ourselves drawn to relationships that help us to recreate the fallen aspects of our relationships with our parents in an attempt to "make things right". But because we are used to the old, dysfunctional interactional patterns of the past, we bring them forward to friends or partners, and into our future relationships. For a large part of my life, abandonment has been a huge issue. During certain significantly tumultuous periods in my childhood, I had felt abandoned by the predominant male figure in my life whom I deeply loved. As a result, my mind is primed for abandonment, because it what my subconscious expects.

"You look for people who give you the same stability as your childhood male figure did. But you often say or do things which erect barriers to protect yourself from being abandoned. Yet, your longing for community and approval is still there, and so this creates an inner conflict. So you reach out and backpedal constantly, and your mind constantly primes itself to prove that you will be abandoned because it's the only way it can perceive relationships. It's like a sensor for abandonment. And because of your fear of abandonment, you also sometimes abandon other people first."

Spot on. It explained many things- the profoundness of my hurt at being left behind, my neediness at times, and also, my fear of being in a relationship. My subconscious simply awaits the final moment where it can validate its expectation of being abandoned, again.

But God has a funny way of teaching us things. Sometimes, the process can be so hard. But as long as we look out for the lessons along the way, it is worth it. It is always worth it.

I learnt, that in order to progress, I must overcome this. I had told myself I would allow myself to get into a relationship after graduation, and I suppose, now till then would be a good time to prepare myself for a healthy one. I have to at least try. Try to stop pushing people away and put a stopwatch on how long they'll take before they leave me.

Wednesday was very interesting. I forgave my two cycling buddies and reframed my thoughts towards my Community. And in the afternoon, I had to meet a friend at X hospital. I was still deeply troubled by the "lost" documents. God, were you trying to teach me that I need not "earn" your love? Is this the same lesson you taught me through my injury? That I don't need an award to be validated or affirmed? I couldn't stop wondering, How did everything get lost? Didn't Ms Y ask me to pass them all to Ms S at X hospital so she would pick it up from her?

Ms Y from the university had told me the day before, " I hid it so well I forgot where it is."

I sensed something very, very fishy.

Suddenly it struck me, that I was in X hospital. And out of the kind of tenacious curiosity sometimes possessed by medical students, I decided to call Ms S to find out how my package got "lost".

Lo and behold, I learnt, that the package had never left X hospital. A month ago, Ms Y had told them not to mail it out yet. And along the way, she must have forgotten. " I hid it so well I forgot where it is" suddenly became embarrassingly humourous, at my expense.

Many phonecalls and emails later, I made my discovery quite plain and the staff at the university were both apologetic and sheepish for their lack of transparency, professionalism and honesty. I won't lie to you- I was angry. This had cost me a lot of time and energy. The forms had taken me hours to fill, the essays, days to write- during my busy internship period where I was hurried to submit them. I could not be certain if all my time would be wasted. There was no doubt about my appallment at the way things were handled, and how no effort was made to trace the documents when I had asked Ms Y repeatedly.

But I learnt a few things, and that was good enough for me. One, always to make a copy of any documents one submits; two, curiosity kills a cat but can sometimes tell you how another cat died too; three, it takes a lot patience, grace and compassion to deal with such situations in a godly manner. It would have been quite amusing to see myself kick up a fuss over a nomination. I decided against it. But I requested for a channel to give feedback to, and that my case be taken over by another staff, with a third party overseeing the procedure.

Through the past 4 days, I also saw God's hand with me, through my pain and agony. He wanted to show me, how I needed to work through the issues of abandonment in my life, how I needed to overcome it to build healthier relationships with people around me. He taught me forgiveness and humility, when I apologised to my 2 friends as well for turning back abruptly. He taught me resilience in dealing with terrible administrative glitches and the grace to rise above it. I felt God being with me- my friend at X hospital was supposed to meet me on Friday- if he had not changed the date to yesterday, I would not have been there and would not have got to the bottom of the Mystery of the Missing Package. (You can say that if God were really with me then this would not have happened in the first place, but I am biased- God is good, and I only found my package because I was there at the right place and right time.)

In the busyness of coordinating plans regarding mental health support in the student body, I have also been tired out. Last night, I also arranged for 4 friends and myself to take Grandpa Zhou out for dinner. When I got home, I got a loooong email from Ms Y trying to explain herself.

"It's no wonder you're emotionally wrung out," said Jn.

One of my mentors, Dr Lee Kim En from National Neuroscience Institute and a firm believer in the goodness of God once told us, "Some days are so bad that they make you feel defeated. It makes you feel like giving up. But tell yourself, 'Today, today I lost. But tomorrow, tomorrow'll be a better day. Tomorrow, I'll be back.' God's mercies are new every morning."

So I'm going to deliver my package personally to the school, give my feedback as graciously and matter-of-factly as I can, and just trust in God that things'll turn out all right. After all, He already knows about the outcome of the nomination. Perhaps, this may just be a journey of faith for me to understand that I do not need to earn His approval, that He is in control, that His plans cannot be foiled.

And I won't abandon triathlon. I will try to love more fearlessly, more securely. I will work with Jn on that, I promise.

For the past 4 days, I lost. But today, today, I'm back.

"Because of God's great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness."

-Lamentations 3:22-23

70.3

“I’m afraid,” you said.

“Me too,” I replied. And I was more relieved that you said so first. I’m not sure if I would have the courage to bring it up otherwise.

The day you told me over the phone you had signed up for the 70.3mile half IronMan event, I was excited for you. It was a huge endeavour of faith. For a moment, we were giddy with joy. But I never told you about my mixed feelings. So when you said you were afraid of what it might do to you, of how the training might change you, shift your heart and pull your focus away from God and the things that mattered in life, I felt like a dam I never knew existed in me give way.

This morning, I cried a lot at church. The tears really surprised me. And I asked myself why.

I guess all this while, I never realized how our friendship had grown. When I first saw you, I thought you were another one of those quiet macho guys whom I'd have to think quite hard to start a conversation with. For one, I thought you were much older. I didn’t even know you then, but you decided to chip in with the rest to buy me my bike Faith, when you learnt that I'd given away my bike money to a deaf girl's hearing operation. It was then I found out you were funny, and you could make fun of yourself and your Mickey-mouse ears. But the thing that set you apart from the rest, was how you considered God in everything you did. I liked the fact you did everything to the best of your ability and yet had fun doing it. The other Big boys would be squeezing air out of their lungs trying to keep up, while you cruised breezily, ahead of the pack, with a funny tune in your head. You never showed off, never tried too hard. You just enjoyed what you did and were naturally good at it.

After our rides, you’d come over to swim and it became a habit for us to talk about our lives and God. Perhaps that was the most important part of the workout- reflecting, taking stock of life and putting the pieces together. And then I got injured. And I thought I would lose you all and be forgotten because I couldn’t ride for 6 months. I put on weight. It was a difficult time for me.

But you didn’t stop coming. You still came to swim after riding-that was the only exercise I could do pain-free. And we didn’t stop talking. I let you in because you were like a brother, and that made you safe for me to let in into my fortress fenced with barbed wire. Sometimes, we had lunch. That gave me a lot of encouragement when I felt isolated from the rest of our group, and I willed myself to recover. But when I did, I was afraid to ride again because of my guilt and anxiety.

“Triathlon is a tainted sport,” I said bitterly, “There’s just so much pride and competition and self-indulgence.”

“No!” You insisted. “Triathlon is beautiful!” And you said it with such exuberance I could see myself running on a mountaintop above a starry sea.

And that moment changed me because I saw that it was. It is. Triathlon is beautiful. That made me remember why I started in the first place. Triathlon is beautiful because it is difficult. It is beautiful because there is beauty in overcoming, beauty in enduring, and beauty in completion. Most importantly, it is beautiful for me because of the friends I made and the lessons I learnt along the way, about life, and about God. Triathlon helped me recover- it is what God used to save my life.

We started together. We were supposed to do the half event and full Olympic distance together. Eventually, I knew we would try for the half IronMan. But I got injured, so we attended the race we were both supposed to complete. I took your photos. You suffered a bad abrasion. But we were both happy- you, for completing the race, and I, for learning to let go.

Now you’re way ahead of me. I’m happy for you. You got a spanking new bike at a great price. It was awesome. You were still, mostly, the same. You never boasted, and you got faster.

Then you told me, after signing up for this big race, that you were afraid of losing yourself in the sport, and I became afraid too. Because I’ve seen so many people lose themselves in the sport that I’m afraid of losing you, too. Their whole lives become enamoured with the glamour of the sport, revolve around it. There is carnal sense of pride when it comes to training, and it can be so time-consuming that it takes parts of you away, slowly, insidiously, without you knowing it. I should know- I lost myself before.

I’ve seen what the sport can do to people. It starts off as a healthy endeavour, but the seemingly supportive encouragement from the crowd makes it easy for one to mistake pride for freedom, makes it easy for one to lose oneself in the fray of best timings, latest wheelsets and fanciest bike models. Granted, these are all topics for conversation in a common hobby, but when does it go overboard?

I have been guilty. I have cancelled appointments and rearranged meetings just so I could fit my training in. Training, insidiously, became of such high priority. The scariest thing was that I could still reason how I was still faithful to my ministry at church, how I was still serving God faithfully, still close to Him. It was only after I got injured, that I saw how much of life I had missed, how much training had taken away from me.

And maybe I’m feeling sad and I’m recounting all of this because I’m expecting the worst, that I might lose you. I guess I’m just afraid that I might lose you to the thing we both thought was beautiful, and then I would lose you both, forever.

I’m just afraid, of how the sport could take away you from you, and me, too.

This is selfish, but I don’t want to lose another friend.

Once, I was not afraid. I held the sport in high regard and I plunged into it, head first. Once, triathlon was only glorious and beautiful- it epitomized perseverence, discipline and sportsmanship. But I learnt painfully, that some kinds of nobility come at a price, and sometimes, not that which everyone can pay for. And perhaps, part of me is also envious, that God allowed you, but not me to go the distance. Perhaps, part of me is still grieving that you are doing all the races I had wanted to do, too. And perhaps, the greatest grief came in knowing that all my sadness was but a glimpse into God’s grief when I made that mistake of allowing my focus to shift, if only for a while, if only for a bit.

And I'm afraid it may happen to you, too. Did He feel like He was losing me, too? Did You hurt that much for me, God?

He did not let me pay that obscene price.

I know how it is. There is the gruelling training programme to follow, work at school to keep up with, there is tiredness and a conflicting sense of discipline, and then there are friendships and family ties to maintain. Not everything goes smoothly. People-ties take time. I only just learnt, that how we honour the sport is how we honour God and the people in our lives. But I have skipped dinner with my parents before just so I could clock another training session. I have postponed appointments before just so I could finish a run. They were always understanding. But that was besides the point. This morning you said you replied to me late because you had to sleep early to go for a run- was that the beginning? I don't know. I'm afraid.

We talked about the Iron Man in London before. That’s a 1.9km swim, 180km bike ride and a 42.2km run. If you do go for it, would you be too busy for lunch? Would you become like the rest?

I passed you my heart rate monitor. I hated that contraption because it sucked out all the joy of triathlon for me. It’s use is to help one ensure one exercises within a certain heart rate zone, for maximal training efficiency. I bought that when I started getting serious, when everyone kept giving me their advice, kept pushing me this way and that. Maybe the insecure part of me needed approval. I got one cheaply. You were there when I got it. Now it’s yours, but I pray it never brings you the kind of misery it brought me.

There is hope. You confessed your fear before I did. And because of that, I think we can pray, that it will not take you away, that triathlon will always remain beautiful for us. Still, I must be prepared, that this could change our friendship forever, and I could lose you.

So I pray this for you, that in all you do, may God always be first in your life. May the sport develop you into a better person, push you into seeking God more fervently and passionately. May you never forget what triathlon means to the both of us, and may you always swim, bike and run with joy and freedom.

And someday, I hope to do a race again, too.

Triathlon is beautiful.

"Whenever I am afraid,
I will trust in You.
In God (I will praise His word),
In God I have put my trust;
I will not fear.
What can flesh do to me?"
-Psalm 56:3

Mirinda Carfrae, winner of the Women's 2010 KONA IronMan running towards the finish

Respect.

I heard about her during a running clinic I had attended yesterday. Everyone present had an old injury and were hoping to learn pain-free running. I ran alongside a Canadian triathlete going for a training course with KONA 2010 Champion Mirinda Carfrae. "Chrissie didn't compete this year," she told me.

"Who's Chrissie?" I said, ignorantly.

The KONA IronMan World Championships just ended. The IronMan consists of a 1.9km swim, a 180km bike ride, and a full 42.2km marathon back-to-back-to-back. This year, all-time favourite, nine-time IronMan race winner, and three-time KONA champion Chrissie Wellington didn't compete. She fell ill.

Thinking about the amount of time, passion and dedication invested in her hobby, sport and career, I can hardly begin to imagine the amount of anguish, disappointment and grief she must have felt on waking up only days before the event, the event she had trained and aimed for all year round, which her friends, family, supporters and nation had supported her to not only complete, but win.

A headache and a bad throat comes in forefront of a background of endless hours of gruelling training over the past year. What does one do? All that brutal training all gone down the drain. Or has it?

In life, the unexpected often happens. You plan for further studies but your mum falls prey to cancer. You plan a trip but an earthquake happens there. Life is foiler of our best made plans.

Have you ever had to let go of something you thought you couldn't? Or do you see these "foiled" moments as opportunities for growth and self-reflection?

She didn't compete. And for that, for her response to not competing, she has earnt my respect. In that decision, she has brought glory to the sport. She set an example for others, budding athletes and professionals, as well as normal people like us, to love and respect our body and to honour the sport.

For all that triathlon represented-her life and career and heart and soul, she didn't let it possess her. Instead, in view of circumstances, she let it go. She had amazing strength, but more importantly, beautiful, beautiful courage. She had the maturity, courage and humility to say, not this year. She understood what it meant- the letting go of something she had pressed on so hard for, with the risk of disppointing many who had placed their hopes and invested themselves in her. In spite of all that pressure, she said no.

I have seen many, many people go on race day with an illness or injury, because they couldn't let it go. To me, that is dishonouring the sport. Triathlon teaches us to respect our body, there is no other way to finish a triathlon- I should know. There are still a few more races I'd like to do which I have yet to complete.

When people talk about "loving their bodies" or "loving themselves", they tend to mean the external appearance. After all, how many times have you heard people hating their thighs, or their hair or their legs. I am guilty. But your loving your body also means its inside bits, not just the soul or the spirit, but the ligaments, the arteries, the muscles- everything unseen.

Riding at 40kmph again taught me the importance of respecting one's body. The Big boys did 3 loops down the coast. I did 2. And that was enough. I went home and finished studying what I had set out to study that day. That is honouring the sport. It is giving it its proper time and place in our lives.

And in doing that, we honour God.

In the previous video, in spite of how inspiring it all was, I was disturbed when the man said he was "happy" only when he had finished those races. I like to believe that the happiness came more from the journey of understanding himself and loving his community than from its achievements. Reading this about honouring one's body and one's sport was, to say the least, inspiring.

I still wake up some days wishing I had better legs, that I could run or swim or bike better, that my hair wasn't so dry and I was leaner, but more importantly, I've come to enjoy steak and the occasional burger every once in a while, and learn the importance of loving and respecting my body, inside and out. It means being able to push it, to allow some indulgence, and being able to say no, and to let go.

2011 will be a new race year.

"For you created my inmost being,

You knit me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

Your works are wonderful,

I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you

When I was made in the secret place.

When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

Your eyes saw my unformed body.

All the days ordained for me,

Were written in your book, before one of them came to be..

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand.

When I awake, I am still with you.

- Psalm 139: 13-18

Buddies.

While working on the final touches of A Taste of Rainbow and finalising the thank-you page, I found myself heaving a sigh of relief when I remembered to thank a group of people I never thought of thanking before, and yet, were key to my recovery from clinical depression and anorexia.

I had thanked my family, my friends, the sponsors, the insitution, the church, God, but had forgotten to thank the group of people who probably had the greatest impact on the speed of my recovery.

Special thanks to:

my triathlon and cycling buddies,
who taught how to bike, and to enjoy food and life.

There was nothing and yet, everything spiritual about this. It intrigued me to find myself putting this line in between the lines of thanking my church and God.

When I met Mr. Ho, my ex-college teacher for tea today, he showed me a video. I didn't cry when I watched it, but I cried later that day as I thought about my cycling buddies, and God's timing in healing my leg and bringing the book to a new level of progress at the same time. Mr Ho said, "The thing that I take away from the video is the importance of community. When the man ran past the finish line, he hugged his dad."

I said something different. What I had taken away, was the celebration of the human spirit, but also, a sense of taintedness. Sports has tainted us, because we have assumed its pride and sense of individualism.

Later that day, however, as I pondered over many things while waiting for the train, I found myself surprised at a tiny trickle of tears.

I realised, that Mr. Ho was right, that what triathlon and cycling had given me, was not so much the achievement of the sport, or the glamour or the pride, but really, a sense of community, of belonging and love and cameraderie. And that was what saved me, what gave me confidence and assurance and friendship. The sport gave me a fellowship, a fellowship perhaps as strong or stronger than the church, that protected me from depression, because these people keep bugging me every once in a few days for a run or a ride or a swim. And when I don't show up, they text message, facebook, call me, or show up on my doorstep with flowers or food or just to say hi, can I use your pool? Haha.

They watch out for me when I ride, because I'm not a safe rider. They ride in front of and behind me just so they can look out for cars for me. They turn back when they don't see me. They make sure I enjoy the post-workout food with them. They take me out for icecream and drinks and to places I would otherwise not go. They bought me my new bike.

They don't judge me for my speed. And they don't force me to drink. They train early and so hardly stay up late. They don't make me feel like I don't measure up, even though they're fast and good. It's funny, I probably expose the most amount of flesh when I'm training with them compared to while I'm at work but I feel least self-conscious with them.

I'm really too embarrassed to share this with most of them because they're all big guys, like the macho type, and I know they'd just go like.... huh, okay. Cool.

When I watched the video again, I saw it wasn't his achievement which inspired me, as much as the sense of community and love that surrounded him, not at the end, but during his journey. I realised, that the most beautiful thing about sport, is not human endeavour, or human achievement.

It's human community. That's what saves souls.

Thanks for saving mine. See yall on the ride this Saturday.

Back on the bike.

They say, you know you've let something go when you can live life without it. That's why they say fasting can be so powerful.

Fasting from the television, games, computer and other pleasures in life help us to realise our vulnerabilities, surrender our dependency and realign ourselves with the important, more divine things of this world.

My 100-day bike fast ended this week. In those 100 days of abstinence, there was a lot I learnt about myself and my needs. I also learnt much about what I didn't need.

I took my bike out for my first ride yesterday. Unlike what I had thought, however, it was very difficult to ride again. I was fearful, and it took a great deal of courage to do so.

So, it was only after a great deal of cajoling from my biking buddies to pick my bike up again that I took off, albeit on my own, for an easy ride in the evening. And surprisingly, it was neither liberating nor joyful. It was, instead, (and this is where you laugh) very stressful.

My biking buddies had been asking me when I'd be back. They missed my company as much as I missed theirs. But I also realised, there was a possibility I could never be as fast as them again. That scared me. I dare not ride with them for fear I would be left behind. I have a neurotic fear of being left behind. Having to press on by yourself, against the headwind without help, can be incredibly painful.

It was Jn, who gave me a revelation. For months I was suffering from the guilt of injuring myself, thinking it was God who had punished me for my self-striving attitude. Till now I cannot fathom why in spite of all that's happened, my opinion of God has always been Him being a harsh figure. It was Jn who audaciously suggested that the message from this incident was not about God's punishment but rather, God's love. Put very simply, the message was, I didn't need to earn God's love.

There was a long pause between us. It was like I had just found out bread didn't grow on trees.

Do you try, unconsciously, to earn God's love too? Do you feel that you have to do everything well and beat yourself up for it.

I know I do. I do, all the time, unconsciously.

And it cost me dearly. It cost me 4 torn muscles, one hip fracture from the torn muscles (I didn't even fall, mind you), an exorbidant amount of money to undergo rehabilitation and physiotherapy, and a 6-month hiatus to reflect upon my attitudes and worldview.

So I rode yesterday, on my bike Faith, and found myself learning how I strive too much. I keep striving, as if God were an unpleasable Being who wanted me to s-t-r-e-t-c-h myself till I imploded. I live life as if I have to earn points to gain his affection.

But that is so untrue- God never needs us to earn His love.

God's love is given freely, and till now, that is one thing I have been unable to grasp fully. You must work hard to get into medical school, you must torture yourself and get 9As to enter. You must suffer greatly and push yourself before you are worthy enough to be noticed.

Treacherous lies, seeded from a long, long time ago. Lies, which served me well till now.

Yesterday during a gathering, I heard the Big Boys complaining about how excruciatingly slow some of the new riders were, and how they were slowing them down.

I chuckled, half-worryingly, "Haha, don't be cruel. When I get back on the bike next week, I could be just as slow or slower!"

To which they kept reassuring me that I wouldn't be. Even then, they still wanted me back. When are you joining us again?

I keep forgetting, I don't need to do anything more to be loved any more. God loves us the way we are, just the way we are. And I keep needing to remind the little insecure girl inside myself, that my friends don't love me because I used to ride with them at 43kmph down the roads. They love me because of who I am. I didn't need to try to earn their love. They took pains to give me my new bike, Faith, because they loved me for being someone to give my bike money away to someone else who needed it more. They loved me for me.

Why don't I get that?

They don't love me for my achievements, for my swim timing, or my training schedule. They don't love me for how many medals I've got.

And neither does God.

He loves me that I like cycling, that even after so long, I still have trouble balancing with one hand. He loves me that I'm not stick-thin and that sometimes, I can let go and eat whatever everyone else is eating. He loves me that I sometimes talk too fast and laugh too loud, that I have to speak up when I see injustice, even if sometimes my mouth works faster than my head.

Why does it take us so long to realise, that He doesn't love us for what we can do, but for who we are.

Like my bike Faith, spiritual faith isn't earned, but a gift.

So I think I'll join my cycling buddies on their ride again this week. I'm going back on my bike, Faith.

You are loved just the way you are.

"For by grace you are saved through faith;

and that not of yourselves: it is the gift of God:
Not of works, lest any man should boast. "

- Ephesians 2:8-9

Interesting.

I found it interesting to note, that though many had read the picture-story posted a couple days back, few understood the sadness behind it.

The pictures were each tragic, but none more tragic than the last one. It's been a rough week.

Lessons from my Injury.

One day this week I woke up, realised I am definitely the heaviest but possibly the most comfortable, secure and happiest I have ever been in my life:

I realised that your mistakes can break your hip, but God won't let them break your spirit.

I realised that good friends are those who can love you 14 kilos up and down, and still say you look like a bomb any day, because they see you for who you are inside, and who you could become, not who you are now, and how you look on your worst or best day.

I realised how important it is not to succumb to external pressure, how important it is to say, NO THANK YOU. I appreciate your advice, but I have my own way of doing things. It's okay to say that sometimes.

I realised that putting on weight has its benefits- it gives you free boobs.

I realised that God can use our illnesses and circumstance to teach us lots about ourselves.

I realised, I'm a sucker for intensity and addictions-I know I get a high from sucking the marrow out of any aspect of life, be it in my studies, art, sport or adventures. But this is certainly a lesson I will remember for life. I realised that as much as I value discipline, I need to have the discipline to draw lines, say no, know when to Stop.

I realised this injury was a big blessing in disguise. It gave me time to reflect upon the furious plunge into sports over the past year, it gave me space to think through and consolidate my thoughts, it gave me fresh insights and new revelations into my motivations, and purified them.

I realised that truly, this was the perfect time to sustain an injury- during my final year before my exams so I could finally settle down and focus, instead of spreading myself so thinly. The time I spent away from the road and on my books was very valuable, and helped me establish my confidence and focus in the wards again. I realised God has indeed been merciful.

I realised that God loves us so much that He sometimes waits to heal us (even though He could do it in a jiffy) because we take time to learn certain lessons. I realised that more than sacrifice or swears or vows, He treasures a surrendered heart that says, okay, I can do with or without.

All these revelations were revealed to be little by little over the past 4 months, and consolidated over the past week.

So I suppose it was apt timing when Dr. Ben Tan showed me my X-ray and said, "You can start running now," I knew it was because God had finally got his lessons through that thick skull of mine.

For my medicine juniors- spot the pathology! (and note the scoliosis!)

"But I need you to stick to the programme I give you. Go slow, because this sort of injury is notorious for relapse. I need you to continue with physiotherapy, with your vitamin D and calcium and... I need you to change your bike saddle. No racing till after your finals. "

And I realised God wanted me to remember for life, the consequences of relying on a selfish, self-striving spirit the way Jacob did, because the next time my hamstrings and bone snap because of my self-sufficiency or greed, it could mean surgery.

"I think you can try a run today."

I was apprehensive, but all through the run, there was no pain, even though I was still experiencing pain a week back. Because of all the core work, pilates stretching, and myofascial release we had done during the period of rest to realign my muscles and bones, I was running with a far better posture than I ever did before. I used to run with a very unstable pelvic swagger, and a really bad forward tilt, as if there were weights tied to my neck. Now, I was running "as if there's a medal on your chest", as M would have said. I then realised, God puts rest in our lives sometimes to rebuild our core, to re-establish broken foundations, to realign our intents and purposes, thoughts and dreams.

"Your pain is there because of disuse, so we need to rehabilitate you. You've got to step up slowly. I think you need to wait a little more before you start biking again, but meanwhile, please start running. You need to."

I realised, sometimes God wants us to spend a little more time sorting ourselves out, because a period of fasting from our indulgences can be essential to spiritual progress. Today is Day 50 of my bike fast.

I realised, our sufferings never, ever go to waste. But sometimes, with a bit of common sense, we can certainly spare ourselves the heartache.

And I realised, what real friends truly mean. They can love you 14 kilos up and down, and walk you through every difficult step along the way. They don't dump you just because you don't can't do sports the way you used to. They don't rub salt into wound. They don't pressure you to return to what caused you to stumble at the expense of your recovery.

They encourage you when you feel like giving up, visit you when you're down, and patiently await your return- the way our King awaits our return Home, the way the father awaited his prodigal son's return.

The past 4 months of rest have been incredibly fruitful and fulfilling, in a different sense. I'm not sure if I would go to the extent to say that I wouldn't have changed anything had I the chance to live that fateful day of injury again, but I know for sure, the lessons learnt from this have been precious.

"You need to continue doing all the stretches and rehab work I've taught you, okay?" said my physiotherapist. She's a marathoner, swimmer and a pilates instructor as well. "You see, the human body is so exquisite, it needs to be in a constant state of BALANCE. That's why I don't just run, or swim, or cycle. Take a little bit from the best of everything and you'll stay injury-free, okay?"

I realised, the most important lesson I learnt, was balance. How to balance my work and play, sport and health, calling and duty, friends and family. My injury was primarily due to a muscle imbalance. It is most commonly sustained when the quadriceps is more than 60% stronger than the hamstrings.

It's all about poising yourself on the straight and narrow path, I suppose.

I've still a long way ahead to recovery, but it certainly felt good to run again, even if it was only for a short while.

Thank you God.

J, me and T stealing a shot before sitting for our paediatrics paper-

Love you two to the sky and back :)

"He heals the brokenhearted

and binds up their wounds...

...His pleasure is not in the strength of the horse,

nor his delight in the legs of a man;

God delights in those who fear him,

who put their hope in his unfailing love.

-Psalm 147:3, 10, 11

Unless You Bless me.

She was a little old lady walking with a walking stick. But she walked in grand. There was a certain majesty to her, a certain royalty. She was elderly, but every bit of her was put together. With not a strand of her blonde hair out of place, she tottered in purposefully in sheer black stockings and black heels. Clad in rich fuschia, she was a powerful sight to behold.

She opened her mouth and everybody fell silent.

To be real honest I wasn't paying much attention. My mind was drifting away, wondering why my whole body, especially the sitting bones in my hip were so sore after yesterday's physiotherapy.

"Jacob... was a fraud."

That made me sit up at once. That voice boomed around the large hall and rang in my ears. I knew God was speaking to me. Suddenly, I felt as if everybody was staring at me, as if they all knew about the folly of my injury.

Jacob means "heel grabber". It is the name of man in a story of the bible who, on being born with his twin brother, was seen grabbing his brother's heel. It is symbolic because all his life, he manipulated and cheated others, strived on his own and did all he could to get ahead in life. He stole his elder brother's birthright, among other terrible things.

But in spite of being the rascal that he was, God had mercy on him. One day, disguised as an angel, God seized Jacob when he was alone and wrestled with him till daybreak. Finally, the angel demanded for Jacob to let go. But Jacob continued to wrestle, and finally said, “I won’t let you go unless you bless me!”

I wrote about this before. But today, I had a new revelation. The angel was God, and had told Jacob to let go because the light of day would soon come and seeing God face to face would kill him. But Jacob persisted. Because of the hardship he had been through, he finally came to the point where he would rather die than live without God’s blessing.

In desperation, the angel touched Jacob's hip which broke, and touched his sinew so it shrank, so that Jacob would finally let go.

That was a life changing moment.

From then on, Jacob’s name was changed to Israel. That incident changed him, to stop scheming or striving, to start giving rather than taking and to start depending on God rather than relying on his own self-centred ways. The name “Jacob” represents independence from God while “Israel” represents dependence on God.

Jacob. That wrestling match he had with God was a perfect reflection of how I suffered my injury. Like Jacob, I tore my 'sinew' and broke my hip, too. Like Jacob, I have spent most of my life striving to get ahead. Isn't that how we were brought up? Top the class in primary school so you can get to a good seondary school. Top your class in seondary school to get to a well-known junior college. Top the standard in your junior college so you can get into medical school. And now, with the new medical resideny curriculum, you better be the best in your class to secure that spot in that highly sought-after specialty.

The world, with its promise of bouquets and endless applause, eggs you on. Come on, YOU can do it.

Cycling was just a reflection of my life in other areas: We are always humble when we feel inept. In the same way, I was always meek when I first learnt how to cycle just 2 years ago; But once we're good in something, the fleshly nature and the spirit of self-striving often takes over. In the same way, I started to train more and more to be better at something I was now good at- after all, isn't it good to excel? Ah... thin, thin lines.

She went on. "Jacob was a cheat...

... a trickster...

... a selfish man."

She said each word with such deliberation and force that every syllable resounded painfully in my head, "Jacob... was a rascal."

That's me, said a voice in my head. That's me she's talking about. Oh God, no.

"Then how is it that later on, God says that he could find no sin in such a terrible man like Jacob? How is it that He was always by his side to protect him? Because Jacob wrestled with God, and was determined to seek His blessing. He didn't deserve it, but God gave it to him as a display of His love and mercy. God could have killed him that day. Instead, He blessed Jacob."

She continued, "The greatest blessing to receive in your life is to have God be your Personal Judge, for Him to deal with you, even if it takes pain and suffering, even if it requires Him to prune you in a season of barreness. Your greatest blessing is in knowing He will never leave you alone. If you are not good, He will find a good opportunity indeed to teach you a good lesson you will never forget."

I was stunned. Then, I remembered in dismay, that Jacob walked with a permanent limp.

Since my injury, I have not been the same: I am heavier for sure. I am the heaviest I have ever been in my life. I have had to adapt yet again to accepting my new body, and to cope with the residual damage that Ed left in my life. Undergoing physiotherapy and being still, helped me to see clearly how exercise was such a furtive form of self-indulgement, a source of pride, and a way to gain approval. It helped me see how tight and distressed my physical body has been because of overuse. Now, I ache after every session of physiotherapy because time is spent on releasing a lot of tight muscles not only in my injured site, but down the whole leg, the opposite leg, my back and my trunk.

A spirit of continual self-striving is destructive, indeed.

Finally, just when I felt sufficiently condemned and worthy to be stoned, the little old lady said slowly, purposefully, in a long drawl, "But we are ALL Jacobs."

Are you a Jacob too? Maybe you haven't broken anything, but do you feel tired, as if God is wrestling you down?

"But your greatest blessing is this, that God is committed to bringing you to the fulfillment of your calling. As long as you remain pliable and correctable, He will redeem, restore and release blessing in your life. Just as how through Jacob (or Israel, which was his new name) was blessed greatly, you will be too if you let God do His work of righteousness in you."

I was stunned. Didn't that explain that peace and joy I had within me?

Don't get me wrong. This injury has not been easy to deal with. I still have moments where I cry especially on friday nights when I used to get all my biking gear ready for my grouprides on Saturdays, because I know I might never ride again with my buddies like I used to. I have moments of moodiness because I feel unfit, fat, ugly or all the above. And I have times of shame in knowing that no matter what I feel, this is nothing compared to what many others have to deal with in life.

But the peace comes in knowing that through this, God answered my prayer. This has helped me remain focused on my final year of studies in medical school. This has freed me from the slavery of training and idolatry. This has helped me realign myself with Him. I am not happy with the pain and discomfort for sure, but I am joyful in knowing that I am closer to my calling. I am at peace in knowing that God is restoring me to a greater level of security with regards to my illness.

Cycling and sports was a means for God to teach me many lessons in life, a way to restore my eating habits and body to normalcy. And now that they have served their purpose, this injury has helped me to move on to other areas of development, which I would have neglected otherwise.

My old Jacob-self would have been ruined. But my new Israel-self says this experience is God's blessing. I must trust that it is.

At the end of the service, as she took her walking stick to leave, I went up to thank her because of what she illuminated to me about my situation.

"See this stick?" she said, "I had surgery some time back because of a cancer which wanted to take my leg. God sometimes allows illness in our lives because it's a way of refining and moulding us. We can be discouraged, defeated or in despair, or we can be determined. I chose to be determined. I told myself I would wear heels again." She smiled.

"I want you to remember this, that as absurd as it sounds, sometimes, being maimed is good. This body we have is so temporal. What matters is what God does inside of you. When we get to heaven, we shall all be restored. Remember, the evil one can take your body, but never your soul."

Tears started to stream down, but I knew she was right. That morning at Sunday School, I was scheduled to teach. Incidentally, the lesson plan required me to use an X-ray to illustrate the point that God can see through and into us, to refine our deepest motives. I used the pelvic X-ray of my injury and told them that God sees into our insides because that's what He's most concerned about. Now, the same lesson was being taught to me.

So no matter what you're facing right now, don't despair. Be determined, because like she said, God is committed to bringing you closer to fulfilling that calling in your life. Be brave and wrestle it out, and surely you will be blessed, even if or perhaps precisely because you held on until He blessed you.

I know He's preparing me.

Heaven, is near.

"It is better for you to enter life maimed or crippled

than to have two hands or two feet and be thrown into eternal fire."

-Matthew 18:8

"Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul.

Rather, be afraid of the One

who can destroy both soul and body in hell."

-Matthew 10:28

Osteopenia.

Sitting outside the scan room with a group of little old women, waiting patiently for my turn in a green gown, was a... unique experience, to say the least. I remember the shocked look of the staff when she saw my face. In that room, they had scanned thousands of elderly, wizened ladies. But last week, I was there too.

I guess I should've known the results, even without the test. But the doctor insisted, so I relented. Osteopenia, you have osteopenia, my dear. That explains your fracture.

A little old lady's disease. Calcium sapped from my bones during those few years of illness. Now coming back to haunt me through a pelvic fracture I got while biking. Without a fall.

I wasn't sure what it was about the confirmation which made my heart sink, which sucked a cloud over my head. Maybe it was wondering why things had to be this way even though I'd tried my very best with regards to recovering, had thought that with the publishing of A Taste of Rainbow, that chapter of my life was closed; Maybe it was thinking about all that money and time lavishly spent on therapy, and the exasperation of having to deal with the consequences of the illness all over again; Maybe it was the injury playing in my mind like a bad video, the thought that I would never bike again, would never run.

It still hurts. How can the injury still hurt while walking, while at rest. How can the opposite side hurt, too. The pain keeps evolving.

I suppose, it taught me, how life very often turns out differently from what school teaches it to be. We are told that if we work hard, run fast and have willpower, we will finish the race tops. But I am learning, that working hard, running fast and sheer willpower only melt into nothingness in the face of God's displeasure.

It is not because of my own intelligence that I am studying to be doctor. It is not by my own hard training that I ended up enjoying triathlon. It is not by my own merit or determination that I recovered from my illness, am recovering.

I am learning, it is because I was fortunate enough to be parented by good people, had the opportunity to develop my strengths in a fairly good environment, had the chance to grow up in a place without war, famine or disaster. I am learning, it is because I was fortunate enough to meet friends who loved me enough to want to help me enjoy the sport. I am learning, it is because I was blessed with meeting angels who opened up their homes and extended their arms to me to embrace me, heal me, help me through bad times.

I am learning, it is because of God's grace and mercy in my life.

Last week, I dreamt I was in a triathlon. When I came out of the water, I was disqualified because I didn't finish the swim. I ran back to the water, wanting to finish it, but no matter how fast I ran, I couldn't reach the pool... ... I was frantic. A few days ago, I dreamt that I was running, but no matter how hard I ran, I couldn't reach the finish line. It made me see, that part of my subconscious is obsessed about finishing life's race, be it a physical or spiritual one.

But unless I acknowledge that life's races are completed not by my own will, or strength, but by realising God's blessings in my life, His grace and mercy, I will forever be caught in a hamster wheel of self-striving. Remember Jacob? God made him walk with a permanent limp so he would learn his lesson well. Oh Lord, have mercy.

In both dreams, I didn't finish the race. I tried so very hard.

It worries me. Will I finish the race in life? I'm about to graduate. Very soon, I'll be a doctor. People are scrambling to beef up their resumes, apply for their specialties, climb up the ladder. Would I choose to be caught in the rat race too, or realise that I've a different dream, my heart belongs to a different place, and that I've my own race to finish. Will I forget about missions.

I'm beginning to realise, how it's so easy to get lost in the endless race of self-striving. Wasn't that what we learnt in school, that the harder we try, the more we will achieve? Go faster, try harder. You can do it.

I am learning, that ultimately, we are where we are because of the blessings we have received from others, from God. I am where I am today, with an injury or not, because I didn't get struck by cancer last year, didn't get raped on a holiday overseas, didn't get killed by my illness a few years ago, or on a bike by a drunk driver.

My injury taught me many things. It is still teaching me things now.

So if you suddenly feel like you've hit a wall, that you're so tired trying to get ahead of everybody else, so exhausted from running, just remember that you are where you are because of a force greater than yourself which allowed circumstance and chance to be in your favor. And if you came to a point where you, in your own self-striving got injured, struck down, burnt out, just remember, that God's mercies are new every morning.

Someday, I will wake up with a dream with myself at the finish line, and it will not be because I had the most willpower, or ran the hardest, not because I cured myself of osteopenia by popping calcium pills or because I achieved this much in life doing this and that by myself, but because of the mercies of a God who loves us enough to promise that He would see us through till the very end.

Perhaps, when that day comes when I truly understand this truth, it will be a miraculous moment of healing for me, both physically and spiritually. Perhaps that day, God will let me run again. I still pray.

So close your eyes, and don't be afraid to dream, for He will see you through till the very end, too.

For He says to Moses,

"I will have mercy on whomever I will have mercy,

and I will have compassion on whomever I will have compassion."

So then it is not of him who wills,

nor of him who runs,

but of God who shows mercy.
-Romans 9:15-16

Weak Leg, Strong Father.

It's amazing how God finds ways to speak to us in our weakest moments.

Two days ago, our newly-appointed Vice-Dean of the School of Medicine addressed my entire batch formally. As we stepped into final year, he wanted to leave us with some nuggets of wisdom. He said many things, of which I remember one the most:

"Medicine is a journey, some of you may feel like you are hobbling. But remember, we have one another, and together, we'll finish the race."

He showed us a video of Derek Redmond, an Olympian athlete favored to win the 1992 Olympic Games for his event, but didn't... because halfway through his sprint, he tore his hamstrings.

As I watched it and felt the pain, anguish and reality of it all, I suddenly felt God smiling down at me, putting His finger right on me- that was my injury. He has a sense of humour.

That injury which we watched in the video, was what I had, still have. Except that besides my hamstrings, I also tore another tiny muscle called the gracilis, and another large muscle called the adductor magnus, which, on tearing, caused the fracture of my pelvis as well.

I've had a bumpy recovery, mainly because my muscles tense too easily and overcompensate, resulting in soreness, pain and tightness. Some days I wanted to give up. It's been more than 3 months. The exhausting search for the right practitioner, the bewildering search for answers... all take time, and eventually its toll on you. Today, after an intense physiotherapy session of trigger muscle releases (deep tissue massage), every part of both legs ached tremendously.

Have you ever felt like some event in your life hit you expectedly and threw you off-course? Have you ever doubted that you would finish your race?

You should. Because a torn hamstring in the middle of an athlete's race of a lifetime is no easy setback.

But as Derek Redmond hobbled to the finish line in pain and anguish, Somebody came to see him through to the very end.

And it reminds me, no matter what we're going through, we just need to trust, God will send angels to see us cross the finish line. No matter how anguished, despondent or bitter we are at our setbacks, we need to trust that He will give us the courage to finish the race.

I could only imagine Derek's anguish. All those years of training for a moment's glory, all gone down the drain. Sometimes, I look back at anorexia and that time of depression, think about what could've been had it not been for that throwing me off-course, think about how little faith I had in recovering... but now realise that as my Vice-Dean said, no matter what happens, we have one another to help us all finish the race together.

So even though both my legs hurt badly today, I'm holding on. I'm saying, God, thank you for the little things- for sending random angels who ask me out for swims on random days when my injury gets me down, thank you for sending me AL (my current physiotherapist) who is genuine about seeing me get better and back on track, thank you for seeing me through medical school, through life's ups and downs.

I know, you didn't leave our side, not once.

Together, we'll make it till the end.

"And the LORD,

He is the one who goes before you.

He will be with you,

He will not leave you nor forsake you."

- Deuteronomy 31:8

10 out of 10.

Nothing prepared me for the intensity of the pain. It hit me like a dummy crash-car into a wall and strangled the life out of me, draining strength from my legs, tummy and chest. God, what is happening?

The pain came at the wrong time. I was on my way to deliver groceries to Uncle Z. A day ago when I checked in on Uncle Z, he said that his son had run away. His 20-year old son had threatened to take all the furniture in their one-room flat except the bed, and said he wanted to move out. Uncle Z had just been discharged from the hospital for another near-death episode as he does not comply with his blood-thinning medication, essential for his condition of having 2 prosthetic heart valves from previous open-chest surgery. His wife, Mdm N, was diagnosed with severe hypertension and dementia last year. Uncle Z said, "Ever since our son left, she cries every day. She sings and cries, sings and cries."

My friend, D, had agreed to come with me and pray with them. My pain lingered, I tolerated it, but even D could tell I was suffering.

"You okay?"

"Yea," I said, in between breaths, "This is very unusual, I never have this sort of pain normally. But I got to say, this pain, is definitely worse than the pain of a half-marathon."

By the time we reached Uncle Z's home, and sat to chat, I knew the pain was only growing in intensity, but I kept a straight face, and Uncle Z didn't suspect a thing.

As soon as we left and his door closed, my upper body collapsed in pain. I then realised this was what guys are most afraid of hearing, "D, I think it's cramps. Crap. I usually never have pain- at all. This is really unusual."

D had to rush back to work, and so left me. He knew I'd be okay. I knew it too.

Little did I realise that the pain only worsened. By the time D had left, I could hardly walk.

God, I said, you have such a sense of humour. Today's the first day I don't feel pain in my fracture site and this is what you replace it with? Okay, like, please talk to me now if there's something you're trying to tell me. My ears are peeled.

At once, the words of my physiotherapist, AL, rang in my ears.

That day as she meticulously recorded the events of my injury, she asked, "When did they do the X-ray for you?"

"About 6 weeks post-injury."

"What? How come they didn't do it immediately?"

"I guess they weren't really suspecting it. They said muscle tears can be excruciating, too."

"What was your pain score at the Emergency department?"

I remembered myself being in so much pain I had to be put on a wheelchair. "I told them 8 out of 10."

"Really? It was 8/10? You sure? Then how bad was your pain 6 weeks later?"

"Er... 4 out of 10."

"Yeah right. They won't do an X-ray 6 weeks post-injury for a pain score of 4/10. It was more like 6/10, wasn't it."

"Maybe."

"Trying to be a hero."

Trying to be a hero. Yeah.

It was then, in the spasms on my pain, that I suddenly realised that therein lay pride, too. As my menstrual pain escalated progressively, I felt God was showing me what a pain score of 8/10 really was, and what the pain that day should've been.

It was 12 out of 10. And I only took 2 tablets of painkillers, refusing the rest.

By the time I had realised this, people at the train station were watching me and giving up their seats for me because I probably looked like I was about to collapse. As soon as I reached the train station near home, I bought Paracetemol, then deliberated about taking it. It's the freaking wrong time of the month for this sort of pain, I cursed inwardly. My pain score continued to increase, it went beyond 8/10 to 10/10. I could hardly stand anymore, much less walk. So I took the medication. Shortly afterward at home, the pain left. But I was so tired it felt like I had just finished a triathlon.

Today's pain taught me, that I really do need to surrender, more things than I thought. It taught me, that I have deeper idols to release.

Yesterday, I read that while our idols can be money, possessions, people etc, within us lie deeper idols, such as a sense of security, control or vanity. As I sat at the botanical gardens this week watching swans go by, I suddenly realised that the deepest false god in my life was not anorexia, or sports, or myself, even. It was a sense of needing to be in control. When things at home started to spin out of control years back, Ed became a way to regain that sense of stability; I enjoy cycling and long to learn horseriding because that sense of control on a bike, an animal is incredible; but the scariest revelation I received as I prayed was that, I am single, have been single, largely because...

... it gives me a sense of control. Being in a relationship makes me feel... vulnerable, and out of control. Who's to say the person doesn't turn out to be a jerk? I've met them before.

What is your deepest idol? Look at the patterns in your life, identify all your false gods, then see if you can find something in common. I did.

These days, I have been praying for God's mercy, that I will learn these lessons now and not when it's too late. I pray I learn to let go of self-sufficiency and the importance of a strong spiritual core before I rip my muscle again and cause a recurrent fracture. (The fracture was a non-contact injury- it broke where the muscle was attached too because the muscle tore too forcefully.) I pray I'll learn to destroy Aphrodite before she destroys me. I pray God'll help me to trust Him for my life partner and not let me realise this when I'm 45 and dying of loneliness in a mission field.

I have spent the last week by myself. It is our break now, my parents went overseas, my good friends are attached, some getting married, and I was unable to train. Some days were depressing. I had a lot of time to myself, and for one of the first times, wished someone would drive me out on Saturday night with the likes of Coldplay and Beatles on the stereo to Dempsey Hill for waffles and ice-cream.

God has never let me down- every time I prayed for company, like today in delivering groceries, someone always would show up. But I realised, that in the tough moments to bear, only someone who really loves you would go the extra mile for you. I don't blame D for returning back to work. But I know when I was hobbling home in pain, I really wished someone would call a cab for me, lug me back home, buy Paracetemol for me.

Today's pain showed me that I have to surrender. I need to learn how to say God, I am weak. I need help. I can't do this on my own. I have to realise many factors in life cannot be controlled. I cannot control when or how severe my menstrual pain will be (who cares if it's the wrong time of the month?), I cannot control who will love me and who I will love in return. I have to stop chasing things which give me a sense of control and security, because that pursuit will ultimately end in an uncontrolled manner.

God, not me, controls my life.

And I guess what I'm most relieved to know, is that He who controls our lives is indefinitely loving and kind, righteous and true. So because of that, I can let go, I can say okay, I won't resist You or love or run away anymore.

Because of that, I can finally say, I'm broken, and my pain score was 10 out of 10.

"If you are too afraid or too enamoured by love,

it has assumed godlike power,

distorting your perceptions and your life."

- Timothy Keller, Counterfeit gods

" Be shattered, O you peoples,

and be broken in pieces!"

-Isaiah 8:9

Destroying Aphrodite.

"Something is safe for us to maintain in our lives

only if it has really stopped being an idol.

That can happen only if we are

truly willing to live without it,

when we truly say from the heart, '

Because I have God, I can live without you.'

Sometimes, God seems to be killing us when he's actually saving us."

- Counterfeit gods by Timothy Keller

Most, if not all girls take some pride in their appearance. Conventionally pretty or not, females were made with the desire to be beautiful. Vanity becomes a problem when beauty and pride become central. Eating disorders, shopping addictions and insecurities manifest.

It was not until today that I realised, God was not only asking me to let go of my sport, but my security in fleshly things too- things I never thought were wrong. After all, which human being doesn't take some pride in his appearance?

I was at my church bookstore buying the last copy of Counterfeit Gods when at the counter, a parent of one of my sunday school kids came up to tell me, in a perfectly matter-of-fact manner, "Oh, you've put on weight, yea?" And I looked at her, momentarily stunned, and wondered if that tone of voice would have been more appropriate at commenting on the weather. I smiled. "Yes I have... I fractured something lately so have been unable to train." I said it after hesitating a little, not too defensively, yet, as if I had to have explanation for how I am now.

In the female world, commenting on somebody else's weight has many implications- there are typically undercurrents suggesting one's lack of control and one's inability to manage oneself. It is not a topic to bring up unless it goes in one direction-downwards. Yes, the female species is complex, indeed.

As I made my purchase of the book at the counter with this lady in front of me, I knew, God was testing me. What was my counterfeit god? Triathlon, my bike, and... Aphrodite.

It wasn't until then that I realised, I have always taken a lot of pride in how I projected myself. Aphrodite, is an earthen goddess- horses are sacred to her; Beauty, is my a false idol- my bike is paramount to me-for more reasons than meet the eye.

Just very recently, I finally found the physiotherapist I had been praying for. Out of so many contacts I had been given and I had spoken with, she is the only one who clearly understands this particular injury of mine. When she heard of my case through a friend's friend, she buzzed me and said, "How old are you?"

"23."

"Are you a runner and a biker?"

"Yes."

"Are you vegetarian?"

It was then that I knew she understood. The fracture of the inferior ramus at the site of insertion of the adductor magnus is a very rare sports injury, common only in a specific subgroup of athletes- the young female athlete with a past history of a poor diet, eating disorder, amenorrhea or all of the above. My history was classic.

"Oh, you must be surprised," she said. "That's because my research project was based on adductor tears and these type of fractures. Sure, I'd love to help."

Most physiotherapists have hardly even heard of this injury, much less encountered it. AL was the first one who knew what she was talking about, who understood with such depth the intricate relations of all the muscles, tendons and bones involved in this painfully slow-healing injury. She predicted my sites of pain even before I told her, understood exactly why I was hurting in both my legs even though I had hurt only one. She spent a long time with me. I had never seen anyone so meticulous before.

Our first session was not easy. A lot of my strength had left me. I had put on weight. I was tired of exercising in any way, because of the pain. Doing core exercises and pilates looked slow and effortless but was in fact, very tiring. As we went through rehab exercise after rehab exercise, I suddenly understood the humour in the whole thing: God had given me exactly what I had prayed for months ago, when I asked Him to teach me what it meant to work from a posture of rest. I wasn't moving from my spot, but it sure was a lot of hard work.

All this while, I realised, my appearance had been my counterfeit god, my source of security, something I knew the world could see. My training in triathlon was my counterfeit god, because it helped me control my weight, maintain my tan, and was a great conversation topic to boost my self-esteem. I never did core exercises because I didn't see the value of strengthening myself from the inside, since no one would see the results anyway. Running, swimming and biking and being constantly on the adrenalish rush-go was far more exciting. I didn't realise till today, how superficial my mindset has been, all this while, all these years.

Do you sometimes, in some ways, live for others too? For just, a brief moment of their applause?

In the same way, running around being involved in projects and ministries and being busy was also a false god in itself. I knew it was something the world could see. Like cardiovascular exercise, the spiritual endorphins made me feel good about myself. But I neglected my spiritual core, not taking enough time to study the bible in depth. After all, doing things has always been far more glamorous, a much easier way to gain praise and honour from men.

Who enjoys sitting in one place doing painful core exercises? Who likes to sit in one place studying the bible? Boring, isn't it, compared to being on stage performing an acrobatic act. I didn't realise, that I had always made myself my own god.

"Wai Jia, you know, one's cardiovascular activity must be matched with one's core strength. This was like a time-bomb inside of you. With your history, diet, weak core muscles, and scoliosis, this would have happened, sooner or later. It was a ticking time bomb. "

I know. My activity should have been matched with taking time to strengthen my spiritual core, too. And the time bomb blew because I had allowed training and Aphrodite to rival God's place in my life. That day, I compromised on my work ethic. The junior doctor said it was a public holiday and a sunday, hence I needn't show up at the hospital for my shift. But I knew, deep down, that I ought to have showed up. Why should I base my actions on other people's standards? I compromised on my work ethic that day because something else, something counterfeit, took priority that day. I wanted one last training session before my race. I relied on my own strength. I wanted to burn more calories. And I adjusted my bike seat higher than it should have been because someone said I would go faster.

Idolatry, insecurity, self-sufficiency. Foolishness. That's when the time bomb blew.

Hence, I got injured, spiritually and physically. It would have been sooner or later. I never knew I had scoliosis.

In the bible, there's a story about a man whose central prayer in his life was to have a son. When God finally did bless him with a son named Isaac and promised that he would have many descendants, He told him to kill Isaac. God told him to bring Isaac, the son he so dearly loved, up the mountain to kill him. And the man obeyed, because he trusted God. Just at the moment of slaughter, God intervened and Isaac was spared.

How can God be so masochistic. On the outside, it seems like He was being cruel. But really, He was dealing with the destructive idols in the man's life and teaching him to put his value and security in God alone, rather than in his son. Nothing on earth belongs to us, nothing.

A friend had jokingly asked me a week ago whether his wife could ride my bike since I was now injured. I laughed out loud, because surely he knew it was an almost $3000 gift, and almost brandnew. Days later, I wrote to him saying he could come anytime, because God was teaching me to cling loose, to let go.

As I walked out from my phyiotherapist's home, a tree with sinewy roots caught my eye. It reminded me of a dream and vision I had years ago, and served to remind me not to make physiotherapy, pilates or anything else for that matter, my new god.

I am learning, that it's time for me to go up the mountain and lay my Isaac down. I've to let triathlon go, have to accept there could be a possibility of me never biking with my biking buddies again or taking part in another race. I have to accept that I will inevitably gain some weight during this process and learn to have more compassion for myself and others. And I must realise, that I could possibly gain the weight and never lose it again. Would I be okay with that?

The pain at the fracture site lingers still. "Be patient Wai Jia, this sort of fracture takes a really long time to heal because it's very hard to immobilise that muscle. I understand it's painful."

My publisher says my next book, A Taste of Rainbow should be out by October, that's also when my self-imposed 100-day bike fast ends. May that healing (spiritual, physical and emotional) be wholly complete by then.

Meanwhile, I'm going up the mountain with my Isaacs. Aphrodite must be destroyed.

"We need to find a way to keep from clutching them too tightly,

of being enslaved to them...

As many have learned and later taught,

you don't realise God is all you need

until God is all you have."

-Timothy Keller

"I also want women to dress modestly,

with decency and propriety, not with braided hair or gold or pearls or expensive clothes,

but with good deeds,

appropriate for women who profess to worship God. "

-1 Tim 2:9