One Year in 14 Hours

Why am I doing this? When the absolute tedium of the walk began to set in, I started to wonder what on earth I was doing hiking alone on New Year’s Eve. I must be out of my mind.

Spontaneity matters

Don’t plan, just go. That was my thought when I set out on my day-long walk. I’d had less than an hour the previous night to pack, plan and think things through, and there were likely many things I had overlooked (which would, indeed, present themselves later on the road).

All I knew was that I was going to attempt the 36km Coast-to-Coast (C2C) Trail, which had been on my bucket list for a while. It was supposed to be all “for fun” until my 5am brain decided that it wanted to eschew any form of transport.

The original plan had been to catch the earliest train from Tampines to Lakeside MRT station, then begin walking at Jurong Lake Gardens, the starting point of the C2C Trail. That didn’t happen. Instead, I found myself starting right at my block (near the extreme east of Singapore), and travelling on foot all the way to Jurong Lake Gardens (near the extreme west).

There were many “just do it” moments this year. I guess starting a website was the first and most significant one. Having to spend my hard-earned money outright to purchase the domain and hosting, without knowing if I could “do it”, and still lacking so much knowledge, was certainly a leap. But without too much thought I just gave up on “reading up” more and completed the transaction (Mar 18). That kickstarted months of terrible blog posts, ugly Instagram designs, and tons of experimenting and optimising. Still a long way to go on that.

Then there were a series of smaller moments since med school began. Like joining in that very first impromptu frisbee game at night (Sep 3). Like going on that first run around the NTU blue track when it was already past 10pm (Oct 15). Like going down to play captain’s ball even though the field was flooded, it was chaotic, and I was the only girl there (Nov 19).

Spontaneity matters. … I’m talking about genuine spontaneity, where you take an unplanned trip, and on the spur of the moment, create a memory that will last a lifetime.

Ramit Sethi

Every single time, I had no regrets. Here’s to more of “let go and let’s go” in 2021.

This wasn’t part of the plan

Barely a few hours in, I began to take note of how quickly my phone battery was draining. I’d actually thought of this beforehand, but didn’t have a portable charger nor the time to get one. I started to calculate how much battery was depleted in an hour and knew that it definitely won’t last me till the end of the day. Whatever, I’ll figure something out along the way. I wasn’t turning back.

This year was filled with “learning on the fly”. Starting my internship at Pathlight was a serious test of how quickly I could observe, adapt, and step up into the role. Not only had I missed the whole Induction, but it was an entirely new environment. As they always say, “same same but different”—I loved the students as equals and saw them as nothing less, but I knew we had to tailor our approach to their beautiful and unique individuality.

When I began the arduous process of writing a book and self-publishing, I was clueless. It was only through simultaneous learning and doing that I eventually published my first book (Feb 27).

It was the same for website creation and social media. I literally knew nothing when I was starting out. If I’d dithered for too long and waited for everything to be impeccably planned—which is impossible—nothing would have happened. Instead, I figured things out along the way. So, so many things. As it was on my walk, just keep going.

In the end I found myself at Westgate en route to Jurong Lake Gardens, trying hard to ignore how uncouth and out-of-place I looked in my hiking get-up amidst all the New Year’s Eve shoppers. In short, what happened next was that Miniso didn’t have power banks with the USB-C cable, I walked on without a solution to my phone battery problem (did I really think that sheer will was going to keep my phone alive?), and had to double back to IMM on my afternoon leg of the journey and get one at $29.90 from Challenger. I just remember laughing at myself the whole time, thinking, this wasn’t part of the plan.

Stillness is the key

Somewhere around mid-morning I unplugged my earpiece and just walked. Without audiobooks, without music. I wanted myself to be present, to simply walk. Just like all those trips trekking on mountain paths abroad. I hadn’t once plugged in an earpiece then; I didn’t need to now. I definitely felt less spirited than if I’d been travelling. There were no sublime views to marvel at, and I was breathing in car exhaust fumes rather than cool mountain air.

But still, the monotony of the walk didn’t feel bad. How long do we spend barrelling from one day to the next, without a pause? How often do we get so caught up in what we “have” to do that we have no time to even take a breath?

We enter solitude, in which also we lose loneliness. (Wendell Berry)

Cal Newport, Digital Minimalism: Choosing a Focused Life in a Noisy World

Giving an entire day to myself? To do nothing but walk? And not get anything done? This is pure luxury. I told myself to embrace it. To stop inundating myself with the informational deluge from the outside world, and to allow myself time to be with my own thoughts. Truthfully, there were no great thoughts nor glimmers of inspiration in my mind as I walked. But I was glad for the things that weren’t there.

This year I finally concretised the habit of journaling every day, after reading Atomic Habits (Nov 4). P.S. As I was writing this, I opened my notebook to that first entry to check the date. The first line I saw was: “To be alone with one’s thoughts is bliss.”

There seemed to be a high degree of human doing-ness, and I felt a complete void of human being-ness. (Amber Rae)

Benjamin Spall and Michael Xander, My Morning Routine: How Successful People Start Every Day Inspired

I wondered why I no longer felt the joy of simple moments. … How had I, with all my options and opportunities, become one of those people who never have time to feel delight? I was stretched in so many directions, I wasn’t feeling much of anything. Too busy doing.

Oprah Winfrey

I guess for me there will be more moments of “too busy doing” to come. I’m ready to hustle. I want to hustle. But here’s a reminder that there will always be time for gratitude. And there will always be time for myself—my beautiful, insane, incessant mind.

Learn to say no

At each checkpoint along the C2C Trail, there were various points of interest that I could have explored. I would have, but for the fact that I’d started the trail only at 1pm, and my main priority that day was completing the 36km before my phone battery died.

There are so many diversions. So many “good-to-haves”. So many things I’d want to do if only I had 2400 hours in a day and I was a hundred people instead of one.

To harness the courage we need to get on the right path, it pays to reflect on how short life really is and what we want to accomplish in the little time we have left. As poet Mary Oliver wrote: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do / with your one wild and precious life?”

Greg McKeown, Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less

This was the year I learnt to say no. I spent my last day at the Youths For Autism (YFA) internship (Apr 3) two months ahead of schedule, determined not to cry but to express gratitude to everyone who had been there with me. I had handwritten cards and chocolates for everyone I’d had the privilege to work with. Still, it hurt to leave.

When med school started, I decided once and for all that I’d give up on learning driving at this point in my life. I’d rushed to sign up at the CDC, invested all that time studying for the BTT (Feb 6), spent hours planning out and booking lesson dates. But once I made the decision to stop, I didn’t look back.

Despite the wild and amazing audition experience for CresPion AfterHours (Oct 9) and being accepted as Cast (Oct 12), I eventually decided to pass up the opportunity (Oct 16). This is something I don’t think I’ve ever done. I thought wistfully of the possibilities, and everything that I was giving up. But I knew there were other things I wanted to commit to.   

If everything is important then nothing is.

Rachel Hollis, Girl, Stop Apologizing: A Shame-Free Plan for Embracing and Achieving Your Goals

I’m still working on this. It’s so hard. My spirit is ablaze and I’m already striking a hundred and one ideas off my list. My goal for 2021 is to prioritise even more. Define the key priorities. Eliminate all else.  

Digital minimalism

I deliberately didn’t post anything on social media about my walk. I didn’t even tell anyone that I was going to do this, or that I’d be uncontactable. I simply decided to go offline and spend New Year’s Eve in solitude. (Even when I got home, I refrained from checking all the new messages till the next morning.)

After growing my following to more than 1.5K on Instagram (@thelowkeymedic), I became increasingly disillusioned with social media. So deactivated my account (Aug 30). About a month later, I read Deep Work (Oct 9) and Digital Minimalism (Oct 25). Both resonated deeply with me. I deleted Instagram from my phone, turned off notifications, and set fixed times to check online messages. I liked this change. A lot.

The only reason I even kept Instagram before that was to keep up with friends I couldn’t see regularly anymore. This still holds that value for me, and I’m rethinking the Instagram part. But I’m glad that this year, I made the time to meet up with the people I’m closest to, both before uni and during the first semester. I hope that even as the new semester starts, I can continue to do that, just a quick catch-up, a quick meal, a short hike—anytime.

Does “appearance” matter?

Another reason why I didn’t post anything on social media was because I wasn’t doing it for the “appearance”. I’m someone who would never share when I worked out or went on 5km runs. I can’t articulate why, but perhaps part of me thinks that it would somehow seem conceited, like I’d be “boasting”, in a way. Yet when I see others crushing their reps at the gym, running 5K, achieving their goals, I literally feel like applauding. So why is it, then, that I judge myself by different standards?

Sometime late in the year came a revelation. Ever since I could remember, I’ve always held the belief that true beauty is inner beauty. I was the girl who would never wear nail polish, never put on makeup, never wear jewellery, and never dye her hair. I didn’t buy new clothes for four years. I deeply respected everyone who loves to do these things and feels good about it. It was simply that for me, these things weren’t essential.

One day it hit me that appearance matters (Dec 13, Journey app). I’m not talking about just physical beauty. I’m pretty much still the same girl; I still haven’t worn nail polish, makeup or jewellery nor dyed my hair. I’m talking about appearance on the whole. Just think about it: all that others perceive of you is external. No one can truly access your inner world except yourself. Yes, they can get a glimpse of it, but even that glimpse is seen through your words, your writings, your expressions—everything that has been externalised. Appearance is our only connection to other human beings.

This was the year when I tried to be a bit more conscious about my appearance. On one particular habit list, I wrote: “No touching nose and face”, “Perfect posture”, “Eye contact”, and “Genuine smile”. I’m constantly working on all of the above.

I got myself new clothes for the first time in years. At first, it was a necessity for work and interviews (i.e. I got, like, one shirt and one pair of pants). Then, after school started, I used Zalora for the first time in my life. I’d say that I still have a very minimalist wardrobe, with just enough pieces that I won’t look like I’m wearing the same thing every day.

I always knew what kind of style I liked, but was never able to own it, because in the preceding years, I told myself that there was no need for me to get new clothes unless they were absolutely essential (as in, school uniforms, basketball jerseys etc). So I knew what I wanted, but didn’t have any of it in my wardrobe. I’m grateful that this year, I took a small step to invest in myself.

What happens if you fail?

I’d started off my walk by finishing the audiobook I was on, My Morning Routine. The authors interviewed successful people on their morning routines, and one question they’d often ask was, “What happens if you fail?” Of course, a lot of interesting answers came out of that. Little did I know that I would have to face up to one of these moments myself, as I neared the end of the day.

The $29.90 portable charger I’d gotten from Challenger at midday turned out to have less than half-full battery. So much for $30. Now I had to entertain the very real possibility that even after detouring, even after spending nearly all the cash in my wallet, I was still doomed to have my phone die on me after all.

I didn’t allow myself to listen to any audiobooks or music that afternoon. I turned my phone to flight mode and the screen brightness to the lowest possible. Yet, as it neared sundown, my phone battery was draining unbelievably fast. With a sinking feeling, I knew that in all likelihood, I wouldn’t be able to finish the C2C Trail.

In spite of my exhaustion, I tried to pick up pace. I told myself to just keep going until my phone battery dropped to 10% (to be safe, I needed at least that much to get myself home). At 7:11pm, my phone battery hit 11%. My next checkpoint was Sengkang Riverside Park (Checkpoint 7 out of 10). I stopped at a bus stop and did a quick search on Google Maps. This would be the last bus stop on the trail for a while. If I wanted to go home, it would have to be now.

I dawdled for perhaps three minutes, during which time two buses came and left in quick succession. I took this as a sign. I wasn’t getting on the bus home. Then and there, I decided that I would finish the C2C Trail. I would walk all the way to Lower Seletar Reservoir Park. Once my phone battery died, I wouldn’t be able to clock my distance anymore, but that didn’t matter. After all, since when had I ever used such apps on any of my hikes? I quickly took screenshots of how to get home from Lower Seletar Reservoir Park, then trudged on.

As I got nearer and nearer to Sengkang Riverside Park, and my mileage crept closer and closer to 60km, my phone battery dwindled precipitously to 2%. I half-jogged for a few stretches. Come on, come on. Hit 60. I was smiling, laughing on the inside. It was beautiful there at night.

I’VE REACHED. It was 7:35pm when I snapped a quick photo of the Checkpoint 7 signboard and hurried on. My distance clocked stood at 60.03km. My phone battery was 1%. I decided to risk a few more minutes before, at 7:39pm, I stopped the workout on the MapMyWalk app. 60.15km. That was my final distance. Whatever I walked from now on would be off the record.

I quickly opened Google maps. The last thing I remember searching was how long it would take to walk from Punggol Waterway Park (the next Checkpoint) to Lower Seletar Reservoir Park (the last Checkpoint). I barely caught a glimpse of “2 hr 5 min” before my phone screen went black.

As I stood there, numb from the past 14 hours on foot, I wanted desperately to go on. Then my rational mind took over. First came the important realisation that the screenshots I’d saved for my directions home were on my phone, which was now dead. All the directions were by bus with at least one transfer, and I wouldn’t have been able to recall the bus numbers, nor the names of the bus stops I had to get to. Even if I did make it to Lower Seletar Reservoir Park, it would be close to midnight, and I’d be stranded without a clue of how to get home.

It was stupid, and it was sad. Because I knew that I could do it. If only I’d planned in advance for the phone battery problem.

That was when I had to grapple with the question: “What happens if you fail?”

I used to wake up at 5:30am every morning, consistently. I’d be up on the first ring of my alarm. When I moved into hall, there were nights when I inevitably ended up sleeping late. There came a point when I’d accumulated so much sleep debt that I wouldn’t hear my alarm at all. I’d end up waking past 6am, “late” for my usual morning workout. There were also countless times this year when I completely blacked out at my desk during the day, sometimes more than once. There were times when I felt unbelievably lethargic during the day. There were those very unproductive days. I forgave myself, every single time.

Part of the bad days, I knew, was a result of lack of sleep and my body still in a suboptimal state. Moving forward, I resolve to make my physical health and vitality a top priority. But the critical thing is, I maintained a positive mindset and moved on. I didn’t beat myself up.

I took one last wistful glance at the signboard pointing to the next destination (“Punggol Waterway Park, 3.1km”), vowed to be back someday to walk the C2C Trail from start to finish, then turned to go.

Truth be told, I had no idea how to get home. But an MRT track was in sight, and I figured I’d walk along it until I reached a station. The “MRT track” turned out to be an LRT track, and I found myself at Farmway station, which I didn’t even know existed. What an adventure.

With my phone dead, I couldn’t write any of my thoughts down nor read like I usually did. I didn’t even have a pen. So I simply stood on the train ride home, alone with my thoughts once more.

Pain? What pain?

By the time I was walking home from the MRT station, I was hobbling. I couldn’t straighten my right leg. I couldn’t understand why—there was only a slight throbbing pain at the back of my knee. Stop limping, I commanded myself. Speed up. It wasn’t until a day later, when my mum half-shrieked, “What happened to the back of your knee?”, that I twisted around and saw the large red contusion blossoming over my popliteal fossa. Oh, so that’s why it hurts.

I also didn’t realise that I’d acquired four fresh blisters until I turned on the shower and sucked in a breath as the water hit my feet. I vaguely remembered feeling my right foot starting to blister barely a few hours into the walk. Later in the day, the afternoon thunderstorm had drenched my socks and shoes in seconds, and I’d carried on with cold and wet feet for the rest of the way. How on earth had I made it all that distance?

Objectively speaking, I was spent. I hadn’t fuelled properly, had probably pushed myself to keep up too fast a pace at certain points, and had aches all over my body that I wasn’t even registering. But somehow, I was wholly convinced that if I’d chosen to, I could have kept on walking.

This year I reminded myself that it was “mind over matter”. When I got onto the cycle ergometer for the VO₂ max practical session (Dec 1), the whole area around my tailbone still hurt (from when I’d fallen hard on my butt on the way to the SRC track). But I wanted to do it so much that the pain didn’t matter. So it was on the trail.

None of it was easy, though. Whenever I walked past an MRT station, I’d only half-jokingly think to myself, you could go home now and stop wasting your life. When the first raindrops started at 1:30pm just as I was about to head towards Bukit Batok Nature Park, I contemplated if I should continue. When it began pelting rain between MacRitchie Reservoir and Bishan-Ang Mo Kio Park and every weather forecast predicted “scattered thunderstorms”, it was almost a sign to just head home.

Physical exhaustion and the complete lack of fun were twin forces sapping my energy, constantly. As I walked, I thought of all the times I’ve challenged myself in the past. Not just physically, but every single time I’ve stepped up to do something that felt utterly daunting in the moment, and every single time I’ve pushed past physical or emotional pain. You are a fighter. How many times had I said those exact words to myself, when I was so, so ill? I had to keep repeating it, like I was someone else looking down at my own crumpled form, yelling, Get up! Get up! Now I believe in it. Now I live it as my identity.

Who you are is defined by what you’re willing to struggle for.

Mark Manson, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck: A Counterintuitive Approach to Living a Good Life

Work harder or, maybe, let go

The first time it happened, I had just walked the whole stretch of Bedok Reservoir. I was about to turn out and head west, when I checked my MapMyWalk app to find the whole screen frozen. It wouldn’t load. After a few frustrating minutes of trying everything, the screen finally unfroze, but the app drew a straight line from where it had last detected my location (just outside the reservoir) to where I was now (at the end of the long stretch). None of the distance in between had been recorded. This happened multiple times throughout the day. As a result, the total distance clocked was woefully inaccurate.

I used to believe so much in hard work. Then everything that happened in those two years showed me that sometimes, no matter how hard you work, nothing will come out of it. I’ve been through hell. I’ve felt pain and loss acutely. Nothing can break me now. That was my mindset going into this year. But, once again, my belief in hard work was put to the test. The fact of life is this: you could have poured your heart and soul into something, yet in the end, you will be left with nothing. Absolutely nothing.

So many “failures” this year. Being notified that the hospital attachment opportunity I’d worked so hard to secure was now cancelled due to Covid (Jan 29); abandoning my first book idea after close to 40,000 words written and with less than a month to finish a new one (Feb 3); scrapping my whole social media and blogging idea (minimalism) to start on something new (Mar 18); getting rejected from NUS medicine (May 13); being notified after attending the scholarship interview that I couldn’t be considered since my family income—when the annual bonus was added—didn’t meet the criteria (May 20); receiving rejections for every opportunity I tried for at the start of medical school (Sep 14, Journey app); thinking that I couldn’t play well before I’d even stepped onto the court (Sep 22, Journey app).

With each came different levels of devastation. But I’ve since learnt to focus on what I have, and what I can do. I’ve learnt to always look ahead, and hold my head high.

I’ve learnt that each “failure” is an opportunity for me to reaffirm myself, rather than to ruthlessly strike myself down. I’ve learnt to let go of the idea that some things must be a certain way. For whatever happens will ultimately turn out to be the best thing that could have happened—even if I couldn’t see that in the moment.

Goals create an “either-or” conflict: either you achieve your goal and are successful or you fail and you are a disappointment. You mentally box yourself into a narrow version of happiness. This is misguided. It is unlikely that your actual path through life will match the exact journey you had in mind when you set out. It makes no sense to restrict your satisfaction to one scenario when there are many paths to success.

James Clear, Atomic Habits: An Easy & Proven Way to Build Good Habits & Break Bad Ones

The smallest things

This was the year I rediscovered beauty in the simplest of things. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve simply gazed at the sky and felt the resplendence deep in my bones. It’s funny how many times this year I’ve said, “let’s go catch the sunset”, and every single time I verbalised that, it never came true.

Beauty comes in unexpected moments. The sunset at EMB (Dec 1) was more perfect than I could have wished for. Beauty comes when you are present—fully present—to feel it with your heart. On my New Year’s Eve walk, even though there were no snow mountains in the distance, even though along some stretches I was in the company of way too many cars, I still felt so many moments of beauty along the trail.

14 hours on foot… and one year gone by. Why did I do this? I still don’t know. Except maybe, some things don’t need a reason. Your heart leading you onto that path is reason enough.

“The only journey is the one within.”

Rainer Maria Rilke

P.S. There was actually one more section I wanted to write, “Rules are meant to be broken”. I stopped myself in the end, deciding that it wasn’t worth the risk of getting expelled.