We see different cycling cultures pop up all over the world, on nearly every continent and in all sorts of wild and wonderful forms. But many would be surprised to learn it’s alive and kicking — smack bang on the Southeast Asian equator — in Singapore.
Lucky me, every year or so I duck back to see family, and I always pack the bike. Why? Because a family trip conveniently doubles as a supremely epic training block — not to mention it gives me the moral green light to fully lean into my eating exploits.
On this visit, I dropped a buzz to a couple of Team Maverick mates — a group of Singapore expats who race hard, often, and run the infamous local Sunday Singapore Chop.
What used to be known as The Hammer Ride is sadly no more. Thanks (or no thanks) to the local "red-light-optional" tendencies, it’s now gone the way of the dodo. Which is a shame, given Singapore is otherwise a very “do-the-right-thing and toe-the-line” kind of place. Honestly, IMO that governing philosophy is probably the nation’s secret sauce. Things just work.
For the past few years, group ride limits have been capped at 10 riders max. Sad face. 😔
But fret not — out of these tighter restrictions emerged something a bit special: The Sunday Chop. An informal, graded handicap race that kicks off up north at Sungai Kadut (literally “Kadut River”) at 7:30 a.m.
Maybe it’s the one-hour ride to the start line, maybe it’s the fact no one has an excuse not to be warmed up — either way, once the three-minute gap between groups ticks over, it’s boom time. No chill. Just vibes, velocity, and vengeance.
Now, for a city-island of 6 million people, with a skyline more vertical than a cat 1 climb, you’d be shocked how lush and sprawling the north side can feel. Rolling through it, you’d swear you were deep in some rural patch of Malaysia or the jungle backroads of Vietnam. Singapore’s green space may be limited, but what it does have is utterly dialled. The riding is amazing. Perfectly groomed asphalt snakes through immaculately guttered farm roads. Only Singapore could make rural feel like premium real estate.
Back to The Chop. I was in BLOCK — the second-last group to roll out — being chased down by SCRATCH, which included the supremely lean Singapore national team and a full contingent of absolute weapon riders hellbent on mowing us down.
My BLOCK crew? A mixed bag. Some lean, mean, young guns. A couple of Spanish and Italian blow-ins who, despite throwing down 200+ turns, still hadn’t quite grasped the ancient wisdom of “brief steady pull, then roll off easy.” It’s not jazz, boys — it’s a rotating paceline.
For the uninitiated, a “chop” is a style of informal racing where each group takes short, steady turns on the front to keep the pace as high as possible without dropping the slower riders. Done right, a group of 6–10 can roll like a freight train — smooth, fast, and deadly efficient.
I had a pre-planned bail-out point — breakfast with the family at the hotel. Lucky that, too, because I got absolutely shelved on the short but brutal climb near the end of the Chop. Legs: zapped. Ego: singed. Soul: lightly toasted.
But spirits? Soaring.
I soft-pedalled my way through the rolling backroads, across MacRitchie Reservoir, and into Novena for brekkie. I stared blankly through the omelette chef while loading up on eggs and existential reflection.
Singapore Tip: Take the bike.
The roads are smooth. The drivers are courteous. The food, cycling loops and island adventures… there for the taking.
