This past year, I've realised that before I embark on a mission of self-enrichment, it is a great idea to take a good, hard look at myself first.

I came to realise this after my year-long search for a useful skill that I could learn.

Let me start from the beginning, or more accurately, January 2019.

It was then, when the new year was fresh with its seemingly infinite opportunities, that I contemplated taking up a course in data science.

The choice was a sensible one, I thought. Workers who can understand data science are increasingly in demand as companies use more and more data in their business decisions.

Picking up data skills would be a way for me to "future-proof" myself, given that data has been called the "new oil", an indicator of how lucrative the growing sector is.

I thought that a better understanding of data science could help me in my job. I would be able to better engage interviewees who work in data science or help the paper use data to grow its readership after attending the course.

I looked up some of the courses available, which ranged from one free session to a seven-week class that cost $2,000 before goods and services tax.

But after my initial enthusiasm, I soon realised I had overestimated my interest in the subject and my ability to understand algorithms and coding.

I had forgotten my tears of frustration when I struggled to understand concepts taught in additional mathematics classes back in school.

I knew that I would be dragging my feet to a data science class, looking on the lessons as a chore that I would dread having to do.

My resolve to learn more about data science weakened, the idea got buried deeper into my mind's recesses and I could never summon enough motivation to register for a class.

But it did lead to a realisation - that I would be better off spending my free time on things I have an interest in and a passion for.

While learning data science seems a practical but daunting prospect, learning to speak Hokkien and to ride a bicycle seem more like what personal enrichment should be.

Let me explain.

A colleague had asked if I wanted to accompany her in learning Hokkien, a dialect familiar to me as it is part of my cultural heritage.

My father's side of the family speaks the dialect, and I grew up with my paternal grandparents who spoke mostly Hokkien.

So I thought, why not go for classes? I could reconnect with a dialect I had lost touch with after my grandparents died more than 10 years ago, when I was in my late teens.

So it was no surprise that I was enthusiastic about the classes held every Wednesday evening for eight weeks at the Singapore Federation of Chinese Clan Associations in Toa Payoh. Each session lasted about 1.5 hours, and the course cost $280.

I'm proud to say I missed only one class, and that was because I was serving my in-camp reservist training in Sungei Gedong. This was quite a feat for someone who had called off dinner plans with friends because he was not in the mood.

Throughout the two months, I looked forward to the classes and read through the textbook in my free time. I told my supervisor I was not going to stay late in the office on Wednesdays, and I also practised the dialect with my father.

It helped that my colleague and two friends were also in the course, and we would meet for dinner before class. Sadly I was not able to go further with my lessons as not enough students had signed up for the intermediate classes with the Singapore Hokkien Huay Kuan.

While the basic course in Hokkien was all fun and good, to me it did not really count as picking up a useful skill.

I was not proficient in the dialect after the eight classes, even if I could understand basic terms.

So I was back to looking around for a new skill I could master.

My search ended in November.

That month, the authorities, in response to a spate of accidents, banned the use of electric scooters on all footpaths. Bicycles were proposed as alternatives to personal mobility devices for delivery riders who were frustrated by the ban.

I wanted to better understand their frustrations - is Singapore's thrust towards active mobility not bolstered by a supportive network of cycling paths?

There was just one thing though - I could not ride a bicycle, having given up on lessons at a young age after a nasty fall.

So I signed up for a lesson on how to ride a bicycle at Cycle School SG, which I found online and cost $90 an hour. Learning to cycle also meant I would be fulfilling my 2019 New Year plan.

That was how, on a Saturday afternoon in December, I ended up sweating on a bicycle at a multi-storey carpark in Tiong Bahru. After my first lesson, I could balance on a bicycle, cycle with confidence and was encouraged to book another class the next day to get better at making turns.

The $180 I paid for the two classes felt like money well spent.

That was about a month ago and since then, I have spent another $380 on a foldable bicycle, a tyre pump and a chain lock, among other accessories. I am also getting free lessons on bicycle maintenance at a Choa Chu Kang bicycle shop.

With my new wheels, I have since enjoyed many evenings pedalling freely - once cycling three hours from where I live in Bukit Panjang all the way to Sembawang Park.

Another night, on a whim, I rode from Gardens by the Bay to Changi Village. The journey took about 2.5 hours.

I'm pretty sure I would not have had this sense of accomplishment and enjoyment if I had taken a course in data science.

I know myself too well: Although it would have been of more practical use for my career, I would have probably made excuses to miss classes and given up halfway.

Learning to cycle has opened up a whole new world to me, so I resolve to pick up another useful skill this year.

In choosing what that will be, I know now to let my heart, and not just my head, help me make the right decision.