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Doing things halfway is not my thing. But last year I surprised myself.

In February, right after my birthday, I bought my self a race bike. I didn’t cycle for 30 years except when I was abroad. In New York, Boston, Sri Lanka, Bali, Beijing I know my way around on two wheels. For two months, I checked all the websites, brands, and types of racing bikes to find this one second hand up north in Hoogeveen. Some negotiations, a two hour drive and I was the proud owner of a bright red-orangish Specialized Roubaix with a SRAM Red group and 9th Wave wheels.

Next was to get a bike fitting at the dealer after I had checked websites to check out all the correct measures of saddle height, reach, drops and what have you. The guy in the shop was happily surprised about my garage find and that made me feel even better. The bike had hardly any kilometres under its belt. That’s different today.

A whole new world has opened to me: great literature (De filosofie van de heuvel, Ilja Leonard Pfeijffer, Tank), Strava, riding with the Olympic sailors in Friesland, shaving unshaved places, different kind of bibs with chamois & jerseys, wonderful friends, muscles unseen for a long time, nature and a different relation to wind and mountains.

The storyline is that I wanted to spend as much time on the bike as I did in the car before covid-19 measures. The real story is that I enjoy it big time and almost feel guilty to step on it again.

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