Spent the weekend in the sunny hills of the province of Limburg, together with a strange mix of cycling friends. Although some of us hadn’t seen each other since the previous edition of this weekend two years ago, it was like we’ve been cycling together very often. All individuals in the group are very different characters but what binds them is the bicycle, the relaxed attitude and, though no legendary cyclists, they’re all cycling legends in some sense. Limburg is the only area in Holland with hills to climb, which works attracts cyclists from the flat rest of the country. For me it was the first time on my race bike since 6 months or so; I’d only been running in the mean time. Now I can tell you that running isn’t quite the same as cycling. The boldness to go for a 120km ride untrained I had to pay for in the end. Despite a strong start and a shorter distance, the next day ended just as bad. Nevertheless, the fatigue in the legs afterwards always feels so good, that the fluffy legs on the Camerig climb are soon forgotten. Besides, my physical condition appeared not to be the worst in the group, which strengthened my morale. Overall, compared to last time, the level was down I’m afraid. Are we getting old? The weekend was great anyway, and race cyclists remain race cyclists in their hearts as long as their club outfits aren't worn.
A highlight was the football game on Saturday evening. Immediately after dinner, with the pile of pasta bolognaise still in tact in our stomachs, we found ourselves in a fanatic soccer game nobody wanted to lose. Not before dark we walked off the field, our trousers covered with green grass stains like children called in for dinner by their moms. But hey, what matters: we won!
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