Back to the Beginning

This edition is a a little ahead of the usual Friday writings. In part to celebrate the launch of the Frodissmo collection from Ryzon, in part to kick myself back into gear after a solid digital detox…

I hope you managed to enjoy a few days off! A week in Sardinia, a few days at home and a road trip to the south of France has filled my cup. As the sun starts to rise a little later and the thermometer starts to drop just a little, I look back on the summer that made me fall in love with running again.

Since retirement, I've had little patience for spending the first 10 minutes of my days moving like a rusty gate that hasn't been oiled since the Sydney Olympics. Old injuries left me little choice, but it seems even they have decided to dial down their morning theatrics a bit. Which reminded me of the good old days, when moving was just that-simple movement. Getting out and running to a friend's house, running to the beach where the waves were just a bit better, or running to the top of a mountain to check the view. You know, before discovering the joy of overcomplicating everything.

Then, somewhere along the line, the watch became gospel. The training plan became scripture. The simple joy of swimming, biking, and running- in that order, for reasons that still seem mildly ridiculous when you really think about it- gets buried under power zones and lactate thresholds and the endless pursuit of marginal gains.

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. If you haven't read Christopher McDougall's "Born to Run," I highly recommend it. I've been running while listening to it again, and whilst I love my plush, cushioned shoes (he's basically advocating for sticking a thin rubber sole under your feet and calling it good), the idea of at least sometimes just running for the pure enjoyment of nature, allowing whatever pace my body gives me on the day, has been a real joy.

We've taken something as fundamentally human as running (or swimming, or pedaling) and turned it into a science project. Complete with data analysis that would make a NASA engineer weep with pride.

I'm not trying to advocate living off chia seeds, sunshine and rubber sandals here- my morning coffee habit alone would disqualify me from that lifestyle. But I find it's a good reminder to keep some simplicity in the process. How much is obviously individual, but remembering the little kid inside of you from time to time might just be the thing that keeps you motivated, allows you to go further or faster, and becomes what finally allows you to get the very best out of yourself come race day. Just by remembering why we fell in love with this ridiculous sport in the first place.

For me, at least, it wasn't the data. It wasn't the validation of improvement or the satisfaction of executing a perfect workout. It was simpler than that: the pure, uncomplicated joy of being tired in a good way. Of earning your hunger. Of moving through the world slowly enough to actually see it, fast enough to feel alive. It's what every kid on a bicycle knows instinctively-movement is its own reward. The moment you need it to be something more (a statement, a career, an identity), you risk losing the thing that made it beautiful in the first place.

Again, I'm not suggesting we throw out our training plans and dust off our childhood BMX bikes. Structure has its place. Improvement feels good. Goals matter. But maybe, occasionally, we need to remember what it felt like before we knew better. Before we optimized the wonder out of it and turned every easy jog into a consultation with our wrist-mounted personal trainer.

Some of the best athletes I know never lost that rookie sense of amazement. They still geek out over a perfectly executed brick session. They still laugh when they bonk spectacularly- usually while texting their friends about how they "forgot" humans need calories to function. They train with intention but race with joy, pursuing excellence without forgetting that the real victory is surprising ourselves with how far our bodies can take us when we stop overthinking them.

So here's to progress over perfection. To rookie mistakes and brilliant recoveries. To the swimmers who forget their wetsuits and the runners who take wrong turns and the cyclists who bite off more than they can chew. To everyone who's figured out that the best way to get better is to occasionally remember why we got into this in the first place- for the sheer, uncomplicated love of it.

The mountains don't care about your power-to-weight ratio. The water doesn't track your stroke efficiency. The road doesn't measure your cadence.

They just ask you to show up. Everything else is just details.

Keep moving,

Jan

To celebrate the launch of the Ryzon Frodissimo Signature Line, I´m giving away a Cycling Bundle amongst all my subscribers. Sign up if you haven´t already for a chance to win.