Our cycling trip from Graz began on the 18th of May, we are so far in Barcelona and heading towards Lisbon, 2000k is out of the way... :) 

 So what has happened in those 17 days?… actually it was only 15 of cycling… we decided to be kind of kind (actually it was really unkind) to our legs and take 2 rest days… ,more would have been better…. At some moments it did feel that  the whole thing was kind of exhausting. For me, in a way it has to be, to really appreciate the distance and the mountains, the weather, the roads, the bike… it has to be kind of difficult. Maybe I am at the core a workaholic in every sense, I enjoy to push and feel the burn of tiredness and exhaustion, although the paradox is that its ultimately untrue… I feel I do a good job when my legs are done. The truth is there is no job on a holiday.. its all for you… every day is yours and you can choose what you want, it seems I like to choose the hard way, it satisfies some part of me. Maybe one day I won’t need that anymore and just sitting on a beach, pure relaxation with no punishment to balance it, will satisfy me. For now, for the creature I am, I need to ride my bike hard and I need it to at some point feel like its too much, that it hurts and that I don’t want it anymore, except I know that I do, because no matter how much I hate the moment, I love the whole story of cycling a distance that could or should by some definitions be travelled in a different way. I love that we have travelled 2000k on a bicycle, the very machine that I partially earn my living with as a bike messenger, the very machine that puzzles me when I try to prove my mechanical skills, the very machine that I adore, love to look at, beautify, fashionize, idolise. I love my bikes… they get a rough ride sometimes with these kind of adventures, but they are there for me as a somewhat stable element in my life that is sometimes kind of turbulent. 

I remember about 5 years ago… a rough time, breaking up a love story, my emotions were everywhere, I felt no control, I was at one of my lowest points. My confidence was shaking so hard that I couldn’t pull it together, I was making mess after mess in every moment… what could I do? That was the question I asked a friend… she told me ‘you can ride your bike’ and so I did… to Milan… it was an emotional, lesson-filled journey. Then again scrolling back through time, 3 years ago… my whole world destabilised when I moved to Graz… I felt again thrown into confusion. I can’t write it all here, but when I say everything was going wrong… I really mean it, I was a mess, it was a mess, the only thing I wanted to do was ride my bike, but there was no time, 2 businesses needed attention. I decided to ride my bike from Serbia to Graz, I pretended it was simply a cheaper way to travel, in reality it was my life saver… please I just want to be alone on a bike for a bit. Now again as the years pass, at every opportunity I think about cycling somewhere. No matter how many times during the ride that I curse the road and hate myself for my impulsive ways, I know deep down that I love it and that its an important thing for me. 

So our journey so far was in some different parts

1. Graz to Trieste, which was in itself 346k, two days with three other friends joining us for the ride... up and down, up and down... a very hilly road. It was special to share these tough kilometres with these lovely people. I also learnt that carrying a lot of weight on your back wheel apparently does slow you down a lot... I always thought... its no biggie... ahh It was so hard to climb with all that... but I did it. I had my first burst of emotional splendour when I saw Trieste... after climbing you basically roll down the last 10k into the city (I had cycled into the city 5 years ago from another direction, but it had the same effect on me). After all the hard work, its so rewarding to glide into the beautiful city and see the sea.... and the beaches... mmmm.... its soul stirring. Experiencing it with people you love and care about, well its just double the sweetness. I already felt my first happiness tears starting, when I realised... yes I have another month ahead on the road... 

2. Italy.... there was about 800k left over to get across... and that is the biggest mistake you can make when cycling.. thinking that the road is just to get across.. Being myself... which is all I can be.. but yes can be a little scatterbrained, I hadn't thought the route out too much... one place to another.. a big map of Italy in my hands I chose what seemed be the shortest roads... do not do this! Research the roads and maybe use an offline map for cycling routes (we used MAPSme, more information on this coming up). When I chose the shortest roads there were so many trucks, I do not mind to ride in traffic, I guess I am used to it, but I hate

trucks... and these ones were the risky ones, one time it came so close to Tom, one foot or so away... It was scary and it makes you nervous. The whole first day from Trieste to Jeselo was pretty intense... so to avoid.. please check better ways.. we did this and its so much better. If you cannot find the bike routes (Italian signage is so confusing) use an offline map with the bike ways, it will pretty much always take you on smaller roads that are more comfortable for cycling. Lots of nice moments in Italy, one funny thing.. I've been staring at beaches and sand and water for the last two weeks.. or should I say passing them at different speeds.. I only managed to get in the water once... why?? every day when there is a day free its a thunder storm day.. a blessing and a curse it seems. My advice for my future self is that perhaps if you want to jump in the water.. the present moment is presenting itself to you and needs to be taken advantage of... I will try to jump into the water more... because its not always there back home and it seems to make me happy. The last kilometres in Italy, mean the last 150 or so... were the most impressive for me. The winding roads along the coastline... there were bike paths built through the mountains, plunging you into a darkness that was only sedated by blue and pink neon lights showing you the way. It was an amazing road. 

3. France... tough, tough roads... we were used to tackling 150k a day without too much complaint... but the roads along the coast to Marseille were so fucking hard... so much altitude and just confusing parts. Our offline maps did some real damage to my trust in it when it took us down a road that apparently we could cycle on, in reality it was only possible for dirt bikes... but we had started on it and had to continue. It was 13k of rough, muddy downhill... I felt so sorry for my poor bike as I heard it rattling and straining under the heavy bumps. I had my first emotional breakdown (first of many) told Tom I didn't want it anymore and squeezed out a few tears, my biggest complaint was that the fucking MAPS-ME had stolen my downhill... you see we had climbed about 1 hour uphill before and I looked forward to that beauty of a ride going down, instead it took one hour to cover 13k because we had to use the brakes 100 percent of the decent.. get it?... stolen downhill... I was so angry. The thought that came to my mind... and its there still so strong 'frustration comes, frustration goes.. the road is always there' no matter your feelings, the ever present road... it sits in front of you and invites you to try your luck.. you can curse it, you can praise it, you can hate or love it.. its always there, the same, unchanging, unmoving, uncaring... in all it states... you have to at some point get on with it and ride it. 

4. Spain, Barca... yes so we were happy to be clear out of France (sorry French friends, I know the country is beautiful), the Spanish border stood in front of me like a banner of achievement... we were almost in Barcelona so what could possibly go wrong? the first big half of our journey would be over. The problem with pushing yourself sometimes is that then your body starts to rebel and tell you its just not happy with this kind of treatment... it seemed it thought this would be a holiday, because that is what we were calling it back at home. The situation occurred that I had some sleepless nights on the last days of France, girl problems... so 48 hours of being awake pretty much, well I can handle it... but then we cycled the

next day 200k... I also felt fresh, because of enough coffee etc... but the next day from that I could not move my knee properly, it was suffering, 30k after the Spanish border... and 50k of hills into the day... a thunder storm started... 4pm... 70k left... I was feeling so weak... and you know what.. the train to Girona was only 5 euros and saved my knee from more pain. Sometimes you have to admit that its too much, I knew my limit and it was right there, we hopped on a train and got over to Girona in 40 minutes and arrived early enough to see the beautiful city. Something important, know when to be strong and know when to say its enough. Sometimes in life, you cannot say its enough, you do not have that luxury and you have to push through a lot of pain, but there are the other times. The times when you are pushing yourself and admitting that you need to stop is fine, its good and it shows that you are respecting your body and your state of being. lucky for me, I could ride the next day with no problem and my knee is now working perfectly good.. so I can still ride my bike. 

That seems to be all for now, the stories... pfff... there are so so so many more.. I cannot write it in one simple blog post.. but at least a few highlights for now are here. Thanks for listening.