With the double pram I cross the street when an older man comes to ride a racing bike next to us. “Nice say, twins,” he says. “But certainly a lot of work?” Even before I can answer, he sprints away again. I am jealous. Survey white hair, bronze skin and no gram of fat. Clearly a pensionado with a lot of time to enjoy cycling.
As I bump further, I think of the miserable state of my own vintage racing bike. He was always safe and dry with us in the corridor, but after the birth of the girls he had to make way for the pram. Since then he is lying outside in a bicycle rack, handed over to the elements. The tape around the steering wheel is now loose, the lacquer layer peel off and rust on the chain. It doesn’t come from cycling anymore. The subscription to the gym is also dusting. The last time I hung in the weights there, I can’t remember.
“I couldn’t get it over my heart to stay in bed while she would quietly leave the house”
Later that afternoon we are with the whole family in a playground near us. “Shall we go to the library later?” Asks my girlfriend. “You know what,” I say. “I am already going, because I have to pee enormously.”
Half running I turn the corner. Just like me, cursing myself that I have stopped it all too long and that the library is still quite far away, the redemption looms at the end of the street: my gym! Full of toilets! That I did not immediately think of that; After all, I pay 45 euros every month. I grab my phone and scan the QR code at the counter to check in. A cheerful pingje sounds immediately. My screen fills itself with a picture of a gold medal. “Congratulations, you’ve done 125 training!”
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