The parking lot of a hotel in Emmen is slowly filling up on Monday morning. Cycling shoes are put on, bicycles are checked one last time and people drink coffee in groups in the bright sun. Friends, family, acquaintances, but also people who do not know Per Kampman (47) at all. They have come for the last kilometers. On the bike one more time, towards Meppel to raise money for Parkinson’s research.
For Kampman himself it feels almost unreal. He left Stockholm thirteen days ago and has now traveled more than 1,500 kilometers in his legs. Miles of rain, wind, sleepless nights and moments when his body had long since indicated that enough was enough. “That everyone makes the effort on Whit Monday, with this beautiful weather, while they can also lie on the beach. But to cycle with me, what can I say,” he says, visibly touched. “That says it all, what’s here.”
Kampman was diagnosed with Parkinson’s three years ago. Since then his life has changed dramatically. Still, he decided to do something that even experienced cyclists find difficult. Cycling from Stockholm to Meppel to raise money for Parkinson’s research. While he himself says he doesn’t even like cycling. “I’m impulsive and wanted to do something crazy,” he laughs. “And Stockholm was my first work trip abroad in the past. That combination made it special.”
Along the way, the adventure became greater than he had dared to dream. On the very first day, perhaps also the toughest, two elk suddenly appeared along the road. “That was so beautiful, I will never forget it.” And friends also came to visit him. Two friends who drove a thousand kilometers each way to cycle with him for just one afternoon and evening. His parents were also on the trip, they followed him in the camper for thirteen days. “That that is still possible, going out together at that age. That is very special.”
But along the way, his body paid the price. “Physically it’s done,” Kampman says honestly. “The legs don’t want to go around in circles anymore. It’s over.”
“It became harder to get out of bed in the morning and I sleep very poorly,” he says. “So you don’t really rest anymore.” Yet he got on his bike every morning, purely through willpower. “I didn’t think I could hold on so well,” he says. “I thought we had to cover many more stretches with the camper. But no. We did it.”
What got him through? He doesn’t have to think about it for long. Texts from his sons are written on his bicycle helmet. “‘It’ll be fine’ and ‘you can do it’. Those words have come up many times,” he says as he becomes emotional. “Yes, nice.”
Kampman had a lot of time to think along the way. About the disease, the future and what is yet to come. “It’s progressive,” he says calmly. “And in the last two years it has deteriorated rapidly. I hope it remains stable, but I have no say in that.” He looks ahead for a moment, at the people who are ready for the last kilometers. “So we get the most out of it every day.”
Later that day Kampman drives into Meppel. Tired, but smiling. People are clapping along the side, cyclists pull up next to him one more time. After almost two weeks on the road, it’s over.
“I actually look back on it with a very good feeling,” he says, laughing. Then follows a short silence. “But will I do it again? Well, not yet.”
