Flobits

     With Luxembourg's experience came the great hope that maybe, just maybe, running might not be that too far a bridge. However, the proof of the pudding is in the eating. Besides, I don’t know how others operate, but for me it’s like this: it only counts if I manage to run the very same route on which I spat my lungs two months ago. It’s not only the number of km, it has to be the same terrain as well.      Back to the Netherlands, the sport agenda went on normally during the week: tennis, biking and, because the summer was in bloom, beer. Generally after exercising, just to keep the calories balance in place. When the weekend came, I was ready to try. Shoes on, music on and off I went, back on the trail that I had abandoned two months ago.      I noticed that biking had improved my legs. Good, one less thing to worry about, I thought. Or would it be one fewer thing to worry about? With this small dilemma in mind and the pragmatic explanation that life beats grammar, I covere

     The title is not about the place where d’Artagnan planned the duels with the three musketeers in the beginning of the famous novel (I bet my daughter is ultra teased now and she’ll start reading the books, although she obstinately refused to read them in her youth, no matter how hard I tried, including borrowing them in two copies - one for me and one for her - so we can do tandem reading, all to no avail!). Where was I, again? Yes, after the lockdown…      On June 1st, albeit timidly at first, life began to take its (new) normal course again. Restaurants opened, kids went back to school, travel bans were lifted, sport schools welcomed us again. Summer was looming, days became longer and brighter, all good ingredients for the spirit to be high. On top of it, tennis was back and so was the apres tennis . Time to see how the dilemma would be solved: was it love or just a flirt? Were those two months of biking enough to get me hooked or would I turn my back on it the moment I have a