8. Holiday. Shoes. Dune
The summer in the pandemic offered few possibilities for holidays abroad, where we’d normally go to follow the sun, so we had to look for alternatives in the Netherlands. It’s not that the summers are bad - especially in the last few years we had quite some hot days - but the chance of getting 2 sunless weeks with 15 degrees in July is not zero, to say the least. This makes booking in advance quite hazardous but, since having kids and not booking in advance is not an option, we took the risk. The very first day of the green light we booked a bungalow by the sea, friends, more kids, swimming pool included, excellent backup in case the weather was capricious.
I will not insist on the perks of the holiday, of any holiday in general (certainly not now during the new lockdown at the moment I am writing this!). No words about the culinary dissipation, both in essence and volume. And yes, there is strength in numbers when it comes to eating: the more the merrier, so being with friends didn’t make any diet thrive. When it comes to drinking, th… bottles… countless… beeeeep… sorry, I am entering a tunnel, I’ll call you later.
However, this holiday was different.
Before going there, a few words about the Dutch cuisine. Indeed, very few! The most noticeable thing is that, if you want to count the number of traditional Dutch dishes on your fingers, you can also play tennis at the same time. You won’t need a second hand anyway. Now comes the interesting part: diversity, entrepreneurial spirit, and dedication, they all meet in horeca. The result is that you can find a lot of restaurants with incredibly delicious food and, for sure, generous portions. The dark side is, you’re right, they will not improve your relationship with your scales. Au contraire. A normal dish and a beer (two beers is a beer, we all know!) and a few more at home (they are so cheap compared to the ones in the restaurant that it’s a pity to let the bargain go!) and something to nibble later (the dinner in the Netherlands is at 6/7 and the daylight by the sea in the summer lasts till 11, so plenty of occasions to have another dinner), plus the breakfast and lunch, will easily account for the calories of two normal days. Normal to replete days, not fasting!
Now, if you want to avoid the extra 5kg per holiday week, you need to have a plan.
As someone who had been around for a while, I came prepared: half of my clothes followed the regular holiday routine, exercised for years, especially when travelling by car: 20 T-shirts (let’s take them all, so I can choose), 3 pairs of long trousers (you never know when it’s getting cold), 4 nicely folded shirts (if we’re going to a fancier restaurant), some nice shoes (to match the trousers and the shirts). Of course I knew that I would end up wearing one pair of shorts and one, maximum two T-shirts for the whole holiday (the comfy ones, that I am not allowed to wear at work), but at least I’d be prepared. The novelty this time, though, was that the other half of my luggage was sports clothes. Never in my life had I brought so much with me. For I was determined to compensate for any form of self indulgence.
By the time I went on holiday, the main individual sport activity was biking (and tennis, but there, like in bridge, you need a partner). Running had just started and my intention was to use the holiday to see if I could ever really like it, or the few successful runs were just a moment of ego pumping and that’s it. Then I did something that I had never done in my whole life during holidays.
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| Typical weather in the Netherlands |
The first morning at the bungalow, I woke up before 7, sneaked out of bed so I wouldn't disturb the butterfly that would clearly storm the house and wake everyone up, slipped into some sports clothes and, without even drinking a coffee, off I went. To be fully honest, when I found myself outside in the crisp air (still in the Netherlands, there were 13 degrees at that time), in the bungalow park, almost everyone sleeping, me not having had a coffee even, I was so close to greet the day with an honest fuck it and go back to the house. But I kept going and, when I arrived at the sea, on the esplanade, and saw the lively activities, my mood changed in an instant. The weather was, evidently, Dutch, but I ignored it and went up north, the sea stretching to my left. It started to drizzle but I really got a buzz and didn’t notice the drops anymore. I kept watching the sea, went down to run on the wet sand left there by the night ebb, didn’t like it, came back on the esplanade, following the sea shore. I arrived at a panoramic point, took a few pictures, then came back, watching the same sea, only that now it was at my right.
I… liked it. Very much, to be true to myself. No recalls of the struggle I’d had not long ago. I knew I was ready for the next step.
By then, I had been running with my tennis shoes. Good ones, but different from what we know as “running shoes”. It was time to have the proper ones, so there I was, on a rainy morning in the charming city of Haarlem, having my feet measured and trying out a few pairs.
“What’s your running goal?”, the guy measuring my feet asked me.
“Eeeerrrrm, don’t know, didn’t think too much of it. 10k? Maybe half marathon?”
“Excuse me, didn’t hear you well”
“Let’s say 10km”
I have to admit that I felt a bit like a kid who got a new toy and couldn’t wait to play with it. And I reserved this for something special.
The shoes were wonderful, but I realised that they don’t run alone, so I still had to move my legs. In the end I was running more than I had intended, relishing the moment and admitting unashamedly that I loved it, while weaving a web of future events for myself. I betook myself to linking fancy unto fancy, as talented poets would put it.
Behind me, the dune was watching like a goddess of the desert. I felt her smile and I swear I heard her calling me. And, when a goddess calls, you go…
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