It started quietly — like most brave decisions do.
It didn’t start with a grand plan.
No spreadsheet, no bucket list, no “someday” dream.
At 43 and 46, we are no strangers to aches and creaks. Life has written stories into our joints. But somewhere beneath the mild pain and predictable routines was a louder voice:
“We are not done yet.”
We didn’t want to grow old watching others chase sunrises.
We wanted to feel the road under our tires, the wind against our faces, the childlike joy of choosing the long way home.
So we chose something big.
4,000 kilometers on bikes.
Just us, three wheels each, and a heart that says: go.
Not because it’s easy.
But because it’s the kind of crazy that wakes you up from a sleepy life.