After 15 years of a performance-focused lifestyle, where everything I did came down to the ultimate question: will this make me a better racer? I realized that this mindset and lifestyle were taking a big toll on me, physically and mentally. So, I wanted to return to my core values behind why I love to ride and rediscover the childlike joy of bikes.

So here is a story from a day where I’m doing just that. I’m in Stellenbosch, South Africa, it’s 6 am on a Thursday morning, and I’m heading out for a mountainbike ride. At home it feels unimaginable to wake up before 6 to be on the bike before 6.30, but down here 14.000km from home, the sun is shining warm and bright in my face so early it feels right. It’s like the sun is filling me up with energy from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet.

I want to ride for an endurance ride on the trails around Stellenbosch, a town just outside Cape Town, which has turned into an absolute athlete training hub over the years. Cyclists, triathletes, runners, track and field, swimmers, rugby.. you name it. I have been down here a few winters in a row now, and this athlete-town vibe makes it a special place. I have normally been down here preparing for the World Cup season, with big goals ahead, making it a very structured and focused time of the year. But this year, it’s different. It’s important for me to call it an endurance ride, not an x amount of hours ride, no, just a ride. It’s freeing. You don’t know where or for how long your bike is going to take you.

The morning air is crisp, and the temperature is still nice to ride in. It won’t take long before the sun is so strong that the air stands still, and I will be climbing the mountains at over 40 degrees Celsius.

My bike is working smoothly underneath me taking on each root and jump with ease, I feel the legs are starting to hurt and the sweat is popping out, but that’s exactly how it’s supposed to feel. I try not to stare too much at the power number on my Garmin, but it feels like a reflex, as I have done that for so many years. Letting go of habits and patterns is easier said than done.

After 2 hours, I stop to fill my water bottle and order a cold Cola, as I sit there, my partner Nino and his team-mate are rolling up beside me. Are you joining us for the last hour, Malene? I forget about the sore legs and the overheated body and head out on the dry African trails with them. My heart is pumping 10 times more per minute now, and on the climbs even more. That must be my on-the-go interval training for today, I’m thinking.

We find a cafe for lunch and then we hide away in the shade until the sun is almost setting. At sunset I want to do a run-climb up the mountain close by. Because, why not? Nino is quick to say yes, and we run up for an hour. Lungs are hurting and the terrain is rough, but oh, how I love to have a strong body that gives me the opportunity to run up a mountain any given Tuesday if I want to.

As we watch the sun disappear behind the mountains, I realise, that a day like today is the essence of why I love being active, why I love sport, why I love cycling. It makes me feel free, capable and, more than anything, it makes me feel alive. So, have I found that childlike joy I'm searching for? Perhaps. Or maybe I'm just starting to understand what it really means. It's not about winning or proving anything. Right now, to me, it's about being present, embracing the ride with curiosity, and finding happiness in the simple act of moving together.

For over a decade, cycling was about performance, results, and chasing the next goal. As I now step into this new chapter, I get to define what kind of cyclist I want to be. No longer bound by a single discipline or rigid expectations, I have the freedom to ride what I want, race what I want, and explore new challenges. That be taking on gravel races this spring or bike-packing adventures and exploring new destinations. This might just be my definition to ultimate freedom.

Will this approach make me a better racer? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t care. I just want to ride. No rules. No pressure. Just cycling.

STORY and pictures by MALENE DEGN
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