Didn’t have any major goals this year, but tried a few brevets. No grand targets. No pressure. Just ride, explore, and enjoy the rhythm of long days and nights in the saddle
BHPian aneezan recently shared this with other enthusiasts:
Mid-Year Update for 2025:-
Didn’t have any major goals this year, but tried a few brevets. No grand targets. No pressure. Just ride, explore, and enjoy the rhythm of long days and nights in the saddle.
January – from Brabant via Limburg to Zeeland (and back?!) – 200km:
The first brevet was toward the end of January, still deep in the winter season. As I half-expected, I DNF’d at 76km.
Things started well: pacing was solid, and I managed to stick with a group, rolling comfortably at 25–30 km/h. But the cold won. It rained too. My fingers and toes gradually went from painful to numb, and at around 75 km, I had to call it. A tough decision, but a necessary one.
Still, it wasn’t a wasted ride — more like a lesson. Cold-weather riding is its own discipline, and I wasn’t quite prepared.
February – Maastricht BRM 200K: Festina Lente
Cracked this one!
The route started and ended in Maastricht, looping through Germany, turning back from Venlo, and skimming parts of Belgium before returning to the start. True climb country — and yes, some certified classics were on the menu: Camerig and Loorberg, both featured in the Amstel Gold Race.
But strangely, it wasn’t the climbs that hurt the most. It was the wind. The last 80 km felt like riding into a propeller fan at full blast— solid Zone 4 headwinds all the way to the finish. Brutal, and relentless.
Still, done and dusted. A confidence boost after January’s cold shutdown.
March – Rondje Fryslân Brm 300k
DNF’d again at 126km — my first attempt at a 300 km ride.
The route took us through the flat, lowlands of Friesland. On paper, it looked manageable: no climbs, just endless pancake-flat terrain. But out there, flat doesn’t mean easy, especially when the wind shows up.
Things went smoothly until around the 90 km mark. Then it hit: a wall of wind, stronger, even, than what I faced in Maastricht.
There’s that saying — “the winds are the Dutch mountains” — and this ride brought that to life in full force.
Eventually, I had to call it. Another DNF, but again, another lesson logged: wind is its own kind of climb, and respect for it only grows with each ride.
April – Brussels Loop (300k)
Not a brevet this time — just a ride I wanted to do.
After the DNF in March, I couldn’t quite sit with it. So I mapped out a solo loop to Brussels and set off. The winds, for once, were kind — tailwinds all the way to the Belgian capital.
But Brussels? Let’s just say the Dutch cycling infrastructure spoils you. The bike roads there were either broken, missing, or both. Navigating the city was more stressful than some of the open-road stretches.
A few short climbs tested the legs, and there was some headwind on the return, but nothing unmanageable.
It could’ve ended on a high — if not for the crash. Heavy rain hit just as I reached Eindhoven. In the dark, I didn’t spot a pothole in time and went down hard, banged up right elbow. Took a breather, regrouped, and kept pedaling. But the night didn’t ease up — rain kept pouring, visibility got worse, and at around 304 km, I finally stopped.
Not the perfect ending, but I got what I needed from the ride.
May – Liberation! Amsterdam 400 km Brevet
What a ride! Easily the highlight of the year, so far — not just because I finished it, but because of everything that happened along the way.
The brevet started at 8:00 PM from Amsterdam, heading south through the heart of the Netherlands. Some short but nasty climbs around Nijmegen stung the legs, then on through Eindhoven before looping back north toward Amsterdam.
It was cold. Temperatures dropped to 3°C during the night, and there were moments where I seriously thought about quitting. But the name of the ride — Liberation! — felt more than symbolic. I stuck it out, largely thanks to the incredible group I was with: around 20 riders riding as one, from start to finish.
By early morning, we rolled into North Eindhoven, just shy of 260km, and stopped at a McDonald’s for breakfast — where my wife and kids showed up to cheer me on. That small moment meant everything. Refueled in every sense, we pushed into the headwind for the final stretch and wrapped up the ride well within the time limit.
It was long, cold, and painful — but also joyful, deeply rewarding, and unforgettable. A true liberation, in every sense!
May 31 – NH and Holterberg 600K Brevet
DNF at 231km — and honestly, I saw it coming.
I had signed up early for this one, but as the date approached, I knew I wasn’t in the right shape — physically or mentally — to take on 600 km. Still, I showed up at the start line in Amsterdam, hoping the ride might surprise me.
The route traced the coastline through dikes and polders — stunning, but very exposed to nature’s elements. From the very beginning, my body just wasn’t responding well. The coastal winds were punishing. I stuck with the group until Den Helder, where we turned south, and that’s when the real struggle began. I bonked and mentally shut down.
I told the group (the last group on the road) to carry on without me, sat down, ate, and regrouped. Then I rode solo through the dunes and along the coast, eventually making it to Haarlem by late evening. That’s where I called it. Train home. No regrets.
June – Fietselfstedentocht 2025 – 235 km
The Eleven Cities Tour — one of the most iconic rides in the Netherlands, and rightly so. Starting from Bolsward, this 235 km route goes through eleven historic cities in Friesland, tracing a path through centuries-old streets, bridges, canals, and cheering crowds.
Rather than ride, I would call it a celebration of sorts. With a hard cap of 15,000 riders and a waitlist that grows each year, spots are awarded through a lottery system. Our start time was 7:20 AM, with the only real rule being: finish before midnight.
This ride was a lot of fun — at a leisurely pace, with controls every 15–20 km, and a festive atmosphere that never let up.
We saw everything: tandem bikes, unicycles, penny farthings, people in all sorts of costumes, and riders doing the entire 235 km on the most improbable machines imaginable, all powered by their legs and/or hands.
What made it special wasn’t just the ride, but the overall vibe. Locals cheering in every village. Riders chatting, singing, even dancing on their bikes. Despite the distance, I never felt tired. Didn’t notice the winds too. With 15,000 cyclists around you, there’s always someone riding your pace — or someone you want to ride with, and going along with the flow.
Our group rolled in at around 8:30 PM, surprisingly refreshed and smiling. Would do this again, every year!
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