Matija is rather famous. Not only is he now in charge of the family restaurant (the third oldest on the island) but he is also the last child to be born on the island of Cres. All expectant mothers now take the ferry to the mainland to give birth but Matija arrived 10 days early, in the midst of carnival and there wasn’t a single sober adult to brave the sea with a heavily pregnant woman. The men promised to take her in the morning but Matija arrived rather suddenly and unrepentantly that very evening.
But it wasn’t Matija that impressed me, even with his effortless ability to switch between Croatian, German Italian or English – depending on which table he was serving – It was his sister that got my attention.
She had the poise of a dancer with the haughtiness of an East European offset by warm eyes the colour of the Adriatic. Her long brown hair rippled in the sea breeze that came off the water at this time of the evening.
In short – I was in love and was already planning our future together. I would buy a boat and become a fisherman on the island. She would run the tavern. I would live in this paradise and never return to the mainland, because, as they say; “There’s no stress in Cres.”
But maybe, just maybe, it occurred to me that perhaps I was just looking for a way out of my present predicament.
It was a few months before that a friend of mine broke her neck in a cycling accident and wanting to get her spirits up suggested we do a race together, thinking it would give her some motivation and a goal to work towards and aid her recovery. We finally settled on cycling down the coast of Croatia, a fairly modest distance of 1000km in 10 days, or so I thought. What I forgot to factor in was the pace and the elevation. Brutal for me but too slow for her…
Just yesterday we were joined by a German pro rider for part of the way. He took one look at us and suggested we slow down, as at this pace we would cover the 1000kays in 2 days. I tended to agree with him.
“Irgendtwann brehnt die fuer aus die ofen.”
And true enough 70km later I bonked spectacularly 10 km before the rather quaint town of Pula with a proper hypoglycemia crash.
“Oh well its just 10km “ I thought, but my body had had enough. I wanted to summon enough energy to fling the bike as far away from me as I could but didn’t have the energy to follow that simple thought through. It was so uncomfortable. I kept squirming in the saddle to find a manageable position but nothing worked. “ Hold on. Just hold on.” I kept thinking, my jelly legs mechanically trying to keep pedaling but I was just coasting. Eventually even my mind cleared and I had a rare moment of clarity. It did fleetingly occur to me that perhaps a walk up Lions Head wasn’t the best preparation I could of done for a trip like this.
Don’t be caught out unprepared as I was and get in touch with Embark to create a customized training program. It will save you from tears in the long run.
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Disclaimer: I’m in no way affiliated with embark but really like what they do and their approach to wellness.