He used to race. Once he even raced Remco. He won. By a lot.Then life went quiet: seven years off the bike, the same days on a loop, a whole world he kept meaning to go see and never did, twenty kilos that showed up uninvited, a comfort zone with the door welded shut. He kept waiting to feel alive again. It never arrived in the post. So he's going to go get it the most ridiculous way he can think of: 1,285 kmover the Alps, to hand-deliver a letter to a bike company that has never once written back. Honestly, it was never really about ROSE. It's about doing the terrifying thing before you talk yourself out of it. If a soft, scared, out-of-shape guy can point a bike at the Alps and just pedal, what's the thing you keep putting off?