It's been 93 days since I got on the bike again after months of illness thanks to CFS. The first session back then lasted 15 minutes and I had to rest afterwards.

After 75 days and 52 training sessions, I could ride at 231w for three hours at an average heart rate of 130bpm again. When I first got on the bike again I was only at 150w. So we're talking more than one watt per day of progress. I was EXCITED.

But then two weeks ago a cold hit me. I tried to ignore it and ride. I got on the bike afterwards too soon. I got frustrated. I made it worse. I'm an idiot.

There is no therapy to recover from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Even the cause is unknown to science to date.

I suffered from CFS symptoms for half a year. I used this time to read books, try lots of different interventions and recover eventually.

Here's my best guess hypothesis about cause & therapy:

CFS often starts with a normal infection. The same was the case with me in April this year. The infection does not cause CFS. But CFS develops in people whose immune system is incapable to fight off the infection. The body's defence is overrun and this leads to damage and CFS.

People with CFS have in one way or the other overloaded their immune system with stress prior to the infection. They did this by being in a situation one's body perceived as threatening to one's well-being for a very long time. So long that these people would be used to the stress so they would not be able to recognise the stress anymore.

The key to healing is to understand why the body perceives a threat and escape the stressful situation. This provides the body with the opportunity to recover.

Key literature I agree with: When The Body Says No by Gabor Maté, The MindBody Prescription by John E. Sarno, The Stress of Life by Hans Selye, "Dann ist das wohl psychosomatisch!" by Alexander Kugelstadt.

For all of my life I took pride saying "I can't stand still", "I need momentum", "I am driven".

That's nothing to be proud of. That's not my character. That's crystal clear evidence that I have a problem.

Being able to stand still and not having any pressure to do anything - that's called autonomy. That's healthy. And that's something to be proud of.

A few months ago I was suffering from the symptoms of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS).

I could not work anymore. I could not do sports anymore. I was only able to lie on the couch and watch TV.

There's no therapy for CFS. 75% are unable to work, 25% are homebound and there are 15-30 million sufferers worldwide.

The best thing medicine can offer is a so-called pacing strategy which helps you to live with the illness.

I think it's entirely unacceptable to live with the illness.

I tried things I now regard as totally crazy and not helpful at all. But I eventually tried one thing that worked.

Of course, you can't change reality. But what is reality? In most cases, that 's not as clear as it seems. And I guess if reality seems unbearable it's the better option to not accept it and have a crack at it.

You remember the tv show Criminal Minds?

They always started an episode with a quote.

I remember one episode which started with the following: "What lies behind us, and what lies before us, are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

I have done bike races around volcanoes, founded startups, travelled to more than 40 countries, hosted carnival shows, went on safaris and I'm sure you have done many exciting things as well.

Yet in every conversation I ever had, these exciting things were never the exciting part. The exciting part is what's inside you, what nobody can see unless you want to show them.

It's like having a brilliant chess strategy but being unable to execute it. Because there's this primal part of your brain that just wants to capture pieces immediately. Regardless of position or long-term advantage.

The immediate capture. It feels like winning. But the moment you have made the capture, you realise it's actually derailing the real game plan entirely.

When I swapped cycling coaches, the first thing the new coach did was to cut down my training.

I hated it. I wanted to get better faster. And what did this guy do?

How astronomically wrong I was. My progress became MUCH faster.

Giving my body more time to make the adaptations was a much better choice than spending more time on the bike.

More is more, right?

Before I got sick in the beginning of April, I would do my longer endurance rides at a power of 245-250 watts (w) and a heart rate of 130 beats per minute (bpm)

When I started to get on the bike again in late September, I could only do 150w at 130bpm. I lost around 100w.

Today, just seven weeks later, I'm back above 200w and just recorded 204w at 130bpm. That's 54w of progress in 7 weeks - 8w per week.

Expectation is that this linear weekly progress continues more or less until I reach a level that I had already reached before. In ten weeks I could get close to 300w again.

Life is a rollercoaster.

It sounds exaggerated and over-used. But in this case it is true.

Gabor Maté's "When The Body Says No" describes how emotions, the psyche influence not only all decisions we take in life but also lead to disease.

After reading this I have a profoundly different view on who I am as a person. And even more remarkable: I could heal from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome.

I understand it sounds completely crazy to say that you can heal from chronic disease by reading a book.

But that doesn't make it less true.

It's crazy to believe that the fastest path to insight is explaining our complex internal landscape to a stranger for one hour per week.

The knowledge about emotional programming isn't locked in a therapist's office. It's readily available in books, research, and most importantly - in your lived experience. You can read it. You can understand it. You can see how childhood patterns created your "invisible strings."

As Gabor Maté writes: "The driven person is controlled by forces more powerful than he is... His choices are attached to invisible strings."

Finding those strings doesn't require a weekly appointment. It requires time and motivation. You can do this by yourself at any time and MUCH faster versus having 1-2 therapy sessions per week.

At the same time, I like therapy.

It gives perspective. It adds to your understanding. But I think the first 90% of understanding yourself can be done faster and much more efficiently by yourself.

Last week, I raced 200km around an active volcano in Iceland.

Why did I do it?

There's no rational reason besides that this is exactly the thing I would do.

I see me as someone who does this. Confirming this makes me feel like me. Or more accurate: Who I want to be.

And feeling like being who I want to be gives me joy.

The rational part of my brain rejects confirming that I can be who I want to be as a smart reason to do something. It even positively dislikes it.

But it is wrong. If it doesn't assign any value to joy in the decision-making process, it's unlikely you will ever do what makes you happy.

If you have left your hometown at some point after school or university to live somewhere else, you probably have the same problem like I do. You don’t get to see your parents too often anymore. I have been living in Berlin for a number of years which is more than 600 kilometres away from my hometown, Mayen. Too far for a quick day or even weekend trip. Most of the time, there’s just not really a good reason to make the trip and Mayen unfortunately is for me not really an exciting place to spend a lot of time at (sorry). 

I have recently fixed (or let’s not get too greedy and settle for mitigated) this problem. Two years ago, when I was at home for some family event, my mum said in some random conversation that she really wanted to see Copenhagen, the Danish capital, one day. Since Copenhagen was set to host the Tour de France in the summer of 2022 I immediately saw the opportunity to catch two birds with one stone. One bird being the increase of the time spent with my mum and the second bird obviously being that I get to watch the start of the Tour. We went to Copenhagen last year, it was very nice, and it was decided that we would make this an annual thing. 

Since the biggest bike race in the world just went underway in Bilbao in the Basque Country this year, we spent our annual weekend trip in this beautiful part of the world. I guess most of you have not been to the Basque Country because it is by far not as popular a travel destination like its Spanish counterparts located at the Mediterranean sea. The Basque Country is obviously located at the Atlantic ocean and most probably because of its slightly rougher weather it has not developed the same appeal for travellers. Most of them coming from the northern parts of Europe who want to maximise their time spent under the sun and at the beach. This, however, means that the Basque Country is a very untouristic, untouched and authentic place. Characteristics most people I know are actually looking for these days (but are still booking their flights to Mallorca and Ibiza). 

If you go to a restaurant in the Basque Country, you don’t get a German menu, you don’t get an English menu and you are lucky if you get a Spanish menu. The Basques have their own language which is unlike Catalan not at all similar to the Spanish language. It in fact is the only European language that’s not connected at all to any other European language. It does seem that the Basques have not really been into mingling with others for a very long time. No tourists (that’s of course an exaggeration), a completely isolated language and to really hammer home the point of isolation: The top-tier football club of Athletic Bilbao does not accept any players to their team that are not born in the Basque Country.

I realise this might sound like the Basques are quite the nationalistic bunch that do not really like foreigners or anyone that’s not Basque. But that’s not true at all. Many Basques would appreciate independence from Spain and France (yes, the Basque Country stretches into France; no, didn’t know that either before I was there) but they don’t see themselves as superior or anything like that. They are actually super friendly and very happy to welcome you to their beautiful country. I’d say since they are not so over-exposed to tourists their hospitality actually feels a lot more genuine. They are just normal people treating you like a normal person. 

If you got a bit inspired by this post and do make the trip to the Basque Country at some point, let me save you from embarrassing yourself like I did though. At least a little bit.

We were staying in one of the many Casa Rurals you can book via booking.com or Airbnb (we picked this one and it was perfect). These are large, old but nicely renovated houses in the countryside, mostly in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by pure nature and run by Basque families who also live in these houses themselves. I already knew I would probably not find a specialty coffee café close by - we’re a tad bit spoiled by these in Berlin - but I tried Google Maps to find a good restaurant. Going by the reviews there was one very clear winner called Asador IBAIONDO. It was just ten minutes by car from our Casa Rural and I drove there a couple of days before my mum arrived.

I found a huge restaurant, easily able to host 100+ people who could come by car as well given the enormous parking lot that was just for this one restaurant somewhere in the countryside. I went in and found lots of people standing in front of the counter. I grabbed a (Basque) menu and tried to understand what it all meant and what I wanted to order. Since there was no clear line I positioned myself at the counter trying to get the attention of the person behind the counter just like you would do it in a crowded bar. Unfortunately, and although I am 1.92m tall, I did not get the attention of the person behind the counter. Person after person placed their order and I was ignored. I finally put my menu which was pinned to a wooden board on the counter and stood exactly in front of the young lady taking the orders but I still got the same result. I got nothing. Not even a quick look while the next person was coming to the counter and placed their order. After five minutes that felt like 15 because of the growing embarrassment the thought occurred to me that maybe they have a special ordering system in place I am just not accustomed to. I went to an older man and asked him what I had to do to place my order. He looked at me with a grin and just pointed to a roll at the door which I somehow missed and from which you could pull a number. He then showed me that above the counter there was a little screen that showed the number and that was the number of the person who could now order. I couldn’t see the screen either in all the time I was standing in front of the counter while the screen was exactly above me. Good lord, what an idiot I am. Self-serve is actually the name of the game in many Basque restaurants so please keep your eyes peeled for the number roll. 

While we’re at it, I need to complete the story by stating that the food at Asador IBAIONDO was absolutely magnificent. And I don’t just say that. When it comes to restaurants and cafés I have earned a reputation among those going with me to these places of being annoyingly picky. The Asador IBAIONDO is a fantastic place, excellently run, and delicious food. I went there again with my mum a couple of days later and even one more time again. The third time, the owner made sure to whisper to the guy at the counter who was taking my order that I was there for the third time and he should put some extras for free on our order. I just loved that.

Ongi etorri in the Basque Country.

It was 2017, a hot summer day in Milan, and I was invited to give a short presentation about my startup, Stoyo, in front of a group of Italian investors. Some of these investors had previously invested in Stoyo, and the others were part of the same investor club called U-Start. The club was created by some young guys who thought it would be a good idea to connect older guys, mostly members of wealthy Italian families, and their deep pockets with startups from abroad. 

If you ever get the chance to get Italian investors on board: Please do it! Not only do you get to spend some time in the most beautiful event locations, but so far I have only met Italian investors that have been extremely respectful, nice, and supportive.

So I found myself in such a beautiful event location and just like a couple of other startup founders from other European countries I was giving an update on how things were going for my company. When I got off the stage several investors I knew approached me before someone I didn’t know came to me. He said: “Hello, my name is Francesco and I am the manager of Nico Rosberg. He would like to meet you!” 

Five minutes later I had a WhatsApp from Nico on my phone: “Hi Patrick, it’s Nico. Do you have time to meet tomorrow in Cannes?” Nico won the F1 world championship in 2016 so in 2017 he was the reigning Formula 1 world champion. I was thrilled! He was asking for a meeting in Cannes because I was going to Cannes the next day for the annual advertising festival, the Cannes Lions, and he, appartently, was there as well. Nico asked me when I was available the next day and I said I had an “open slot” at 5.30 pm. (How much I hate this business bullshit lingo!) The truth was that I did not have a single meeting lined up for that day. But since I thought that fact would certainly not give the impression of a hyper-successful startup founder I gave him the very specific 5.30 pm. (A bit embarrassing to write this but I hope it’s entertaining.) 

Nico then told me that unfortunately, he would not be able to make it in the afternoon since he had to attend an event from noon onwards. The only time to meet was before 12. The problem for me now was that my flight was only meant to arrive in Nice at 11.30 am. Not going to the meeting was of course not an option for me so I opened my laptop and booked a rental car so that I can drive from Milan to Cannes the next day in the very early morning and make it to the meeting. Once again, to maintain my hyper-successful startup founder image, I told Nico that meeting him in the morning would not be a problem. I could shift a few things around, make myself available and we can meet at 11 am in a hotel lobby in Cannes. 

The drive from Milan to Cannes takes - depending on traffic - about five hours and while the first part is not worth mentioning, it gets beautiful once the road hits the seaside just outside Genoa. From there, the entire trip is at the coast and the views are spectacular. Cycling fans are aware of this since this is the very route of the bike race of Milan - San Remo. La Primavera is the first big cycling race every year in March and while it is an extremely boring race for the first 250km, the remaining 50km are both, beautiful for the scenery and frantic for the racing.

In Cannes, I had a difficult time finding a parking lot but since I was a bit faster than I had previously calculated I was at the hotel lobby a couple of minutes ahead of the meeting time. Do you know this awkward moment when you are at a meeting point ahead of time? What the hell are you supposed to do? Scrolling on the phone? Finding yourself a drink? Standing at the wall watching the other people? It’s awkward. But it didn’t happen to me that day. I walked into the hotel and there he already was: I went towards Nico, we said hi and seated ourselves in a cozy lobby booth. At that time, during the Cannes Lions, one if not the biggest advertising event in the world, the hotel lobby was buzzing. I unfortunately forgot the name but it must have been a popular hotel. While I was introducing myself to Nico, I noticed the legendary Global CMO of Procter & Gamble, Marc Pritchard, casually passing by.

I was a little bit nervous in the very beginning of our conversation, he was a global sports superstar after all. But that only lasted for a few minutes. I must say I was shocked by a) how humble Nico was and b) how excited Nico was about my startup, Stoyo. The whole conversation was about him asking me lots of questions. He wanted to know everything from me. And not the other way around. He was so excited and it felt like I was the world champion and not him. Wow. 

Nico is a sports star, recognised all around the world, born and raised in Monaco, he has been living his entire life in a very special bubble. Most of us can not even imagine the life he must be living. And yet, he somehow manages to stay humble, open-minded, keep a genuine interest in other people. I already wrote it but I’ll write it again: I was shocked. (In a positive way, of course.) We went on to talk for around an hour until he had to leave. Just before the meeting ended, he asked whether it would be possible for him to invest in Stoyo. 

I left the hotel lobby with a big smile on my face that day. Just 24 hours ago I landed in Milan to simply say a few words at an investor conference and now, a night in Milan, a scenic road trip, and a meeting in a hotel lobby in Cannes later, I had landed the current F1 world champion as an investor. 

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I’m not sure whether you could exactly call it a guilty pleasure but it definitely feels a little bit like that: I love watching bike races with British commentary. 

If you think there’s no way you would spend six hours on a sunny Saturday indoors, blinds closed, sitting in front of the television and watching approximately 160 men riding their bikes from A to B, I guess you are one of the many. At the same time, I’m probably one of the few because I absolutely love it. Not only do I love looking at the picturesque landscapes most bike races travel through, but I also enjoy following the race, trying to understand the teams’ tactics, seeing which rider is on a good day, and getting excited on the final climb when the stars of the sport try to get the better of each other.

I was excited about cycling already when I was a little kid when a certain Jan Ullrich was my hero. My cycling knowledge at that time was so great that I bet against my father that I would be able to write down the names of 100 Tour de France riders and their teams. Not only did I write 100 names, I actually managed to write down 200 (!) names of professional road bike riders. So yes, I must have really liked bike racing back then.

The part I today enjoy the most, however, and this is probably even more disturbing, is listening to the commentary. 

I don’t know why but a couple of years ago when I was trying to find the right stream in the Eurosport app it started not with the German commentary but with the British. I was almost switching the language when I thought: “Well, that’s different. These guys are really excited about the race!” So I stuck with the British commentary and I have been thrilled - quite literally - by it ever since. 

While the German commentators - besides Wolf Fuss and Frank Buschmann of course - are always a little bit reserved and (too) calm I think, their British counterparts are quite the opposite. If you have never had the opportunity to listen to Rob Hatch or Carlton Kirby commentating the last hundred meters of a bike race you have been missing out on something amazing, exciting and goosebump-creating. These two are probably more excited about the race than the riders themselves. I'm actually sure about it. And not only do they manage to transport this emotion into your home, but they’re also extremely eloquent, knowledgeable, and you just enjoy listening to them - even when it's Giro d'Italia, Stage 6, two riders from Green Project Bardiani have gone for the breakaway, there are no mountains on the menu and there is absolutely nothing happening in the race. My appreciation for the commentary of Rob and Carlton goes to such an extent that I’ve found myself riding my own bike while listening to the commentary of a race with my AirPods. I don't even need the images, I'm just happy to listen to the commentary. If then Irish legend Sean Kelly and Australian hero Robbie McEwen join them, it’s the best form of entertainment I can think of.

While I could write and talk about bike races and the British commentators much longer, let’s get to the point I actually wanted to make in this little essay. Another thing I like besides watching and even more so listening to bike races is listening to audiobooks. The thought occurred to me that if the commentators are so good at commentating they are probably good at narrating as well. I opened my Audible app, typed in the names of the commentators and got lucky! Eurosport legend Carlton Kirby has written books and they are available in the Audible app! 

His most recent book is called Sticky Bottle and I downloaded it right away. I had no clue what it was about but I was just excited I could listen to Carlton - no matter what he’s actually talking about. Brian Smith, a cycling expert who’s sometimes joining Carlton in the commentary box, said: “Carlton's style often borders on controlled madness... sometimes without the control”. And I find that quite accurate.

The book has no crazy storyline. It doesn’t even have crazy stories with murders, love dramas, or whatever. The book is simply about the bike races in the world from January to December and features 1-2 anecdotes Carlton has experienced in the last 30 or so years. He’s talking about how he bought a real Octopus in Portugal where he was commentating on the Volta ao Algarve, explains why there is still some anglophobia in the south of France where the season gets started at the GP de la Marseillaise and introduces you to the 5€-All-You-Can-Drink-Beer-Tent at the Amstel Gold Race. 

I guess these are not world-changing stories. But listening to Carlton, giving you one or two romantic anecdotes about so many places in the world and then somehow connecting it with bike races - I think Carlton himself would say "You got to love it for goodness sake!" And that's why for me, this is the best purposeless book I have ever read.

The book and the audiobook are available on Amazon. If you read or listen to it, please let me know how you liked it!