Sometimes, when you see photos, you only see the view. All the beauty.
The mountains.
The sun.
The peace.

But what you don’t see is everything that came before.

Four and a half years ago, something started that would take much longer than I ever expected. A cyst. Suddenly, on a Friday morning. A cyst the size of a golf ball. Multiple surgeries. But never a complete recovery. Slowly, things went from bad to worse.

I kept going.

Working. Travelling to Mexico even though my doctor and my family advised against it. Continuing to make plans. Renovating my house in Brecht. Buying a house in Calpe. And renovating that too. Training a new technician. Continuing to give training sessions. And providing service.

But physically, I was in pain every single day

Standing for too long hurt.
Walking for too long hurt.
Jogging and playing tennis became impossible.

In reality, I couldn’t physically do much anymore. But I refused to give in. I kept going. Purely on willpower.

What perhaps affected me the most was losing the freedom to move. Not being able to simply use my body the way I was used to was sometimes incredibly frustrating. And mentally, it was much heavier than I was willing to admit at the time.

I love being active.
Walking.
Challenging myself.

And suddenly, every single day, I had to take something into account that wouldn’t go away.

Pain. It was there every day. With everything I did.

I went from doctor to doctor, osteopaths, acupuncture, ozone therapy… You name it.

Intimacy was difficult too.
And that’s something people rarely talk about. But it carries a weight of its own.

I felt frustration so many times.
And sometimes sadness.

Because my body simply wasn’t cooperating.

A Breakup and a Body That No Longer Wanted to Keep Going

And then there was us.

We tried.
We held on. We let go. And then we held on again. We wanted to make it work, but we never truly found a home together.

And when it finally broke, I realised just how exhausted I had actually become.
Not only emotionally.
But physically too.

Everything came together.

The pain.
The letting go.
The uncertainty.
Having to move forward on my own.

And yet… I kept moving.

At my own pace. With limitations. But forward.

Not running, but walking.
First crawling, then walking.

Because no… completely standing still has never really been who I am.

And then… the mountains

It was only a few months ago that I started to feel it:

The pain was easing. Not completely, but so much more than before.

I could walk for longer again.
I could jog again. Not 8 kilometres in one go, but in intervals.
I could feel my body carrying me again instead of fighting against me.

And that was something I had only been able to dream of for the past four years.

In December 2025, I discovered the Olta Valley in Calpe. It had been on my bucket list for a year and a half. But because of everything that was happening, I simply never got around to it.

The hike through the Olta Valley was not just a walk. I covered 10 kilometres, climbing over rocks, through forests, between mountains and ravines. Breathtakingly beautiful.

I felt like myself again.

It was a victory.

Not big and loud.
But real.

A return to myself.

Two weeks ago, I walked through the Mascarat Gorge. A five-kilometre hike that started at the harbour of Mascarat. Magical views over the bay of Altea. The most beautiful turquoise-blue water. And then, finally, ending between the towering rocks and cliffs of the Mascarat Gorge.

And somewhere along the way, I thought: I can do this again.

My thoughts stopped. And for a moment, everything became completely still.

Not because my life is perfect.
But because, finally, my body is no longer screaming.