Today, I officially announced on social media that I’ll be setting off on July 31st.
For months, that date remained abstract. I was preparing the bike, the route, the equipment and everything else that needed to be done, but the departure always seemed far enough away that I didn’t have to think about it too much.
Now that I’ve announced it publicly, it has become real.
And, to be completely honest with you, I have a knot in my stomach.
I suppose that’s normal when you’re one week away from setting off on an expedition like this. And yet, I’m not exactly sure what scares me the most.
First, there’s the fact that I’ll be leaving for a long time and travelling far away. I’m going to miss my nephews enormously, as well as the rest of my family. I know why I’m leaving and I know how important this journey is to me, but that doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier.
And then there’s the fear of failure. I am going to leave. I have absolutely no doubt about that. After all the work I’ve done and all the obstacles I’ve already overcome, giving up before I’ve even tried is no longer an option.
But I also know that an expedition like this remains fragile. One serious accident, a major mechanical failure or a health problem could call everything into question. And if I had to stop the journey, I probably wouldn’t be able to afford a second attempt.
Financially, I’ve reached the end of my savings. Everything I had has been invested in this project. I’ll be setting off with around €1,000 to spare and a few sources of income that, for now, amount to roughly half the French minimum wage.
My online shop will therefore play an essential role in what happens next. Setting it up has been more complicated than expected, but I’m finally getting there. I should soon be able to open it and show it to you. I sincerely hope it will do well enough to help me continue the expedition in good conditions.
Despite all these worries, the preparations are going well. I’ve started gathering everything I need to take with me, and I don’t think I’ve forgotten anything essential. I’ve spent an enormous amount of time thinking about what I might need — perhaps sometimes a little too much.
There is still one insurance policy I need to activate. I waited until the last moment because it is very expensive, but also because the coverage is limited in duration. If the journey ends up lasting longer than expected, I wanted the policy to start as close to my departure date as possible so that I wouldn’t waste several weeks of coverage before even getting on the road.
There is also one thing that reassures me a lot: my cousin is going to cycle with me for the first two or three weeks. So I won’t be alone for those first kilometres, and I’ll be able to gradually find my feet. Having her there makes the departure a little less frightening.
Beyond the accidents, breakdowns and money, there is another fear that sometimes crosses my mind: the fear of doing all of this for nothing.
What if I don’t lose as much weight as I hope? What if my health doesn’t improve significantly enough? What if, despite all these efforts, my lymphoedema continues to make me feel self-conscious and make my life miserable?
I have no guarantees.
But deep down, I also know that this journey cannot be for nothing. Even if the results don’t turn out exactly as I imagine them today, simply setting off will already be a victory. Just a few years ago, leaving my house could sometimes feel like an ordeal. In one week, I’m going to set off to cross Europe by bike.
I’m scared, yes.
I have doubts.
I have a knot in my stomach.
But I’m going to leave.
And with all my heart, I hope that this departure will be the beginning of something great.