2025: The Art of Beginning Again

2025.
A year that turned me inside out, upside down, swallowed me whole, and spat me back out again. My heart has been broken into a million pieces — by people, by situations, by realities I never saw coming. As this year comes to an end, I’m honestly surprised it’s still beating.

I am someone who believes in silver linings. Someone who believes in big dreams. An eternal romantic. And what I regret most about these past eleven months is that I’ve lost my ability to trust that part of myself. I notice it now — how I hide from the things I would normally run towards with open arms.

I never thought I would once again be in a place where I had to rebuild an entire life. To make the effort to meet new people. To create a home. To find a new favourite bakery and work out where to buy Mac’s dog food. Looking back at the last six months, I did all of this remarkably well — in record time, even. On paper.

The reality is that when I crawl into bed at night and turn off the light, I still wish that I’ll wake up and everything will be back the way it used to be. Not because it was better. Not because I was happy. But because I long, deeply, for familiarity.

The one little friend who does not leave my side 

Christmas has always been a hard time of year for me — and I know it is for my sister too. It’s the time when you’re confronted with the fact that nobody is waiting for you to come home. No open invitation. No familiar place to land. Mixed with old grief and heavy memories, this time of year sneaks up on me every time. After months of genuine happiness, it weighs me down. Everything I’ve worked so hard to hold together this year suddenly feels like it’s being pulled apart.

And yet — I still believe in silver linings. I truly believe that no matter the situation, we always have a choice in how we respond. I’ve learned so much this year. I’ve grown. My trust may have been shattered, but alongside that loss came a powerful truth: when I reached out to my closest friends, they were there — no questions asked. Some of those moments are now etched into my heart and soul forever.

Katie was the first person I called when I had nowhere to go. She opened her home without hesitation. Lee and Katie took care of me — listening to my unhinged thoughts without judgement, wrapping me in endless hugs and home-cooked meals. You are two of the kindest people I am lucky enough to have in my life.

Jantiene is one of my dearest friends, and our friendship has stretched and compressed over the years like an accordion, depending on the battles we were fighting. When I left a message on her answering machine saying I needed help with accommodation, she had a plan within two hours. We spent a week together — dancing in the living room, talking late into the night, sharing heartache. She truly sees me. There is no hiding with her. She asks the difficult questions and listens better than almost anyone I know. She is one of the most beautiful, bright souls in my life — and I wish she could see herself the way I see her.

Then there was Si — one of Katie and Lee’s closest friends. Si met a version of me that was completely unedited and deeply raw. I don’t think anyone else has ever seen me that low. After only a handful of shared adventures, I called him because I couldn’t stand the idea of being alone after what I believed to be my truth for the last five years collapsed like a house of cards. Simon drove three hours to be there. He made me laugh with his dry humour and sometimes awkward, honest way of communicating. He took me into the mountains, on adventures that helped me forget the pain. I’m not sure he knows what his kindness restored in me.

doing the Aguille du Bioassay with Si in one push from Contamines

Camille and I coming 2nd female team and top 10 overall in the Rosablanche marathon

There were also the phone calls from afar. Erin, in Scotland, helped me make a plan — and when I executed it all in a week, she laughed and said, “This was meant to be a three-month plan, woman. You’re allowed to fall apart first.” We’re both people who avoid phone calls, yet she answered every single one until she felt I no longer needed them. Erin is the kind of friend everyone deserves — calm, grounded, with a heart full of gold. Thank you doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Suus, my childhood friend from Holland, who knows me better than I know myself, patiently took every emotional phone call. She talked me through every possible scenario and always brought me back to earth with the same sentence: “Your intuition was right. You are the one who is okay.”

As my life began to unfold in Chamonix, I met incredible new people. Kiley, with whom I fulfilled one of my dreams — climbing Mont Blanc in one push from the valley floor in Les Houches and back in sixteen hours. No planning. Just trust and instant connection. We went out on a limb, and it became one of the most special days of my life. Kiley made me laugh again, talk for hours, sit in silence, and simply exist in the mountains. A friendship born through shared passion — one I hold very dear.

Kiley and I, bonded by Mont Blanc: Friends for life! 

Then there was Jennie. An experienced climber with an open heart for adventure. What started as an adventure partnership quickly became something deeper. Through her openness, kindness, and authenticity, I found myself welcomed into experiences I once only dreamed of. I met Dina, grew closer to Christina, and learned from Jennie’s quiet wisdom. Though many years younger, she carries a strength and honesty I deeply admire — especially her willingness to face conflict head-on.

Dina, Jennie and me doing the Rimpfishorn from Zermatt side on one push

There are also so many people who may not realise how much they’ve lit up my life simply by being kind. Iain — fellow skimo athlete and absolute mountain machine. Linda, my fellow Dutchie and one of the loveliest souls I know. Charlotte, the vet I work with weekly, whose energy and eagerness to learn makes me feel so appreciated. Ellis, my great friend, colleague and mentor, who has helped me navigate work pressure with such grace, made me laugh out load and opened her home to me. Sam, who sends me podcasts, flew over from the UK to race the Fully Vertical, and climbed a 4000m peak in one weekend without complaint. Lucy, who spent two weeks in my tiny apartment — and whom I somehow convinced to run a double vertical. Camille, who last-minute asked me to run the Rosablanche marathon and brought out one of my best trail performances yet. My Dutch skimo teammates — Jens, Allard, Paul — for their kindness when things were rough. Emilio, my coach, as we head into our third year together — PRs, podiums, and unwavering support. A true class act. Christophe, the outsider, who has been able to make me sit next to a lake with him just talking, not doing anything, other than just being. Christophe has been that person who lets you have your moments and is still there when you actually expected no reply with a dry
"I am not sure how to respond to this.."

And lastly, my beautiful sister. Always by my side. As we grow older, I feel us understanding each other more deeply. We experience our family pain in the same way, and that shared understanding is something I could never do without. Once again, we face something difficult together — and once again, we will get through it. It will be okay.

This year felt like my life became a chaotic construction site. And I rebuilt — fast. Too fast, perhaps. The problem with reaching the end of the year is that everything slows down. For the past four weeks, there’s been nowhere left to hide.

I am tired. So very tired. But I am also quietly proud. Proud of what I’ve built. Even if the foundations are still fragile. Even if I need a break. I will keep constructing. Because my true silver lining this year has been finding my happy place here in the mountains.

my happy place

Here is to everyone who made me smile this year. Lets bring on 2026

"Sometimes when things are falling apart, they might be actually falling into place"

Chasing the Olympic dream : The races, the places, the people, and the quiet moments in between.

 

It’s been a few months since my Skimo season ended, and it’s taken me all this time to truly absorb the incredible experiences of the past year. Only now, as things have slowed down, can I begin to reflect on everything that’s unfolded — the races, the places, the people, and the quiet moments in between.

This journey began 18 months ago when I signed on with high-performance coach Emilio Corbex. At the time, I had no idea just how much of an impact he would have. Over the months, Emilio became so much more than a coach — he became a mentor, a mirror, a steady voice when life got loud. He was the one constant when everything else felt like shifting ground.

Emilio 

Emilio taught me how to believe — not just in the results or the process, but in myself. He coached with humor, warmth, and an unwavering sense of respect. Through that, he gave me something rare: the confidence to compete at the highest level, and to actually feel like I belonged there.

Our conversations were always honest. His belief in me never wavered, even when I doubted myself. In his eyes, my worth was never up for negotiation — and from that, I learned to trust my strengths, and face my weaknesses without fear. Through Emilio, I was welcomed into the orbit of the French national team. I made friends with their athletes and coaches, heard my name shouted in French along race courses, and even joined Emilie Harrop for a training session in her hometown of Bozel.

spending time with Emilie 

At this level, it’s so easy to feel like an outsider. But I never did this season. The best in the world made space for me — celebrated my strong races, supported me when things didn’t go to plan. As long as the Netherlands isn’t threatening their medals, I’ll remain France's biggest fan heading into Cortina and beyond.

Together with my Dutch teammate Jens, we set out on a path that many called unrealistic: to try and qualify for the Olympics through the mixed relay.

To do that, we had to race every Mixed Relay event at the World Cup level. And since we were already there, we competed in every discipline Skimo has to offer — 4-minute Sprints, 25-minute Verticals, 2-hour Individuals, 3- to 4-hour Team races, and for me, the long-distance World Championships at La Mezzalama, which took 10 hours to complete

Racing the Mezzalama with Ivona

We knew from the start it was a long shot. I was working full-time; Jens was finishing his master’s degree while holding down a job. Our national budget covered only a few races. Everything else — travel, gear, accommodation — came from our own pockets. I haven’t added it all up, but I suspect we each spent close to €15,000, even with the support from our federation and sponsors like Dynafit.

Still, we showed up — always with as smile.

representing the Netherlands with pride

The first ever female Dutch women team to race at the World Champs with Annelous

 From early December in Courchevel, we travelled to Andorra, Spain, Italy (Bormio and Val Martello), and Switzerland (Morgins and Villars). In between, we competed in the Dutch National Championships in Switzerland, where we both took home titles in the Vertical and Individual, also counting toward the Swiss Cup where we both had strong performances where I finished just off the podium in 4th place and Jens in the top 10.

For some of the other races — the World Championships, the World Cups in Val Martello and Courchevel — we were joined by fellow Dutch athletes. And no matter where we were, we always had one constant: a team captain by our side.

Winning two national titles in Switzerland 

Looking back on what Jens and I accomplished together fills me with pride.

We started as near-strangers and ended up spending an extraordinary amount of time together in a high-pressure environment — training, travelling, racing, recovering. We shared joy and laughter, frustration and fatigue, and even tears when things didn’t go as hoped.

And yet, through it all, not a single harsh word passed between us. Not once. That kind of respect and mutual support is special. Jens was the best teammate I could’ve hoped for — supportive, grounded, and always ready with a calm perspective. It’s that bond I’ll remember more than any result.

Twenty years my junior, Jens and I carved out a road for future Dutch Skimo athletes who dare to dream — who have strong legs, a good pair of lungs and a heart that won’t quit. With two newspaper features and a short film made, we hope we’ve given our sport a moment in the spotlight back home.

There are stories we’ll be telling for years.

Jens, Cees and I at the opening ceremony of the world chamionships 

Like the flat tire on our rental car in the middle of nowhere in the Spanish Pyrenees. Or my car breaking down on the way to the Individual race in Val Martello — having to leave it on the side of the road and run to the start line. Or the strangers in tiny mountain towns who helped fix our broken vehicles with quiet generosity.

I could not have asked for a better team mate in Jens

 We faced our fair share of race-day chaos too — equipment failures, penalties, rookie mistakes. A nosebleed that wouldn’t stop during the Mixed Relay warm-up in Spain. A gut-wrenching penalty in Bormio for not carrying my passport. The kind of moments that test your resilience — and teach you fast.

Through it all, Jens kept things simple: “It is what it is.” And when he felt he’d let me down, it never even occurred to me to agree. We were both doing everything we could — showing up, over and over again, even when it would’ve been easier not to.

waiting at the start for the time trial in the Sprint and Mixed Relay is always nerve wrecking 

During the World Championships in Morgins, half way through the season, my personal life fell apart. One sharp act of betrayal knocked everything sideways. I won’t share the details here — not because they don’t matter, but because I refuse to be defined by them.

I had a choice. And I chose to finish what I started with Jens. First finish the World Championship events and then the World Cup season.

We raced five times in 6 days. We pushed through the fog. We came close to making the final in the Mixed Relay, finishing just outside the top 35. I had my fastest Vertical ever — 28 minutes over 500m vertical gain. And despite being emotionally wrecked, I delivered a strong Individual performance on a course that didn’t play to my strengths finishing mid field. Most of the time I felt like hiding under a big rock but somehow the people I was surrounded by lifted me up and made me push on. 

To be in the mid pack at world class level is something I never thought possible 

sharing start lines with worlds best

After the World Champs I skipped Austria where Jens raced the Sprint and the Vertical and I headed to Italy. Val Martello is a special place — wild, remote, and amazingly beautiful. It was also where I raced my first World Cup the year before, so coming back felt full-circle.

This year, I arrived on empty. I was living out of my little Fiat Panda with my dog Mac and my most essential belongings. Still working remotely, still juggling logistics and costs with the help of close friends who generously offered accommodation and support. I felt overwhelmed by the kindness I received. Katie, Lori, Erin, Suus, Gabi, Jantiene and Martha, I will forever be grateful.  

I felt tired. Jens was away for exams and would join me later in the week for the Mixed Relay. I wasn’t sure if I could pull myself together and race the Individual.  A tough course, at the highest level and not feeling 100% is not a good combination.

The morning of the race,  Benthe — the girlfriend of my fellow Dutch team mate Allard — put her arm around me. I’m not usually one for hugs from people I don’t know well, but I let her in.

“Do this for you,” she said. “Go out there and race the best you can.”

On the way to the start, my car broke down. Maybe this is a sign, I thought. But there was no time to think. I ran to the start and raced.

And something happened. I backed myself. I thought I am doing this for me. I started fast, held pace, made no mistakes. For the first time ever, I felt like I belonged at this level. I finished 18th on one of the most technical courses on the circuit — with the top 10 just within reach.

I still don’t fully understand how I did it. But I know this much: it was the belief of those around me — including Emilio, Jens, my Dutch team mates and my closest friends — that carried me there. I loved every single minute of racing in Val Martello and although the tank was very empty for the Mixed Relay, this World Cup will always be my favourite. 

By the time we reached the final World Cup in Villars, I felt ready to let go. To breathe. To start rebuilding the pieces of my life. To not be under performance pressure anymore and potentially be allowed to fall apart a little.

Time to breathe in the mountains and recharge my body and soul 

Moving closer to Chamonix became the silver lining 

And yet, somehow, Jens and I delivered our cleanest performances — no mistakes, no drama. Just quiet focus, and honest effort. That, in the end, is what makes the difference at this level. We finished the season with a bang and big smiles. 

From December to April, we raced almost every weekend. We managed personal challenges, full-time jobs, university deadlines, and uncertainty on every front. And we never stopped showing up. And as the little nations dropped out towards the end of the season, we finished what we started.

It taught me more than I ever imagined — about commitment, resilience, friendship, and grace under pressure.

Our team captain Alke and fellow athlete Paul training on Saasfee glacier

My Dutch fellow team mates have become like family over the years

,

cherished friendship with Ivona formed on World Cup startlines

It reminded me that chasing big dreams — even wild, unlikely ones — is always worth it. That when things fall apart, there’s still strength to be found in showing up. That sharing the highs and lows with the people who matter means everything. And that those people who stand beside you, without needing explanations, are the ones who matter most.

And that in the mountains, even when you’re breaking, you can still fly.

Val Martello 

To my team mate Jens

Here’s to us.

To everything we gave. To everything we learned. To the stories we now carry, not in trophies, but in heartbeats and finish lines and all the quiet moments in between.

Nobody can take this away from us.

And whatever comes next — we’ll keep chasing the snow.

A taste of what it would feel like at the Olympic test event in Bormio 

"Resilience is the ability to experience something really difficult, and get to the other side of it, holding on to some form of strength or purpose"  Mikaela Shiffrin