


For two years my world became very small.
Because of a serious illness, I lost my colon. The surgery was major, and the consequences are permanent. An experience like that rearranges everything. You stop measuring progress in kilometers and start measuring it in steps down a hospital corridor. Not in watts, but in whether your body cooperates today.
When your body changes that fundamentally, you don’t simply “come back.” You rebuild your relationship with it. Patience becomes more important than ambition. Listening becomes more important than pushing through.
Somewhere in that process, I began planning a bike. Not as an escape, but as a direction forward. That’s how I ended up with the Curve GXR4 from Curve Cycling.
The GXR4 is titanium. And titanium felt right.
Light, yet incredibly strong. It absorbs impact without weakening. It’s built for decades, not seasons. After losing an organ, the idea of durability takes on a different meaning.
This setup isn’t about marginal gains or proving anything to anyone. It’s about resilience. Comfort. Reliability. Clearance for wider tires. Gearing that lets me spin instead of grind. A bike that supports long days without punishing my body.
This spring, I won’t attack distances.
I’ll approach them.
40 kilometers. Then 60. Then 80. Recover intentionally. Learn how my body works now. Rebuild endurance with it, not against it.
Gravel riding mirrors that mindset. The surface is never perfect. It shifts. You adjust. You stay calm. And you keep moving.
The GXR4 isn’t just a purchase. It’s a marker. Proof that my body is still capable. That loss doesn’t mean the end of movement. That strength can be quiet.
Titanium. Scars. And steady forward motion.
by Mother_Promotion_947
1 Comment
That’s a beautiful machine, friend. I hope it serves you well on your recovery journey.