“The bicycle is a curious vehicle. Its passenger is its engine” - John Howard

Before I moved to Denmark, I don’t think I’d ever met a professional cyclist. I do remember the taking a photograph of Mario Cipollini outside of Fortezza da Basso in Florence and wondering how it was possible that I was the only person who recognized him. Moments before people had flocked to shake hands with Brunello Cucinelli in the same place. I guess it wasn’t his audience.

At some point after I started hanging out up north from Copenhagen at Cranks & Coffee in Klampenborg. I became friends (best friends, I suppose) with Emil, one of the owners of the shop and the Head (only) Mechanic. Through Emil I’ve met countless people, including a few pros. I messaged Louis to try to pinpoint when we met, but all we can nail down is that it was through Emil.

So now I’m stood in a cul-de-sac trying to figure out which building is Louis’. I’m on the edge of the edge of Vanløse where it meets Frederiksberg. There is a development of bland new-builds on the right, and I’m facing this not-so-typical freestanding building as Louis pops his head out of the front door. I shout, “Stay there!” and snap a few frames before approaching him to say hello. This is the house that he’s grown up in and he invites me inside.

I’ve ridden with Louis a few times on his rest days and a holiday we shared in Bornholm. I’ve been to his birthday party in Søndermarken. I’ve been (kind of) been to a fashion show with him. And now I’m in the wallpapered entryway of a home like I haven’t really seen since moving to Copenhagen.

Louis’ family home doesn’t resemble all the “mood boards” you see which epitomize the Danish aesthetic. This home is real. Human. It’s not a museum (like mine) where you can’t touch anything, and the candle snuffer is purposefully placed 15 degrees off-axis to look effortless. Louis’ family home is warm. The rooms are used with purpose. There are books and newspapers which are read. Art on walls from places his parents have visited.

I’m here today specifically because time is running out and Louis is moving to Spain to train with the Uno X team he rides for. His room is a mix of bicycles, helmets, and boxes. Each ready to follow him to the Iberian Peninsula where one can actually find hills to challenge the legs.

I’m shown through the rooms. Shown a photo of a houseboat on Frederiksholms Canal where Louis once lived with his family. I’m shown a grid of photos of Marmorkirken taken by one photographer in one place of the span of a year. I meet the cats(!).

I have places to be, so I thank Louis for the tour, and we plan to meet again before he leaves and a few days later I am riding home down Østerbrogade and see Louis and a teammate riding home in the most beautiful light. I’m on my city bike and I just can’t catch up. I call him and he doesn’t answer, and he calls me back but it’s too late.

A few days later Louis tells me he’s heading out for a training ride with Andreas Stokbro and Jonas Gregaard, and we plan to meet as we first did, at Cranks up north. I ride up, document the banality of Louis drinking a coffee with the beauty of the light and of course, the true owner of the shop: Woody (Emil’s dog). After his coffee, he asks me to take a photo of him with Stokbro and Gregaard and after we say goodbye.

Louis is in Spain riding bikes. I’m in Tacoma writing stories. Cycling brought us together, and now, thousands of miles apart I’m googling “Cycling Quotes” to make a witty little story for you all. I like the one I opened with, but I think this one is probably the most applicable for all readers:

“Life is like riding a bicycle. In order to keep your balance, you must keep moving.” - Albert Einstein