There are those people who start their day with a “light jog” and an “omelette with avocado.” I, on the other hand, start my morning like a prisoner who hears the call from the shelter: terrified, in pajamas, and stumbling toward the kettle. Every morning. Every day. Since kindergarten.
Once, cycling was a thing for kids with shorts and bruised knees… Today? It’s a religion.
And its temples are not in Jerusalem, but on dusty trails in the south, in the endless greenery of the Carmel, or on a strange section in the middle of Nes Ziona that suddenly became “a single track of medium-challenging difficulty with technical descents and switchbacks.”
What Are They Trying to Sell Us in the Name of “The Protest”
November 30, 2025
