Marathon walk from Oostzaan to Almere, Saturday 25 April 2026

Distance 43.4km, actual walking time 7h 29m, total elapsed time 8h 12m. (Last year: 42.4km, 7h 25m, 8h 29m respectively.) Compared to last year, one kilometer more distance in an extra 4 minutes, but fewer breaks, so a better pace overall. Nice! On the walk I felt that this year was a little slow, but that was clearly just in my head. Annual self-check: passed ✅.

Minimal blisters, one on the ball of each foot because I didn’t tape them up quickly enough when I felt the hot spots emerging. (Must do better.) I’m writing this on Sunday evening, a day later, and the stiffness is pretty much gone from my legs now. My knees were feeling a bit painful on the walk between 30 and 35km, but an ibuprofen was enough to knock that on the head. Still some knee twinges today, but nothing to stop me from going up and down stairs. That said, I did spend pretty much the whole day today just lying on the sofa reading a book (A Deadly Episode by Anthony Horowitz), which felt like a delicious luxury.

Looking back at what I wrote last year, I see some similarities and some differences. Last year I was feeling stressed at work: same this year, but different reasons. Last year I was still relatively new in the job; this year it’s just been super busy with deadlines. Despite that, I’ve been getting out for a lunchtime walk most days. I just feel better when I get daily exercise; and I’ve also been enjoying the birds and paying attention to the progress of spring. It felt like a long dark winter, and everyone in the house is particularly enjoying the return of longer days. Last year I was not looking forward to doing the annual marathon, but this year I was very happy to get out. I’d been waiting for a good Saturday: something with the right weather conditions: not too cold, not too hot, not too windy. Turns out that 25 April is the perfect date.

As foretold by Miss Congeniality

The route I took this year was eastward to Almere on Flevoland. I’ve been to Almere a few times before, but always by car. It’s a weird place. It’s a terraforming experiment on our doorstep. The whole province of Flevoland is reclaimed land and literally didn’t exist a hundred years ago. The city of Almere is only 50 years old. The first house wasn’t built until the 1970s, but now it has a population of over 200,000, with a bustling centre and a ton of well-established residential neighbourhoods. It feels like a Dutch city…but walking around in the centre, it also feels somewhat artificial because it doesn’t have any old bits. And yet it’s surrounded by farmland, new woodlands, beaches, and all the trappings of a medium-sized city.

I set off at about 06:45 and took mostly the same route as the Dam-tot-Dam walk to Schellingwoude. On other walks I’ve crossed the IJ river on the Schellingwouderbrug, but I wanted to do something different this year, and I crossed over the Oranjesluizen locks instead.

View from the Oranjesluizen towards the Schellingwouderbrug

This was about 10km into the route, and it was still cold – the day had started around 6°C. Texting an update to various chat channels took care and attention because my fingers were quite stiff. But the clouds were dispersing, and by the time I made it to the Diemerpark an hour later the sun was out. Just as in other recent years, I did this year’s walk with minimal gear: no backpack, just me, my shoes, a fleece, and lots of pockets. So I didn’t have anywhere to stash layers if I got too warm.

The Diemerpark is also recently reclaimed land. (There’s a pattern here.) It’s flat and straight, and full of rabbits. Just past the park, a little short of the 20km mark, I took a slight detour to the Maxis shopping centre to buy myself some breakfast. Last year I had a friendly coot for company at breakfast; this year I sat on a concrete wall next to the water and was joined by a fearless lamb.

Lamb on concrete
Breakfast: orange juice, coke zero, cheese, rolls. This may sound weird, but it was _really nice_ concrete.

After my break I took he coastal path to Muiden, crossed the locks in the centre of town, and then continued on the coastal path to Muiderberg. It’s a lovely path, with views of Flevoland and its giant wind turbines in the distance. But it was also full of flies. The air was thick with them wherever the plants grew tall along the verges. No amount of swatting was enough to clear a path. I was brushing them off my fleece and spitting them out of my mouth at regular intervals. The barn swallows were having a great time swooping and snatching them, but as a walker I think I would have preferred a bit more of a breeze to keep them away.

I had saved up some podcast episodes for listening on the walk. Some 99% Invisible, of course. Also some Articles of Interest, Decoder Ring and Imaginary Worlds. On the long boring bridge across the Gooimeer to Flevoland I was listening to the episode “Holmes and Watson: True Crime Podcasters”, which was fun. I’m not a big fan of scripted audio drama or audiobooks. I don’t know why. But I appreciate the effort that goes into them, and this sounds like a fun new twist on the Conan Doyle stories.

I took another rest break on the other side of the bridge, at about 33km. The next leg was another long flat stretch along the south edge of the polder to Almere Haven. Just as the Diemerpark had been full of rabbits, the water here was full of grebes. SO MANY GREBES.

Long curving road along the south side of the Flevopolder

I took my last break at the edge of the marina in Almere Haven. I messaged Abi to let her know I was about an hour away from finishing. The route from Almere Haven to Almere took me past one of the most incongruous sights on the whole of Flevoland, which is itself nothing but a giant incongruity: the ruins of Almere Castle.

Canal with the ruins of Almere Castle in the distance.

If you’re thinking to yourself, “hang on, didn’t he just say that the area has only been inhabited for 50 years?” — yes. Yes indeed. This isn’t a castle that has fallen into disrepair over the centuries. It’s a modern folly that was started in 1999, and never finished in the first place. Construction was abandoned in 2002. Since then, various parties have tried to find ways to make it financially viable so they could finish it, but no luck so far. You can catch glimpses of it from the A6 motorway. If you’re used to driving the highways and byways of Europe, it looks pretty normal: “oh look, it’s another castle ruin.” It’s only when you take a moment to think about it that it stops making sense. Go Netherlands!

I made it to the Esplanade next to the lake in the centre of Almere at almost exactly 15:00, feeling tired but not done in. Abi was on her way to pick me up. There are plenty of places to sit and have a coffee in the city centre, but I wasn’t really feeling the vibes. We decided that Abi would pick me up, and we’d drive somewhere else to have our customary end-of-walk coffee/drink and apple pie.

The marina in Almere Haven had seemed nice, and had plenty of cafés with terraces out front. We drove there, parked, wandered up to the marina, found a café with apple pie on their menu, and settled ourselves at a table with a nice view. When the waiter came to take our order, he explained to our horror that they had no apple pie. We settled for just the drinks, but left disappointed. On our way back to the car we stopped off at the local supermarket, where we found a staffer just putting an end-of-life discount sticker on an apple crumble tart. We took it from their hands before they could put it back into the chiller cabinet. You lose some, you win some.

Gear notes:

  • This year’s shoes were Asics Gel-Pulse 16 that I bought last September and which are thoroughly worn-in by now. They’re lasting well, just like the Gel-Pulse 15s did. No holes in the upper, the fabric at the heel is still intact, and the soles still have a good amount of bounce left. Nice.
  • I wore the same ASIWYFA cap as last year. It was sunny for most of the walk, and keeping the sun out of my eyes is a must-have now.
  • Last year my phone battery was down to about 2% when I got to the end of the walk at Noordwijk. With another year on the clock, I didn’t think it would last the whole walk. I have a chonky 16000mAh battery pack, but it’s USB-A and heavy, and I didn’t want to weigh myself down with it. So I earlier in the week I bought a small and light and inexpensive (less than €20!) Anker Nano 5000mAh power bank. It has a built-in USB connector to attach to the charging port on the bottom of your phone, but it doesn’t hold on very securely and it looks dumb. It also has a standard USB port on its side, and that works just fine. This was just perfect to give me enough juice to last the full distance without worrying if I’d be able to still use my phone at the other end.
Anker Nano 5000mAh power bank

The asshole filter

Periodically I come across a reference to, or am otherwise reminded of Siderea’s 2015 essay “The Asshole Filter”. It’s about boundaries: making them, holding them, the people who don’t respect them, and what happens when you don’t deal with people stepping over those boundaries. It’s an important concept:

“An asshole filter happens when you publicly promulgate a straitened contact boundary and then don’t enforce it; or worse, reward the people who transgress it.”

Am I noting this here, today, because of events happening on the world stage right now? Because of things happening to people close to me? All of the above? Because of stuff happening at work? Maybe?

Am I good a making and enforcing boundaries for myself? No. I need to be periodically reminded of the consequences of transgressiveness, to help give me the courage to better enforce those boundaries. As Siderea also says in the essay:

“”Enforcement” is an idea with which plenty of agreeable people are uncomfortable because they have a certain vanity in their agreeableness: if they have to refuse somebody something, their self-concept as an agreeable person takes a ding. (The single best advice I have to give is never identify with your virtue because that way lies madness, or at least neurosis, but that’s a topic for another post.) If one can disentangle one’s ego from being agreeable even momentarily, one quickly sees there are many highly agreeable ways to refuse people things. This, indeed, is what diplomacy is for. And there’s less diplomatic responses, too, if one prefers.”

Detunesification

I think I might be about to embark on “A Project”.

Until about 2015 I was diligent about maintaining a local music library (in iTunes) with playlists for each new album that I bought/downloaded, and for each gig I attended. Then Spotify kind of took over, and I just don’t have that kind of historical record for the last ten years. I do have playlists in Spotify. A lot of them. But they’re more likely to be themed, or copies of a Discover Weekly that was particularly good, or copies of a collaborative playlist that I contributed to along with other folk.

A couple of posts last month added weight to a growing sense of dissatisfaction with Spotify: “Here’s how much money Los Camp! make from streaming…” by Gareth from LC! and “How to quit Spotify” by Brian Merchant.

Earlier in December I spent some time with a trial of Qobuz, but I didn’t like it. The app is bad, and their catalogue is too small. Tidal, however, seems fine. Their catalogue and app are both good enough for me. But I’ve been buying a lot more music on Bandcamp this year, and I like that. I like knowing that more of my money goes to the artists than to the platforms. Also, Alex doesn’t use a streaming service at all; he uses Bandcamp all the time, and VLC for playing his music locally.

So this itch has been developing. I don’t like knowing that I’ve got a 20000+ track library (of mostly albums) sitting on my hard disk as well as an entirely separate library (consisting of lots of single songs as well as albums) in a cloud service.

The cloud service will — almost inevitably — become enshittified over time. But the local library is in the App Formerly Known As iTunes, which Apple has already shat all over. What a cloud/streaming service has got going for it is consistency across multiple machines. Having the same library, with the same set of playlists and ratings on all my devices is trivial.

The same can’t be said for a local library. My personal (not work) computing is split over a desktop machine (Mac Mini) and a laptop (MacBook Air). That’s not going to change any time soon. I use both machines interchangeably depending on context, and I play music on both of them. Ideally they’d share the same files, and the same library/metadata. But local music library apps don’t seem to play nice with that kind of setup.

I’ve been trying out Swinsian, which is really nice. But it uses a SQLite database for its library management, and (from what I remember), SQLite isn’t built for a multi-user cloud-synced scenario.

So after thinking it through, and discussing it with Alex on our road trip to see the flamingos today, I’m thinking: just a Bunch of Files on Disk. The music files I have are already on disk, and nicely organized.

The library management is the interesting part from a syncing perspective…but this could also be a Bunch of Files on Disk, I think…? m3u playlist files are a near-universal standard, and they’re just Files on Disk. Almost every music player can import and export them. m3u playlists can use relative paths to music files, so if I configure everything right, I could move the music library around wherever I wanted to, and use whatever player I like. 🤔 (This will also be helpful for when I — SOME DAY — abandon MacOS for Linux. Current Martin might not need the platform independence, but future Martin will probably appreciate it.)

So, yeah, “A Project”.

I thought I was “just” going to move from Spotify to Tidal. But now I think I’m going to (a) de-iTunesify my old iTunes library, and (b) reconstruct my last 10 years of Spotify listening in a platform-independent, Bunch-of-Files-on-Disk way. This is going to involve spending a lot of money buying single tracks that I had previously only streamed. That’s fine. That’s good. I can do this over time.

My secret weapon here is Last.fm. I’ve been using it (mostly consistently) since 2005. It powers the “Listening To” section in the sidebar of this blog. It was there in the iTunes era, and I’m glad that Past Martin had the foresight to keep using it in the Spotify era. I’m honestly amazed that it still exists. It feels like a throwback to a more innocent web.

A second secret weapon is this little tip: https://apple.stackexchange.com/questions/44333/how-do-i-transfer-music-ratings-from-one-computer-to-another In the iTunes era I used ratings a lot, and iTunes stored those ratings in a big bucket o’ XML along with all of its other metadata. But ratings (and other attributes) don’t have to be stored in a proprietary library format. They could just be indicated by the song’s presence in a specific playlist. (And therefore back to a Bunch of Files on Disk again.)

We’ll see how it goes… If it works out, I’ll try to describe the solution here.

Dam tot Dam 2025

Two weeks ago we took part in the annual Dam tot Dam Wandeltocht again. When you register for the event, the form asks how many times you’ve taken part already. It was so long ago since the last time we did the walk that I had to go back through my blog, old photos, and old emails to remind myself. We first did the walk in 2013, but I didn’t blog that occasion. We did it again in 2014 and 2015. I had a vague inkling that it was a while ago, but that’s a long time. As I seem to keep saying these days, it’s been a hell of a decade.

Dam tot Dam walking routes

The route distances this year were 10, 20, 27, and 42km. We did the 27km one – and Alex joined us for his first Dam-tot-Dam! In the morning we took the bus to metro station Noord (which didn’t exist last time we did the walk), took the metro to Rokin, and walked to Damplein where we picked up our stempelkaarten and the first of several free snacks.

The weather forecast for the day was mild (around 20°), with rain around 16:00. I’d hoped we’d be done by then, but we got a late start, we weren’t on a super fast pace, and the rain arrived sooner than estimated. It started to drip after the Barkpad rest stop, and by the time we hit the Molenwijkpark stop it was full-on raining. I hate walking in the rain. Alex had sensibly brought a rain jacket, but Abi and I were just wearing thin layers. We got soaked. So many other walkers had disposable ponchos that I wondered if there had been on sale at the start…but it was too late to get one. At least it wasn’t cold, but there was a long stretch from Amsterdam Noord to Zaandam that I didn’t enjoy at all.

The rain did take a break as we crossed the Zaan at Spiekeroog, and we dried out a bit on the last stretch to the finish line in Burgemeester in ‘t Veldpark. The rain radar said we could expect more, and we were all tired, so we didn’t hang around to indulge in the festivities at the park. We got a bus part-way back, and picked up another kilometer walking back from Poelenburg.

Made it! The three of us at the finish line. Damp and tired.

Lifting stones

A couple of weeks ago I was looking around for a hotel somewhere in the Highlands, for Abi and me to spend a weekend away. The booking sites showed some interesting offers in Nairn. I don’t remember ever being in Nairn before, so I pulled up a map and starting scrolling around to see what’s there, and what’s nearby. My eye fell quickly fell on ain interesting-looking location nearby: the Barevan Lifting Stone.

Location of the Barevan Lifting Stone, near Nairn.

Google Maps lists this as a “tourist attraction”, and has a link to the Barevan stone’s page on LiftingStones.org. I had no idea that lifting stones were a thing! According to the site:

Like other traditional lifting stones, the five stages of lift are used here:

  1. 1. Break the ground (put wind beneath the stone)
  2. 2. Bring the stone to waist height
  3. 3. Bring the stone to the chest
  4. 4. Bring the stone to the shoulder
  5. 5. Press the stone overhead

LiftingStones.org is a lovely web site dedicated to documenting these lifting stones and their histories. There are stones all around the world, although most of them seem to be concentrated in the British Isles. The site is a classic piece of the good old-fashioned web: one person (Dave Brown) has staked out a topic for themselves, and they’re going to build the best damn resource you can find for this niche. Are you going to get a new article every day? No. Are you going to get a fascinating tidbit a couple of times a year, well-researched, and accompanied by cool photos? Absolutely.

The Barevan stone weighs 105kg. Yeah…no. Not trying that. In the end we booked a hotel elsewhere, and there is another pair of stones nearby (the Auchernack Stones: 100kg and 130kg). I’m not going to try them either, but we might pop round and have a look.

Roman Mars on the curse of efficiency

99% Invisible has been going for 15 years! I’ve been listening to it since 2015, not quite from the beginning, but quite a long time, and it’s undoubtedly one of the favourite things I listen to or watch.

To celebrate the anniversary, they did a special episode where Roman Mars answers 15 questions from listeners and staff. The answers are all good, but one of them really stood out for me, and I love it. The segment starts about 17:06 minutes in. I’ve transcribed (and lightly edited) the key part of Roman’s answer here. Producer Vivian Le asks, “What’s a design-related hill you’re willing to die on?”

The march to make things more and more efficient makes the world a worse place. I think of this in terms of advertising. The idea that we were going to efficiently measure how effective advertising was through clicks and eyeballs and stuff erased all of the extra money that made all of the journalism and all the pop culture that you cared about in the twentieth century. It made it all possible.

The inefficiency of the advertising system made everything good in this world. I think that the idea that you’re trying to get things to be as efficient as possible is actually a terrible, world-destroying idea. The most efficient restaurant is a ghost kitchen that has no storefront. Because that’s inefficient, because it could be empty sometimes! It’s a ghost kitchen that just ships you a thing, and has an underpaid delivery person that brings it to your door, and you never leave. And this is stripping away all the goodness of the world and of cities.

I think efficiency is absolute garbage. And that is the design-related hill I’m willing to die on. I feel like you should be always allowing for great deals of inefficiency to make a nice-designed city, a nice-designed system and make it work. I really hate the focus on efficiency. Not only does it destroy all these good things, it takes money and gives it to the worst people. Like the platform creators and the tech people, instead of… change and tips and things. It’s not like things are cheaper, or things are better. Just, money is being transferred to the wrong people instead of creators and people who make the world a better place through community and creation.

[…]

You need friction, you need the space of creation. That open freedom of an inefficient system where money sloshes around inside of it. These frictions and inefficiencies are what make everything good about the world. So if you can handle that big abstraction, that is the design-related hill I’m willing to die on.