Oh Enduro, you used to be a really cool racing discipline. Don't get me wrong, in many ways you still are. But on the big world stage of racing, you have clearly lost some of your appeal. I look back to 2013, but you were around before that, so I'll go back a little further. We first met in 2006, at a kind of mountain bike rally as part of the Roc d'Azur in the south of France. A lot has changed since then. Back then, you were developing as rapidly as gravel racing is today. And the euphoria that surrounds gravel racing today was exactly the same as the euphoria that surrounded you back then – around 2013.

It was also the year in which the discipline was more clearly defined and reached its first major milestone with the start of the Enduro World Series in Tuscany, in Punta Ala. Everyone wanted to be there, to write their own chapter in this new story. This very first EWS race attracted big names such as Greg Minnaar, Nicolas Vouilloz, Anne-Caroline Chausson, and Tracy Moseley – and with them around ten other world champions from various mountain bike disciplines. Yes, even I was allowed to join in. Like most of the almost 500 participants, I had nothing to do with the outcome of the race. However, the euphoria of being part of this very first edition was indescribable. The specialist media carried this euphoria out into the world in the form of cool photo stories and ignited the fire among racing fans. Even though you are a sport that is not particularly spectator-friendly, your vibe was felt worldwide thanks to the media.

While I only sought out encounters with you sporadically, others traveled around the world thanks to you and competed race after race, stage after stage against the clock. They had great days on their bikes, put up with crashes, formed long-lasting friendships, helped each other out with breakdowns between stages, and developed the highly acclaimed "Spirit of Enduro." Yes, this was later stolen by some brands as a marketing slogan, but this spirit was as real as enduro racing itself. You reached your peak with the World Series around 2016. You were well-established, with races all over the world. They were long, demanding, and tough. And yet, even after seven or eight hours of racing, many enduro athletes still had big smiles on their faces – from March in Chile to October in Finale Ligure. This is probably why many former enduro racers are currently dedicating a big Instagram post to this particular year. Almost always with a smile and a tear in their eyes. Things weren't better in the past – but a lot of things felt more right.

In the years that followed, you changed more than ever before. Your organizers demanded increasingly high sums from teams in order to be allowed to call themselves Enduro World Series teams. We weekend warriors had to either compete in qualifying races or settle for the hobby categories EWS100 or EWS80. No, it wasn't the same, even if this change was perhaps necessary in some respects. But something else was much worse: they wanted to turn you into something you never were. Dear Enduro, you are like rallying in motorsport: tough, complex, demanding, and incredibly fascinating. But rallying is not Formula 1. And just as rallying will never reach the level of cross-country or downhill, you will never reach that level either. And that's perfectly fine. Your fans love you just the way you are. If only your creators had realized that. Instead, you were integrated into the UCI Mountain Bike World Series and thus placed under the umbrella of Warner Bros Discovery Sports. And there, it's all about money. A lot of money. Money that simply doesn't exist in enduro racing in this form. And instead of creating a healthy, financially viable microclimate for riders and teams, you were literally milked dry. We both know the result: five official World Cup teams – what a shame! You know, Enduro, that hurts me. Not out of nostalgia, but because I am convinced that things could have been different. And yet I still see a glimmer of hope. Individual races have recently been designed to be what they once were: long days on the bike, real tests for complete athletes. And yes, I also believe that you can continue to have an official World Cup series. But only if you have the courage to be more yourself again. Maybe that means breaking away from Warner Bros Discovery Sports. Maybe it means getting smaller in order to be more credible again. But it certainly means no longer allowing yourself to be bent out of shape. Dear Enduro, you were never meant to be maximal. You were meant to be honest. And that was and is your greatest strength.