![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.oxyburn.it\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/Ilaria9_f77d96e4018c69b45e539fc9eb2c7fd9-300x208.jpg\")
<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Nove Colli Running… There are no cicadas in the meadows, in the silence broken only by our footsteps; there are no warm colors of the sunset from Ciola; there are no cheerful faces at the aid stations, only worried and chilled ones. There are no fireflies to soften the night; there is no moon singing over Perticara, brighter and larger than the sun; there are no nighttime cyclists climbing while singing, exchanging jokes, and lightening the mood. There are no night lights in the mild, clear air, no friends and relatives waiting outside their cars for the athletes; there are no villagers, no children like there were last year\u2026 There is only rain and water, little streams on the roads, and a thick fog up on Barbotto. <\/p>\n
I can’t see a thing. I put on my “I’m stopped on the highway” vest\u2014I look like the Civil Protection mascot… but there are too many cars and no lights. And I’m scared. <\/p>\n
The atmosphere is heavy this year; the fear of the cold and bad weather is perhaps worse than the rain itself… the mood is heavy; everyone seems worried.<\/p>\n
The night randonneurs climb with their heads bowed, their shoulders heavy, weighed down by their high-tech capes.
\nTheir incredibly powerful lights\u2014which had captivated me last year\u2014are now pale, obscured by the fog and rain.<\/p>\n
And yet these Nove Colli are the same, but everything is harder. The damp seeps into my skin; I mustn\u2019t stop, I mustn\u2019t sit down…
\nI scan the horizon for my car; seeing it through the rain lifts my spirits.
\nYet I keep running, going up and down, and I don\u2019t hit any rough patches\u2014not even at the spots I remembered from last year as a nightmare… <\/p>\n
Luciano\u2019s support is perfect\u2014hot water and my carb-protein mix in the shaker arrive just when I need them.
\nWhat a difference\u2026 you don\u2019t have to worry about a thing, just run. And then, at every kilometer, there\u2019s always a smile, a voice telling you, \u201cYou\u2019re doing great!\u201d All of this is stronger than the raging monsoon. <\/p>\n
In a little while, Noah will call all the animals in the valley to gather, and whoever gets to the ark first gets the best spot. I think Noah will definitely pass me over. I’ll have to make my way there on foot. <\/p>\n
I missed the colors of these gentle hills, the way they curve on the horizon.<\/p>\n
Head down, hands tucked inside my Gore-Tex jacket…so they don’t get wet.
\nHands in Vileda gloves\u2014they may not be very fashionable, but they’re absolutely a godsend.
\nHands putting on and taking off wet pants and soaked jackets.<\/p>\n
Even under these conditions, this race is a spectacle. Pure magic, in the timeless silence of the Pugliano pine forest, the incredibly long descent to Ponte Uso 2.
\nAnd it\u2019s already daylight; I\u2019m doing great. And I still can\u2019t believe I\u2019m here, right here and now.
\nWith wet hair and cold feet.
\nBut I wouldn\u2019t trade this for any warm fireplace or cozy slippers. <\/p>\n
Right here, right now… the toughest part begins: the long trek from Ponte Uso 2 to the base of Gorolo. And the monsoon is back in full force; I can\u2019t run along the roadside because it\u2019s flooded, but cars are speeding by, and since I\u2019m already struggling to put one foot in front of the other, I also have to worry about saving my own skin…
\nI\u2019m losing a lot of time; it\u2019s only 10 km, but this stretch feels endless…
\nAnd then comes the final climb\u2014the one where you tell yourself, \u201cIt\u2019s over now!\u201d but then it\u2019s not; you still have 30 km to go, which, if you think about it… is really a lot! <\/p>\n
Gorolo, completely transformed.
\nI keep walking; sooner or later I\u2019ll make it to Cesenatico.
\nI crest the hill… and there\u2019s none of the blue of the sea blending with the sky like last year, which took my breath away.
\nEverything\u2019s gray, and there\u2019s a storm on the horizon.<\/p>\n
The battle with the monsters of the mind, with the unreal, begins. I\u2019m hot, I\u2019m cold (within just a few meters)\u2014sensations that arise only to unsettle me, but I can\u2019t overcome them. I have to go along with them.
\nAnd then you head down toward Borghi, toward the sea…and you know you\u2019ve done it once before and that, one step at a time, you\u2019ll get there. <\/p>\n
The crisis will pass… the crisis will pass…<\/p>\n
Luciano makes me realize that, up until now, I\u2019d never completely broken down\u2014I hadn\u2019t even had a single moment of weakness or a minor crisis. The logic of experience clashes with my feelings of impatience, but I know that\u2019s how it is…
\nIt\u2019s funny to think back on it now\u2026 but in moments like these, the brain is reduced to maintaining only its most basic functions. <\/p>\n
…and the cyclists in the 130k race whiz past me, waving, giving me a thumbs-up, a nod, a shout… it’s a party.
\nIt’s sportsmanship… it’s heart… and then someone yells my name, several times\u2014I only recognize Romeo… but dressed in your cycling gear, you’re unrecognizable!<\/p>\n
The slope levels off into the final straights, and the crowd gathers along the road because the top contenders in the 200km race\u2014the real ones\u2014are about to arrive…the ones who, when they pass you, blow you away. Police cars, sirens, motorcycles…make way…I know that about ten minutes pass between the first sirens and the leading group…I step into the middle of the road, stealing the crowd\u2019s applause for myself; they look at me amused, a little bewildered, but some realize we\u2019ve been out here for 190 km\u2014word spreads, and it turns into a roar of cheers. <\/p>\n
It almost seems like I’m having fun!<\/p>\n
I cling to any sensation just to keep going… It starts raining again, the wind picks up (right up until the end…) until you realize it\u2019s finally over when you see the overpass (yes, the very ones you normally HATE during a race). The overpass that leads you to your moment of glory, of infinity, when even the police officers give you a high-five… and your pace picks up, your legs\u2014which were previously glued to the ground\u2014start turning, running; you\u2019re flying.
\nDon\u2019t talk to me about adrenaline: this is magic; it\u2019s the miracle of endurance. You can be dead tired all you want, but at a certain point you can start flying again… The final straight… watch out for the bikes… stay close to the barriers\u2026 The faces, the outstretched hands, Mario Castagnoli\u2019s embrace, the tears. It\u2019s over. <\/p>\n
202.4 km of life, shared for the first time with a first-rate assistant.
\n“Thank you” doesn’t quite capture it… maybe you just have to have been there, to have conquered these hills, to understand the boundaries of the NCR.<\/p>\n
It’s the only race that can make time stand still… That’s no small feat. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Nove Colli Running… There are no cicadas in the meadows, in the silence broken only by our footsteps; there…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":72170,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-72169","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-senza-categoria"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n