Pain is temporary, pride is forever!
Here is the chronicle of a very special day. Sit
which is a bit 'longish ...
Albascura
"
The night opens its arms fragile. Among the emotions that are intertwined " sang in
Subsonica Albascura .
But oddly enough - especially considering the pre-race anxiety Eve - I slept a deep, restorative sleep, so I did almost hard to hear the alarm at 06:00 bet. I get up, and the first thing I do is check the weather. Unfortunately, the predictions were correct: there is strong wind and cold, sometimes very strong.
I make a breakfast 'normal' without the odd advice from someone, like three ounces of bucatini with butter and jam, limiting the usual mug of coffee with lots of biscuits. One last look to the Internet to check the weather (you never know: maybe an hour departure back to the spring) and see the last posts of encouragement of friends on Facebook. I dress quietly, and do one more check-list control.
am strangely calm ...
Departing toward Rho
At 7:15 we leave the house. Time is really a wolf. Miki - who accompanies me with great patience in this venture - he asks: " you sure you want to drive? 'a bit worried that my pre-race excitement can lead to a long front straight. Fortunately, we arrived safely at their destination and parked in P4. My cool (apparent?) Begins to fade when I see the constant influx of shivering runner approaching the starting area.
For a moment I felt that the columns of deportees who sadly starts to their fate, and I seem to perceive inflatable on the words "Laufen macht frei." But what a beautiful image ... reassuring.
Preparation is 90% of success
That is one of the few things I have been in the head after years of management training. Krauthammer Thanks!
I proceed to the ritual of dressing without getting out, given the polar climate. Socks, shoes, band-cardio-protector patch nipples iPod, Garmin, T-shirt .... And then? What the hell I put him with the wind chill? I'm tempted to put something with long sleeves, but in the end I decide to anti-wind vest to wear over the official jersey. I wear sweatshirts to keep on them until the delivery bag and face the storm. Meanwhile I get a call from Stefano tells me that he is with his friends in the hotel lobby HN for shelter from the wind.
Refugees? No, runners!
just after 8:00 am when we head towards the start area. Luggage bag with changing clothes and I part of the precious hoodie: how cold it is? I head straight to the t 'expendable' and above that the garbage bag for shelter from the wind. My beautiful chest
is now under three layers of stuff and can not be captured by several photographers. The survival instinct gets the better to give up vanity and pictures.
arrive at the hotel and the scene that I had the surreal: it seems to be in a refugee camp full of people dressed unlikely, busy rub cream on his legs. The smell of camphor that hovers in the hall reminds me of the words of Robert Duvall in Apocalypse Now: "I love the smell of
camphor in the morning ... Smells like ... victory " Forse non si trattava di canfora, ma fa lo stesso… Magari la prossima volta provo a scaldarmi i muscoli col Napalm. Evidentemente i miasmi che si respirano mi provocano qualche allucinazione cinematografico-olfattiva.
Poco dopo aver incontrato Stefano e i suoi amici, una dipendente dell’hotel in preda a crisi isterica comincia ad inveire contro i profughi, intimandoci di sgomberare. Sembra molto decisa, ma viene ignorata dalla maggior parte degli occupanti. Non mi stupirei di vedere qualcuno scrivere sui muri con la bomboletta spray “OKKUPARE NON E’ REATO”. Visto che siamo persone educate, ci dirigiamo fuori affrontando stoicamente la tormenta. Accompagno Stefano & co a depositare le borse (azz! Tutto questo extra cold I could save by surrendering myself at the last minute) Miki greeting as he would a military base for the war in Vietnam and we head towards the start.
Before the start
The starting area dedicated to us nerds (those with a long range in the marathon in 4 hours / ∞) is pretty far to get there and you have to walk on a strip of terrain: no peck only a sprain ankle right now ... There is still time for the last pisciatina and socialize with friends: Max, Andrea and Luciano.
have a chat with nice people while waiting on the grid is a good medicine to ease the tension. Executioner cow, that cool! Fortunately, the density inside the cage produces a nice "stable effect" that makes the cold more bearable. The TV helicopters buzzing over our heads, reminiscent of other similarities with Apocalypse Now. "
This is the end. My only friend, the end "
Start me up
turn on my Garmin and prepare on the iPod playlist" Run Like Hell. " At any moment I expect to hear another scream Russell Crowe: "
On my signal, Unleash Hell. "But we are so far from the start-line and not even feel the shot. I realize that was kicked off by the fact that I see some balloons to move ahead. However, we have: it starts. It brings to mind the words of Cochi and Renato "
and there is always someone to hand, but it will go, if part ? "and immediately think that given the solemnity of the moment would have been appropriate mental association a bit 'more epic, like - I know -" The Final Countdown
"or" Eye of the tiger
" ok, but .... Tearing the garbage bag with a movement very manly and walked.
The adventure begins. There is no time to think, the word goes to the legs and lungs.
The first 10Km
Almost immediately lose sight of Stephen. He said that - given the lack of preparation - of the past would have been satisfied with the 4 in front and apparently has decided to start their own plan. For a while, 'stay with Massimo, but after a couple of miles I let him go because it's going at a pace that is not compatible with my goals.
I take off my shirt escort, but not throw it: I'm too afraid of wind. For now, crumpled in my hand and use it to wipe the sweat. Um .... But what is sweat? With all this wind evaporates immediately. Then throw it, but my sense of civic duty compels me to find a trash can: not an easy task in the industrial suburb of Rho-Pero. On the first refreshment drink disciplined, even though I was still thirsty. Continue to make every dining. In the middle of Via Novara begin to feel some pains in my stomach. I look around for a chemical bath, but I can not see. A few minutes later, fortunately, the pains disappear.
As I feared, I left too strong even force me to go slow, I can drag up an average of around 5'30 in the first few kilometers I close i primi 10Km in 56’44. Mi sento bene, anche se il vento freddo si fa sentire.
Tra i 10 e i 20
Come da programma, mi bevo il primo gel energetico seguito da abbondante acqua. Le gambe girano bene, e non ho nessun segnale preoccupante dal ginocchio. Ritorna il mal di pancia, questa volta più forte. Di bagni chimici, neanche l'ombra. Mi sfiora l’idea di appartarmi dietro una siepe, ma tengo duro cercando di pensare che il problema è dovuto solo al passaggio davanti a San Siro, tempio di uno sport che mi fa c***re. Quando siamo in zona Monte Stella cerco di individuare tra il (poco) pubblico Lucrezia e Giampaolo, ma tutto quello che vedo sono automobilisti incazzati who can not conceive why the hell should stop to let people be rude to walk. Via Gallarate in the wind is incredibly strong and - of course - not. It 's hard .... Fortunately, in the square Accursio two nice surprises: Lucrezia & Family who are rooting shouting "FOIA GO!" and a band that does live music very cheerful. This gives me a nice office. But unfortunately not last long: I have to find a bathroom or you risk an ecological disaster worthy! Luckily I see a bar on the corner of Via and Via Marco Antonio Colonna Theodoric. By all out of breath and asked to use the bathroom fearing a diplomatic answer like "E 'out of service." But the answer "the second door on the left" sounds as a harmonious melody of Chopin. I am forever grateful to Cynthia bar (the day after I traced the phone number and I called them to thank them with all my heart). The stop cost me a couple of minutes and fool the Garmin, but it was really necessary.
As we approach the halfway stage, the environment gets hotter: the audience, loud music along almost Corso Sempione everything and ... photographers. I have my work cut out to open the anti-wind vest to show the number of race to target and close it quickly not to take too much wind on the tummy.
Between 20 and 30
like clockwork Swiss, I drink the second gel. At the junction for the average risk of being wrong. But they could not put the instructions clear?? New Port arrives on the ramparts of the sign of half of the race and do a quick check-point: 2:04 a.m. for the first part, no pain, the little heart is maintained under 150bpm, the stomach ache is now behind us and the speed of around 5 40. Encouraged by these positive signs I say to myself: "Ok , strength: you only have a half before. What do you want it?" Beside the public gardens of two pairs of newlyweds Chinese look at us go: we applaud their runners. The brides dress in white seem amused. In Corso Venezia is a bit 'depressing to see those who are already coming back after have made the rounds of the Duomo square, but I do not get influenced. I tell myself that my goal is to get to the bottom.
It 'nice to spend the streets of downtown and at times it feels to be the star of the day, with kids that give you the five, some of them telling you "Beautiful!" Even around the cathedral there are several photographers, hoping to do well in some pictures, I do the demeanor of one who is not even touched by the idea of \u200b\u200bfatigue, which is not completely true. The fueling of 25 km, just before San Babila, I give myself the first slow down and drink some 'water-walking instead of running for a short distance. Come back on Corso Venezia Stefano intersection going the other way: when he said che l'avrebbe presa con tranquillità non scherzava. Poco dopo sono raggiunto dai pacemakers delle 4h15'. Il primo pensiero è stato: " Urca, ma allora stavo andando così forte? " Ma poi, quando decido di stargli dietro capisco che ad andare forte sono loro e non io. Tengo duro per una ventina di minuti ma poco prima del trentesimo devo concedermi una breve pausa al passo; quando riprendo a correre i pacemakers sono davanti soltanto per una cinquantina di metri, ma il gap aumenta in modo inesorabile e non li rivedrò più.
Comincio ad essere stanco.
BANZAI!! Il terzo e ultimo gel segna ufficialmente l'ingresso in un territorio inesplorato: quello dopo il trentesimo chilometro, mai provato durante gli allenamenti. Quella parte di gara descritta da tanti come una specie di
twilight zone nella quale può succedere di tutto, soprattutto l'incontro con il famigerato "
muro ". Io mi guardo attentamente in giro per evitare eventuali pareti malintenzionate, ma non vedo neanche un mattone. L'unica cosa a cui fare attenzione sono gli staffettisti dell'ultima frazione che invadono la corsia cercando di farsi vedere dai compagni. Verso il 32km, sento un grido arrivare dal lato opposto del Naviglio "Foiaaa!!". Identifico una sagoma rossa che corre in senso inverso e penso "
quella pazza non può che essere Nadia ". La mitica Nadia that despite its problems today is with us, even if "by service". I try to keep up, but its pace - despite slowing down just for me - is a bit 'too high, especially at this moment I start to feel an unusual pain on the upper thigh to the inside (do not know the anatomical term exact). Anyway have a chat with Nadia - which also yells at me for the position of the arms - it helps me to distract me. In Piazza Cantore I need a short break at the pass and let go Nadia. I take a step around 6'00 "to supply 35 Km. The infamous" wall "yet even the shadow, though now the effort is being felt even more. Ma poi faccio un rapido calcolo: ormai anche se dovessi camminare fino all’arrivo finirò comunque sotto le 4 ore e mezza. Questo rafforza dentro di me la certezza di arrivare fino in fondo.
In zona Vigorelli scorgo un gruppo di turisti Giapponesi che ci saluta; ho la forza di avvicinarmi e gridare “ 最後までがんばります！！ " suscitando nell'incredula comitiva grida di entusiasmo ed ammirazione. I loro ‘Banzai’ mi danno la forza di arrivare in Corso Sempione, con il suo interminabile rettilineo. La folla si fa sempre più densa ed unanime nel gridarci di non mollare, that we are now at the bottom. I like to applaud those who incite to thank them for their warmth.
Probably we could do to get the running until the end, but the fear of ruining it all just to gain a few minutes requires me to do some leg to step. Last mile: I finally unfasten the anti-wind for me to feed the objectives of many photographers. Here we are. The strong emotion that I feel is not expressed in tears but in a liberating sort of rabid inner cry that explodes while cutting the finish line with arms raised. It 's done now I'm a marathon runner, someone a bit' special, perhaps a madman in the eyes of many, but surely someone who can accept le sfide e portarle in fondo.
E il primo folle pensiero che mi attraversa la mente è... che questo è solo l'inizio.
To be continued...
