Incredible, at 12.30 we are already headed home. What is the substance of the rain? Or the organizers realized that end in the square when the awards were only the pigeons did not make much sense? However, what matters is to have in his pocket for a somewhat surprising result. This does not mean 100% satisfactory (if ever?), But at least pretty interesting. Species in this race, I always despised. Ungrateful! I that I admired, appreciated, almost long for, I came out every year folded in half. Yet it plays perfect on my path: straight lost in the endless campaign, melancholy horizons broken only by banks or houses, villages anonimi e silenti che appena ci notano. Peccato che questo periodo dell’anno la nostra pianura patteggi una sorta di gemellaggio con la Patagonia: il vento non da tregua. Chi vive in città a malapena lo nota, le costruzioni riparano e smorzano le folate, ma appena fuori dai centri abitati occorre armarsi di forza e pazienza per affrontare certi allenamenti. E io, che già esco alquanto malconcia dall’inverno, arrivo all’appuntamento con Pieve ricca di buoni propositi ma povera di energie.
Oggi, però, qualcosa ha girato per il verso giusto. Che cosa, non saprei dire. Voglio pensare che la preparazione stia dando i suoi frutti, else if not?
I approximates to the starting line quite serene. Moreover, there is little here to play: it is already so successful in placing among the top twenty, at most we can aspire to a category prize. My most direct opponent is right next to me, intent on playing with the runners around us. The bear, however, is as always on her. Do not I take familiar faces, we left early because I just started to feel cold. Today I must break the spell: to address the race, this race for me. No time, once again, that church I always suck.
In the first few kilometers I keep a safe distance, too much crowding around her. It is true that in the group is being repaired, but you know that I can not run from so many feet. The pace is good, but oddly conservative: I would bet on a greater momentum, if only to acquire a safety net. I'm getting closer, I can not help it. I note and raise the pace. Well, I'm here. Already imagine a fight to the meter, like a month ago. After the tenth mile, to protect the bank, the next gear. Without wondering whether it is appropriate or not, break the delay and I'm leaving. I expect a reaction, I will certainly now riagguantata. But no, proceed overtaking on the right and left. Unconscious? Maybe, but I turn on in the mind of the film Stralugano and try to relive it. That performance was! A shoulder to shoulder nerve-racking, until I decided to give a boost just when there were about ten kilometers arrival. Why should not do that today? I focus on my strengths, I still have and I have until the end. I do not look back, never. Everything is projected in front of me. In the last few kilometers to the wind, I put to the test is not particularly strong, but at this stage just a breath too much to make me suffer. I'm slowing down, but do not feel the classic signs of a crisis that ammosciano legs, reducing them to crawl to the finish line. Missing a mile. From it's over , spurs me a boy, inviting me to follow him. I try, and I can not. I can still push, to pull a final apnea: schiatterò, patience ...
Marescalchi I can see from afar, my name rings out where I'm coming. The trial I inflict a bit of disappointment. Details. Small thickness compared to the two main satisfactions of the day. The second of these: I did my best time in this race, running today for the sixth time. Another piece of my puzzle: I almost start to believe that I can complete it.
0 comments:
Post a Comment