domenica 23 marzo 2014

La mia Stramilano

"Sudato, bagnato, affaticato, in mezzo alle moltitudini"

Sì, ero a Milano. Chiedo scusa a tutti gli amici, amiche e conoscenti milanesi che non ho avvertito per far festa. Ma soprattutto, chiedo scusa a quelli che ho avvertito e incontrato. È tutta colpa del sakè.

Nell'anno del Signore 2014, 23 marzo, ero a Milano per correre la Stramilano. Una gara bellissima in quanto si svolge a Milano ed è corsa da podisti improbabili. La prima gara della mia carriera improbabile di amante improbabile delle gare podistiche.

Mi ero iscritto alla mezza maratona (21km) con l'intento di correre anche i 10km della Stramilano dei 50mila.

E invece.

E invece stocazzo di ginocchio non mi dà tregua. Siamo alla seconda settimana senza corsa.

Direte, esticazzi. Esticazzi una sega!! (Perdonate il francesismo di una).

L'obbiettivo sbandierato della stagione era di correre la maratona di Rotterdam il 13 aprile sotto le 3 ore. Sotto le 3 ore sotto i 30 anni. Sì, compio 30anni quest'anno.

Stavo andando benissimo, con finanche il nuovo miglior tempo sulla mezza maratona a Verona, davanti all'esultante Zia Carmela il 16 febbraio scorso.

Di lì in poi il disastro. Coscia posteriore fastidiosa, quattro giorni di stop. Settimana lavorativa h 8-24, si corre solo per andare dal mio ufficio all'ufficio del capo e ritorno.

20km com salite e dolore al ginocchio: non si corre più a tempo indeterminato.

Allora perché ero a Milano, vi chiederete? A parte il sakè che, vi garantisco, si trova anche qui.

Perché dovevo correre la Stramilano. Il biglietto era fatto, l'alloggio pagato, andiamo a correre la Stramilano.

La sveglia è più clemente. Non alle 7 come per il 10+21km programmato, ma alle 9.30.

La colazione è più saporita. Non il malto pregermogliato prima della gara, ma caffellatte e biscotti.

La doccia si fa prima e non dopo la gara.

E via a correre la Stramilano con gli altri.

Partenza alle 11 al Castello Sforzesco. Mi piazzo alle 11.20 al km 5.

Arrivano i primi e qualche flebile applauso glielo concedo. Ma non di più. Questi sono alieni, superuomini e superdonne per i quali non serve sprecare fiato.

Arrivano quelli che finiscono in 1h30m e le cose si fanno più interessanti. Ma è con quelli che finiranno in 2 ore che inizio a darci dentro. Sono già stanchi al km 5 su 21. Li vedi e non te li immagini neanche a prendere le scale anziché l'ascensore per salire un piano di scale. E invece sono lì.

Passa il nostro Cristiano, intorno agli 1h40m. Urlo ma è troppo concentrato e non sente.

Aspetto il passaggio degli ultimi e mi muovo verso il 20esimo chilometro, a poco dal traguardo.

Trovo Claudia col pupone Vito, Anna, il Compa e Renato con la bandiera marziana.

Il canovaccio è lo stesso, ma le voci sono di più.

I primi che arrivano chisselincula (no, sul serio, chisselincula veloci come sono?).

Dopo il gruppo che finirà in 1h30m si fa sul serio.

Applausi. Fischi d'approvazione. Qualche vai e qualche dai.

Poi si fa un paio di salti, ginocchio permettendo. Poi si urla qualche nome che alcuni hanno stampato sulla maglietta. Poi il nome del gruppo per cui alcuni corrono. Poi nomi a caso.

Poi si urla e basta.

Poi si incita.

Poi passa Fabrizio con la bandiera dei Podisti da Marte, per lui era il 30esimo km, e vien giù lo stadio. Poi passano Valterone. Poi Ivan, Geogiana, Simona, Antonella, Alfredo, Pino, altri che in questo momento non ricordo che mi sto pure emozionando.

Poi passano altre centinaia di sconosciuti ai quali si urla ugualmente di non mollare dai cazzo che siete bravissimi siete quasi arrivati dai grandi è l'ultimo chilometro siete grandi bravi forza con quelle gambe daaaaiiiii.

Poi si va a bloccare Claudia che con Vito in braccio a momenti salta addosso a quelli di 2 ore e 30 perché cazzo non è questo il momento di mollare dai cazzo.

La più bella Stramilano che non abbia mai corso.

Poi Giogiò però non la si aspetta più ché, figa, mi parte l'aereo.

Ma dove spacchio sei Giogiò?

giovedì 26 dicembre 2013

sabato 18 maggio 2013

Road to Boston

I'm shipping up to Boston. To find my wooden leg.

One month ago I was in Singapore. It was 3 in the morning and couldn't sleep. I opened randomly an Italian news website, and got the news.

A bomb at the Boston Marathon. At the arrival.

Who hasn't seen or run a marathon cannot understand. The arrival of a marathon is a sacred moment.

The father of Martin, one of the victims, probably had waken up at 5 am, four times a week, for the previous 6 months. Or maybe had sacrificed moments with his family. Everything to run for 42k 195m. To finish a 4h and something run. To see his son and his wife, proud of him.

The bombing did not just kill people. It was a terrorist attack. They attacked our world, the runners' world.

They told every Martin's father "do not run a marathon, do not bring your beloved ones with you".

My first thought was "we shall overcome". We shall overcome because we are soldiers.

The first marathon man was a soldier, announcing the defeat of the enemies. The war is over.

We, now, we are soldiers of peace. We announce our joy to the world. The relief of struggling, fighting, and reaching our goal.

Our joy is in the overcome of the pain. In the arrival which closes our journey. Our joy is in those who came to see us. Those who are just there and look at us like aliens.

I decided to run a marathon the day of the bombing. I'm going to Buffalo next weekend.

Today I'm in Boston. I had to come here and leave a flower. It's May 18, 2013, and I am visiting Boston to talk about my future.

My next future is the Buffalo marathon. Because we shall overcome.

mercoledì 1 maggio 2013

Lombok-Gili: Finding Nemo

It is so hard to fish in Gili Trawangan.

I spent two days bargaining for a decent price.

The first day I got prices and conditions I wanted. It turned out to be a scam. The guy took my money and went back to Lombok mainland.

I got my money back from the thief's friends, those who introduced the thief to me. Money and complimentary mask and fin for a day (you do not mess with Sicilians). But I was back to square one.

The second day, I found again price and conditions I wanted. And no upfront payment this time. Dealt straight with the owner of the boat, no agencies. The day after the fisherman chickened out. Someone told him he was mad to accept that price, tourists usually pay much more. He got nothing.

That was so sad, because I really wanted to fish Nemo.

Gili Trawangan is the biggest of the Gili Islands, three small rounded pieces of land lying in the sea at northwest of Lombok. They are surrounded by coral reefs, which make them perfect for surfing, diving and snorkeling. And fishing of course.

They were the flattest piece of land my friend and I could find in Indonesia. Perfect to recover after Mount Rinjani (see previous post).

Five days four nights of tough relax. The first day we lied on the beach all day and celebrated fullmoon at night: our homestay offered free flow of fried and grilled fish, with palm wine as drink.

The second day we lied on the beach all day. No fullmoon to celebrate.

The third day we went snorkeling around the three islands. We found Nemo, but I could not eat him. So sad.

The fourth day we lied on the beach all day.

Someone may find strange that we lied on the beach all day. But that is what you usually do in Gili. You lie on the beach all day.

The fourth day was special, though. A horse landed on our beach from the sea. Such a special day.

I decided to add some spice to all this lying on the beach all day.

52k run in three days. 7k fast, 30k slow split between sunrise and sunset, 15k interval training. Everything thanks to the proteins of the friends of our friend Nemo. I could not fish him but at least I could have other kinds of fish for lunch and dinner. Barracuda included.

The fifth day I left to Kuta, Bali. A journey called nightmare. A nightmare called Indonesia. Traffic jam, scams, stoned backpackers, greedy car drivers. Everything awful of this beautiful country squeezed in 11 hours of cars and boats.

Lucky them, I was so relaxed.

venerdì 26 aprile 2013

Lombok-Rinjani: Fighting my Volcano

"Why are you climbing Rinjani?"
"To see the real Bali"
(A guy we met on the way up)

[First Part: Reaching the Summit]

You do not want to wake up at 5.50 am while you are on holiday. Unless you know that your base camp is 9 hour far from your hotel.

We had an energetic breakfast. Banana pancake, banana and pineapple.

At 7, after the last briefing we sit in the pickup, thrilled about our new adventure. I slept for the following hour.

A very last briefing about how not to fall in the crater and we are ready to go.

We had one guide and two porters. Straight from colonialism to the XXI century. We had to carry only our personal things. Everything else, from stoves to camping chairs, was on the porters' shoulders.

Yes, we had chairs.

We left at 1000m above the sea. By the end of the day we were at 2700m above the sea. One long way up.

Now, those who have read "The Freaking Volcano" here on Piovono Runners already know that height scares my ass off.

I love mountaineering, just it would be better if mountains were flat.

So why do you climb volcanos? Someone may ask. Well, first for the fatigue. The work out. The sense of completeness you experience when every little part of your body hurts.

Second, the challenge. We will see who wins the fight, if the scared man or the scaring volcano!

When my friend and I decided to climb Mount Rinjani, we knew what we were going to face. She is not super fit for climbing. As for me, my body is fit. Just the mind does not follow (or lead).

To challenge ourselves, and to see paradise (see pictures below) we agreed to went through hell. Four days, three nights of climbing and camping. At least we had de luxe service. Which means we had chairs.

When we reached the top, the very first day at 6 pm, paradise was there, before our eyes.

Segara Anak Lake, 2000m above the sea, the huge crater of Mount Rinjani.  Astonishing it's view from 2700m above the sea, where we were. You just pass the rim of the volcano and the crater with the lake is there.

We just passed the rim and I started freaking  out. We camped on the rim, our chairs facing the lake. Dinner and quickly to sleep at 8 pm. At 2 am we had to wake up and start the further climbing up to 3726m: the summit.

When the alarm rang I was awake. Smoked two cigarettes to relax. Had breakfast. Started the climbing.

The moon was almost full and enlightened everything: our trail, the summit above, the crater below. 5 minutes of walking and the trail has a hole. I needed to do just one long step to overcome it. Easy for everyone. If it weren't for the 800m jump on the right.

I had to take a quick decision. Seven hours of that mental pain to reach a summit from where I will not be able to see anything? Or I go back to sleep?

Under my request our guide shouted at one of the porters. And the porter came to pick me up.

I was shaking when we reached the tent. But sure about one thing: I quit, I will not move forward. I take a porter and go back to the hotel.

[Second Part: Decisions]

My friend showed up at 4am. She also could not make it. What the guide did not tell us was that 2/3 of the climbing was on the sand. Two steps forward, one step backward.

She had to take a quick decision. Seven hours of that physical pain to reach the summit? Or go back to sleep?

We skipped the sunrise and slept until 8. We had our second breakfast and I explained the guide my decision.

The second day we were supposed to camp by the lake. To go down from 2700 to 2000m above the sea, along the steep wall of the crater. The third day all the way up to the other side. Two days of hiking facing the void. I could not make it. I had to go back.

He understood. But immediately clarified it was my decision, my fault, and I had to pay for that decision.

A car had to pick me and the porter up at Sembalung, and I had to pay the accommodation for the extra days in Senaru. He mentioned some figures. With the bargaining I could get to 50USD.

Should I risk my life going down and up from the crater? Or should I just pay 50USD and sleep in Senaru until my friend comes back?

At 10 am we took the way down to the lake.

Three hours of pain before me. I kept praying "Padre Nostro" (christian prayer from the gospel) and figuring positive thoughts. All the way down.

Half way the enlightening moment. I looked at my right and felt no fear. It's gone, it's over. I can do it, I will not jump in the void this time.

I asked the guide if there was only one trail. Yes, he said. I ran down happy as ever, jumping on rocks and avoiding last second turns.

The lake was just amazing. We fished, read, took a nap. Just relaxed and watched that magnificent view.

The third day, when the sun was already up, we visited the hot spring. Had a quick swim and got ready to climb up.

It was worse than expected. The trail was slippery. Some parts were walls of rock that required basic climbing skills. Easy for everyone, if it weren't for the 600m jump on the back. All the way up had the left side straight to the crater.

My fear was just equal to the patience of my companions. Three hours of that hiking, but I never stopped. I paused, but did not stop.

Passed the rim everything was easy. A steep trail down from 2700m to 1000m. But the first part was in the cloud. And the second part in the forest.

We stopped for the night at the beginning of the forest, at 2000m above the sea.

I could not sleep for the excitement. And when I did, my friend could not sleep for my snorting.

The final day was pure poetry. The sounds of the forest, grey and black monkeys, jungle trees the blocked the view of the mountain.

Half way I asked the guide how long we had to walk for. Two hours, he said. One trail? One trail. See you at the arrival.

Forty minutes of run and the journey was over for me.

Time to wait for the others. Time to think about life and death. Time to take important decisions: should I order a beer now, or wait to be in Sengigi to celebrate?

lunedì 22 aprile 2013

Lombok - Senaru

First day: flying to Lombok.

A whole day to fly to Lombok? Yes, the whole day. 

I left at 10.40 from Singapore. We arrived in Senaru at 21. We is Marie-Lea and I. Marie-Lea is a friend from university. She's French. (Yeah, French. Don't tell me about it)

Senaru is the starting point if you want to climb Rinjani, Lombok's 3700m high volcano. 

So, yesterday was a whole day of just travel. An airplane, then waiting in Bali, then another airplane to Lombok (Payar), then a 3 hour drive from Payar to Senaru, shared with a Dutch couple. 

No running, no climbing, no snorkeling.

So what's remarkable about the day?

The plane. Pictures below.

The company. We shared some stories and pretended to laugh at the Dutch guy annoying jokes.

Senaru. This tiny village is a steep street with houses on both sides. Kids, dogs, workers. All of them are nice and welcoming. Of course there are swindlers, like the guy who rented us the room for the night. But the impression of Senaru is very positive.

This morning, the second day, I woke up at 6 and had a pleasant 7.5k run.  Tried to reach the waterfalls. But my run was stopped by bunch of dogs first. Then by a bunch of monkeys.

Persuaded by the wild animals of Senaru, I went up and down the village. I saw the school, the most romantic football pitch, and some land for sale.

After a cold shower (thanks jerk swindler) we booked the trek of the next four days. And we moved to a much better room.

We spent the afternoon hiking to two gorgeous waterfalls (I finally reached them). An amuse bouche of what we will be doing for the next four days.

Everything we did, of course, was under the gaze of the wise Mount Rinjani. Our next destination.