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I'll be diplomatic.

Since in the course of U.S. history we have witnessed acts of reckless fools, who have killed people of a certain social and political significance, not only in the United States itself, but throughout the world (Kennedy, ML King, Malcolm X, etc. ...): because someone does not shoot at Isiah Thomas?

(for technical and tactical details of the trade leave to spend a few days)

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Sunday morning

As has sought and has scraped the bottom of the web, for last Sunday did not seem that there was an alternative to the Half Marathon of Centobuchi within a hundred kilometers ...

All my sources, even unreliable, just me back Centobuchi.

A Centobuchi are already a couple of years ago, two identical laps, flat (apart from a subway), there's so many people and too stiff, there is a chip (which is very rare in races you are here), it runs between the Salaria and a kind of deserted industrial area .. in the middle of nowhere, lost in the endless plain with nothing to watch, apart from the white line centerline.

Depression. Do not go there.

accordance with the single reserve, hilly race solo, with the illusion that the lunch is browning in the oven and loud music.

Clothing curate pants and black long-sleeved shirt, red socks and stand the white jersey of the Carpi Marathon.

Party with the rise in anxiety, the muscles that seem to go on fire, burning his face, I must not look good.

But ... how do you feel strongly that the air enters the lungs, and has the smell of the damp earth, nothing to do with what I breathe when I run after work.

are again looking for things to do for next Sunday ....

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people who go ... people who come ... For Sunday ....

The good news from the race to Igea Marina is that I have recovered a running mate, John, after he had not Carpi stopped running altogether, just that I had abandoned to my fate.

Thus, in recent weeks for travel in Running Romagna, I ended up in the car with a runner with the syndrome of compulsive buying, and another that is a fine gourmet, the Big Mac fan and staunch supporter of food made in series, replicated the same in all parts of the world.

Nice people, but I started to feel a bit 'of nostalgia for old classmates.

Sunday however, John has taken the place of the palate and delicately with the maniac of shoopping we left for the Romagna.

And the beauty of the day was all here: to recover a running mate and hope that continues.

And then the race ... What about ...

I will be brief and clear ...

is always the same old story: out of shape and lazy, I look forward to spring.

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Igea Marina!

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Scrivo perché sennò mi dimentico..
…perché sono indietro con le registrazioni…
…perché ho un foglio excel per il 2011 fatto a metà, una specie di bozza molto primitiva, con le caselle da sistemare, le colonne da nominare, i giorni e i mesi da inserire…e siamo già a febbraio.

In questo periodo bazzico la Romagna: dopo San Marino una simpatica signora riminese ci aveva detto di non farci scappare il Trofeo delle 5 ville a Bertinoro e così domenica scorsa sveglia alle 6, gambe in spalla imbocco di nuovo l’A14, con due compagni di viaggio di cui potrei narrare le gesta, ma mi trattengo (caso never read).

Bertinoro is a nice place, a hill overlooking the plain, only to get from parking to the square to collect the number was from my coming out of breath.
At the start I find myself dangerously near the front row, because, by mistake during heating, we ended up in front of the starting line: Can not go up the block of people, we can only hope not to die squashed.

The start is very fast, everyone goes down like lightning, here and there but since I had heard tale of the legendary climbs in the middle then, I decide not to take it from me enthusiasm. Before

villa: a bit 'clogging in the woods.

Resume asphalt: is starting to get hot, we're almost at the fifth km, I would have some desire, but unfortunately I see the rest is made with hot chocolate ... shoot straight disconsolate and thirsty. Remedy
a glass of tea after a vertical salitone takes us into the second house and between the barrels in a cellar with walls covered with bottles, enough to make me hope for a good glass of sangiovese at the restaurant ... I'm beginning to feel

fatigue and I worry because there are still three villas at the finish: short wheelbase and look down.

The view from afar, the tower of the country is not very comforting, but step by step all over you (says the sage), then prendo la rincorsa per gli ultimi 200 metri di salita, tentando un arrivo trionfale…che però viene bruscamente stoppato da un addetto alla corsa: c’è da fare la coda per tagliare il traguardo (tempo d’attesa circa 10 minuti circa!!).
Per me la gara è finita in 1 ora e 13 minuti, per il cronometro ufficiale 1 ora e 22 minuti…