On the roads of Chianti, in the Siena hills, pouring rain and thousands of people from all parts of the world, we were there which always pursue that poem written by bicycle
For people like me, in the early eighties, with the bike began to challenge their forces on the first climb of the church, on the mountain that could be seen on the horizon then, any bike was racing bikes. The one with drop handlebars, the pedals with toe clips and terrible strap, the gear levers on the chassis, brake wires that crossed in front of the nose when he crouched in the aerodynamic position, five crowns on the freewheel and rear tubular disconnect to bites if foravi, but that they turned on the rim if frenavi too downhill. And then there were the shirt and pants blacks wool, those with the deerskin to the saddle and harness, the paper of the Gazette under the shirt to make the descents, the helmets to leather straps, which fortunately did not He is falling ever! The bicycle was freedom, adventure was, was hard, cycling was one man alone in the lead, Breton crafty as a rate, frozen food in the storm of the Gavia, was above all a dream, a dream for me, for everyone, He has died at Madonna di Campiglio, with the ultimate interpreter of the cycling boarding, the last who ran the old, even if riding a modern bike.
Yes, because then came the bike modern, very special carbon, the change in the brake levers, the high-profile wheels, ten, eleven wreaths on the rear wheel, the clipless pedals and technical fabrics that withstand all weather conditions, bike light like feathers with which to climb on the walls. Fatigue remained, the beauty of a rose of a thousand bends or a descent with curves by brush, have not changed, that is nuanced taste epic passage from the bottle, the arrival of color TV and on shorts, led away with the gray, the charm of Black Legs.
A few years ago, when I heard for the first time L’Eroica, I fell in love immediately, unconditionally, a race, that race is not, because there is a first come, and there is a prize to be awarded, the prize is just the satisfaction of having finished, that is the one to forty or two hundred and nine kilometers, because the paper is a walk enogastranomica flavor of yesteryear, the Chianti wine in straw fiasco, to do strictly with those bikes the , those of my first Sgambati, and if possible, older still, with wool sweaters, leather of his boots, mittens perforated, and the tubular spare shoulder.
For all the departure and arrival it is at Gaiole in Chianti, after an up and a down hills, riding on paved roads now now on the roads of dirt, Tuscan heritage and humanity, streets that still have the taste of that the cycling, that fans feel any nag the Coppi of Cuneo Pinerolo. Last weekend, I was lucky enough to experience the atmosphere of the Eroica, I crossed lovers from all over the world, of all ages: French, Scottish, English, Japanese, American, Russian, Polish, Dutch, German, Italian, to name only those with whom I happened to chat, someone pulled as a professional, someone with physical rugby player and the sponsor theme, someone, including myself, with a gate with wheels, someone with the bike then better preserved of the crown jewels, with other relics of the early twentieth century.
I cycled only the short path, not too many years I climbed on the bike racing, but during those 46 kilometers – almost all in the pouring rain which made it even more heroic path – have awakened the dormant feelings, the desire to look for challenge, to make the climb faster than the companion of the moment, to joke in the group, track, track, “I’ve got an evil in the legs that I do not restrain you so”, snorting jumped to a report on the most beautiful, ride in the group, in a fairytale. All and sundry from the path he had chosen to ride together in the values of cycling, the sport declined in the wonderful spirit that the creators were able to evoke, with the sense of solidarity in the effort and openness to new friends and we are committed to the end, to honor the myth that our host and the myths that have cycled with us. And now working to make the eighty next year!