In these interminable days of quarantine, of prolonged absence from proper training and above all of competitive appointments cancelled or moved further and further ahead, we offer you a story ‘on the thread of seconds’ by our Lorenzo.
Because the nostalgia for certain dynamics is strong, as is the desire to resume a normal life.
And to demonstrate, should the need arise, that behind a person running in the street there is a universe of emotions, motivations and fascinating stories that we can hardly see from behind a window.
Happy reading to all!
It’s the nineteenth kilometre, I have to grit my teeth.
Of the large group that has escorted me this far, there are only three of us left. The others lost precious seconds and stayed behind. The pace is always steady, and for a few kilometres now I have also started to make some changes.
Mind you, it’s not that I’ve ever been a ‘wheelwright’.
It’s just that I’ve been setting my race strategy for weeks now.
“You’re with Mattia, who is more regular than a Swiss train. And what’s more, he has the same goal as you: to run the Cittadella half marathon in less than 70 minutes. It is “only” a question of staying with him. Of giving each other a hand. And to hope that it will be a good day for both of them.”
Yes, easy! It’s from the third kilometre that I feel sensations that aren’t exactly fabulous: the legs are a bit packed and the reactivity and freshness don’t seem quite up to those of the best days.
My luck is that I’ve stayed indoors in a small group of ambitious athletes/friends.
There’s Alvaro, my team-mate, Federico, Andrea, Mattia (to be precise) and two other guys I don’t know personally.
And then there’s me.
I won’t hide the fact that I too came here with ambitious plans. For a few months now, I have been training well, without tendon and psoas discomfort, and I have been running up to a hundred kilometres a week.
Without killing myself with repetitions, I first lowered my personal best on the 10 km to 31’57”, and then I decided to try to lower my personal best on the half.
Cittadella was certainly the best opportunity, with exceptional participation and a medium-high level. And it happened precisely in December, in my best period.
That is why I am here now.
Scaramanticamente, I have said almost nothing to anyone: the goal is firmly fixed in my head and, if the result will come, great… otherwise we turn the page, peacefully!
That’s why, a few moments after the beep of the Garmin at the nineteenth kilometre, I feel that the time has come to give it everything I have left.
The general feeling, despite only 2 km to go, is the same as in the third kilometre. And while it might have sounded like a wake-up call before, now it is a source of great optimism and positive energy.
I knew that increasing the weekly mileage and putting in some extended medium runs would help. Or rather, I hoped it would.
Too many times, at the decisive moment, I began to feel tired, to lose those crucial seconds, and the goal faded. This time, on the other hand, I know I have planned everything perfectly.
And, translated into concrete terms, for my head this is an indescribable galvanising feeling: a kind of psychological doping.
I put my mind to the pull. We are steady on the average pace of 3’19″/km, but after the last km in 3’21” I don’t want to risk it. I push Mattia and the other guy, we’re really close by now.
We reach the 20th km and the city walls begin to materialise in the background.
3’18”. We are right on the edge.
Even 70’00” would be my new personal best. But if I have come this far, travelling at this pace for 20 km now, then I want the full haul. Even one second less is enough for me.
I try to pick up the pace again. My running mates didn’t give an inch. If we get to the sprint together I know I have no chance.
But between sixth, seventh and eighth place doesn’t change much for me. My objective is chronometric.
We walk along the walls and 400 metres from the finish line we arrive at the little dirt road that runs alongside them. Who knows how nice it would be to enjoy these places at a leisurely pace. Maybe another day!
As I predicted, Mattia and the other guy completely change pace and play for sixth place in the sprint. A few more short repeats would certainly have benefited me, but now is not the time to complain.
I grit my teeth and arrive at the city gate. It’s the last 200 metres. A sharp turn to the left and there it is, the finish line. I close my eyes between two wings of the crowd and push my legs forward as far as I can.
The twenty-first kilometre starts. I don’t have time to get distracted by the partial.
Last 97 metres. Come on, it’s over!
I finally hear the transponder beep at the finish line.
And, to my left, I see the light board.
I DID IT!!!
I let out a shout of joy so loud that I think I’m scaring the organisers and the crowd there not a little.
But after all, who cares!
Today I have achieved my goal. Today I am MY hero.
They put a medal around my neck while I am still in a state of competitive semi-trance. I could probably run another half.
Of course, not with the same final time! But the fatigue literally disappeared.
I congratulate my teammates and thank them. Everyone has achieved their goal!
And finally, about twenty metres later, my prize, my most important goal.
Erika is waiting for me (never keep a woman waiting too long, maybe that’s why I ran so hard?) with a super smile.
She hugs me and kisses me, despite being exhausted and sweaty.
If this isn’t love…!
She’s proud of me.
And I’m sure Celeste in there will soon be proud of her daddy too! ❤
P.S. For the record, at the 21st km the Garmin clocked 3’14”, with the final 97 metres in 16″.
Summing up:
20th km 3’18”, 1 second gained.
21st km 3’14”, 5 seconds gained.
final 97 metres 16″, 1 second gained.
Total: 7 seconds gained.
69’53”. Or, even, 1h09’53”!
