diary

A cyclist who does not believe in his own ability and in his head is an athlete "unborn"! The one that do it, will come so close to his essence to caress and love it in the most terrible moments of his sport experience, the so called... ASCENTS!

 

One day a friend of mine asked me: "why are you doing this for? Whom are you doing all these kilometers uphill for, when you could comfortably just enjoy lying on the couch?!". That question made me realize the answers I had previously given him were anything but exhaustive. Probably due to the fact I normally get very impatient and rush when trying to explain myself. One day, 2000mt high up in the mountains, where the air gets thinner and the cold literally freezes your nostrils, I found myself surrounded by the hushed silence of the snow. The peacefulness of such place allowed my thoughts to bounce around in my head free to just be, without anyone around to disturb them. My breathing was dictating the riding rhythm. And it felt like that day I could have not only reached the summit but I could have gone higher and higher reaching a whole new place! I turned my eyes upwards towards the clear sky and I noticed an eagle flying over my head like he was protecting that sacred moment from anyone that could have ruined it. Next to such amazing   He said: how lovely! You have finally come to visit me! The last few kilometers where a mixture of tears and pure joy. When I arrived at the top I took a break, looked around and enjoyed the peacefulness and the silence. I stayed there for about 10minutes, enjoying the beautiful feeling of a paternal hand lying on my shoulder. 

I then rode back to valley. Once back down it almost felt like I landed on another planet: I could hear people holding their cell phone and screaming their anger out. Other people were honking the horn. An hysterical and pointless swarm, driven by something mysterious. The next day I met up with that friend of mine who was so intrigued by my crazy passion. I finally had the answers for him. "I found the answer..." - I said. "Which is...? - he replied. I looked into his eyes trying to transmit all the joy I possibly could and said :"I do it because I am really blessed. I wish you one day to be just as lucky and be able to feel the joy that comes with knowing others won't understand!

 

We're crazy people ...  Yes, we are! Because in the morning we slowly slowly get up "with a smile" while we are enjoying a rich breakfast in the silence of the sleeping home! We are deranged people! Because we love going  wheels in the middle of the silence of a still desert road, without cars, without their stressed owners, trying to recharge their batteries to pass another of their crazy days madding by smoke, stress and anger, to who knows who? Oh yes! We are the crazy, who can be found in the loneliness of 2000 meters and more in altitude overflow by any Raptor which, with a gliding, oversees our joy growing and growing every meter! 

Anyway, we are those who don't understand!!! We are the "all fools" leading a healthy life without drinking or smoking! .. How can we live like this? In this world that only we have the time to look and listen, making us company for hundreds of kilometers! It is true ... WE ARE NOT FINE! Because we spend 8,000 Euros for a bike that: doesn’t consume petrol... doesn’t pollute ... doesn’t create traffic ...!!! 

For sure we should go to meet a doctor ...! Ah yes! Because our breath isn't normal ... our breath is a slow melody that we hear every day falling in love with him until we send him to the rhythm of our pedals!

All in a silence where we can find ourselves ... On a cold January morning ... or a fresh dawn of August! 

Over the top of a mountain ... On a hill of Chianti ... In front of a sea that snorts for failing to make a wave as much as is calm on the first morning. Well ... If all this portrays a person who's not well psychologically ... Maybe we should make a little question about the psychological state of the persons with these doubts... 

A HUG AND A MILLION OF KILOMETERS TO ALL.

Emiliano Cantagallo