I need to make a brief
prelude-disclosure: as far as racing in Italy goes, I’m totally biased. My
fondness for this country in general and for Trentino in particular is
unbeatable. Even a very poorly arranged/organized race is balanced by the
divine surroundings, unparalleled lifestyle and unique nature of the Italians.
I love to be here, point blank.
While typing this wrap up, on the green,
sun-flooded, terrace of the hotel with a supreme vista to the majestic Val
Gardena and Gruppo di Sella, I’m contemplating who come that despite having
really good legs, and perfect general sensation [well, I’m still blessed having
any sensation after 32 marathons since March anyways] form the get go - sans
any low moments, crisis, mechanical and what not – the result speaks a totally
different language. Ending up this low in the rankings is very very humbling.
That’s right, the competitiveness, due to the UCI marathon series, and a
tremendously massive armada of Italian high hitters, needs to be taken into
account and put into perspective. All the same, truth is, it’s been a little
bit tough to inspire myself for a good scoring after my victory [where I didn’t
see myself topping it out going forward] and a brief 2 week race-free hiatus. I
just didn’t know what to expect from this race, other than a great time in the
mind-blowing Dolomites, rife with eternally long uphill’s in high temperatures.
All ingredients I’m completely sold on.
Obviously, for a decent technique, a well-slept
sate is key. That makes for needed motoric and coordination. If the night prior
to the race leaves something to be desired, no wonder may be expected. The
insomnia-monkey on my back is not in the mood to get off. And that bothers me
for a couple of weeks now. The brain isn’t ready for the task as some
unprocessed duties are still in the limbo. And when new task comes into play,
such as technically demanding race course, the central governor is plainly
overwhelmed. Delayed reactions or no reactions at all, that’s makes for
frustration. To know, however where the issue stems for, there is still some
hope to get that right. I’m working on it hard, even though with an unknown
outcome.
Due to this I screwed a ton of things. In
sections I normally am able to play my card and gain ground, I literally sucked,
big time.
Those speed-downhill’s littered with
micro-gravels put me off my zone. I was just overcautious, that’s it. In doing
so I shamefully lost out precious time I picked up on uphill’s. I may not be
satisfied with this; fact is though, my brain, strong vision and boldness were
all off.
No pre-warm-up on false flats where built in
into the course. We went immediately down to the business: up to the 2215m high
Paso de Lusia. From there on I meant business. As the route boasted a rather
short-ish 64km with 2700 meters of elevations, that called for taking chances
and not paying so much attention to the pacing. I meant to keep the whole
distance at my FTP heart rate and ignore my perceived exertion totally. That’s
is sustainable only for an hour, sure, but I meant to take risk, and dig
deeper, even though, I was running jeopardy to explode totally. While hammering
and making use of really good legs on this day, somehow I once again managed to
disregard the hunger feel. I ended up
consuming 2 gels and one third banana. That’s for 4 hour 10min. I guess, did it
take longer, I had most probably hit the wall brutally, but I was safe to
finish it off without a slight sign of crisis.
Along the way, I came across the Hungarian
Marathon Champ, Eszti Dosa, negotiating up one of those knee-breaker ascents,
while battling hardly with herself. Our brief interaction after the race
revealed her GI-distress at the beginning that kept her to fire on all
cylinders. She is bad ass, all the same, for making it beyond pain and
adversities. Respect!
Another credit is due to part-time female racer
Petra Marchart-Robeischl from Austria, I keep high regards towards this lady
rocks big deal. The way she takes on races, the attitude and aspiration to end
up as high as possible is requests respect.
Taking perils seemed to pay off, as I was able
to make up ground towards the end of the race. I was still struggling with
myself and the fact of lacking flow in downhill’s. I couldn’t do away this virtual
blockage that kept me taking more risks in the descents. Much to my pleasure
though, the rare technical parts, with some rolling rocks littered and rooty passages
worked greatly for me, and made up lost ground. It is just these high-speed
gravel-downhills rife with thousands of sharp switchbacks where I was losing
out literally big time. If I did the math, I was certain to miss some 10-12
minutes over the course of the whole race. And that adds up to 30-35 places.
Fact is, until my diesel engine come to its
forte, we did 2/3 of the course. And these guys are pretty accustomed to this
kind of short-ish marathons sporting a distance of 50-65 km. I have seen the
very same contenders on tracks with true marathon distance, struggling
massively after km 70.
Conclusively, I have got to profess having had
an awesome race where next-to everything fall into place. And that really would
have been a credible conclusion of the race season.
It is just that there is still something in me
whispering “don’t finish it off yet”. But I fear; now I reached the point where
not only the flesh is weak but the spirits takes its downward spiral too.
All the same, that day reminded me again how
grateful I ought to be. And not only for this grand ‘giornata’ but in all.
So I did just that, attended to my Thanksgiving Sunday
Mass and expressed silently my gratefulness for all those gifts I’m have been privileged
to enjoy all races long.
Thanks for sharing
Rob
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