My image of the TOR 2018?
What will I carry in my heart forever?
Franco Collé and Federica Boifava singing at the top the hit "Montagne Verdi" by Marcella Bella, holding up the karaoke microphones as trophies to show the whole world.
I'm there looking at them - without ceasing even for a moment of applauding - and I think: "What Faith was intoned is not a novelty, it is graduated in the conservatory, but Franco ... Jesus, is a real portent!".
The atmosphere is more than relaxed, tonight.
It seems to be in family.
Spritz are generous and the food is great. But it's the company that really makes the difference: there are illustrious finisher of TOR and TOTDRET, there is Stefano Jeantet, the great photographer. There is Mr. Ivan Parasacco in a dazzling form.
The place is beautiful, but the atmosphere is absolutely informal.
We chat of frozen fingers and millions of steps. Of heroism. Of poetry.
And we laugh.
We laugh to die.
Especially when I tell you that today I wanted to run, and I went up to Bonatti with the idea of arriving at Bertone. Unfortunately, however, as soon as you crossed the sweepers that accompanied the last, I went the wrong way and I shot a hill and descended endless.
It's all funny, because in the end I'm a citizen and I can not go to the mountains. But I love them so madly these stones, that I would never leave the Valley again.
I was there tonight, when the last runner crossed the finish line, pushing and making a huge crowd of wet eyes proud.
By profession, the hero who has closed the race, is a policeman, and comes from Chiavari (Italy). When asked to seal his microphone adventure with a few precious words, overwhelmed by his heart overflowing with joy, he exclaims: "TOR is pure emotion, so many emotions that nothing can be understood in the end".
Minutes of thunderous applause follow.
And laughter.
And a widespread sense of pride and well-being.
Having been part of this marvel also this year is an honor and a privilege.
I'm here, in the exact center of this heart of enchantment and I can not wait for tomorrow to get excited again, when the 534 finisher will be called on stage to receive their reward. And to share the glory.
At the same time, I would like this night to never end.
Because it is the last and the red beer of Caffé delle Guide smells good.
Federica tells me about her journey with Leonardo: the ankles and the swollen tendons, but the usual sincere smile at lunch and dinner.
The TOR makes brothers. It is a family that is ever larger every year, and emanates a special warmth.
Space.
We say goodbye that it's really late, and Federica tells me in her ear: "Do you know I'll miss him?"
"What?" I ask, teasing her: "To sleep for two hours a night if all goes well? The cold in the bones, the endless fatigue?"
"All of it, yes," she says, her eyes crackling from sleep and full of nostalgia.
"I know" I answer with a lump in my throat.
"I miss it too ... I will miss you all".
Every year the TOR is different, they told me and they were right to sell.
Every year unique.
This is the end of the road. At least for this year.
Good night, TOR.
Goodnight, heroes.
Tomorrow I hug you all.
Tomorrow morning I'll throw away my hands, by applauding you one by one.
Because you guys are Giants.
And your heart is boundless.
What will I carry in my heart forever?
Franco Collé and Federica Boifava singing at the top the hit "Montagne Verdi" by Marcella Bella, holding up the karaoke microphones as trophies to show the whole world.
I'm there looking at them - without ceasing even for a moment of applauding - and I think: "What Faith was intoned is not a novelty, it is graduated in the conservatory, but Franco ... Jesus, is a real portent!".
The atmosphere is more than relaxed, tonight.
It seems to be in family.
Spritz are generous and the food is great. But it's the company that really makes the difference: there are illustrious finisher of TOR and TOTDRET, there is Stefano Jeantet, the great photographer. There is Mr. Ivan Parasacco in a dazzling form.
The place is beautiful, but the atmosphere is absolutely informal.
We chat of frozen fingers and millions of steps. Of heroism. Of poetry.
And we laugh.
We laugh to die.
Especially when I tell you that today I wanted to run, and I went up to Bonatti with the idea of arriving at Bertone. Unfortunately, however, as soon as you crossed the sweepers that accompanied the last, I went the wrong way and I shot a hill and descended endless.
It's all funny, because in the end I'm a citizen and I can not go to the mountains. But I love them so madly these stones, that I would never leave the Valley again.
I was there tonight, when the last runner crossed the finish line, pushing and making a huge crowd of wet eyes proud.
By profession, the hero who has closed the race, is a policeman, and comes from Chiavari (Italy). When asked to seal his microphone adventure with a few precious words, overwhelmed by his heart overflowing with joy, he exclaims: "TOR is pure emotion, so many emotions that nothing can be understood in the end".
Minutes of thunderous applause follow.
And laughter.
And a widespread sense of pride and well-being.
Having been part of this marvel also this year is an honor and a privilege.
I'm here, in the exact center of this heart of enchantment and I can not wait for tomorrow to get excited again, when the 534 finisher will be called on stage to receive their reward. And to share the glory.
At the same time, I would like this night to never end.
Because it is the last and the red beer of Caffé delle Guide smells good.
Federica tells me about her journey with Leonardo: the ankles and the swollen tendons, but the usual sincere smile at lunch and dinner.
The TOR makes brothers. It is a family that is ever larger every year, and emanates a special warmth.
Space.
We say goodbye that it's really late, and Federica tells me in her ear: "Do you know I'll miss him?"
"What?" I ask, teasing her: "To sleep for two hours a night if all goes well? The cold in the bones, the endless fatigue?"
"All of it, yes," she says, her eyes crackling from sleep and full of nostalgia.
"I know" I answer with a lump in my throat.
"I miss it too ... I will miss you all".
Every year the TOR is different, they told me and they were right to sell.
Every year unique.
This is the end of the road. At least for this year.
Good night, TOR.
Goodnight, heroes.
Tomorrow I hug you all.
Tomorrow morning I'll throw away my hands, by applauding you one by one.
Because you guys are Giants.
And your heart is boundless.