9th May. San Lorenzo al Mare.
The blue sea, that kind of afternoon’s blue when the sky is clear, the sun is behind the shoulders and it draws long shadows. White the square between the starting dais and the busses (or what is left), two swarthy women with white hair are seated on a bench. The others are empty and the wind folds the palm, the sea barely froths. There is the usual silence of the after stage. A bit of sadness, a bit of tiredness.
The pink dressed children come back home: they hold their bidons and hardly speak after they had shouted all the time “Viva il giro”. Yes, the Giro. Little huge institution that takes a piece of Italy time by time and conquers it. Narrow streets, the sun, the focaccia, the Condiglione and a cycle lane that brings to Sanremo, beside the sea, between the olive trees and the rosemary which here is like sage, it has an intense scent, you smell it and you can feel it in your throat as if you had eaten it.
All the teams are in a line, like little lucid trains in the air of that little village. The team time trial is fascinating discipline if you look at it from the right point of view. A way to feel it is maybe to think that men and bikes have to be a unique mind. All together, tempers and attitudes, way of pulling, of pushing, of rising on the pedals. All different and all in one unique heart.
Australians today have been the best
The others are already thinking about tomorrow. Of the three weeks one day has already flown away. Gulls which go away towards the sea. People who come back to the usual life. Or maybe not. Because for somebody the Giro makes the same effect of sudden loves. Just a little is needed and you want to meet each others again.
Traduzione a cura di Martina Meroni.
Original version here → #GIORNIDIGIRO | SAN LORENZO AL MARE