Museo del Ciclismo Madonna del Ghisallo

Today, I had planned to take a day off the bike to do some tourist activities. I had hoped to catch the bus down to Bellagio, walk around town, maybe take the boat back and forth to another town, eat a big lunch and catch the last bus "home". I searched around online to find the bus schedule and it looked as though there were buses all day. When I got to the bus stop in front of the "bike church" I noticed that there were only two buses per day in each direction that went all the way to Bellagio. So I bailed on that idea and decided perhaps Saturday would be a better day for that, even though it might rain a bit. Since I was in front of the bicycle museum, and it was on my to-do list for this trip, I decided that was what I was going to do today. Luckily I had brought my camera.

I started by stepping in the church again. There is something really incredible about that place. I picked up some literature and one of those little Catholic prayer cards, with a prayer in Italian designated for cyclists. There were cyclists coming up the climb every few minutes today, and when I stepped out the church up pulled Ivan Santaromita in his Italian National Champion's jersey with an Italian Astana rider, who upon riding past the church to get water from the natural spring fountain along side it, made the sign of the cross in homage to Madonna del Ghisallo, patron saint of all cyclists.

I then made my way over to the museum. The museum itself is an abstract yet beautiful modern building that is mostly cut into the cliffside, with just the top sticking above the road, all encased in glass. In contrast to the vast preserved antiquity that surrounds you in Italy, it's certainly unique but doesn't stick out like a sore thumb in a bad way.
I paid the six Euro to get in and I was off into four hours of bicycle heaven. The museum is large but not huge. Most people wouldn't spend four hours in there, but I was captivated, plus I had nothing else to do today, no way to get anywhere else beside riding my bike down the mountain, so I looked at everything in great detail, read anything that was in English and a bit that was in Italian, and took several hundred photos.
The bikes in this place are unbelievable. They have two of Eddy Merckx's orange Merckx Colnagos, Gino Bartali's bike that he rode to win the 1938 Tour de France, along with several dozen other professional's race bikes ranging from the 1930's to the 1980's. The also have a collection of military and civilian bikes dating all the way back to very early 1900's, some modern bikes, some bikes made entirely out of wood (art), some bikes made out of wood meant for riding, and many more. The collection of bikes must be in the hundreds. They also have the largest collection of Giro d'Italia maglia rosa in the entire world. Many are signed, but many others are so old, worn with the blood, sweat and tears of the winner racing in them, combined with the appetite of moths for wool, they lack signatures simply because the winners have long since passed before their jerseys became museum pieces. These are not podium jerseys. Most are the actual jerseys worn by the winner while leading the race. They also had countless Italian National Champions jerseys from what seems like the beginning of cycling time, many World Champions jerseys, a collection of vintage bike building tools, and so many more incredibly fascinating pieces of cycling memorabilia. This is not merely a bicycle museum, this is a cycling museum, a racing museum. It's a beautiful place. To be able to get within inches of the bikes that these great champions rode to victory, left the same way they were the last time they rode them, is mesmerizing.

I have tons of photos from today. I am trying to get them all up to a photo hosting site, but that is taking a lot longer than planned. When I get back home I will load these photos onto my computer and get them online somewhere. Watch this space for more about that after October 15th.

And that's all I did today. I walked around for a while, and went for a little evening stroll, but it's getting so cold here that even with a long sleeve shirt, a sweater and my leather jacket, I'm still cold after a couple of minutes. There is no way it broke 55 degrees up here on the mountain today. 55 doesn't sound that bad, but when it's this humid and misty, and no sight of the sun, 55 can feel very cold.

Tomorrow I hope to get out for one final ride here in the Alps, before the rain comes this weekend. I seems that it will rain again for another bike race, but luckily, this one comes literally right by my hotel. I can open the window and stick my head out as they go by then watch the rest on TV. I do hope the weather is decent enough that I can at least walk a kilometer down the road to watch them come up the steep switchbacks. We'll see.
Until I get to posting all the photos from today, here are a few more to hold you over.

This is getting to be fun!

I'll start this post out by apologizing for not getting more scenery pictures from my rides. Today I climbed up an extremely long, but gradual (for the most part) climb. About a quarter of the way up, before I got really into the clouds, the view over the town of Varenna and Lago di Como was nothing short of breathtaking. But, when you're on a climb that you know is going to go on for 16km, the last thing you want to do is stop and break your rhythm and then have to start again. So no photo, sorry. Some memories are for me only. Plus getting any real quality shot of this amazing place is hard enough on a clear day with a good camera, none-the-less on a more-than-foggy one with an iPhone. And no, I'm not lugging my camera with me up and own mountain pass roads in the Alps.

The other thing with traveling alone out into these remote places it getting photos of yourself. I met a lovely older couple from California who wanted to take my photo and send it to me. Hopefully when they have some time and internet, I'll get those photos and share them with you. Bad self portraits (yes, now I have that Lake Street Dive song stuck in my head) an arms length away are far from ideal.
Ok, enough about the photography or lack thereof. Today, I had a lot of fun! My plan for the day was to ride down to the lake, take the ferry across, ride up the Passo di Esino, descend down another road back to the lake, ride along the lake (though some cool tunnels) back to Varenna, to take the boat to Bellagio and up the Madonna del Ghisallo climb for the first time. I did all of that, but with a lot of socializing and some pizza and gelato eating mixed in. Today was the day that I spent a lot time talking to older English-speaking couples. I must attract them as much as Lago di Como attracts them. There aren't many younger people here so I must stick out like a sore thumb! (sorry if any of you folks are reading, don't mean to offend, it's just that it's been pointed out to me that I'm a young-in around here at this time of year).

The first couple were British, and I was able to help them get the right boat over to Varenna. They seemed thoroughly confused (I don't quite know why) and they had passed back and forth across the lake several times already. The were very nice, knew a little about cycling, well, they were British, they knew about Bradley Wiggins. I ended up running into them again after my giro on the mountain. Throughly nice people!
The second couple(s) were the most interesting ones. I was taking a cool artsy photo of my bike and as I was walking away, I overheard one of them say something about my frame being alloy. I turned around and said, Nope, it's carbon. We got to talking a bit, and the man's wife said, Tell him your story. He was hesitant, seeming to think I wouldn't really care. But she coaxed it out of him. I was expecting some random story about his friend who cycles or something. What he tells me is mind-blowing. He's says, our last name is Bianchi, Edoardo Bianchi was my great-grandfather. WTF?!! Are you kidding?! So, yeah, I met a true Bianchi. His branch of the family must have moved to Australia at some point, and he was the head of Bianchi Australia and the Pacific Rim for a long time, but has since gotten out of the industry after Bianchi was sold to other companies. He said he got to spend about 12 months as a kid at the Bianchi estate in Varese. He also told me, and I don't know if this is some type of family secret, but I have to share it... the celeste color was not the color of the Milan sky, it was not the color that came about from mixed up Italian army surplus paint, nor was it the color of Queen Margherita's eyes... it was... the color... of.... her underwear! That has some implications, huh?! So that whole half hour conversation was incredible! Made my day!

Varenna- quieter than Bellagio and very picturesque

I then spent some time talking with a couple who were from, of all places, New Jersey! They go to New Hope quite often so they know my area. The husband worked in a bike shop as a kid and was completely captivated with my bike. The wife was Italian-American and her family was from not far from where my family was from. After I ate some lunch, we met again walking back to the boat, and again on the boat. We exchanged info and maybe sometime soon I'll meet up with them in New Hope.
The other couple, the ones who took my photo, were very interested to hear about my journey. She said that she'd email me the photos and I'd send her a link to the blog. They knew quite a bit about cycling, he rode from time to time, and they followed the Amgen ToC around quite a bit. The said I needed to come out to California to ride and offered that I stay with them if I came out there! People are so nice. With all the crap that goes on in the world, it's so nice to meet genuinely nice people, especially after spending time in "solidarity" up here on the mountain. Many of these people couldn't believe me that the hotel I am staying in is practically deserted, that they are letting me use the restaurant kitchen as my own, and that I even have a key to the front door to let myself in and out. It's a whole 'nother world up here but it's nice to go down into civilization and socialize a bit.

I rode up that big one in the middle. You can't see the top due to the clouds.

By the time I got back on the boat and started heading up the Madonna del Ghisallo, it was getting on sun set. With the mountains, the sun sets fast here because it has a lot more to hide behind. I have a blinky light, and the traffic is so light that I knew I'd be fine riding at dusk. By the time I got to the top of the challenging 40 min climb, I was riding to the light of the street lamps. It was remarkable taking those iconic switchback in the darkness, and as the fog lifted a bit today, I could see the lights of the lakeside towns far down below. It was beautiful and certainly a perspective that few cyclists get on this heavily cycled road.

Leaving Bellagio behind. The bigger mountain is Madonna del Ghisallo, where I'm staying.

Tonight, I got to get into the kitchen. It's a full scale restaurant kitchen and I had it all to myself. At first, I wasn't sure how they were going to react to my making pasta, but they were completely unphased when I asked for a pot to boil some water. I wasn't cooking anything fancy, just pasta with oil and garlic with some grape tomatoes thrown in and a salad, but it was so cool to cook in there. They had the giant exhaust fan running (probably because cooking garlic in olive oil tends to smell up a place). As my dad knows, I'm always wishing for a restaurant stove in our house. I want one even more now. The burners are so hot. Everything cooks that much faster. The water boils without a lid in half the time, and when you add the salt, then the pasta, the water doesn't stop boiling, it keeps right on going. That is why food tastes so much better. It's the heat. If you get the timing right, which luckily I did, for fear of making a fool of myself, the food is so much more flavorful when cooked like that. Everything, even the texture of the pasta is effected.
So that was a cool experience. Today was a day filled with cool experiences, and that is what traveling is all about. It really brings out the best in people. If only I had skipped on college, took the money I spent and continue to spend on it (college loans) and traveled instead. I had many great experiences at college, don't get me wrong, but if you want to learn about the world, about people, about yourself, you must travel. I know, even on a budget, it's a luxury, and I am fortunate, but have also worked hard, to have, and if you have that opportunity I strongly encourage you to do it. You must. It will shape your life.

Madonna del Ghisallo Sanctuary (the bike church)

On my search for a restaurant to eat dinner at tonight, I passed by the Santuario Madonna del Ghisallo, also known as the bike church. Basically, the sanctuary is named after the apparition La Madonna del Ghisallo, who was named the patron saint of cyclists sometime after the Second World War. If you want to read a detailed description of the chapel and the story behind it, read this very informative article about it.

Since I was probably a bit early for any restaurant to be open, I stepped inside, needing to kill some time. The place is tiny, yet beautful. It is absolutely incredible to look at some of the names on the plaques beneath the bikes and framed jerseys hanging high up on the walls. Fausto Coppi, Eddy Merckx, Gino Bartali, Franceso Moser, Felice Gimondi, and so on, as well as more modern names like Mario Cipollini, Thor Hushovd, Cadel Evans, Paolo Bettini, Maurizio Frondriest, Miguel Indurain, Bernard Hinault, Alessandro Ballan, Gianni, Bugno, Ivan Basso, Connie Carpenter, and of course, Fabio Casartelli (who was born not far away in Como). It's indescribable how mesmerizing it is to look at the actual bike that Felice Gimondi won the 1976 Giro d' Italia on, or that Fausto Coppi won the 1949 Tour de France on, or that did Gino Bartali in 1948, included with his maillot jaune. Perhaps I was too distracted by Eddie Merckx's bike to notice next to it the bike that Fabbio Casartelli was riding that fateful day in the '95 Tour when he crashed and was killed. I will certainly go back again (it's only 300m down the road).The whole chapel is surreal. I took some photos inside and out and gave and offering in exchange for a few post cards.

The place was deserted, of course, like the rest of the town, but especially so at night. There is no one standing guard, just the door open to this amazing place in this quiet little town, and if you didn't know it were there, you in fact probably never would. Next-door is the Museo Ciclismo del Ghisallo, which was not open by that time, but will be again tomorrow. Upon looking in the window, I am really excited to visit. At this location on a clear day, you'd be able to see 2400ft down to the lake and straight across, but you'd never know anything was there on a day like today. Unfortunately I probably won't get to see that view anytime while I'm here.

I then walked down the climb a bit, to another hotel with a restaurant that was open. Open, meaning that they had turned the lights on and there was a chief who was able to cook me a meal but I was the only one there and I'd be willing to bet the only to come in tonight. The food was nothing to get excited about, but it was a big step up from last night's "dinner". Ironically, it was the other hotel that I was thinking of staying at. The old woman who waited on me, clearly the owner of the place, spoke no English but with the little Italian I know and my understanding of Italian food terminology, I was able to order a pizza. Originally I was thinking about walking down to the next town, where I'd definitely have more options for dinner but taking on those switchbacks on foot was not really worthwhile. And I'm glad I didn't because the most epic part of the whole thing was that I had to walk back up 1km of the climb, of course, the steepest part, back to my hotel, in absolute darkness. Good thing for no traffic and a flashlight on my iPhone. Once I got halfway there, into town back near the sanctuary, there were streetlights and a sidewalk.

It's so quiet here at night you can hear the relay of dogs barking one to the next for what must be miles. I swear people must live a really old fashion lifestyle here, at least during the winter months, of going to sleep only a bit after the sun sets, to get up as the sun rises. But just across the lake, you can see the lights of a much bigger town. I wonder what's going on down there? I bet they aren't falling asleep at 9pm!

Left to right: bikes of Eddy Merckx, Gino Bartali, Fausto Coppi, Felice Gimonidi, Francesco Moser, Maurizio Fondreist

Don't know who this guy is but he looked cool and he's riding a Bianchi. Speaking of Bianchi...

I guess Italy doesn't really need Strava. The major climbs here (both the HC one I did today and the Ghisallo) have a finish line and timing boxes on the side of the road. There is an LED display above it telling you the climb name, and where to go for more information. Basically, if you have an Italian Cycling Federation time-chip, which everyone who races or rides Gran Fondi does, you can "race" up these climbs any time you'd like and have your time registered. Pretty cool!

When in doubt, just find the nearest jar of Nutella and everything will be okay.

Yesterday, I arrived in Magreglio, Como, Lombardia. Without a car, getting here is no easy task. I don't think too many travelers turn up without a car, but public transport is amazing here (despite that you can always count on it running a bit late). The bus dropped me off nealy in front of the hotel so luckily walking with the bike bag and my ever-growing luggage was kept to a minimum. Also, people are very helpful here. Multiple times, people helped me get my bags onto the train, through the turnstile, etc. Even at one point, I was walking down the street (in Firenze) and there was a large puddle. The driver behind me stopped, allowing me to walk around the puddle. In Firenze, everyone (except maybe tourists) walks down the streets, even if there is a sidewalk. No one get's mad about it, people aren't constantly getting run over by tiny cars. Could you image that in Philly?!
So, after hours of travel, I arrived at my hotel. I knew that the towns up here would be quiet since the "off-season" has just begun, but I would have never expected it to be this deserted. The hotel, which was only expecting three guests, was unstaffed during the middle of the afternoon. They left a note and said, if you arrive, just call this mobile number and we'll let you in. Luckily, the hotel owner (family) is very nice and helpful. I do feel a bit like I'm staying at Fawlty Towers though. There seems to be plenty of confusion, lots of excessive stairs and platforms, but luckily no comical high-jinks. However, in failing to realize that the "off-season" starts immediately here, especially up on the mountain away from Lago di Como, I failed to realize that the hotel restaurant would be closed. Not just closed on Monday, closed until next summer. I've essentially come to a town about the size of Seargentsville, with no car, on top of a mountain (2500ft, not that big of a mountain) that has basically shut down for the impending winter. Without a car, and with the bus only running until, 6:00 or so, I was without food. The restaurant down the street, which is supposed to be excellent and open all year is of course closed this week. And to make matters worse, it was so dark and foggy (actually not fog, but clouds) that it was like an Alfred Hitchcock movie out there.

With that as a determining factor in me not walking along the Ghisallo mountain pass road to the next town, I was without dinner. The bar down the street was open and I got a bag of chips. The woman downstairs sold me two bottles of frizzante water and I had some leftover nuts and fennel to call dinner. I was thinking, if everything is closed, how am I going to stay here? I was already thinking about bailing on Lombardia and either heading to Milano (which mean shopping and accumulating more stuff that don't have space or weight for, spending even more money) or back to "home", Firenze. I'd have to abandon at the very least some sort of deposit at this hotel plus spend more on another last minute booking.
Luckily, when I got up this morning, some of the fog rolled away (I don't think I'm going to see the sun for the entirety of my stay here), and I found a great little grocery store, that although tiny, was well stocked, cheap enough, and staffed by two very helpful women. Despite our language barrier, we worked it out. The hotel, since the restaurant is closed and there is not one here, is letting me store my perishables in the refrigerator. I even asked if I could use the kitchen, and they said that was fine. So at some point this week, I'm getting to hijack a legit restaurant kitchen. Of course, I'll only make some simple pasta and salad but, it's better than potato chips!

Today, I decided to try to go for a shorter ride, since I feel like I have a slight sniffle and probably am at a bit of a caloric deficit due to not eating a proper meal last night. My short ride turned out to be only 30 miles, but there was an 8 mi at 6.6% climb in there, a HC climb according to Strava, bringing the ride total to 4,300ft. The climb really went on forever and got steeper closer to the top. I took it at a steady tempo, which was hard enough, since I had no idea what to expect around every turn. I can't recall how many switchbacks there were, but when I finally got to the top in Sormano, I was greeted by a spray-painted finish line and a bicycle statue at the top of the Muro di Sormano (no I didn't climb it). I think Thursday I will tackle the Ghisallo and the Muro if I can make it up the thing (1700m, avg 17%, min 5%, max 25%) The climb that bypasses it, which I descended today is hard enough. The Muro must be the most ridiculous stretch of road. The Muro amateur hill climb race is Saturday. If it's not raining, I've got to go watch that.

Well, that's it for now. I'm happy to be eating and surviving here. Despite the mythical fog, the chilly descents and the general grayness, my stay in Magreglio should be a good one, at the very least interesting. If I wanted something the polar opposite of touristy (yet lovely) Firenze, I've got it. This is my week at Walden, except the pond is a tad bit bigger here.

A final photo from Firenze, on my street Via Guelfa, a building that looks to be no longer in use, covered in US $1 bills. You'll notice that some of the lower ones were stolen by some either fearless or inventive "petty thieves". I'm not sure what statement the artist is trying to make, but that's a lot of $1 bills (it covered the other side of the building too). Maybe that Firenze is being run on the money of American tourists and students? There are a lot of them! Who know's?! Regardless, it attracted a lot of attention.

Grand Finale....then it poured!

Today went nowhere near as planned. I envisioned a day standing in the warm Tuscan sun, cheering along my favorite riders for the spectacle this should have been the Elite Men's Road Race. To be fair, I'm sure it didn't go as planned for 3/4 of the peloton.
I knew it was going to rain. The forcast said heavy downpours but didn't seem to have a clue as to when. I was awoke by the sounds of what must have been the heaviest downpour I've ever seen. It was like a hurricane out there. I went back to sleep. When I got up for real at around 9, it was cloudy, humid and not too chilly. But no rain. I saw a FB post from Philippe Gilbert that said "raining but not cold" at the start in Lucca, some 100km west. At some point before I left the apartment the sun even was flirting with the idea of peaking through the clouds momentarily. I figured maybe it would work out. I dressed as I felt appropriate for the weather, with a base-layer and my rain jacket, but I left the arm warmers and leg warmers at home because I figured even if it rained it was still warm, the last thing I wanted to do was stand around covered head to toe in wet clothes. My skin would dry faster between the storms. Plus, I am packing to leave Firenze tomorrow morning, and I didn't want any more wet clothes to try to dry inside than absolutely necessary.
Well, that was a mistake. Riding up the climb (and of course walking some parts) it began to lightly rain, but I was warm from riding, so much so that I had to take off my rain jacket once I reached a desirable viewing location. I setting at a spot a bit further up the climb on the opposite side of the road, with a great view of the Duomo in the background. The weather was fine, I was perched on a knee wall with a fence and I could sit or stand as I chose. But then, the wind picked up and these insanely dark clouds moved in so fast. It was actually a beautiful sight with the Duomo and the entire city of Firenze in it's gloomy shadows. Instantly everyone jumped into action and started preparing for the downpour that we could see coming across the valley. Once it started raining, it never let up. The gutter at the side of the road was like a river beneath your feet, and later it would turn out to be a river right through my shoes. All of that would have been fine. I went out expecting to get wet today. But the front came in so fast and the temperature must have dropped at least ten degrees with it.
Now I was regretting not having more clothing. Within a few minutes of the heavy rain, I decided, even before the racers came by for the first of ten laps, that there was no way, despite how awesome my spot was that I was going to stand there in that kind of rain for the next five hours. I had to make the choice to begin descending the hill and try to get back to my apartment, dress in more clothes and then at least settle for a spot lower on the climb to watch the rest of the race. However, I made the critical error of going so high up the climb past the switchbacks that getting down was no easy feat, as the crowds in the corners were like nothing I'd yet seen at these World Championships. Long story short, it took me two hours to cover 3.5km and get back down the hill. There were places where you could really feel helpless, especially trying to get through with a bike. In many spots, there is about two feet of space between the stone walls and the race barriers. Add double rows of people in some spots and you were basically trapped unless there was some type of real emergency.
By the time I got back to my apartment in the city center, I had absolutely no interest in changing clothes and going back to the race. I did get to see them go by four times, while trying to escape the climb, so I figured, standing in the rain on a flat turn was not worth the effort, I'd just bundle up and watch the remainder of the race on TV. Watching a race on TV is actually the best way to watch a race, but going to it is all about the experience. Today's experience was far from great partly due to the weather and partly due to my lack of preparedness, so I didn't feel too bad watching on TV. It did seem a bit odd to hear the TV helicopters across town and know that they were filming what I was watching, and I really should be there, but by the time I got back I was freezing, soaked through and through. If I were going home tomorrow, I would have gotten back out there, but with the rest of the trip ahead of me and more great racing to watch, I decided it was time to call it a day in the interest of my health.
With that said, it is absolutely remarkable what those guys put themselves through today. Tell me cycling is not the hardest sport in the world. I dare you! Those guys rode for 7.5hrs in an absolute downpour, over 160 miles, pushing themselves to their absolute physical limit (even if it weren't raining), literally risking life and limb on the descents and in every puddled corner. I mean, take out lunch time, 7.5 hrs is an average work day. What did you do at work today?!
Portugal's Rui Costa ended up winning the race. And deservedly so, he rode smart all day, with practically no teammates against insanely strong Italian, Belgian, and Spanish squads with full rosters, and he came away with a win on one of the hardest Worlds courses in decades, on a more than trecherous day. Costa is one of those riders who has won on the biggest stages, in World Tour races, including multiple Tour de France stages and he's won some of the smaller one day races. He is oftern discounted and I think finally he'll get the credibilty he truely deserves. I'll admit, he wasn't the guy I was rooting for. I would have loved to see Nibali win at home in Italy and he put up the bravest effort after crashing hard late in the race, coming back alone, then brutally attacking on the final ascent to Fiesole (coincidently right where I would have been standing). If the Italians did nothing else, Paolo Bettini can finally be happy because as a team, they raced very well, and Nibali was the main protagonist of the race. Bravo Nibali!! I wish I could have seen what would have happened in Italy if the Italian had won.
Well, that wraps up the Worlds and Firenze for me. I am really sad to be leaving here. Even in two weeks, I haven't done all that I'd like to have done, by the way of riding and otherwise. But what I have done has been amazing and memorable for my lifetime. New adventures await in Lombardia, including some gigantic climbs, and what is considered by many the most beautiful race of the season, a week from today, Il Giro di Lombardia. Also, as food is very regional in Italy, it should be a uniquely different style of cuisine and that's exciting too. I'll have more on Lombardia and what I'll be doing when I get there, when in fact I get there. Tomorrow is quite an epic travel day, with three trains and a bus. Hopefully it all runs smoothly, I'll talk to you all from Magreglio next.
Arrivederci Firenze, ti amo!!

Of course my last dinner in Firenze for this trip had to be the same as my first.

Tortellacci di ricotta e spinaci ai funghi porcini

Osteria Cento Poveri

Problem solved? ... We'll see in the morning.

With the threat of substantial rain beginning in the overnight hours, laundry was a bit complicated without the use of the clothesline and tomorrow's usual Tuscan sun.

Also, if you didn't notice already, I'm a huge fan of the iPhone's panorama feature.

 

The racing just gets better and better.

The penultimate day of racing and my penultimate day in Firenze. Today was a gorgeous day. The sun broke through the clouds just as I began my ascent of the hill up to Fiesole. Well, actually, mostly the just the sidewalk where there was one, then a lot of walking the bike. The Pro Women's Road Race was today, and it was an event that I was really excited about, given that the American's had a real shot at it. I'm easily the least patriotic person in the US, and I usually don't get to riled up and root for the Americans, I just root for my favorite riders, and in this race they happen to be Americans. Let's be honest though, I'll root for the Norwegian and Swedish girls too because most of them are cute blonds. Anyway....

The best thing about this trip is that it has a nice balance of a few of my favorite things: cycling and bike racing, amazing food, and nice clothes (when I can afford them). Although my personal ambitions as a musician are waining, it would be nice to hear some live music at some point, besides the odd accordion player here or there. I've actually twice overheard a band playing traditional music in the mornings, oddly enough while in the shower. The sound must come through the exhaust vent of something. The band must rehearse here, but I've never once seen them in person. Earlier today, I heard though the courtyard what sounded like a young student practicing his accordion. He sounded like a bit of a beginner but there is money to be made, especially in a tourist town like this, if he keeps at it.

Since the women's race didn't start until 2:15 and the start location was 57km away from the start of the circuit, I had all morning to walk around the city in plain clothes, rather than cycling kit. A few more miles of breaking in those new shoes, and a few more hours to empty my wallet on the aforemented clothes. In the process, I went into some of those vintage stores and came across some really cool stuff. Luckily I'm limited as to what I can purchese, not only by budget, but by space and weight. I do wish I wasn't, because the average Italian's wardrome makes me envious of how stylish they all look. Alas, at the very least, I could window shop and take some pictures for my sister to enjoy.

After a lunch from the Forno, I kitted up and made my way up to the race course. Although the women had not even left Montecantini Terme yet, no one was allowed to ride on the course. So, I took to the sidewalk. Once the sidewalk ended, there was about a foot and a half of space between the stone walls and the barriers. Walking was a major pain in the ass, and after about half a kilometer, I hopped the fence and rode most of the way up. Just as I got to the steep part, a police officer yelled something in Italian which I knew meant, "hey, no riding on the course". Luckily I was already in a great spot, with the Duomo off in the vista as a backdrop for what was to be an incredible race.

The excitement that builds when the spectators first hear the TV helicopters approaching is a beautiful thing. You hear them before you see them, and then the cars start arriving. Luckily just before the riders came, a press moto parked right near me and I was able to hear the race radio coming across. Three Americans were leading the peloton onto the foot of the climb. Evelyn Stevens and Carmen Small were right there and their pace was so furious, they actually had a gap coming into the climb. And furious it must of have. By the time they got to me, Eve (by the way, it's short for Evelyn so it's pronounced Evie) was right up front, but the race was shattered to pieces and Carmen Small went from the front straight to the back and presumably into the broom-wagon soon after. Job done. Lap after lap, the peloton got smaller and smaller until it was down to seven riders. Eve was right up there. On the last ascent, as she came by she was near the back of the group and I got worried. A little gap was opening and I yelled "close the gap Eve, let's go, let's go." No problem, just as they came around the turn and it ramped up, she went right from the back around the front and put a dig in coming over the steeper ramps into Fiesole.

After that, I was clueless as to what was happening. I decided it was best to walk up the climb, again traversing the gutter basically to get there with hopes of finding the jumbo screen in town. Finally after the remnants of the field came by, we were allowed on the road. Only 500 meters up, a huge crowd had gathered, Some Dutch fans had a tv and a bar all set up roadside. In case you don't know, Marianne Vos, the most dominant women in all of cycling, defended her title as reining world champ, leaving everyone behind on Via Salviati after an incredibly aggressive race. Oh, and she's Dutch so being able to watch the live pictures in the predominantly Dutch crowd was an experience all of its own. The other half of the crowd was obviously Italian, seeing as how we are in Italy after-all, and a young Italian came in for third, which I believe is the first podium placement for the Italians of this World Championships thus far (If the Italians can't do at least that again tomorrow, Paolo Bettini very well may be out of a job). Eve, after attacking multiple times managed 5th. While not on the podium, she also rode to 5th in the TT and was on the winning TTT team so not a bad week for her. I would have loved to see her win. She just seems like the most awesome person ever. But Marianne Vos could probably take on most of the men so it's a tough field. And thankfully so. It's so great to see such a strong women's field at an international level. I love women's racing and I hope under the new UCI president Brian Cookson, it can futher florish as it should.

After attending these Worlds, I am really excited about Richmond 2015.The road Worlds are coming back to the US! What would be very cool would be to get a job working for the organization for Richmond 2013. I wonder if I could make that happen.
Of course, the day was finished up with some more great food and a bunch of photo editing (trying to make iPhone pics look good). Tomorrow is the main event!! Hoping for dry weather and an excellent race. Regardless of the weather it'll be an excellent race, I just hope everyone can keep the rubber side down. Until tomorrow...

Sometimes an out-of-focus iPhone photograph and a little Photoshop for iPad can create something wonderful... if you're lucky.