Thursday, November 25, 2010

Dv-220v アンロック

Spartathlon: THE HEAD CAN 'but then it clears and you look forward.

The Spartathlon I have already finished a couple of months, so while the memories and emotions remain in the hearts and history now indelibly as a brushstroke on a painting by Van Gogh, a cool head I like to analyze a little the whole adventure Greek land in hand, the months that preceded it, and have contributed significantly to the success of manifestazione.Cosa can push an athlete like me to make an effort so great in most extreme conditions? The answer is simple but its implementation is a bit less ... "The head is a great motivation within." Everybody in the strong drive to participate and finish a super fuel ... not enough! This push you need to tie to something special, must grow hand in hand with physical training and then at the decisive moment that is the start of the race have its climax up to explode into positive energy to draw upon the forces. In an event like the Spartathlon, long and hard even this mental energy is exhausted, as in nature nothing is created, but everything is transformed, we must tap into and transform what is positive in the memories of the training events, the details that you notice during the location and the incitement of the people and other athletes who live in that moment, more or less, your difficoltà.Lungo the same two hundred forty-six kilometers of the route was enough to meet the kids who ask me the autograph to make me feel and become a hero, the reception of the checkpoints gave me the warmth and affection that you can ask a parent when you're a little lost. The very thought of doing the same route Pheidippides made me a warrior. Last autumn, long months of training and study of the race have filled my giornate.Ho started building the "dream" slowly and without hurry get it to become realtà.Ho built during my lane departure , a castle from the ground very hard and resistant to any location and any arma.Sono did well to draw from the difficulties the positives: The long crisis in the smuggler and suffering Extreme Marathon in the Golden Rimini could kill an elephant ... NOT ME! Another crucial help of my "head" has given the social network Facebook.E 'I wrote them my feelings and my training, I have many friends supported, encouraged me in agony and have shared with me all the good times and moments brutti.Si had formed a really good group ... I could FAILS YOU DO NOT! I knew of their support and respect they felt towards my effort, were with me to push myself when I was tired, were with me to keep me warm at night when it was pouring and the arrival on the avenue were with me ... NO, YOU DO NOT could FAILS ABSOLUTELY! For the road from Athens to me led to Sparta, which was along the route of Pheidippides, I was always lucid, I never had a mental collapse in some circumstances even if the adverse events could be addressed to rise up as a pretext or excuse a lot easier to credibly explain ritirarmi.Mi better at the check point thirty-five, after one hundred twenty-four km run, thirteen hours and thirty minutes of the race, with one hundred twenty-two km and still running with a flood that was already down by about fifteen miles and that will be with us for hours, I decided that it was Now it's time to give me a massage. The massager has a doubt after various processes and makes me get up, shakes his head and says I have the pelvis out of alignment and that would have gone in continue corsa.Una shiny little person already in trouble before an assist like that he would surrender ... had a solid alibi.Io But no, with the knowledge of risking their lives in an extreme sport I decide to continue, even as it poured gait could not be very low also because of the trail at that point, I also have the strength to eat a nice plate of spaghetti as digestion could not adversely affect athletic performance by decreasing the race was my rendimento.La infinite, and so along the way I was able to race with athletes from other countries and my being multilingual has helped me tantissimo.Dove I had another nice boost of energy was when I raced with the other Italian friends, we used force against each other and we cried with joy and sang the national anthem when the cp fifty-two, after one hundred seventy-two kilometers and twenty-three hours and thirty minutes of running, we learned that Ivan had won the gara.Questa news gave us wings to the heart, mind and my physical and mental freshness gambe.La took me until the end to calculate all the various benefits on the timing of closure of ristori.Man they went ahead I could see the fatigue in physical and in the heads of all the athletes who overcame, we respect but always with the drama of sports and incitement veemenza.Verso the end, when she was five kilometers, I began to weep for joy until I embarked on the path of about half a mile away with the statue of King Leonidas, who served as the mistress and the people from the balconies m'incitava. I ran between two rows of the crowd, no tears addition, children on bicycles who were following me my wake, waving my flag of the Inter ... I was ecstatic and speechless, mute. Two hundred and fifty meters from the finish line I made the cloth into a fist and started to scream out loud rid of everything I had and I knew people dentro.La acclaimed ... I skipped the steps leading to the statue and also those to his right foot, so instead of arriving as do caressing the foot of King Leonidas, I made a cake type basket.La people were amazed by so much vitality, they I won ... I was their king. Award Ceremony with wreath drink from the glass vial and the maid brought me and let me tell you: "I did "!!!. In this race I put mind, heart and legs or how our Brazilian friends told me RACA to the finish, and Paixao AMOR (Pride, love and passion). Let me tell you 'for that final
immortalized by hundreds of cameras was my thanks for all voi.GRAZIE YET. Ps
In recent months I enjoyed the festivities and I rested a bit 'andandomene on vacation in my Rio de Janeiro. Now, low profile, niente.Si not happen again for a new adventure ... NINE HILLS RUNNING

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

What Happened Toi Nick Berry

Dis-less family


On a warm autumn afternoon Friday, I did not expect to meet so few people in the "National Art Museum of the XXI century". I was hoping to see the same enthusiasm Meeting the Tate or National Gallery, or MOMA, where even the poor of New York, warming, admire contemporary art. The lack of a museum just opened the door to a devastating conclusion on the non-existent, in agony, the Italian culture. Although the structure has been designed by one of the most interesting architects of the last 20 years, in reality there is no revolutionary idea in the structure that houses the exhibition space: glass and cement, into a set of curved stairs and not suitable to host exhibits which require a degree of rigor. But the time will be the sole judge of architecture. The good will survive, the bad will be lost. The driver of the taxi thought it was a theater, this means that any means of mass media reported the news in an effective and the message has not been transferred to potential users . No media has been able to develop curiosity in people to which the architecture and art do not say nothing, if not some slumbering feeling of boredom and futility. Another failure of the Italian ruling class, which does not allow everyone to enjoy and enjoy all the art forms, whatever they are. Art must be a cross and penetrate all social classes, because the population can not remain in some tissues and football broadcasts, De Dominicis and do not know, or admire Belen and be fascinated with the work in front of the stop-motion Djurberg. The shocking reality is that most people still so strongly and uniquely linked to the textbooks, to be trapped for life, of course, having seen a Van Gogh on a book has no value unless it leads to no reflection, if no incentive to go further. And the impetus must come from an educated elite. The banality of the things you do or say is directly proportional to the things you hear on television that if you take more art than crime would be only the interests of an entire population of ignorant. The school is full of agony bad teachers who do nothing but generate children unable to think, and make them prisoners of adults thought unnecessary. Yesterday I saw an entire elementary class trip to a mall, and none of these has railed against the teachers. We prepare our children from childhood to become perfect consumers of nothing, condemning them, given the current economic situation and future, to become dissatisfied with the eternal.