France Bravo and thanks again for everything! Francesco Capecchi is an athlete easily recognizable by its particular headgear, from a little mustache and dall'andatura 'caracollante but always fair, you meet him every Sunday in some marathon around Italy. His sympathy, his gentle manner and the particular spoken picena make it one of the most original of our national landscape jogging. This gentleman is able to organize an event that draws many athletes, jogging and walking from various parts of Italy, he does it with passion, dedication and attention to having a budget is not just rich and I would say its skeleton. Not having the help of great sponsors and the cooperation of mammoth organization, works hard all year so that his "creation" will see the light every year in mid-February, on the Riviera. I'm talking about the event itself has two faces: the marathon and 50km on the beach of San Benedetto del Tronto. I had discovered by chance last year and had participated in it more for curiosity than anything else, this year, however, have returned with purpose and pleasure in this period of time because I did my spirit and I was able to learn more about Francis. I knew I was not wrong and so it was. Reading here and on some blogs checked also some negative opinion about the show, respectable reviews but I disagree completely, except perhaps for the lack of portable toilets along the way, but Francis, serious and intelligent person, this will make his critical and turn it into valuable suggestions improving the quality of the event. When I read: "I paid thirty € And there were no showers, refreshments after the race was low, the withdrawal of the chest was in a tight spot, I had to pay seven euro for the pasta party ... definitely an event not to be do more, "the rest sorry because I think these people while respecting, I repeat, opinion have turned slightly. So is it better to pay forty or fifty euro and then cross the finish line to hear, after a rainstorm, hallucinating, "Go on, go on, come on ... that the others arrive." Having the bag deposit two kilometers away and then maybe find a half-open or broken luggage because threw them in bulk and finally found a few cookies as final refreshment! No, sorry, I is not! I WANT to cross the finish line and find Frank, the organizer, who embraced me and is happier than me. I want to find the bag where I left it intact. I want to get to Saturday to pick up the chest and find that Capecci m'accoglie thanking me with tears in his eyes, just for being there, happy to have me at his house after writing m'aveva no fax, no credit and giving it only the day before the confirmation of my presence. Want to go to collect the prize of the tenth of 50km and arrived to hear me say: "Cyrus, this is a size L is too big for you, wait a minute, which shall immediately change the premium. I want to find a shirt in the goody bag technique and a neck warmer which also becomes necessary hat (thanks also goes to sponsor Joker). I want to pay seven euro for the pasta party and be a company that enjoys a merry Brigada like a family instead of having a poor dish of pasta, maybe hot, as unfortunately happens often. If in the end there is a shower, "who cares", I go to the hotel across the street and do them, where I paid thirty-five € for a single room and not fifty, sixty or seventy as has happened in other cities where I have not even had this opportunity despite being contracted. These are the reasons why, work commitments permitting, I will return again in San Benedetto del Tronto. As I always do I arrived Saturday afternoon in the charming seaside town of Marche in the morning but I have inside me a strange feeling as if I was missing something or someone, I do not know, I do not know how to explain. Strange I do not ever happens to me And I said ... 'the early afternoon, I walk toward the hotel where he'll rest a while', and after a few hours and walk barefoot on the beach I go to pick up the chest, a chat with the manager of the sponsor and then a walk in center, as another way to spend time and visit the city. On my return the day the lights are now fading into warmer tones of the sunset, which in turn change after a while 'in the coldest of the evening, a little while once a very dark blue color and then wrap all of us will night. Meeting with Philip and his friend we go to the restaurant waiting for the pasta party where there a host of friends who, as always, a pleasure to review. We're almost all there is an air of festivity. But something always misses me, that strange feeling in the morning is always there, his presence will be my companion for the entire evening junk but I try not to give it importance. Denise is around that greets all with his camera, like a bee from flower to flower jumps from one table to another teases us with his shots. With pleasure I see also Maurizio Crispi was a long time since I came across and with whom I'm going to talk about my plans for the year that has opened before us. And joy are the twenty Brigada fly across leaves for the supper and the feast begins. I have the opportunity to meet new people, each in its own way the protagonist of the film of his passion for sport and with so many different stories to tell. All, however, with the same joy to share ... THE RACE. Despite the air of celebration, after dinner, I'll be back at the hotel hoping that after a good sleep I would have stopped the veil of sadness that m'ammantava. And 'Sunday morning, early and watches us from the leaden sky threatening as ever, many athletes on the road already color the city a little' sleepy. I go to the start of the race, there is still half an hour and then go and sit by the sea, the air is serene and beautiful prelude to a day. Full of energy and charge back in a group where there is still time to talk and joke a bit 'with friends as usual. Missing five minutes, we bring ourselves under the inflatable start, the music comes from speakers high, through our ears and you lose the atmosphere. Now we ... GO! The snake starts moving, the race comes to life on the sand. The sand softer and less compact than last year, when the entire coast was the victim of storms and bad weather, it seems like kidnap our steps. Can be seen from the first kilometer of the several types of athletes that populate the game: there are those who are there to do the race and fight for victory immediately placing the head of the large group, there are those who provided the camel back is trying to trim the one hundred kilometers of the Sahara which will be held soon, there are those who like me is to make them a good workout there who finally This is to make a simple and healthy walk. One of the nice things about this race is that being a circuit to be repeated many times you have the option of crossing with other athletes, at all happy and smiling then as the miles pass that happiness degrades until it assumed characteristics of fatigue increasingly pronounced contours of pure suffering. My legs are fine, with time constants around and my gait is quiet, I enjoy playing with the sea, I challenge him, mocking him. He tries to get wet and then I reserved my revenge for this insult, like a naughty child who always wants to win it, remove the traces of my passage making my invisible presence. It goes on, I hit the five with many friends, some are clearly in trouble and I urge them and others looks at me making me upset just nodded. many thanks ... but all I clench their teeth and go on unbroken. I am so happy with how my race is going to own that I seem to live in another dimension, by chance and catapulted them only to give a hand to all. Towards the middle or slightly more than double the friend route Angela, in the past, I scream: "You made me cry when I read your article about the marathon Napoliiiii, rest a moment, surprised, pleasantly surprised, I turn, I look at it and change the direction of my race. The reach, the ' hug, thank you for that nice compliment me and ask to do a few miles together. She gives great athlete is what I scream, almost reproached, on the go, aware of the difference in step between us. I walk away taking my rhythm but I have to be honest quell'attestato estimation took me pleasantly surprised. This time it was me being excited. I'll go ahead and light in blissful solitude, the mind and thoughts travels free merging with the surf of the sea horizon and lose more and more away from me, a slight cool breeze blowing from the south caress, m'inebria and awakens the senses. My eyes at one point are kidnapped two birdies from the image that they are on their way to the beach. One sees me coming and move a bit ', the other comes up to me and follows me as if to tell me something, I notice something special about that nice bird's head, is a slight imperfection that makes it very original, however. But suddenly flies off and goes in the other company taking away that feeling of loneliness that I felt and that oppressed me. Now missing a turn and half in the end, twelve kilometers from the finish disto now, I still have to run less than an hour ... well. Missing five hundred meters, and the inflatable 'visible, I pull out my banner and waving Inter past him putting an end to my race. A nice lady gave me the medal and then the usual show for the consumption of photographers for my amusement. Here again I see those two birds and the scene repeats itself first as if I went back with the tape by pressing the rewind button. The bird with the neo towards me and follow me to where I left the bag then, as if to greet me stand still, look at me and after a few seconds it takes to twirl in the sky and fly to somewhere such as beaches and adventures. That snapshot I will clear the mind and the sense of that sweet little animal, like the sweet words that only a mother or a woman in love knows utter, reverberate like a sweet melody in my ears until they return home.
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