The Italian cyclist are a charismatic lot, at least in the form of the L'Eroica rider. I was only middle of the pack age wise which makes a nice change once you are well into your fifties, even if most of the older cyclists were faster and fitter. Extra heroics points were awarded to the cyclists I saw pulled over for a ciggie. The numbers noticeably swelled when we intersected with those on the (still damn hard) 135 km course for around 40km. It seems the the well deserved reputation of the lungo course attract a far smaller number of the strongest or most optimistic (👋) riders.
With a tough 165km in the legs, it's hardly an easy 40km to finish. I was really struggling with the heat at 145km and the Monte Santa Marie section took far longer than it should have. I was seriously wondering if I could finish this thing! The shortcut finish for the 135 km distance came and went. Now I was committed and so were those around me.
Fortunately, most of the remaining climbing (and there was plenty) was more long and constant than sharp and testy with generally friendly gravel (or was I just more confident with my machine now?). Even so, I was feeling it. The legs hadn't gone but the rough roads on skinny tyres had token their toll on the body but it was the heat that I was really feeling. With only 12km to go, I rolled through Radda in Chianti, passed a cafe, paused for half a second and then chucked a u-ey and stopped for the aforementioned slingshot home. How good did that Coca Cola taste right at that moment.
Caffeine and sugar fuelled, and after another climb, I was soon on the last gravel section and the fast descent to Gaiole. Down the hill, through the back streets and onto the finishing straight, I dropped into the hardest gear, shifted out of the saddle and wound up into a full bore sprint to the line, much to the delight of the three deep crowd, oblivious to my mediocre top speed of 42km/h.
It was done! Someone handed me a medal and a bottle of wine. An older Italian gentleman hugged me and got his friend to take a photo of the two of use. I may have cried a little, dusty streaks adding to the sweat and salt crust.
My nine year plan had been realised! Will I be back or has this one now been consigned to history? A few days later, the hands are still sore but it's a definite maybe right now!
Puncture count: 0 (I claim my handling skills and caution saved the day!)
Autogrill coffee count: 2 (I was only on the highway twice)