38.7 Kilometers.
The run to Fidenza was pretty straightforward. Actually, pretty much every run I have until I get to Bologna will be straight and forward. One thing that carried through from the Romans are completely straight roads from town to town. I would imagine that there was never really any need for another road, so the Italians just paved over them and now they are busy highways. Great for cars, bad for runners.
I stopped after about 20 km in a town called Firenzuola and went into a cafe/supermarket and bought two bottles of Powerade. The lady at the counter had seen me running from Piacenza on her way to work, and she gave me a free bottle of water to help with my thirst quenching.
Runs around 20 km are really perfect, I can really just go out and cruise and not have to think about anything except for putting one foot in front of the other. Runs around that distance were pretty standard back at school, so when I head out the door, I just think to myself "eh, just doing a short little run in the park." On days like this though, I do that run in the park...I walk around town for maybe 15 minutes and I say "ok...well, time to do another short little run in the park."
When I got into Fidenza, I was incredibly thirsty again, and I stopped in the only open place anywhere in sight, a gelateria. They didn't have any real liquids, so I settled for a lemon Icee type drink. Best brain freeze ever.
After doing the typical loops, I found a group of people sitting outside of a cafe/bar, and asked them if there was anything to do around Fidenza. We started talking, and I sat down and they asked me lots of questions about my trip. Really nice guys, but they thought that I was crazy...which I guess is rational. After I got to the part where I didn't have a place to stay, somehow the whole group started slowly dispersing. Oh well.
I ordered something to eat from the bar and sat around for a while. When I was done, I went inside and paid, and asked the bartender if he had any solutions for me. He told my story to a nearby man, who ended up being an American (from Arizona) who has been living in this region for almost 30 years, teaching English among other things. Glen ended up offering me a shower and a place to stay...and a computer. He had a concert to go to, but he left me with the computer for the hours that he was gone.
When he came home, we spent a long time going over the cultural differences that he has found in Italy, and it was good to hear some advice from another American that has spent so much time here. We also spent some time talking about one of my favorite subjects: architecture. We spoke about digital fabrication and about the need for architecture that is either application specific with an application specific lifespan, or redundant architecture which lasts forever and which can be easily repurposed. While I was tired, the conversation was engaging, and I didn't get to sleep until around 2 am...knowing that once more I would be running under a high sun.
28 July 2009
Day 66
27 July 2009
Day 65
38.1 Kilometers.
Matteo came and opened up the door for me around 10:30, and we headed out to grab something to eat together. Afterwards, I spent some time running around town trying to find a replacement for my depleted body glide. The heat is definitely causing some potential problems, so after a few stops, I found a bike shop which had something I could use. I ended up buying "Ozone Elite Protect Cream," which while fairly expensive and oversized for my needs, had Le Corbusier's modular man wearing bike shorts as its logo, so I took that as a sign that it would work for me.
Some people had informed me the day before that the bridge to Piacenza was down, and that I wouldn't be able to get there on foot. I spent a little bit of time in the morning going over possible alternatives, but ended up deciding to go to the town across the river from Piacenza and figure out a solution when I arrived. I knew that there was a railway bridge nearby, and I was excited to MacGyver a solution when I got there. I set out of Lodi in the early afternoon, and just cruised on my way to San Rocco, the small town across the river from Piacenza. I told myself that I would run continuously until I got to San Rocco, or for two hours (when I would need to refuel)...whatever came first. I kicked out mid 6:20 miles until the two hour bell rang and I found myself at a gas station right outside of San Rocco. Not a crazy pace, but with the backpack and the heat I was definitely drained when I arrived. I went in to the shop and bought a 1.6 liter bottle of energy drink, and immediately drank half of it. I had the guy refill the rest with water, and I drank that too. I stood there for a couple minutes trying not to puke, and then immediately after that sensation went down, I drank a Powerade and another half bottle of water. I was less than 8 km from Piacenza, and a few kilometers away from the bridge, so I started heading in that direction. Due to the quantity of liquid in my stomach, I started out walking and evolved into a slow run. When I got to the closed bridge, I decided to check out how bad it was (even if a car couldn't cross it, maybe I could). I climbed over two fences with obvious no entry signs and walked to the edge of the world. The bridge was in pretty bad shape, but I didn't have many options, so I tried to figure out a solution. My solution was to jump the gap onto the second piece of the bridge and then climb up the still connected guard rail onto the third. After standing for a couple minutes, wondering if the slab of concrete hanging off the other part of the bridge would hold my weight, I decided to test it via leap of faith. It was a long ways down if it didn't hold, but luckily it did, and I found myself walking down a steep hill of broken highway to the ground below. Matteo had informed me that the bridge was broken in two places, so I wasn't really sure that even if I climbed up the crazy guard rail I would be able to get over the other place. I decided to walk over to the railway bridge and see if I might have a more viable option there. There actually was a place that I could pass safely if a train came by, so I climbed up onto the bridge and made a run for it. Luckily, no train passed by, and I got into Piacenza (half "Mad Max" style, half "Stand by Me" style, as my friends back in Lodi would put it) much easier than I had previously imagined.
Now my goal was to find something to eat and a place to stay. I walked around town, entering a few churches and walking around a few parks. Outside of one church, a man was taking photos of all the people who entered, and we ended up speaking for a bit about my trip. He took a photo of me with some nuns as well. I gave him my phone number, and he said he would call me later in the evening to see if I had found a place to stay. After a few more loops around the town, I didn't find the Internet cafe that I was looking for, and sat down in a park hoping for anything. It was around 8 pm when Carlo called and said that if I didn't have a place I could have dinner and stay with him. I went back to the church to meet him, but when I got there and called him, he said that there was an emergency and that he could no longer put me up. I told him that it was no problem, and that I hoped everything was alright, and went on my way. I got some dinner, and around 9 o'clock, I called Matteo to see if he knew anybody in Piacenza. He said that he didn't really, but that one of his friends knew a guy who was in a band at a rock concert near the train station. After an hour or two of wandering around trying to find this concert, occasionally calling Matteo for an update on directions, I eventually arrived at the outdoor concert which really wasn't anywhere near the train station. It was incredibly heavy stuff. The bands were playing "violent core," according to one of the posters I saw...and were seriously violently rocking out. Mario, the singer in the band that I had been given the name of offered to put me up, and was an incredibly nice guy, but he lived 20 km in the direction of Milan. He asked just about everyone he knew to no avail, and in turn I started asking everyone else. After talking to so many people, Mike and Chiara offered to put me up at their place. It was a ways away, but Mike offered to drive me back in the morning. I got to bed around 3 am, incredibly tired. I had made it my goal while running out of Milan to never run during mid day again...but that isn't about to happen.
26 July 2009
Day 64
40.7 Kilometers.
I woke up late in the morning, and after eating some breakfast and spending a bit of time on the computer, Brenda, Antonio and I took the car/train ride into Milano. It was around 2 pm when I finally set out of the city on my way to Lodi.
Definitely one of the most ugly and difficult runs that I have had thus far. Italy is not really made for pedestrian traffic, and I followed a highway out of the city, coughing through the dust and smog with the exhaust of the passing cars increasing the heat of the already incredibly hot weather. People said that Italy would be hot. I didn't think it would happen right away.
After maybe 8 km, I hit a part of the highway that had an obvious no pedestrian sign, and considering that there wasn't a space at all for a pedestrian, I decided to obey it. The only problem was that there wasn't really any other option of getting to Lodi (I starting singing my own version of the CCR song, where I was stuck on the way to "Lodi"). There was a few kilometers in there of hopping over jersey barriers and fences, crossing train tracks, running through fields, getting my legs cut by little plants (hoping there was nothing poisonous)...trying to fill the voids between roads that didn't connect, hoping they were roads that I could run on. Eventually, I got back onto a busy (but possible) road, and ran along its side for maybe the first 20 km. It felt like the hottest day that I have had so far, and the general traffic/road/air quality made me feel like I was back running in Thailand...maybe worse. Eventually, I found the option of taking a slightly longer smaller road, which actually had a bike lane, and the rest of the run was quite alright. I stopped a couple kilometers outside of town in a grocery store, completely wiped out and feeling like death. I took a photo of my terrible condition, but accidentally deleted it. After three boxed chocolate milks and a bottle of sports drink, I felt a little better and wandered the rest of the way into town. I checked my phone, and by some chance I had managed to put "Lodi" on it (the only CCR song I had), so I listened to the song on repeat until I arrived, hoping that I wouldn't get stuck in Lodi. I think it was the second time that I have listened to my music in the last two months.
I started my usual wandering about town, and after making a couple loops I stopped to ask a couple sitting in the park for some advice on a restaurant and somewhere that I might be able to find a shower and a place to sleep. After talking for a bit, they informed me that they lived quite a ways from the town (in a little town that I had run through on the way to Lodi), but that they were going to a nearby bar later to meet some friends, and that I should go there after dinner to see if I could find something. So that is what I did. I had a cheap plate of spaghetti and a salad, and headed over to Wellington Pub on the edge of town. The bar had an awesome atmosphere, and I was quickly introduced to a huge group of awesome young people, with pretty similar interests in art, architecture, and music as me. Tired as I was, I stayed out until 2 am talking with so many people. One of the guys worked for the local paper, and did an impromptu interview. Some of the conversations I had really made me laugh. I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing the ideas that people in other countries have of America, or having them explain the realities behind my ideas of their country. Around 2 am, Matteo and Mattea (difficult to not get the names mixed up) brought me to their art studio where I could shower and sleep for the night. One is a photographer and the other an artist, and the place was full of some pretty cool work. They locked me in, and I took a quick shower in a crazy (sink level) tub and went to sleep on the couch, excited for the coming day.
24 July 2009
Days 62-63
46 Kilometers.
Vittorio dropped me off back in Como on his way to work...it took a while for me to finally wake up, so I walked for a couple kilometers to get out of town. As I was getting ready to start my run, I took a kneel to relieve myself and somewhere between wondering what time it was and accidentally peeing on my hand while trying to shield myself from flashing a nearby car, I noticed that my watch was not on my wrist. Immediately the events of last 8 hours or so flashed through my mind: my taking off my watch to take a shower, my waking up in the middle of the night and realizing that I wasn't wearing my watch and that I needed to remember it when I woke up in the morning, and my leaving the house without really waking up in the morning...without my watch. For the entire run (split into two sections for a short lunch break and some walking) I couldn't help but think of Christopher Walken's watch story in Pulp Fiction. Looking at the white tan line on my wrist, I kept going over all the things that this watch has been on my wrist for: I have had it for about 7 years, and it has been there for just about every tough workout, race, or PR I have ever had...not to mention it has crossed a half a continent on my wrist. This trip has forced me to be a little less sentimental with things, but I really wanted to get this watch back, and was kicking myself for being so thoughtless. I couldn't do anything at the moment, as Vittorio was at work (in Switzerland) and I didn't even have his phone number or address. To make things worse, checking over my bag to see if it was anywhere to be found, I noticed that my long sleeve shirt wasn't there. I left it in Lugano. I guess I had a thoughtless couple of days (I was planning on ditching the shirt long ago anyways, as it was never really part of my originally planned luggage). I had to just forget about those things and keep pushing on towards Milano, through some of the longest dirty suburbs I have ever seen. There, I could take a break for a day and figure out my next few moves.
My arrival in Milano by the way, marked two months from my departure--in those two months, I have been in 6 countries and run around 1,760 kilometers, which averages out to 125 mile weeks if you include my breaks in some of the big cities, (145 miles/week if you don't). The crazy thing is that I'm not even halfway done.
In Milano, I met up with Brenda (the mom of a fellow Columbian) and Antonio, her husband. It was a great couple of days, I got my laundry done and had some time to just relax. Apart from taking me out to some amazing Italian meals, they took me to a pharmacy where I refilled my calcium and bought some antifungal foot cream (my feet are starting to get pretty gross...not there yet, just starting) and went halfway across the world to get me a new pair of shoes. Milano is an enormous sprawling, dirty, fashionable and interesting mess...and I was pretty lucky to have Brenda and Antonio there to take me around. Brenda is American, and Antonio is Italian, so we spoke a comfortable mixture of the two languages.
I was pretty lucky to get an e-mail from Vittorio, who had found my watch in the bathroom, and Brenda and Antonio were nice enough to drive up to meet him on my last night in Milan. The drive seemed really long considering that I had run it only the day before. Vittorio came to meet us on a scooter with Giorgio, and seeing them and my watch was glorious...like reuniting with some old friends. Even though it had only been two days, it seemed like a miracle to see someone who had seen a few days before in another town, and made me excited to reunite with some of the people I have met along the way in future years. It has been an amazing first two months, with so many interesting and generous people...but it is a long road ahead.
Day 61
32 Kilometers.
I slept until near 10 am in Lugano, had some breakfast with Lorenzo and started heading towards Italy. Before leaving town though, I thought I should spend some time on the computer writing about the last three days, so I found an Internet cafe and ended up lounging around there until around 3 pm. At 3:45 I finally got out of town, and had a pretty smooth run into Como. To make things more challenging I decided to try to race a guy on a bicycle (travelling with huge saddle bags). I kept getting right up behind him on the uphills, and then he would roll ahead on the downs. I finally got ahead, just moments before our roads divided. Not having had a running companion for the past two months, keeping pace with hippies on bicycles is all I can really do to maintain that feeling. I stopped a few miles short of Como in my last non-Italian town for over a thousand miles or so and tried to spend my last 10 Swiss Francs before I crossed the border. I bought two iced teas, two Lindt Swiss Chocolate bars, and a package of Mentos. Thinking that I should eat a little bit of real Swiss chocolate before I left, I went into a Swiss chocolate store for the bars. Thinking purely numerically, I went with the highest percentage cacao they sold...90 percent. I have now learned that you have to be an idiot to buy a chocolate bar because it has the highest percentage of cacao. That chocolate bar was terrible. The first two squares were a shock, and I forced down the second two. Having a thing about not wasting food, I forced down two more squares before deciding that it would be better to throw the rest of the chocolate away then to vomit it away. I tried to offer it to someone on the street, but for more than one likely reason, they said no.
I got into Como in the early evening, singing "Raindrops Keep Fallin' on my Head" aloud as I walked the last kilometer or so around the lake (Perry Como recorded a version of it that I used to repeat over and over on my record player).
I spent my usual couple hours wandering about the town, making Gaelic knot patterns on the plan of the city...hoping that something would fall in my lap (fortunately, it did). On the way, I was wonderfully surprised to find Terragni's Casa Del Fascio (near a wall on which "DUX" was spray painted). I had studied this building in school, but the fact that it was in Como had completely slipped my mind.
After about my 8th loop around the city, I passed by a pretty busy cafe/bar in the main piazza of town (Caffe Nova Comum) where I heard a man say something along the lines of "Hey runner." I quickly responded, "Yep...runner...that's me," from which came the question "Where did you run from?"...to which came an answer which started a longer conversation. It wasn't long before I was speaking to a group of people outside the cafe, feeling like I had just been sucked into a typical Italian scene from a movie. People coming by on bicycles and stopping in for a word, others leaving on scooters. Pretty women walking by and young guys halting the conversation to call out "ciao bella!" Before I could realize, I had a beer in one hand and a pizza in the other. Everyone in the place was talking to me and helping me out, even to the extent of asking some of the customers if they had a place I could stay. When it started getting late, and things were looking grim, Giorgio (the man in charge) offered to put me up in a hotel, but I told him that I couldn't accept. Soon afterwards, his friend Vittorio invited me to stay at his place. I was incredibly tired by the time we got there, I took a quick shower and fell asleep without bothering so much as to brush my teeth.
21 July 2009
Day 60
45 Kilometers?
I'm not really sure on the mileage of this day, my route was kind of crazy and my GPS kept losing signal...telling me that I had run 166 km halfway through my run. I'm pretty sure that it was around 45 or 50 km, and one of the most challenging days yet.
The run to Lugano from Bellinzona was supposed to be pretty straightforward, 31 km along a sentiero. Once again, however, I didn't find the entrance to the path, and my route was pretty random and along the side of roads in bike paths that cars kept driving in. I again walked for about 15 km, hoping that the pain in my shins would calm down again. About halfway through the fairly direct route I was taking, I got to the town of Rivera, where Johnny had suggested that I take the "funivia" to the top of the mountain to see the Mario Botta chapel. I wasn't opposed to taking a machine up a mountain, provided that it brought me back down to the same place (so that I could continue along the valley to Lugano), so I went a couple minutes out of my way to the base station of the lift. When I got there, a sign informed me that the cost of the ride was 22 Francs for the out and back, and I said "No way am I paying that, I'll just run up it!"
I couldn't see the top of the mountain, and I didn't really think that it would be very far. I was wrong. As a general rule from now on, when a chairlift costs over 20 dollars, it is going a long way up. It was a very very long way up. I wasn't going to turn around, and after some serious running, hiking, crawling and sweating (and many false peaks) I arrived at Alpe Foppa, having gained 1060 meters of elevation. Soaking wet with sweat, I put on my pants and started going about the church. The view from the platform was amazing, and I was actually pretty glad that I had made the climb on foot. Had I taken the trip in an enclosed chairlift, it wouldn't have meant nearly as much to me. Standing on top of that platform, I felt truly triumphant, and truly grateful for the beautiful landscape that had brought me to the point where I was standing. The interior of the chapel was interesting, and I couldn't help but find echoes of Ronchamp: big revolving door, light breaking through the ceiling, little written messages and magnified sketches.
From the chapel, I headed to the cafeteria area and got a bite to eat and asked for the direction to Lugano. The man I asked told me to take the chairlift down and head along the valley...and that I had the other (insane and not suggested) longer option of continuing up to Monte Tamaro and taking the ridge line over and then down to Lugano. I wasn't about to backtrack down that hill immediately, so I chose the insane and not suggested option. Before heading on my way, I paid five francs to take a ride on a freaking awesome luge/bobsled thing. I went fast.
After sliding down a rock slide on my butt to get onto the proper trail, I took off my shirt and got ready to conquer some more mountain. The trail was incredible, and I felt like I was Highlander, Braveheart, or a really fast mountain goat or something...on little cut rock paths winding around the side of the mountain. At one point, a German couple that was hiking down the hill stopped and stood there with their arms outstretched and fingers moving, waiting to do "the wave" (the two person wave) as I passed by. That was pretty awesome. After some serious running, I skirted the top of Monte Tamaro and arrived at the top of M. Graddiccioli. At 1935 meters, it was about 1700 meters above where I had started the day (and 1700 meters above where I was going)...aka both the days it took to cross the Gotthard combined into one (plus the descent). At the top of the mountain, a plaque read (translated from Italian) that "the intensity of life is not measured by the number of breaths, but by the places and moments that take our breath away." This mountain definitely took my breath away.
From the top of the mountain, I could see the lake and city of Lugano, and I spent the rest of the trip running along the ridge lines and along the side of mountains towards the city (sometimes on trails, sometimes not). I eventually reached the town of Arosio, and took the longest winding downhill imaginable down to Gravesano where I continued towards Lugano. That downhill just destroyed my legs, and I had to walk/jog the last 4 or 5 km into the city.
Once again, I wandered around for a bit looking for something to fall into my lap. I bought a gelato and stood in the lake (which wasn't really cold at all) for twenty minutes or so...and fell asleep for a few minutes by its side. I had thought that I had a place to stay in Lugano, but once I got a little bit closer, I realized that the people who had sent me an email actually lived miles outside of the city...so I had to wing it again. I bought an amazing pizza (Gorgonzola and prosciutto) for dinner, and continued my rambling. After speaking with a few people, including a couple runners who had stopped to stretch, I found myself exhausted and with nowhere to sleep at 11 pm. At this time, I found a group of three people walking and said (an introduction I have been using kind of frequently) "Are you from this town?" When one of them said yes, I explained my story and asked if he knew of a place I might be able to find a shower and a place to sleep. Without another question, Lorenzo offered to let me sleep at his apartment and introduced me to his cousin and her new husband who were visiting from Italy for their honeymoon. Oh man, I was pretty happy...and pretty lucky once again.
Day 59
33 Kilometers.
I took a "Sentiero" (footpath) all the way to Biasca, where I was supposed to get back onto the footpath towards Bellinzona. The way was beautiful, and I went by an interesting ruined castle. When I got into Biasca however, I didn't pay any attention to the sign of the footpath (it was pointing in the wrong direction), and I just started heading in the right general (down the valley). Feeling like I should take an easier day (both of my shins are giving me some trouble again), I walked the first half on a series of roads and trails that were on no map, marching through mud, under highway overpasses, though thorns, etc. After 15 km or so, I crossed over a bridge and found the proper path again. As it would turn out, had I just gone in the wrong direction a little ways in Biasca, I would have found a bridge and followed the marked footpath the entire way. Once I started running, the going was better, and I followed a river all the way to the outskirts of Bellinzona. When I got there, I stood in the river for 10 minutes or so and headed into town. Bellinzona is a nice little town, with three castles that were once a major gateway to the Alps...now they are UNESCO world heritage sites and people go there because of that. I bought a Gelato and wandered up to the big castle in the center of town, and after walking around it (simultaneously looking for potential places to stay) I went back into town and went up to the next castle, where I did the same. I didn't really bother to go up to the third castle, because it was getting late, and everything would be closed (someone informed me later that it really isn't that cool anyways).
I went back into town and bought some dinner at a Kebab place. After eating, I spent a really long time stumbling about waiting for something to fall in my lap. When 10 o'clock rolled around and nothing had fallen in my lap yet, and I had spoken to a few people who couldn't help me out, I went back to the most happening place I knew (the Gelato place) and bought another ice cream and sat down on a bench. There was a group of young people across the street, so I went up to them and stated my facts. A translation of my introduction would probably be something along the lines of : "Good evening, I am a young person, here alone and I have nothing to do. I think that it is better that I speak with some people..." After we spoke for a bit, and they checked out my website to see that I wasn't just a poorly disguised serial killer (Thank you iPhone and 3G!), two of the people (Johnny and Sabrina) offered to take me home to their apartment for a shower and a place to sleep. They were incredibly nice, and were quick to throw my socks in the laundry machine before I could make their apartment smell like dirty feet (I'm about ready for a new pair of shoes).