BORMIO DREAMING
IT WASN’T MEANT TO FINISH LIKE THIS, SLUMPED AGAINST A BARRIER THREE kilometres from the summit of one of cycling’s most iconic and storied climbs, a summit that was not only meant to mark the end of the race, but bring the curtain down on a week of riding that had filled my soul with happiness, and my legs with more than a little fatigue.
And yet here I am on the floor, battling severe stomach cramps and also the little voice in my head which, to its credit, is doing its best to cajole me into action.
“Come on. GET UP. You can do this. You HAVE to do this. You can’t come this far and not reach the finish.”
On and on it rages until eventually I can stand it no more and reluctantly drag myself off the floor and onto my bike. I’m going to finish the Gran Fondo Stelvio Santini, one of Europe’s premier sportives, one way or another, if only to quieten The Little Voice. Back in the saddle, I glance to the summit and start pedalling, still in considerable discomfort, but this time I allow my mind to
