Chapter IV – Umberto’s breakaway

Chapter IV

Umberto’s breakaway

He liked to get there early and look around when the room was empty. He had discovered that small details are noticeable when there are no customers, when the tension for service is not yet high. He noticed that there was a rose inside a big vase under the window that had bloomed early and that the petals had assumed a faded colour and would soon fall. Alfredo was meticulous, thorough, and probably for his employees he was a pain in the ass. On the other hand, he was born in September and his character had assumed, for better or worse, the typical characteristics of the sign of the virgo. When he was not wearing the chef ’s jacket, Alfredo was very careful about his clothing: he almost never wore a tie, apart from formal occasions, but cashmere sweaters and wide-ribbed velvet trousers in winter, Lacoste and fresh wool in summer. On his feet he only wore English model shoes, with laces, never loafers. He was horrified by a pair of German sandals, those with crossed laces, just to be clear, but in the kitchen he always wore a pair of light blue Crocs, like a surgeon in the emergency room. Perhaps it was a habit or perhaps the need to be comfortable for so many hours, standing in front of the stove. certainly it was a detail that he had learned when he was sous chef in a starred restaurant in Milan. The role of the sous chef is fundamental for the organization of an important restaurant. First of all, there’s the second chef in command, able to replace the executive chef, the big boss. He must therefore be able to carry out all the tasks of the head chef when he is absent and ensure that the kitchen runs smoothly. And then the sous chef refers to the different chief cooks (chef saucier, chef poissonier, chef rôtisseur, chef garde-manger, chef pâtissier...), the orders and all the kitchen staff, including the dishwasher. A gruelling job, six days a week, but it is also the only way to learn how to cook by stealing the secrets of the executive and trying to invent new dishes worthy of the name of the restaurant. In the early days Alfredo was very intimidated: his master was one of those people who have the ability to shake the blood in your veins. A true genius of haute cuisine, acclaimed by critics and the media, but with a despotic, arrogant, presumptuous attitude, comparable only to Vittorio Sgarbi during his best shows. And on the other

hand Alfredo was at the first important experience. He had graduated as a cook, worked in some restaurants in Padua and Verona before being called to the court of His Majesty. A great test of trust on his part, but Alfredo understood that that would be the occasion of his life and he could not go wrong. In the two years he had spent in Milan he had learned a lot, he had also been forced to suffer hardship and heavy humiliations, but he had reckoned them. Then, with the help of his parents and a small local bank, he decided to make the big leap. He opened his own restaurant, “the Fogher”. It was small, with only a few tables, but of very high quality and class. And the results were not long in coming: satisfied customers, excellent reviews, to the point that now, Alfredo, aspired to the first Michelin star. He did not know if and when that star would arrive, but for Alfredo that star represented a concrete goal. The suppliers' vans began to arrive: Alfredo personally inspected the vegetable boxes, the fish, the meat, he knew that raw material is fundamental for any dish and he had chosen meticulously the best producers, farmers and breeders. For the wines he had relied on a young but very experienced winemaker: she was a beautiful girl with twometer legs. a former basketball player whose presence was always well received by the staff. Today the Fogher winery could offer customers bottles of different value, white and red wines, sparkling and still, but all of the highest quality. Alfredo rejected a box of scallops “Take these to the trattoria in front of us,” he told the fisherman that he swore that his fish was extremely fresh. But it only took a gaze from Alfredo to end the discussion and soon the poor old man had to admit that yes, they were fresh, maybe a day or two ago… Once all the shopping was checked, Alfredo wore the jacket: it was the signal that, from that moment on, his assistants were required to be silent and to respect roles and rules. It was show time.

I’m afraid of two things: wet descents and punctures. Which, for a professional cyclist with diabetes, is not really the best. But when I’m away from the races the problem doesn’t arise. Today, for example, is the day of the “girobar”, a nice ride with a group of friends: an hour pedalling on our bikes, then we stop at the bar, and we return back home. Of course, in recent times, after the long breakaway at the Milan-Sanremo race, even the girobar has become tiring: everyone asks questions, everyone wants to know. While we’re pedalling or while we’re standing in front of a nice hot cappuccino. “Was it hard?”

“But, honestly, have you ever thought about winning?" “And what about now, what are you going to do next year?" “And this Alaphilippe, how strong is he?” I try to answer everyone, I would hate to disappoint them, to seem presumptuous, because I really hate presumption. There are three things I’ve learned from cycling: one is that presumption doesn’t pay because when you’re riding your bike you're either going fast or you’re going slow, there’s no middle ground. And there’s no point in getting off on it, because at the end of the day, it’s the results that matter. You must be humble, respectful of your tools and your abilities, both physical and mental. And then you have to respect the rules and the opponents: and that’s the second thing I learned, don’t take advantage of situations. If someone has a hole in his wheel or has to stop for physiological needs, the others wait for him, they do not take advantage of it. In cycling you don’t need slow motion because there are no simulators: it’s not like football where you throw yourself on the ground in the penalty area screaming with pain when your scorer has not even touched you. In cycling, the old runners show you the way of respect, they tell you to step aside when It is needed, they teach you to stay in your place especially if you are a young man with a hot head. There are written rules, but those that count are taught by the road itself and the experience, are taught by the silence of the opponents because you did not behave well, are taught to you by the low look of your comrades because you betrayed them. For all these reasons cycling is a unique sport, an individual sport, but also a team sport, a sport that is not taught, but learned. There is no figure of the master as in tennis, swimming or golf. You learn to ride alone, first on the red tricycle, then on the bike with wheels, in the park, maybe helped by your grandfather: you learn to pedal as you learned to speak, to cry, to walk. Then, if you’re predestined, you’ll have to learn to suffer. You may have an extremely fit body and a unique talent, but if you do not know how to suffer, everything will be useless, cycling will not notice you and you will always remain an amateur, one that maybe gets up early on Sunday, and either with the sun or with the rain, rides his bike up and down the hills. My coaches have always told me that no matter how strong you may be, you will never choose to become a professional, cycling will choose for you. And this is the third thing I learned from cycling: I, Umberto Poli, a cyclist with diabetes, was chosen. Once at home I took a shower and I laid down on the couch with the music of the band Darkness in the background. The house smelled clean, a sign that my mother must have taken advantage of my absence to tidy up the place: since I went to live alone, between us there was an unspoken agreement. She was happy to take care of me again and I pretended not to notice, but I must confess, getting back into a clean house always has a nice effect.

I like to lie on the couch after a workout, even if the girobar is nothing much more than a walk, and enjoy my free time, my space. I took a candy bar because I felt that my blood sugar was low when suddenly my phone rang. “Umberto? What are you doing?" it was the voice of my best friend “Hello Lorenzo… nothing… I'm resting. What about you?” “I'm watching the TV. Soon Verona will play. Do you want to see it together?” “No, you know, football does not interest me.” “Come on, you used to play well, you were a nice defender". "Those were other times". “Listen up, do you have plans for tonight?" “No, not really” “Okay then, so, we’re organizing a night out” “With whom?” “The usual ones. Giulio, Massimiliano and Luca. We thought we’d go out to dinner. They opened a restaurant that everybody is recommending and we would like to try it.” "Why not?” “So I’ll pick you up at 8:00” “Yes, but let’s not be late. I have to get up early in the morning.” “We won't be late. You’re such an old man. You'll be back in bed by 11:00. Well, the match is starting, I’ll see you later.” "See you later” The restaurant “Il Fogher" was very nice and from the outside it was promising. “Are we sure we won't get plucked here?” someone said “Don't you worry. I’ve read that they have average prices. And even if they aren't, it won't be a problem for once…” The group of friends entered and took their seats at the table reserved by Lorenzo. A bunch of fresh flowers were at the centre of the table. “Thank God you called, there's not a single free table” “I told you, you eat well and you spend the right amount” “Well, guys, what do you tell me?” “What about you! Congratulations for the Milan-Sanremo” “Don't talk about it!” “No, no, you made a miracle… you and the others on the team" “What do you mean?” “Four of us in the breakaway were way too many, there should have been two, three at most.” “I’ll never understand this breakaway story. I know you’ve explained it to me a million times, but I can’t understand it.” “That's cycling, don’t ask too many questions. Anyway, how are the studies?" “Great, and then, what spe-

cialization will you chose?” “I thought anaesthesia. It’s a complete branch and then there’s the charm of the O.R.” “Wait, if you like the O.R. so much, why don’t you become a surgeon?” “It’s too much tension. And then, you know, I’m shy, I have a hard time talking to people, patients who complain and who tell you their stories. I thought that as an anesthesiologist I’d put them to sleep and solve the problem.” “The important thing is that you can wake them up.” commented Luca, a two-meter high man, the second line of the rugby team Petrarca, the neck slightly recessed between the shoulders and two hands that would strangle a bull. His father had put the oval ball in his cradle because in Padua rugby is followed just like football is in Rio de Janeiro or skiing in Val Badia. “What did you do to your forehead?” “Nothing, a scrambled cleat, three or four points. However, we won easily" “The helmet isn't an option?” “Oh. That's girls' stuff: More importantly, I have some good news. I’ve been summoned to be a part of the national team" “That's awesome. Six Nations?” “No, I wish, it’s a test match with Argentina. Tough guys. But the real game is next Sunday: the derby with Rovigo. It practically stops the city as if it were the Superbowl. If you lose, in bars they don't even look you in your eyes, but if you win they offer you coffee. And also brioche” “You don’t strike me as the coffee and brioche type. In my opinion, for breakfast, you eat a steak with potatoes” “Or maybe a plate of crickets” said Giulio “Oh my God, that's gross” “Look, it’s the future, the world’s population will soon be eating insects, they’re high in protein, and they don’t cost anything.” Giulio was very prepared on the subject. After graduating in agriculture he dedicated himself to developing a special type of pasta made with cricket flour. “How’s your project going, by the way?” “Well, I received a small scholarship and I am in contact with some manufacturers. The problems are the quibbles, the bureaucracy and that this country can’t look past its nose. I’m thinking about going to Great Britain. Just know that a lot of restaurants where you only eat insects opened there” “Whatever, however we settle for the delicacies that the menu offers. You, Giulio, eat your bugs, I’ll go for something more substantial” Giulio shook his head as if to say that it was useless, they would never understand.

The maître brags a little bit too much, but gave us excellent advice. I took a “sopa coada", a dish that I haven’t eaten in a long time because it is not easy to find in restaurants and requires a long preparation. The basic ingredient is pigeons but the problem is cooking, at least 5 hours are needed. I must say that it was very good, as well as Lorenzo's Vicentina capon and the risotto with cabbages and luganiga that Giulio, Luca and Massimiliano ordered. But the real surprise was the cake, the rufioli, some puff pastry halfmoons filled with Venetian mustard, very spicy and, strangely, not fried! It was really an unusual thing, extremely tasty. A nice bottle of Bardolino was the right beverage to accompany the whole meal. “Hello Umberto” I turned back towards that voice and found a guy in a chef ’s hat smiling at me with 32 teeth. “Excuse me, do we know each other?” “You are Umberto Poli, right? The cyclist” “Mmmhhh…. Yes.” I was intrigued by the fact that someone had recognized me. “I saw you on television, at the Milan-Sanremo. You sprinted away like the wind". “Yep, but at the end...” “It doesn’t matter. You did a great thing, your breakaway, almost 300 kilometres of breakaway!!” I didn’t know what to say, I was a bit embarrassed and my friends had started grinning and elbowing. “Our champion". said Luca to make a fool of me. “So you just don’t recognize me” I looked at him well, but honestly that face didn’t say anything to me. “I’m Alfredo, we were together at the hotel management school” Suddenly I had an epiphany. "Sure I remember! Alfredo… of course I remember… You were in the last year and I was starting the specialization as a cook… how are you?” I got up and we hugged. “I'm fine. I’m really glad to see you” “Oh, by the way, we ate really well. I’ll surely give you some nice reviews on Tripadvisor” “Thank you, I hope your friends were satisfied too” “Obviously, - said Giulio - even if with insect meal…” “You’ve really gone crazy. Forget the crickets and the grasshoppers and enjoy this divine food” “But you, Umberto, why did you ended up dropping everything?” “Maybe cooking wasn’t my way. And then this passion for cycling.” “Yes, I remember that back in the hotel management school days you had this obsession with cycling. But I thought it was a passion, not a job” “I have to tell you the truth. I didn’t ever think that one day I would become a cook, or even a chef like you.”

“Listen up, Umberto, I have a little bit of work to do now. But I would like to be together a bit, just to understand a few things, I have a lot of questions to ask you. Tomorrow is my day of rest, but I’m here: I have an appointment with the wine expert who has to let me taste some organic wines. Why don’t you come by in the afternoon? We’ll have coffee.” “Tomorrow? Yes, why not. Maybe you can introduce me to the wine expert. Is she worth it?" “Is she worth it? She definitely is. But don’t get your hopes up because she’s super-engaged.” “What's the problem? I’m not jealous…” “All right, so I’ll see you tomorrow. Guys, have a good night.” As soon as we were alone, Lorenzo broke the silence, “He is stingy, right?" “Who?” “Your friend, the chef. He could at least invite you to lunch instead of coffee: or better yet, make a great impression and say tonight you are all my guests. After all I know that with the great footballers that's how it's done.” “Yeah, but I am not a great footballer. And so this is the bill, take your cash.” “Holy crap!!! Seventy euros each” “And I’m still hungry. - said Luca getting up from his chair – I think I'll go get some pizza"

I almost forgot. I didn’t really want to go to Alfredo’s restaurant, but I had made him a promise. While I was parking, I noticed a beautiful girl leaving the restaurant and getting on a Fiat 500. Long hair, at least six feet tall, tight jeans. “Is she the wine expert?” “Yeah, but I told you. Don’t waste your time. Come on, I’ll make coffee, you start telling me everything,” “What do you want me to say? It was an extraordinary experience, because the Milan-Sanremo is an extraordinary race." “No, no, let’s start from the beginning, with this passion. I remember that already at the hotel management school you used to be passionate about cycling” “Well, it all started a long time ago. I must have been six years old and my neighbour, Lino, Lino Scapini, had set up a team of kids. My friend Lorenzo, he was here last night at dinner, was part of the team and convinced me to try it out. It was just for a few short races, 50, 100 meters. But I was strong, so strong for my age. Don't forget that it was only a game, way far from being a sport, but Lino believed in me, he had seen some qualities, I don’t know, he always had a keen eye.” “The point is that he gave me a new bike, a light blue Bianchi, but that’s when the problems started”

“What do you mean, you couldn’t win anymore?” “No, it wasn't that. The main problem was my father, he was never satisfied, if I didn’t win, he scolded me.” “But why, was he a champion?” “No, he’s so temperamental, he was all over me, I wasn’t having fun anymore. And if you take the fun out of it for a kid, it’s over.” Someone once wrote that children first adore their parents, then judge them and then, sometimes, forgive them. It’s a very deep phrase “I understand you very well. When I started this job, my father was against it. This country is full of cooks, he said, you’ll have a hard time looking for a job, it was a whine. I won’t be a cook, I’ll be a chef, I kept telling him. But he kept saying that there's no difference between a cook or a chef, they're the same thing. And do you know when he convinced himself ? When he started seeing Masterchef on television, when he heard Cracco and Cannavacciuolo, that’s when he understood what haute cuisine means. It’s the power of television. And anyway, if I became what I am, I owe it only to my stubbornness” “And you say that to me? I am more stubborn than a mule! And anyway, in those early years, it was my mother who convinced me to quit. I don’t like to hear you and your father argue, Umberto, do it for me, forget the bike. So I started playing football and then judo, for four years, always with Lorenzo. We were inseparable and we still are. But every day I walked by Lino’s door and he was there waiting for me. I’d come home from school, with my backpack on my back, and from a distance I’d see his figure, thin as hell, with long hair. And when I was in front of his house, he would point me to the celestial Bianchi and he would tell me: this is where he’s waiting for you, when you want, we’ll change the gears, because you’ve grown up, and it’s ready.” “He’s also a stubborn one, isn't he?” “He was very important to me, especially in the early years, I owe him a lot. However, when I was 12 years old, I couldn't handle it anymore. I talked about it with my parents and they realized that, I could not live without my bike, that that was my sport, not tatami or football. I wanted to ride along the streets” “And what about Lino?” “Happy as a clam. Also because he was putting together a strong team. The head of our team was Attilio Viviani, Elia’s younger brother” “Elia Viviani? The champion?” “That's him. Attilio always won and we had to work for him because even in the tiny teams made of kids we had to use some strategy. It was a strong team and I stayed with Lino until I was 15.”

“Then, just at the last race of the season, as I was sprinting, my strength went missing. I even remember the date, October 7, 2012. A sense of exhaustion, I was completely emptied of all energy. I don’t even remember if I managed to finish the race, but at home I kept feeling sick, I was dizzy, I couldn’t stand.” “Holy crap, it was a nightmare, I can only imagine your parents' concern.” “You can imagine, I was completely fine until the day before. Anyway they took me to the hospital of Bovolone and from there I was transferred to Legnago. The doctors had no doubts: diabetes, type 1, insulin dependent, the worst one.” “Did you feel panic?” “I couldn’t understand. I was stunned, I didn’t know what this diabetes was, but the faces of my parents and of the doctors told me it wasn’t good. Then, you know, I was a kid, I didn’t really realize. Then when I was told about the injections, I almost had a stroke. I am terrified of needles or rather, I was, because now I am accustomed to them” “No, all I had to do was find a team that accepted me for what I was, a diabetic athlete. And I met a man who helped me a lot. But are you really interested in all this stuff ?” “A lot. And I actually see a lot of similarities between cycling and cooking.” “This, I don't understand” “In cycling, just like in the kitchen you always have to pedal, if you stop, if you lose your rhythm, you are finished. But maybe it's life itself that works like this. Einstein said that life is like a bicycle, you always have to pedal if you want to stay in balance.” “That's cool, I'm going to use it” “Even I, in my work, have met people who have helped me grow not only professionally, but as a man. When you’re away from home, away from your affections and you know you’re the only one you can count on, it’s not easy. And then, even the kitchen has its rules, its times, its hierarchies. You cannot slip, otherwise you’re out. Well, you were telling me about this person who helped you” “Yes, his name is Remo Cordioli. He took me to his team, Service 2000 together with Attilio. It was an important team, even Elia had been part of it. Remo was very strict and he treated me like the other guys, he didn’t even think about my diabetes. And that really helped me not to feel any different. I pushed myself to the limits, I was always sprinting to prove that I was strong, that I could do it. And then it’s during the breakaways that you really train your legs, because in normal training, even if you push yourself to the maximum, you’re in a different condition. Well, Alfredo, breakaways are a hard to explain.” “Come on, try me, I’m interested” “When you sprint ahead, it’s like you lock a door behind you and bring the key with you. The others, be-

hind, push, try to break down that door, while you keep sprinting. Imagine a grape squeezed between two fingers with a seed that shoots away. You are that seed. Almost every time, that door, by force of pushing, opens up and if even you took an advantage of seven, eight, ten minutes, those behind you can easily reach you because they are many, they help each other, they are saving their energy and sharing the effort. And by the time they’re right next to you, they appreciate you for what you’ve done, there’s never an act of humiliation. No one will ever ask you why you closed that door because everyone knows that breakaways are necessary for you, that you sacrificed yourself and that you needed to show off. But also for them, the speedsters, who know they can now play fair. Once it was different, other roads, other bikes, other organizations, maybe even other legs. And the escapes often came to an end. But now it is no longer so like that we all have the same stuffs, the same weight, 6 kilos and eight hundred grams, the same gear sets, two in the front and eleven in the back and in the end the strongest always win: Nibali, Elia Viviani or Alaphilippe, just like the last Milan-Sanremo race. But even Andrea could have a good chance, he is really strong and sooner or later he will have a good opportunity.” “Who's Andrea?” “Andrea Peron, one of my teammates, he is a speedster.” “Also with diabetes, I imagine” “Sure, just like the rest of us at Novo Nordisk. But look, honestly, diabetes is not a problem: look at me , for example, I learned to manage myself, I realize that if I have a drop of my sugar levels, I just need a candy bar to get back on track. However, on the team car there are many doctors and they have some insulin injections ready to go…” “And if you need them, how do you do then?” “While pedalling, without any problem. But it never happened to me.” “Tell me more about this Team Novo Nordisk. How did they contact you?” “So, we were running the Orobica, a three-day stage race. They don’t run it anymore and it is such a shame because a lot of champions started off from there. I really liked that race, I like all stage races. By the way I was always ready to fight, I was feeling good. I told myself “to hell with diabetes, I’ll show you!” At the end of the race, Remo told me: “There’s somebody who wants to meet you, in Treviso. His name is Vassili, it might be important.” Vassili is the team manager of Novo Nordisk. We met and he asked me to fly off to the US for 3/4 days, to take some test in Atlanta. I was so excited, I felt like I could fly. It was an amazing experience: 60 of us, coming from all over the world, all with diabetes and all with cycling in our minds. I, saying it without any presumption, was the best. I was so excited that, as soon as I

landed back in Italy, I enrolled for a race, I didn’t even care if I was tired or jet-lagged. Then I had to flinch because I was really tired, but that just shows how inebriated I was.” “I do believe that. So, did they recruit you?” “Not quite yet, they invited me to the Tour of Wales, as an intern and after that I got a job as under 23. Then, for a few years I’ve been going back and forward from the US: the training camps in Alpharetta, 20 km from Atlanta, and lots and lots of races across America. I felt like I was on the edge, I knew I could make it to the pro category, but at the same time I was scared because I knew there’s no coming back from there. And I still needed to graduate high school. I came back to Italy for my graduation and I took the chance to talk with Elia. I still remember that afternoon and those words: You hang in there, Umberto, win a few more races and it’s done! The day after my last exam I was on a plane to the US, more determined than ever. I stayed in America for the whole summer and won three races. And they offered me a job as a pro. I called Elia and he told me to sign immediately, ‘don’t even think about it’.” “So Elia Viviani always stood by your side” “A great man and an absolute champion on the bike. I have not seen many like him, such class, lightness on the saddle, to leave you speechless. He seemed to do it so effortlessly, and he is so selfless, he also introduced me to a lot of people, especially in the first years, when I was a bit scared. You know, I was a kid surrounded by champions.” “Your first race as a pro?” “It was in Dubai, and it felt like a dream to me. So many champions, so many faces I knew. We were a bit scared. There was no ace in our team and maybe that was our biggest strength. We just know that if we stick together we can get a good outcome. There’s Andrea, and there’s Charles Planet, there’s Davide Lozano, the climber…” “He’s a giant bag of muscles!!” “On the contrary: the climber needs to be light, and can’t have much muscles, as they weight more than fat”. “I didn’t expect that” “And then I got that call” “Excuse me?” “It was March 2017, the night before the Milan-Sanremo. Andrea got injured and the team was looking for a replacement for the race. All the other guys were abroad, while I was here, in Verona, having dinner with my parents. Massimo Podenzana, our technical manager, called me. “Umberto, everything alright?” ‘Yes Pode, I’m training’

‘Are you in a good shape?’ ‘I would say so, not the best, but still quite good’ ‘Then if you are next to a chair, you should sit down.’ My parents were staring at me while I talked on the phone, they knew it had to be something important because I got away from the dining table, and sat on an armchair in the living room. ‘We are coming to pick you up tomorrow, we’re going to Milan, you’re going to do the Milan-Sanremo’ That night I understood how deeply a phone call can change your life, as they say in the Telecom ad; minutes passed and I was there, still sitting, trying to find the courage to deal with reality. I was going to race the Milan-Sanremo, it seemed crazy. When I got back to the dining room my parents had not moved at all, they still had their forks in their hands, waiting for bad news. They didn’t ask anything, they were waiting for me to tell them. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m racing the Milan-Sanremo.’ My father jumped off of the chair, my mother sighed in relief for the false alarm. We hugged, kissed, patted shoulders but I was not there, completely dazed. I felt like I had won the lottery or something. ‘I need to go back home, to get some sleep’ ‘Finish your dinner at least’ ‘I’m sorry mom, I’m not hungry anymore’ Actually I just needed to be alone with my thoughts, put the ideas in order and enjoy that moment with such an intensity that only solitude can give you. I was in a trance, I recall nothing of that night, I don’t even know how I packed my bags. There was only one thing in my mind: 290 kilometers, I had never done it before. “Oh Gosh, a shot in the dark. It’d be like asking me to organize a banquet in Buckingham Palace” “Maybe, but having in front of you 290 kilometers surely doesn’t make you calm. It takes months to train for a Milan-Sanremo, with the gym and stretching and fatigue tests, I mean, it’s not something you can approach thinking ‘I’ll try and see how far I can get’. It is the Milan-Sanremo, the spotlights are on you, the whole world is watching. And I was wondering if I’d be able to pull it off or I’d be a disappointment for my team. And I did not just ask myself, the next morning I was asking the same questions in the car, to Pode. He was amazing. ‘Listen, Umberto’ -he said- ‘I know what you’re thinking. You’re going to be the youngest in the race and you were not even training for this, you got called the day before. I know we’re asking a lot, but you’re stubborn and we all trust you. You’ll be fine, I feel it.

Then, after a moment of silence, he said ‘Well, if you were to breakaway…’ ‘What? Me? Breakaway? At the Milan-Sanremo?’ ‘Think about the message it would send: the youngest, diabetic, to speed from the group, it would be amazing!’ So, I thought, that’s what they’re asking me to do. And I decided to make them happy, I was there and I had to give everything I had. So, as soon as we started, one of my teammates gave me some space and I ran away from the pack. I was at the top for about 7 hours, with other runners, about ten of us. I can’t even describe what I felt. Then, when we were going uphill the group got us back, and I tried to get back on top downhill, but I was really tired. And the downhill scares me, especially when it’s wet. So I stuck together with a little group and I made it to the finish line. I don’t even recall my position, the only thing that mattered, at that point, was to cross that finish line.” “What about the team? Were they happy?” That was the best moment. Everyone was cheering me on. Ultimately I had won too. But all the other runners came to congratulate me, some of them in Italian, some in other unknown languages. I don’t remember any of their names, I was out of my mind. I felt like a blender full of emotions. I got a ride back home by Viviani, it was 1 am and I found my parents up, waiting for me. They had seen the race on tv, and they were so happy. I think I made them proud. The next morning Elia called me to say that there were pictures of me on every paper: La Gazzetta, il Corriere, L’Arena, even on Oggi. And from there on, radio interviews, tv, it was a success, it seemed I had won the Paris Roubaix, which, just for the record, is still my dream. Especially because you race on the wet pavé, going downhill. It’s a nightmare. But the thing that made me the happiest was that I got a lot of messages from parents of type 1 diabetes kids, and they were writing me thank you notes, because they had never thought that with my, our, disease one could be a professional athlete. “Umberto, this is really great” “And then, we got to the 2018 edition, won by Nibali, but that was different. I fell on the train tracks, and I was hurting so bad. Just think that my parents were there, they came to see me, but I don’t have any good memories of it. Too painful. Anyways, even in that case I managed to get to the end of it”. “And then this year’s challenge” “Yeah, a great day with four of us from Novo running ahead up till a few km from the end. Maybe we were too many, maybe if Andrea had stayed in the group… who knows.”

“It seems to me you can’t live without it” “Without what?” “Breakaway, obviously!” “Well, actually, the reason why I breakaway is because staying in the group wouldn’t make any sense for me, I’m a passer not a sprinter. Moreover, I think that cycling is a metaphor of life, and my breakaways mean that maybe I still need to break away from some things, and I don’t really know where I’m headed. Of course I’m not breaking away from my responsibilities, more like I run from prejudices, from bad thoughts, from the ignorant chats, rumours, from overprotective moms, doctors who don’t listen, don’t understand or maybe don’t want to. While I run ahead I hear those voices, it’s like an off-key choir, running to get you, just like the group does. But, whereas the group appreciates what you’re doing, the choir doesn’t, because what you are doing is something they do not understand. And you’re all by yourself, giving everything you have to the race, to get on and leave those voices behind you. The more you speed up on the bike, the further the voices seem to you, ultimately becoming a whisper, and, finally, silence. That’s when you get what you deserve, and you’re happy as an athlete and as a diabetic. At the finish line all you will be hearing is cheering and compliments, but I know that tomorrow everything will go back to the way it was, I will have to start all over again and I will have to breakaway again. That’s what life is, Alfredo, today you’re a hero and tomorrow you’re just reckless. All of us the in the Team Novo Nordisk are neither of these two options, we’re just kids from all over the world, with the same passion and the same disease. The only thing we want is to prove that you can have them both and things will work out anyway. They tell you, like in Totò’s movie “the patient need to be patient, otherwise what kind of a patient would he be?” Well, I don’t want to be a patient, I hate the word, it humiliates me and makes me feel shitty. I am not even a patient person, I’ve got fire in me, and a rage against stereotypes, and give vent to all of this when I’m on my Colnago. I do live with diabetes, but we don’t get along really well. I just ignore it because I feel like that’s the only right thing to do. Ignoring it is my way to get back at it: he tried to betray me, to stab me in my back, to stop me from achieving what I’ve always wanted to do. So now I screw it: I take care of myself, but I ignore it like you would do to people who mean nothing to you or have lost your trust. It’s easy to take it on a kid who doesn’t even know what diabetes is, who never did anything to prevent it just because he never had any cases in his family. And what does it do? It stabs you in the back, when you least expect it, and not in a violent way, but rather a subtly, silently: you feel a little thirstier, you pee a little more, and you feel a little more tired. What you think, or your parents think, is that it will go away,

it’s probably a growing up pain, it will take a few days… Then you hit your first crisis and you’re lucky if you find a doctor in the E.R. who suspects diabetes. On the news you read about many kids, not as lucky, who… never mind. So I told you why I breakaway, but I want to tell you one last thing: I’m never going to breakaways from diabetes, simply because it would be letting it get to me. I’ll continue to breakaway for my diabetes, and I want to stress this ‘for’, because that choir I was talking about will finally shut up, or at least, find themselves a good director who will turn their whining into a good melody. The only sure thing is I’m not going to run away from my disease, it will have to run away from me.” Alfredo stayed silent in front of this river of words, and I must say that I was shocked as well because it doesn’t really happen often for me, to be able to express my ideas, and not just with my closest friends, even with my doctors. “Umberto, I’m truly speechless. You’re a great guy, and I’m not just saying it for flattery. I thought I had accomplished something in my life: this club, success, the first star. But listening to your words, I realized, that’s nothing.” “No, that’s not true” “I mean it. I did some little breakaways of my own, but today I see that you only achieve some goals when you’re the main character in your own story, in your emotions and your future. I’m really glad I could talk to you” We said goodbye like two old friends, even though we were not. I left the bar while the sun was setting, I got in my car and turned the radio up. Along the way home, I sang to the top of my lungs, alone. And I thought that I would have sucked as a chef.

Cycling has always been my biggest passion. What really fascinates me is the sense of freedom that I feel only when I’m on my bike. “

In the beginning I decided to hide the disease from my teammates, I was afraid that my medical checks would have slowed down the growing of our team. But now that I am in a team with people who suffer from the same disease, my management of diabetes has also improved. “

Joonas Henttala, Cyclist of Team Novo Nordisk