The Rome’s marathon, the arrived to via dei fori imperiali, and the new urban ascetics's endurance

posted by Antonio Carbone — March 21, 2010

Now they are all tired, wrapped in the cloak of silver. They chase one another, they hug, sharing a joy that hardly who hasn’t participated at least a half marathon can understand. It is the people of the marathoners. A strange and unusual people. The trait that distinguishes them, through which you is often able to recognize them even when wearing street clothes, is the thinness. As urban ascetics. It takes many sacrifices to achieve it.

 

There are days that just to buy a pair of socks, I enter one of these stores for runners that are around. I do it for then with an any excuse to be able to speak to the owners. Almost always they are former athletes who, proud, yet remain in shape. Ripetute, 4’ a chilometro. Sforzo aerobico. Solo carni bianche. Pasta in bianco e parmigiano, con olio a crudo. I throw there, casually, some expression of the kind to win their esteem. I loosen the grip only when, perhaps because they moved with compassion, giving me a pat on the shoulder, say me: "So six of us."

Only then, with those new socks in my pocket, I go away. With a smug expression. The same that I think I have now I wander among all these faces that do not even know. From some time I have started to trust only in them. On one hand, I put their  and on the other the swollen faces, plastic, who always betray an excessive greed finalized even more than the accumulation, to devour everything quickly. In the bleak landscape in which we have to live, represent a new phenomenon of endurance: in  group, but sometimes alone, they run in any weather. Gritting my teeth. Are capable of self-discipline that  they do to fade even more virtuous priests. Not to mention the politicians. By their example reactivate the principle of respect for the rules. For the regulations. Try, before a race, even a stracittadina of  seven kilometres, to approach someone, offering their  a concoction to run faster. Ninety-nine center of the time, you can be sure you hear them say: " I would prefer not to."

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