Sooooo…. Looking ahead to Saturday’s Milan San Remo, if you care about such things. I still find it hard not to, despite all evidence from the past suggesting cynicism would be a better stance, and despite the current take-over of the pro scene by petro corporations. But enough of that.
Milan San Remo: boring? No! It’s fab, but has its status as the opening monument of the spring, and really, curtain raiser proper for the road season, been usurped by Strade Bianche?
Strade Bianche: it’s a great race, but is it a monument? Well, I’d say ‘yes’ I think, based on how much a result means to the very best riders. So, what of the relationship between the two Italian season openers?
Everyone knows that MSR is six hours of tedium followed by 20 minutes of nail-biting excitement, though of course, everyone also knows it’s more subtle than that. I think one of the ways in which MSR works / worked as a season opener lies in the way in which its characteristic patient unfolding that finally bursts into a glorious finale, itself mirrors the long-awaited arrival of spring after the off season.
Consider: the long, long, opening hours are the long dormant season, with any sign of action far over the distant horizon. Of course, there’s snippets of interest and clues as to who’s going well and who not, but essentially this is ‘getting the winter miles in’. You have to be careful of course, even at this stage, to look after yourself and above all to conserve, conserve, conserve.
The first real landmark in MSR – literal and metaphorical- is the Passo Del Turchino at 140k with the race’s arrival, via the descent, at the coast. Seaside! Spring! Or at least the first day of spring after the long hiatus.: but don’t get carried away – at this stage the race is still about conservation of energy because it’s still another 100k – two hours plus even at race speed – to the first of the three Capo: the Mele, the Cervo, the Berta.
At this point, positioning becomes important: or at least starts to start to become important. Getting up the first of the Capo with minimum expenditure means you’ll be in a better position to get up the second, and therefore the third in order to be well positioned and in better shape for the first moment most that people tune in for: the Cipressa.
And suddenly, the season has begun: riders start going backwards and a scramble ensues for the choice spots near the front so as to be in position to fight for position to be in with a shout as the finale unfolds on the Poggio, the race shattering before the hectic descent into Milan.
Isn’t it glorious? So much is compressed into the last twenty minutes, but nothing that can’t be traced back, back, back through each of the tiny moments and choices over the six long hours that have brought each rider to their particular destiny on the slopes – up or down – of the Poggio. And isn’t each running of La Primavera such a fitting start to the season because, traditionally at least, every rider’s spring really begins months before, with long hours, getting the miles in?
And then some bright spark puts Strade Bianche in the calendar two weeks beforehand.
