The Maratona was the focus of the year for me and my first European sportive (or Granfondo as they’re known in Italy) and it certainly didn’t disappoint.
We spent the first week driving down, spending a few days in Grenoble before moving onto Trento in Northern Italy. The place we stayed at in Trento was amazing. It was a converted farm house on the side of the hill, with vineyards surrounding it. A truely idyllic spot for a week of cycling.
So we’d typically spend the morning riding around the local mountains before the sun got too warm, before settling in for a nice bit of lunch, and of course the ubiquitous Peroni and relaxing for the day.
Before we got too accustomed to this fantastic way of life however we departed for Corvara, the start point for the Maratona. It was fantastic driving down Passo Pordoi (3rd climb of the ride) on the way to our appartment. The hill was full of cyclists finding their legs. Some looked distinctly more uncomfortable than others but it was a fantastic sight. As we got into Corvara we had the pleasure of pulling up at some traffic lights next to the legend that is Mario Cipollini, who was in town for the event.
The morning of the event saw us getting up around 5am to load up with food before rolling down to the start point. Despite seeing so many cyclists around the town each day it was still a surprise to see so many waiting in the dusk for the start. We thought we were early but were still 20 or 30 lines back. It was an interesting atmosphere, with the tv helicopters zipping about overhead, Europop being blared from the speakers, and cyclists from all sorts of nationalities nervously shuffling about whilst admiring the bling on display.
6.30am came and everyone started to get going. The ride out of Corvara up towards the first climb up the Campolongo was pretty hectic with so many people of varying abilities jostling for position. If the ascent was interesting, the descent was a real eye opener, with people taking crazy lines down the other side of the climb.
After a few climbs things began to thin about a bit and the ride became much nicer as people got into a rhythm. I think most people were trying to keep plenty in their legs for the Giau loomed around the 80km point.
It’s reputation as the hardest climb of the ride certainly didn’t disappoint. In terms of gradient and length it wasn’t that different to the climb to Villard Notre Dame the week before, but with 80km already in the legs over 5 climbs, and the mid-day sun beating down it was tough. Really, really tough. I suppose if you weren’t in the middle of it you could find humour in the grimaces of pain etched onto the faces of everyone as they ground their way up the climb. It seemed to go on forever and was by far the hardest hour I think I’ve spent on a bike.
Eventually the summit was reached however, and the rest of the ride from there was relatively plain sailing. Just one more climb to do, albeit an 11km one, and it was into the home straight and the end of the Maratona dles Dolomites.
For my first European sportive my time wasn’t as good as I had hoped, but many lessons were learnt on how to survive on slopes such as these. It certainly gave me a taste for more and I’ll hopefully do a couple next year. The organisation was fantastic, the weather perfect and a fitting end to a memorable 10 days of cycling.
