avvoltoi

Pronti al giudizio, come avvoltoi che a cerchi volano sopra la preda per poi venirti addosso con una scarica di domande. Ammaestrati a non vivere; obbediscono e non si chiedono mai a che cosa. L' obiettivo finale e' seguire la massa, l'enorme movimento di burattini, lo sbriciolarsi delle individualita', l'ammassarsi sotto un'unica bandiera. E fanno domande, pressanti vogliono sapere, devono riassicurasi che anche tu sia come loro. Giudicano perche' credono di possedere il metro di misura, questo e' giusto quello no. Guarda in cielo lo scorrere calmo delle nuvole. Sembra un grosso fiume al contrario, azzurro. Manuel Roca e' incantato dalle varie forme delle nuvole; crea immagini, storie, dialoghi. Vorrebbe prendere parte a questa conversazione, dire la sua, unire le idee, contribuire al dialogo. Guarda in faccia la gente Manuel Roca e vede occhi che han visto e rivisto le stesse cose. Stanchi, gli occhi riempiti di schermi televisivi. Menti stordite da pillole anestetizzanti di informazione che mutilano l'intelletto. Sono loro che si permettono di dar giudizio. Guarda le gambe della gente Manuel Roca e legge la fatica dei loro passi. Il muoversi lento di corpi stanchi, guidati, condotti, costretti a certi movimenti. Guarda dentro le teste della gente e vede i soliti pensieri, triti e ritriti. L'orgoglio di una testa indipendente, pensante, che ragiona da sola. Il concedersi allo svago che piu' gli piace, la creazione di spazi mentali che diventano poi fisici dove e' libero di vagabondare a piacere. Trattiene il fiato, fissa un punto che forse non c'e'; il pensiero corre veloce sul filo invisibile che si unisce al mondo di tutti i pensieri. Sbuffa ora, aria stanca di un luogo chiuso. Cambia l'immagine nello schermo, la luna non e' ancora un sorriso nel cielo. Il sole manda raggi che sono frustate, gli occhi incontrano l'orizzonte lontano.

Volge lo sguardo dall'altra parte, sul sordo oblio che tutte le cose avvolge, il baratro del tempo infinito, la vanità di tutto quel gran rimbombo, la superficialità di tutti coloro che sembrano applaudire... Insomma tieni sempre a mente quel ritiro che ha a sua disposizione in questo suo proprio campicello. Il valore della propria immaginazione. Il suo valore Manuel Roca lo misura col valore delle cose a cui da importanza. Lo strillare inutile di politicanti, soubrette e paggetti non lo toccano.

35 minutes and 35 seconds

Manuel Roca enjoyed some days as a renowned person. Running, as fast as he could, brought him some fame in the small Mato Rujo athletes’ circle. In fact, he took part into a running race taking place in a nearby small village where 245 people met to see how fast their legs could carry their bodies around a 10 kilometres course. This was a bit undulated in the first part and completely flat in the second one. Ploughed fields and meadows paths were to welcome the feet of the participants as these stamped the scorching earth. The wind also played a crucial role as it hindered the regular advancement of the runners. Manuel Roca finished second overall with a time of 35’ and 35”. This came unexpectedly as he was convinced before the race to finish in around 38’. The impression he had after crossing the finish line as he sat down on a bench nearby was that he could do a bit better. He actually regretted not to have won the race, not to have caught the one in front who could be seen in different occasions during the 10 kilometres. The first half of it, Manuel Roca run behind two others participants. Effortlessly and confident he followed their pace and in a couple of occasions he came to contact with them unintentionally. After the 5km mark, he accelerated a bit to test his rivals reaction and realised he could carry on by himself. The hunt started in that very moment. In his head run the conviction that the man in front would be reeled in, in other words he would eventually get caught. Manuel Roca promptly decided to concentrate on the course and to try to cut it as short as possible. So, he chose the straighter trajectories that allowed him to shorten the pain of a few meters. His limits were overtaken, the body ached, he breathed hard for the effort, the heart drummed away with an out of control rhythm. The man in front did not appear, he must be far, unreachable probably. However, he badly wanted to maintain the second position which is a very respectful result if one is to consider that this was his first ever running race. It is time to enter the meditation state. He detached the body from the mind, badly focusing on the latter. This is emptied of all concerns or preoccupations falling still and coming to rest. He gathers concentration to master the effort, the rest of the world has disappeared, it has imploded in a black hole. Manuel Roca now only focuses on where he is, looking around and imagining his vital organs moving in a perfect synchronism within him. He dropped his focus on the touch of his feet on the ground; this rolled under his body quickly. The weight of his body disappeared, Manuel Roca forgot about that. He shifted his concentration on the touch of his clothes on his skin. The air stole for a moment the focus as it caressed his face, his hands and legs. He let the eyes receive the colours and forms surrounding him without mutely expressing any comment. The taste of sweat was salty on his lips, its smell was neutral. Manuel Roca was fully there, running on his legs, trying to speed up his pace as much as possible. He became aware of noises in his mind. He let the sounds in and heard them rising and falling; yet again no mute comments were thought. In the total absence of his body, he let the hearing run right out to the furthest sounds. He embraced them all. His mind was now at rest in the great awareness of his effort. 4km to go, 3, 2, 1 and eventually the finish line. 35 minutes and 35 seconds to run 10 kilometers, Manuel Roca exited the meditation state. He was like he reopened his eyes to meet the aches running through his body. Manuel Roca shaked hands with other participants, he is happy but not totally.

Immanuel Kant

Dear Immanuel,
I understand you are visiting Simone and Friedrich next month and you are concerned about encountering them for the first time. As you know, I have been friend with them for many years now; therefore, I could help you to get a better picture of them beforehand.
Since he has been collaborating in most of my projects for 10 years, Friedrich is that I am more acquainted with. As far as Simone is concerned, I only go out to jog with from time to time. In my viewpoint, despite having dissimilar personalities, they are a well-matched couple. As you can figure out yourself by the number of academic essays he has published in recent years, he is a talented scholar. Also, he can boast a significant experience as a Philosophy lecturer at the Basel University. Simone conversely, not only is not that smart but, at times, it takes her ages to follow even the simplest line of reasoning. However, she makes up for being a bit slow with her smiles and joyousness. You will love to entertain conversation with her about what she is most fond of, namely sport. She is hooked on running and cycling and often takes part in marathons.
I like Friedrich because his intelligence and acuteness are unmatched when it comes to produce an elaborated piece of writing. However, as for his behaviour I need warning you; it is not pleasant at all times. His mood is constantly on a swing; one minute he is all appreciations and compliments, the next minute he turns nasty, arrogant and even belligerent challenging each thing one utters. Typical genius behaviour.
Simone is nothing like that. Her most typical and funny ‘trademark’ is to keep on repeating ‘I am going to do this...I am going to do that...’ meaning that she has many projects she would want to take on. Eventually, she will accomplish one third of them either because of laziness or forgetfulness.
In conclusion, I would like to assure you that you will not get bored in company of this curious marriage.
Regards,
Arthur

Übermensch

...and from answers grew new questions and new investigations; until at last I had a land of my own and a soil of my own, a whole secret world growing and flowering, like hidden gardens of whose existence no one could have an inkling - oh, how happy is Manuel Roca, he searcher of knowledge.
Manuel Roca is heavily into investigation, elaboration, meditation; philosophising. To stare right into the eyes of mystery takes lots of courage, he maintains. There, a new and unexplored world is met, one where ideals are stripped bare from manufactured suits. It is the land upon which philosophers rumble as they cram their mind with challenging thoughts. Led by curiosity Manuel Roca walks on high ground where air is fine and smells sweet Nature. He crosses tortuous terrains where his mental stability is badly put to the test. His creeds start shaking severely up to the point they crumble down to the floor turning into unusable ruins. Rubbles and debris are now to be removed to make room for new constructions where new beliefs will inhabit. A brand new world is rising where deceivers will be banned from. The weak ones; those who promise another life other than the earthly one, those who maintain that by producing more the economy can get out of the global crisis, those who refuse to walk on the rope running over the abyss and permitting men to become supermen, those who still act as beasts amongst the beasts, those who move along with the herd.
...he is unknown, Manuel Roca to himself. Never has he searched for himself, how should he ever find himself? As far as his life is concerned has Manuel Roca had sufficient serious interest? Or sufficient time? Through what has he in point of fact just lived? Who Manuel Roca is in point of fact? Of necessity he remained stranger to himself. Time has come to start the research.

Sella di piume

....butta giu' del vento dal cielo che gl'alberi sbattono in ogni direzione. Le ombre che proiettano sui tetti delle case sembrano un film muto che parla in forme di litigi, sopprusi, sottomissioni e inadeguatezza.

Molti anni fa correva in bicicletta Manuel Roca; correva sul filo dei suoi sogni. A cavallo di una macchina di ferro tutta ornata d'oro, una sella di piume da cui ha visto scorrere nei suoi occhi alcuni delle cose piu' belle della sua esistenza. Spinge sul pedale, tira su il pedale, goccie di sudore in bilico sulla punta del naso. Cadono, una dopo l'altra come miti antichi. Mastica aria che sa di sale, ingoia ossigeno come fosse appena riemerso da un'apnea. Conta i chilometri che gli mancano alla vetta e scopre il piacere della meditazione. Dagli estremi del suo corpo, come un'altra goccia di sudore si stacca la mente. Manuel Roca ama corteggiare la fatica, sentirla sua, assaggiarla a denti stretti. Suona l'amico Rauso un assolo per le strade che s'infilano tra i boschi. Per la lingua d'asfalto che trascende ogni morfologia. Canta con voce di grotta nel fresco incanto della galleria di linfe senza fiato. Le immagini cambiano, i sogni rimangono. Ma chi sono si chiede Manuel Roca mentre la ruota del suo tempo scende veloce. Perche' non trovo tempo per cercare una risposta? E' una corona di spine che gli cinge il capo. Potrebbe scoprire di essere qualcos'altro, qualcun'altro. Potrebbe verificare che e' tutto vero, che lo puo' fare, che possiede le abilita'. Potrebbe dimostrate agl'attori ben pensanti che non e' vero che non e' buono di far niente. Vuole piu' tempo. Non vuole risposte a domande che non possono permettersele. Vuole tempo per investigare, per scendere giu', fino ai piu' reconditi angoli del pensiero, scandagliare, togliere ragnatele, spolverare, lucidare. Vedere immagini di una nuova realta' brillare di luce abbagliante, libera da pregiudizi e morali che hanno coperto come un manto la sua intera esistenza. Vedere le cose con nuovi occhi, creare una nuova realta', soggettiva; nuova e senza impostazioni. Manuel Roca e' convinto che un mondo e una realta' diversa siano possibili. L'uomo s'e' fatto ammaestrare da idee e pensieri prodotti dalla necessita' dell'uomo stesso di dare un senso all'esistenza. Perche' l'uomo s'e' fatto ammaestrare? Fino a che punto Manuel Roca e' ammaestrato? Perche' non gli e' permesso di viaggiare nel piu' profondo pozzo della sua mente dove stanno i suoi piu' nascosti pensieri. Gli e' chiesto di non porsi domande, di continuare a cantare la musica che gli viene proposta e ripetere il ritornello all'infinito senza chiedersi se questa musica gli piaccia o no. Non ci conosciamo perche' non ci cerchiamo Manuel Roca pensa. La paura di scendere troppo in profondita', nelle viscere del pensiero e scontrarsi con il buio piu' buio, il nero piu' nero, l'oscuro piu' oscuro.

Medita Manuel Roca, mentre un pedale viene su e l'altro e' spinto giu'. Beyond Good and Evil.

Pista d'atterraggio

Il cadere della pioggia, l'altelena su cui e' salito l'umore di Manuel Roca, le faccie insopportabili di chi gli sta accanto. Respira, piano. E ascolta il cuore. Se solo ci fosse piu' luce in questa stanza, pensa Manuel Roca mentre s'aggiusta gl'occhiali sul naso. Pensa al disfacersi del mondo, al continuo disintegrarsi di idee e pensieri che non riesce a fermare in testa. Ha corso dietro ad un delirio in questi giorni, una pazzia dal profumo nauseante. Ed ora si stropiccia gli occhi e l'immagine che si ritrova davanti e' quella di un bagliore accecante che toglie ogni possibilita' di inquadrare qualsiasi cosa reale. Un'aereo attraversa sbilengo lo schermo su cui si proietta il sogno, cerca la pista dove atterrare. Questa si trova nel campo di fronte a casa sua. Esce il carrello, fumando le ruote si appoggiano sull'asfalto. Spalanca gli occhi, la punta della biro suda d'inchiostro e le parole zoppicano sul foglio. Aspetta. Attraversa col pensiero il bosco del tempo, grondano i secondi dagl'alberi come diamanti preziosi. Cupo il rintocco del campanile lo avvisa che il cuore rimbomba nella cassa toracica. S'accontenta di sentirlo mentre l'ansia gli ruba uno spicchio di respiro. Lo ingoia a fatica mentre gli occhi guardano lontano. Nelle voci dei passanti vede un senso di vuoto, lo scruta e s'accende un pensiero. E' legato ad un palo, pochi stracci gli coprono il corpo. Gli occhi accesi sul mondo che si spegne. Immobile, inutile, impotente, sorretto da una sola corda. In bilico tra la felicita' e la piu' buia depressione. La galleria che percorre prima della luce lo copre di verita'. Il buio lo assiste nel suo percorso alla ricerca della piu' profonda malinconia. Lo scorrere lento di immagini nostalgiche, le montagne disegnate con penna stilografica, il fiume annegato in un pianto, i fiori stesi al sole come panni profumati. E ride Manuel Roca. Ride la sua rabbia a denti stretti mentre si sciolgono nodi di relazioni di sangue. Immobile sente gli occhi che vagano in cerca di un punto su cui poggiare il futuro. Sprofonda, affonda in un onda. Rincorre le rime Manuel Roca con dita piene d'ansia, sui tasti del suo piano, tra le corde della sua chitarra, nell'aria che respira. Sputa voce di veleno.

Poet

Manuel Roca revaluates the calendar. Two days from the end of August; for him, the very end of the year. The herd celebrates New Year’s Eve on the 1st of January; Manuel Roca does it on the 1st of September. The year culminates at the end of summer. Like reaching an orgasm, it is an escalating flow of events that terminates on the 31st of August. Soon, the leaves will start falling from the trees. The wind will toss them in the air. Melancholy, he likes. The gathering of memories and living tightly related with a reality tasting of dream. All is now exaggeratedly extraordinary. Life is certainly tough, painful and at times humiliating but, besides the physical exercise that constitutes a truthful goal, it turns into a valuable source of initiative, action and courage: it teaches not to count on anybody or anything which is extraneous to the ambience naturalness but to rely only on one’s self, bare as one is. All of this just in order to reach the coveted personal goal. Manuel Roca is prey to doubt, to pessimism, slave of anxiety: 3 invisible monsters that day by day seem to devour him. The sensation of being on this planet to do something important which he cannot fully perceive. What is it doing here, on earth? Sometimes, the idea of wasting his time invades his tranquil land. He must possess a talent, an ability to express; everybody has at least one that renders us individual. The motif of his presence here, the sense of life, a good reason to keep on fighting or simply breathe to survive. Sincerely, he is not sure to be happy or not, surely he has liberated himself from lots of useless things he used to think important. Reading, watching movies, listening to music, remaining sat in silent. He takes pleasure with the company of his new imaginary friends. It occurs very often that Manuel Roca is more in syntony and intimacy with writers, film directors, poets and musicians than with people that have known for many years. Some books lines, movies dialogues or song lyrics seem to echo his inner voice. He lives isolated but never on his own. He is surrounded by people that interact with him via their works, their art masterpieces.

Jean-Paul Sartre

It is difficult to come up with two human activities which are more different than cycling and writing. The former implies physical action, whereas the latter involves mental commitment. However, in the opinion of Lucio Royas there is a connecting thread tightening the two; the sense of freedom they guarantee. As a cyclist, he feels free to choose routes, intensity and companions. This is pure luxury in a world where people are bound to respect and submit to an endless number of laws and rules. As for writing, Lucio Royas enjoys the freedom of juggling with words to transfer on paper all is going on in his head. Writing is when he does not have to allow notions he inherited to take him over. Writing is trying to think things up for himself. Writing is his form of resistance to the taken for granted and to the conventional. Jean-Paul Sartre maintained that people are condemned to be free. Condemned, because man did not create himself and from the moment he is thrown into this world he is responsible for all he does. Being responsible for all his future actions, Lucio Royas feels condemned to cycle and write.
Lucio Royas is convinced that mankind will not inhabit planet earth soon. It appeared millions of years ago purely by chance and, in his opinion, will not survive for very long. For that reason, he would like to feel sad but, deep down he likes seeing how it is exterminating itself. Probably, if he was born in a less defeatist world, he would not enjoy his existence so much. Or, perhaps he would not be the same sort of person. Considering himself diverse and out of the pre-imposed schemes cramming people everyday lives make him feel content. Yet, there are issues with his personality he would like to change and that he will work upon little by little. He loves being able to model those features, amend elements he does not like, create mental environments in which to imagine living. For him, reality is what he creates in his mind, and in his mind he has originated a personal reality. The limits are what surrounds him, nevertheless, also these are modifiable. Often, he asks himself whether his thoughts can be objectively deemed as being better than those going on in the majority of people’s mind. The answer is yes. His thoughts are authentic since generated by his proper mind and therefore free from all the pre-established thoughts inflicted upon people by powerful and controlling lobbies such as religions, politics and Media. In his view, these institutions secretly teach people the way to think and act creating a reality which eventually favours the maintenance of the institutions themselves.

That was Pecol

That was Pecol, laying in silent at the bottom of the valley. It was a fast finish did Manuel Roca think after spending 7 hours on the saddle. In one way it was a shame not to terminate the race with the first group he ascertained, but the problem he had with his left knee did not permit him to fully put all his concentration in the race. In the back of his mind the pain he experienced was too vivid to allow him to push the pedals as hard as he wanted. At any time he expected to feel the pain which fortunately, never occurred. His pedal strokes were gentle like he was strolling on his bike in the mountains surrounding Pecol. In the end he was just too happy to be there and not in bed with an aching knee and for that reason he smiled as he crossed the finish line. Determined to start the race, he felt better and better as he went along. He passed the first route split and without thinking he opted for the long option. On a double carriage road, he pedalled on his own. He could have waited for someone to share some work in the wind but he preferred to carry on with the pace he found most comfortable. As the race left the wide road, it entered a tortuous territory full of ups and downs. Manuel Roca felt great on most of them; his legs span fast, his heart throbs were regular and well within its limits and his lungs distributed oxygen to all tissues. When he reached the second split, Manuel Roca faced the biggest dilemma of the day. Long or medium route? In all honesty he did not brood over it for too long and decidedly turned left heading for the long route. Soon the road plunged into a narrow valley, Manuel Roca took a quick peep to the speedometer and read 74 Km per hour. He went ecstatic and a sense of pride went through his spine. Like a bullet Manuel Roca acquired more speed and as he took another look at the speedometer he noticed this showed naught. Immediately he realised that the magnet tilted on the spoke and the sensor could not read anything. Manuel Roca stopped to verify whether his intuition was correct and attempted to fix the problem. Unintentionally, he touched the rim and found out that it was very hot. He imagined the brake pads clenching it to come to a halt and figured out why he scalded himself; he smiled. He looked for the magnet and realised he was right. He tried to fix it but this was too loose and therefore would have needed a screw which he had in his tolls bag under the saddle. He decided to take the magnet off the spoke and carry on without the support of his speedometer; he did not like the idea but did not want to waste much time. Nobody caught up with Manuel Roca who carried on accompanied by his own thoughts.
He crossed a bridge over a river that in that point screamed all its monstrous fluvial power. This went through a very narrow gorge that increased its rage before flowing into a spectacular reservoir. Manuel Roca felt the vigour of Nature siding with him and immediately shifted the chain on to a harder gear; his knee was not aching. He left the marvellous sight behind and started climbing a long but steady slope where he overtook a group of riders that included a girl. After a few hundred meters, with 2 more kilometres to climb, he got caught by a group of 5. Manuel Roca joined them without problems since their pace was perfectly bearable. Three of them were taking turns in front whilst the remaining two remained on the tow. Manuel Roca copied the latter and did not feel guilty. A long winding descent cut through fields crammed with hundreds of sheep. Manuel Roca did not trust the woolly animals and feared that they would jump in the middle of the road. For that reason, he began pulling his brake levers too often and lost touch from the group of riders he was part of. He did not despair and as they tackled the following climb he managed to reel two of them in. The stronger ones became smaller and smaller up the road, Manuel Roca thought he could stay with them but, at the same time, he did not want to take any risk to put his life in danger.

The pace was good as the three took regular turns in front. Manuel Roca felt the urge to piss and was forced to stop and leave the two guys fly away from him. He did not like the idea but the need to stop was too strong. The second feed station is in sight, Manuel Roca stopped and grabbed as much food as he could, possibly too much. He went off on his own thinking how beatiful it was to pedal in such an extraordinary place.

Manuel Roca never felt really tired and reached the end of the race well within his limits. He was pleased he finished and that his knee did not stop him on the course.

Living in close-knit relationship with a reality possessing a dreaming taste, where everything is extraordinary and exaggerated. The constant body exercise constitutes a valid human goal which becomes a precious source of initiative, action and courage. It teaches not to count on somebody else or on something stranger to Nature. It is prime concern for Lucio Royas to rely on himself in order to reach his very ambitious, the Nietzsche Superman. Lucio Royas lives in a sort of primitive way; he does not like domain Nature or destroy it, he adapts to it. A grey dawn welcomes Lucio Royas as he jumps on his bicycle. He has planned to head for his so-much-loved Imagna Valley where he wants to climb the Bedulita slopes and to reach Costa Imagna where the astonishing view will convince him that the effort he has just produced was well worthy. The climb first kilometres sneak through the houses of Capizzone and Bedulita, then the road penetrates into the magic thick woodland. Lucio Royas is always hypnotised by the beauty of this place although he has seen it hundreds of times, it is an untouched enchantment. Everything within him and around him has turned untidy; visions, emotions, imagines. His mood becomes fickle because of the grandiosity standing before his eyes. In his soul live the harmony, the strength and the mystery of the surrounding elements. He is exalted by the richness of the experience he is living realising that a very few places can offer him such an immense and sublime sentiment.

Lucio Royas

Manuel Roca is not an only child. Lucio Royas is his twin brother that lives in Italy. He once lived in Mato Rujo but eventually decided to go back to his land of origin, namely Berbenno in the northern Italian Bergamo province. All he managed to stay far from the Alps was one year, then a strong sentiment of nostalgia kicked in and Lucio Royas flew back home. As well as Manuel Roca, Lucio Royas belongs to the cycling world and when he lived in Mato Rujo he strongly missed his roads. Pushed by the powerful attraction of memories he returned to cycle up and down the slopes that abounds in the area. When he recalls the first day he got home after the year spent abroad his mind is filled with thrilling emotions. He thought time had stopped forever. Nothing had changed since the last time he was there. The woodlands, the paths, the water streams, the meadows decorated with flowers, the avifauna, the peaceful animals, all had remained the same. The flow of his memories regained its right place within his soul. The inner call of his places and the desire to belong once again to his land brought him back for good. Now, he has settled down there and will not leave for any reason in the world. The love for his mountains is obviously estraordinary and gives a magic touch to the already enchanted scenaries.

Arctic polar circle

Most of the times, Manuel Rocal pedals in solitude. Often, he feels the necessity to question himself and meditate over various issues. First of all, on the extreme need to return to a more human dimension since he is convinced to have abandoned it due to this over technological world. Furthermore, he reflects on the obligation to adopt a respectful attitude towards the greatness and uniqueness of Nature. Without a shadow of a doubt, questioning and meditating serve to maintain his physical and intellectual well-being in good form. These mental exercises permit Manuel Roca to know his more hidden thoughts, to speak to his soul and, to reflect over some already taken decisions and some completed works. Manuel Roca has chosen to live in agreement with his very way of being that is generally diverse from the forms of life that are frequently proposed and imposed upon people. Surrounded by immense silence, in the infinite open spaces of his mind, Manuel Roca has found his reason of being, a manner to live which is within his human measures. People have rapidly drawn away from the umbilical cord that unites them to Mother Nature making them feel bewildered. Manuel Roca does not need to travel to Amazonia or to the Arctic Polar Circle to experience open spaces, wilderness and quietness; he is inclined to believe that immense spaces are within his mind. It is there where he wants to produce travelling, discovering and exploring sceneries. The beauty of adventure is to dream of it, to free imagination in such a way as to attempt to create the best possible reality in which to live. For this reason, fantasy needs escorting him at all time to generate inside his head a gorgeous reflexion of what happens around him. In other words, the ugliness Manuel Roca sees every day which he does not like is transformed in an attractive condition. Cheating is the only way he knows to survive.

diesel and oil levels

Living on the edge of uncertainty is not something Manuel Roca is fond of. He likes knowing that things he has planned can go ahead without impeding circumstances hindering the way. Unfortunately, for the last two days he has been unsure whether his holiday plans will stick to the program he had prepared. It will all depend on his left knee that, at the moment, is still painful. Yesterday he put some ice on it and before going to bed he rubbed some gel resulting in a less painful knee this morning. It might only be an impression and for that reason Manuel Roca is quite concerned. Effectively, the pain has not gone away and until the very moment the knee will be ache free, Manuel Roca cannot be sure of anything. He decided anyway that he will go to Pecol and see what happens once he is there. Of course he will not run the risk to start the race with a knee liable to stop functioning properly after a while. Running that risk would also imply the possibility of not being able to pedal next week in Italy. That would be a real shame since Manuel Roca has been looking forward to this for a long time.
In his head he is trying to picture out the reasons that led to this default. He is pretty sure that he was simply overdoing and that his left knee could not cope with it any longer. There were not any hints informing Manuel Roca in advance about what was going on and therefore not much could be done to avoid it. Human body is not like a car that tells the owner about diesel and oil levels at all time. Body can shut down at any moment if it has not been utilized properly or if it has been exploited. This is a matter of fact and Manuel Roca will need to learn from this experience in order not to incur another time in the same problem. He wanders now whether he should have not given to his body more time to recover between training sessions. Too late.

Knee inflammation

On the way to Pecol there has been an unforeseen event. Manuel Roca was out cycling on his bike very early this morning and after the second climb interval he did feel a stark pain in his left knee. At first he thought it was nothing serious so he did a third interval as he had planned but later he found out that the problem was not minor. In fact, after that he could not push on the left pedal as he wanted to and the pain grew acuter. It is not a good news since Pecol is only 6 days from now and it is not guaranteed the pain will disappear by then. It might be and inflammation to one of the tendons which can be curable by resting a few days. Of course, it must be said that Manuel Roca was really training hard in these days and definitely his system was considerably under lots of stress. However, this event caught him by surprise since ha has never had anything alike before. There is not despair in his mood since he understands that the human body is not made of steel and can malfunction sometimes. Also, he is well aware that this is not a big deal of a problem since real problems in life are of others nature. Talking about his building up for Pecol, Manuel Roca has always affirmed he was enjoying the actual his preparation of the race, the long hours in the saddle, the combination bike, running and static trainer, keeping very healthy, eating as an athlete, reaching the top form weight and last but not least, feeling really strong on his bike. If he managed to do Pecol and enjoyed the event, it would all be a bonus. For this reason Manuel Roca does not feel disappointed by the unfortunate circumstance. The only thing he can do now is to try to sort the pain out so he rubbed some special gel on the painful area and took a Glucosamine tablet which should help to keep his joints in good health. Manuel Roca is not superstitious so he does not need to touch wood, steel or any other object to ward off the evil eye. He takes events the way they come without holding someone responsible for that. In his view, there is not an inexplicable force directing human lives events, everything happens in a very earthly way. Manuel Roca’s knee is having troubles because is human and therefore liable to injures.

Brazilian nuts

The static trainer has been one of the best buys for a long time. This morning the wind blew strongly, the trees leaned over farther and farther. In this condition Manuel Roca does not like cycling thus he put his bike on the static trainer and started his training session. For the first 25 minutes of each 30 minutes session, Manuel Roca read a book whilst spinning his legs. In the last 5 minutes Manuel Roca likes pushing his limits so he has to put the book away in order to concentrate on the effort. At around 7.00 Manuel finished his training and after a quick shower he set off for work. In the office he had his rich breakfast consisting of cereals, nuts, banana, kiwi, milk, Ovaltine and a coffee. He cannot think of something better as far as the first meal of the day is concerned. When cereals soak in the milk swell and the bowl gets full. Even the banana absorbs milk and increases in size. All the ingredients together form a thick dough which Manuel Roca spoons to his mouth with great pleasure. He takes his time to eat it because he wants to enjoy the moment as much as he can. There is something magical in having breakfast which is not delivered by any other meal. Possibly, it is the time since he has had the last meal that makes it so pleasurable, or maybe it is the combination of all the ingredients that sublime Manuel Roca’s palate. For example, when he gets a spoonful which includes a Brazilian nut he closes his eyes waiting to bite it. He sucks it for a while, plays a little bit in his mouth like he wants the desire to mount and then finally he munches it. As the nut gets reduced into crumbs Manuel Roca feels a sentiment which is close to happiness.

lightening and thundering

Needless to say that Manuel Roca necessitated some rest after 6 days of heavy training. The preparation of a sport event like the one in Pecol is constituted by time in which the system needs stimulation to gain form and time to recover energy. Without rest the system will not be prepared to accept and absorb other stimuli. Manuel Roca woke up at 7.30; the rain could be heard against the window glass whereas the wind howled through the trees. He slept the sleep of the content warrior. So the day went by, filled with some strong storms that brought lightening and thundering which finally cracked the air. ‘I need to accept absurdity to reach the sublime’ Manuel Roca thought as he observed two cloud fronts collide. The roof of the clouds rose, the sky was torn and a pure blue colour exploded. He contemplated this beauty convinced that it was worthy to be mistreated by such a spectacular event.
Anytime he can, Manuel Roca sets off on his bike at dawn, when everything still sleeps in the surrounding calm. He wants to dodge all kinds of distractions that could slow down his training, when his body and mind are well rested and the concentration is maximal. Sometimes, he feels a bit sleepy and starts seeking the trail of an image that would shake his awareness. Something that would assure him he is not dreaming anymore but would bluntly tell him he is riding his bike on yet deserted roads. As soon as he reaches the woodland, Manuel Roca can hear the birds’ twittering. Sometimes, he is overwhelmed by the nice avifauna singing which instantly settles inside his soul like a blind gaze. Manuel Roca loves it in the same way he feels an aversion to barking dogs which he considers brutal and unpleasant.

Woodland ghosts

Manuel Roca walked down the shopping mall main aisle observing people in search of another useless item to buy. He noticed that most of these shopaholics bore a suffering facial expression like they were going through their hundredth day at a loss. Maybe, he thought, their entire lives are at a loss. He walked on only to lock himself away inside his ‘sacred spatial bubble’ which he has crammed with books, radio, music, writing, hours of sport and delicate nostalgia for the beauty of Nature. In his bubble, Manuel Roca holds conversation with the books’ authors; he feels that what he reads could be more than a means to know and express the real. Sometimes, he thought that words from books described the only reality. He could certainly affirm that an ever increasing solitude constituted the fundamental aspect of his life. He acknowledges that the term solitude occurs many times when he writes. Manuel Roca wanders whether there is a good solitude and a bad solitude. He is convinced the two types exist. The bad solitude can kill. The good one helps to live, in a different manner, but it does. It permits to come across life moments and sensations that only the lonely person can experience; to fill a white paper of writing; to listen to music; to read a great book or walk in woodland accompanied by one’s ghosts. Ultimately, Manuel Roca asks himself, why is solitude considered so fearful? He is the only inhabitant of his own body; outside him the soaking wet fog breath has erased the surroundings. He does not fear to adventure himself in the urbanity of the society. He feels repaired and sheltered behind his very eyes.
Not many days left before Pecol. Manuel Roca is exhausted after days of hard training. Soon he will begin the recovery period; when his body will absorb all the recent heavy training. He is only a dabbler but he is acting the part of a pro. He completely went off the few bad habits he had to focus on the cycling event. Flirting with his bike daily has turned into an exciting custom that he will not barter for anything else in the world. This is the period of the year in which Manuel Roca is very aloof. He does not want to see many people in order not to lose concentration on his prime objective; Pecol. He is not self-important; on the contrary, Manuel Roca is a very modest person. The reason behind his behaviour stems from the passion for his bike and for his love for the physical exercise.

Pinapple

At 4.15 Manuel Roca was in bed and could hear the rain pounding on his bedroom window. He was not surprised since bad weather was forecast the day before and therefore he did not panic because he already had a plan B for the day (Plan A was another 6 hours on the saddle). He set his alarm clock for 6.15 and fell asleep like a toddler. When he got up, he put his bicycle on the turbo trainer and started spinning his legs. He programmed 3 sections of 30 minutes each, in which he gradually increased the intensity. The trainer has a magnet resistance unit which can vary the power output by means of a twist-lever adjustment unit mounted on the handlebar. There are 5 different levels of resistance which Manuel Roca shifted at a time he mindfully set. He did 10 minutes easy followed but other 10 minutes less easy than, he upgraded the effort for 5 minutes at mid-intensity. He concluded each interval by splitting the last 5 minutes in two sections; hard and very hard. The last 2 minutes and a half were tough as sweat poured out at every pore, legs burnt and the breathing struggled to obtain the needed oxygen. Manuel Roca had to focus hard on the effort; he looked at the sweat drops falling from his arms or forehead. He eyed them as they bounced on the bicycle frame and split in hundreds of little drops. He immersed in his effort only to emerge back to the earth surface after a pair of minutes of stark detachment from the planet occurrences. Done 1 hour and a half on the turbo trainer, Manuel Roca wore his trainers and off he went for an hour running along the River Maco. He simply wanted to live and suddenly he did feel a stinging nostalgia for his own life. He suddenly thought he had accumulated some delay on his own existence and by instinct he upped his running pace. Artists, philosophers or technology will never help Manuel Roca to catch up with his recent-discovered lateness; nobody but him can contribute to cancel it. As he overtook the turning point he began desiring to defy time, its mystery, the ticking hours, the flying days, the burden of the years. Faster and faster Manuel Roca run on his way back whereas his mind got to calculate that his delay was approximately of 6 years; circa 2190 days. He was not able to explain to himself how he worked it out but, he intuited that it was 6 years, minimum. As he nearly got back home, a grim thought peeped out; if he was late over his life, he was consequently early on his death. He shivered as he put his cycling gear on and off he went on his bike. Cars were queuing to park by the big shop centre in town. People he never took seriously. Manuel Roca thought he could gain some time back on his delay if he started getting up half an hour earlier each morning during autumn and winter and increased that to 1 hour in spring and summer. He figured out that he could roughly retrieve one month of his life each year. At the age of 109 Manuel Roca will have zeroed his delay on his own life. After 2 hours cycling he was back home. He devoured half pineapple, a yogurt with some cereals and off he went to bed to recover some energy. When he woke up his eyes would hardly stay open. The prime impulse was to go back to bed but Manuel Roca is an obstinate person and wanted to spend some time writing. He cannot be considered other but a doer, certainly not a couch potato that he profoundly disdains. Another page of his life approaching Pecol he wrote off, a little sin that he will read over and over again in the years to come. He was starting to feel hungry and thus opened the fridge and got the remaining half of the pineapple. It was ripe, sweet and juicy and same as above Manuel Roca devoured it. He loved squeezing a mouthful of it in his mouth and enjoyed the drop the juice did down his stomach. He followed it with his mind, he concentrated on its consistency, and he wandered about the real benefit of this vitamins-rich fruit. He stopped thinking only to jump again on his turbo trainer for another hour. He copied what he did in the morning to fulfil the plan B.

Tomatoes and mozzarella

This morning, another 6 hours ride has been added to Manuel Roca’s collection. Frank Lagache and Penkish escorted him in his umpteenth drill. Pecol is now around the corner and Manuel Roca starts feeling that his condition is really peaking. This year, he has been taking the race build-up really seriously. No eating shit food, going to bed very early and training hard are some of the things Manuel Roca is undergoing to do better than he did last year in the same sport event. He knows his condition is way better then it was this time last year. For him training for cycling is a combination of science and art and since he does not have any facilities to consider the former, he has to focus all his attention on the latter. By and large, Manuel Roca loves thinking of his training as a form of art. Riding his bike brings overall harmony to his body; he is hooked on seeing everything occurring in and around him in balance. It is like writing which he deems as a therapeutic activity. Harmony and balance are part of Manuel Roca’s mantra. Focusing on the way he pedals, matching his pedalling to his breathing. Being in tune with his body; monitoring it both on and off the bike and managing pain. All of it makes Manuel Roca feel good, and teaches him patience. At the moment, he is seeing his legs changing shape. He notices muscles and veins coming out the lean layer of skin. They are like sculptures that are being worked on. Manuel Roca attributes this view of his training on his being an unmatchable romantic. He comes across as a conscientious person who loves talking philosophy and sport. When it comes to these two subjects Manuel Roca seems to prefer the direct route. He matches philosophy to cycling in the same way tomatoes match mozzarella. A massive boost of self-confidence go through his mind as he strains every fibre to get his bicycle over a summit as quick as possible thinking of Nietzsche’s superman. His legs are ready to explode; he handles the speed and big gears better. He goes out of the saddle observing his legs pumping up and down and pushing power down into the pedals. He believes he can go deeper than he thinks; he just has to focus and have self-belief. Digging deep, focusing and managing the pain in the same way Schopenhauer endeavoured on an impossible thought. He never goes on power or heart rate; too sophisticated. He rides hard on a climb, then put in a burst and recovers quickly. He thinks, meditates, concentrates, as quickly as he wants his legs spin. His legs feel blocked if he pushes a big gear; they only work when they spin fast. As he gets older and progresses he goes more and more against any sort of trend. He remains approachable but behaves very reservedly.
Manuel Roca is heavily into decorating shadows and ghosts so that these appear less fearsome. He spends time writing as it does not consider this activity the only sin against Nature; he hides to develop his passion, alone, just to show the final fruit to himself only. Somehow, he is convinced to contribute to the faculty of the uselessness; and a lot of loneliness.

Pitch-black

In the first day of the new week on the bike, Manuel Roca worked on his legs strengthening for about three hours. The method he follows to build up power is to push a long gear either on hills or on the flat. By doing so, he can feel his legs muscles endeavouring to keep the bike moving. This kind of work out does not require a big use of oxygen; in fact, Manuel Roca never gets out of breath. The only focus goes to those muscle bundles that serve to push the pedals up and down.
After this work out section on the bike, as every morning, Manuel Roca went to work. There, he likes showing different personalities depending on the diverse occasions that create. He considers this way of acting as a sort of game where he can change the role he plays as he was a movie actor. There are days in which he shows all his diffidence which is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the truest of all his features. Manuel Roca really lacks confidence in other people. Trusting only himself is one of his peculiarities; he does not want to confess this trait of his too openly since he knows that he cannot be fully understood. All his studying, reading, meditating on his bicycle has transformed him in an uncommon and unique person. Sometimes, he pretends to join his colleagues in conversations so that he can play a different role but, in all honesty, that is pure acting. He can feel that most of the time people see him as being a strange person because he dodges most of the talking taking place in the office. This aspect of his office life does not alter his mood. Manuel Roca sits down, switches his computer on; his thoughts became more and more illogical and circular. He imagines the sun casting down the Bettola Mount as nothing is really occurring. The shadow of the mountains lengthens above his day-dreaming until it all turns pitch-black. He is ready for the day with his casual acquaintances.

Philippe Petit

It is a duel between Manuel Roca and the time spent on the road on his bike. He left home at 5 o’clock this morning; the sky was overcast and some patchy rain kept him company during the first hour. He was on his own and had not planned to meet anyone for the entire length of his training. Manuel Roca headed south where he came to ride on roads which often climb up some ‘gentle’ hills. He needed some hard work out sections to give his body the right stimulus in view of Pecol. Whilst climbing, Manuel Roca had the impression that his legs were in good shape. At almost all time, he pushed a hard gear permitting him to rise to the summit of each climb as fast as he wished. Every now and then the clouds opened up allowing a pale sun to peep through. Manuel Roca forgot his sunglasses and kept hoping that the clouds would shut up the blue spaces. The fickle weather did not hinder his ‘gallop’ amid a breathtaking country-side. He prudentially sipped water from his bottles because he knew there was no way to refill them. Three bottles had to last for the whole time on the saddle. Unlike Italy, where there is at least one fount for each village, in the Mato Rujo area there are not public fountains where cyclists can drink water from. Manuel Roca thinks that this is an enormous default for a country which is worldwide considered modern and civilised. For that reason, he slipped an extra bottle in his back pocket jersey in addition to the two bottles that he normally carries in the two bottle-cages which are on the bicycle frame. With still two hours remaining to do, Manuel Roca ran into his old friend Diana Lombard who was struggling up a slope on her flashy bicycle. He stayed with her for 5 minutes and then off he went to conclude his long-lasting battle with the time. He got into his apartment at 15 minutes past 11. He did not feel exhausted as he could imagine after having spent more than 6 hours on the bike. Rather, he felt good; he had some cereals with milk and fruit to recover and went to lie down in bed. After a few pages of the book he is reading at the moment, he dozed off for half an hour.
Manuel Roca attended University in Mato Rujo. There, he engaged in the study of Nietzsche. Now, he wonders whether the genial philosopher could explain his way of thinking; bring to light the source of it. As fast as night falls upon Mato Rujo, a mixed sense of tiredness and nostalgia turned up in his mind unexpectedly. In a predictable way, last night Manuel Rujo had a dream based on the episode he lived the day before when he was about to fall down. In the oneiric deformation, his bike was riding over a cable which ran across two mountain tops. Underneath the suspended cable hundreds of meters of emptiness that would not permit Manuel Roca any error. Like the famous French high wire artist Philippe Petit that in 1974 high-wire walked between the Twin Towers in New York’s World Trade Centre, Manuel Roca rode the wire back and forth. He spoke to an eagle whose head resembled his friend Frank Lagache who was beside him when Manuel Roca nearly came down. He woke up with a start, in apnoea, soaked wet in his own sweat but relieved to gather that underneath there was not the void but a comfortable bed.

Rio Pequeño

This morning Manuel Roca broke the 200 Km wall riding his bicycle. He left home at 5 minutes past 5 heading for Frank Lagache's where they had agreed to meet up at 6 o'clock. On the way to the appointment, Manuel Roca tested his legs on the Barristerio climb. He thought it was a good idea to wake his system up by means of this steep rise that would force his heart to energetically pump blood throughout it. In fact, the vital fluid throbbed in his veins which expanded to carry the oxygen needed to cope with the burst endeavour. Like muscled pistons his legs pushed the pedals to win over the nasty slope and the gravitational force. As he reached the Barristerio summit, Manuel Roca looked around to admire the lush green country-side before dashing down the other side of the rise; he felt ready for a long and hard day on the saddle. Frank Lagache lives in a small village situated 10 Km east of Mato Rujo. This is called Rio Pequeño after a small stream flowing across the churchyard. The atypical and ‘suffocating’ heat wave which is currently oppressing the region was the first topic engaging the two friends as they aimed for the bumpy part of the county. They cannot afford to dodge some hard training since Pecol looms up ahead of them; coming closer and closer. Keeping a high pace is one way to build stamina and make sure the body receives helpful stimulus that will be beneficial during the race. For that reason, Manuel Roca and Frank Lagache maintain a fast speed from the very start. After a couple of hours, an abrupt rise of the temperature led to drink up more and more water resulting in a very swift consumption of the two bottles Manuel Roca was carrying with him. However, he plans to get a refill at Penkish’s that is waiting for them at 8.30. As they made their way towards Mato Rujo, where Penkish lives, Manuel Roca was faced with a nearly fall whilst descending a narrow and uneven stretch of road. As he rode into a deep pothole his hands lost the hold of the handlebar. For an endless split second Manuel Roca did not have control of his bicycle and at once grew certain to slump on the asphalt. But luckily, as his hands moved loosely forward, he managed to clasp the handlebar tightly by means of his wrists. Somehow, he retrieved command of his ‘vessel’ and contemporaneously a sense of relief went down his spine. Penkish was waiting on the doorstep of his 2 floors house, patiently. He wore a sleeveless top that showed his lean arms up to the shoulders. When he was at hearing-distance Manuel Roca shouted ‘am thirsty, am thirsty’, using a tone of voice resembling a person who had just made a journey across the desert without a drop of water to drink. Penkish broke out laughing and disappeared inside the house with Manuel Roca’s bottles. The three decided to go northwards where the roads are as flat as a pancake and go across barley-cultivated fields. The temperature rose higher and humidity became unbearable. Countless insects filled the air crashing like kamikaze on the sweaty faces of the three riders. Off in the distance was a cathedral that passed by completely unnoticed. Despite these uneasy circumstances, Manuel Roca was feeling stronger and stronger. He had been on the saddle for 6 and a half hours but this did not impede him to launch a long sprint as they approached the last rise of the day. He easily outran his friends that could not cope with the powerful run to the virtual finish line. Manuel Roca got home when midday had already gone by 10 minutes. He checked his speedometer to find out that he had just made longest ride of 2009 to date.
As sharp as a bite, the image of him falling off his bike haunted Manuel Roca during the whole day. Usually his mind is not investigative but in this occasion, footage of what was about to occur this morning shown up in his brain. From tomorrow, his attention during his rides will be double.

Supermercato

Terzo giorno di carico e domani Manuel Roca deve far riposare le gambe a tutti i costi. Sull'ultima salita dell'ultima ripetuta ha fatto fatica ed era contento di andare a casa. Segue nel suo programma verso Pecol, spedito, sicuro e confidente. Un confronto con gli allenamenti dell'anno scorso mostra quanti Km in piu' stia facendo quest'anno Manuel Roca. Vuole davvero migliorare la prestazione dello scorso anno. Ci saranno sicuramente da tenere in considerazione le condizioni metereologiche ma, a parte questo, Manuel Roca e' sicuro del miglioramento.

In fin dei conti, Manuel Roca e' sempre stata una persona priva di spirito competitivo; la competizione non ha quasi mai condizionato le sue scelte. Quando correva da giovane, aveva preso la competizione come un gioco di societa', stare con amici e compagni di squadra. Li aveva capito alcuni concetti come il desiderio di supremazia, la voglia di affermazione, l'umiliazione del piu' debole. Malgrado questo non ha mai smesso di confrontarsi con gli altri, di giocare. Giocare in solitario accanto agli altri, con regole e tempi possibilmente suoi. Troppo comodo? Non sempre, anzi, mai. Da qui l'idea di Pecol, il confrontarsi con gl'altri ma solo per gioco, senza prendersi troppo sul serio. Il desiderio di mettere alla prova i propri limiti, desideri, motivazioni, e cosi via. Manuel Roca era gia' partito con il pensiero. L'occasione. La magnifica occasione. D'altronde, appena comincia a pedalare ritrova il buon umore Manuel Roca. Pedala lungo le strade, alle volte deserte, della regione di Mato Rujo respirando a pieni polmoni il vento che spesso spazza queste terre. Rimane incantato della sinfonia di colori che ogni giorni gli riempie la vista. Ha scelto una forma di vita diversa, piu' libera, piu' meditativa. Piu' in sintonia con la natura. Considera la vita come fosse sempre un grande supermercato dove prendi dieci e paghi tre. O meglio, va gia' bene se riesce a prendere due. Il filosofo che c'e' in lui prende forma. Manuel Roca vive bene del due e considera i restanti otto una mera e inutile illusione, frutto di una miopia generalizzatta e di una impotenza degli individui.

Scrittura

Sono state le tre ore in bici piu' dure sulla strada per Pecol quelle che Manuel Roca ha fatto stamattina. E' uscito di casa appena prima le 5 e mezza ed e' tornato attorno le 8 e mezza. Ripetute in salita e ripetute in pianura e nel mezzo una bella andatura. Le gambe son due pezzi di dolore che si fan sentire ad ogni movimento. Il piano di Manuel Roca e' quello di caricare in questi giorni per avere i benefici di questo lavoro tra tre settimane quando Pecol scorrera' sotto le sue ruote. Anche il peso sta pian piano scendendo anche se sembrano ancora lontani i tempi in cui Manuel Roca si vestiva di scheletro ed in montagna ci saliva senza il minimo sforzo. Crede di scendere ancora un Kg ma forse non piu' di quello.

Il ronzare del silenzio, ali senza piume nelle prime ore dell'alba. Adesso, mentre pensa Manuel Roca a questo ronzio, pensa che forse in quelle ore intuisce il viaggio come una scrittura intravista e differita. Il vero viaggio per lui. Capisce che questa solitudine consapevole, sicura di se', la solitudine accettata, sia gia scrittura; non ancora tradotta dal silenzio ma gia struttura presente. Ha viaggiato. Ha viaggiato molto Manuel Roca. L'atto di scrivere, di trascivere la scrittura d'altri, l'appropiarsi delle parole altrui. Pensa Manuel Roca che la lingua di Mato Rujo sia per lui una densa penombra ancora da decifrare. Eppure vive li da molto tempo. In un paese depresso, si trova a volte isolato in mezzo agli altri. Solo sente la Natura stringersi attorno a lui, farsi corpo al suo fianco.

L'infinito

Spinge potente sui pedali Manuel Roca, per fare appunto potenziamento. Potenziamento di quelle fasce muscolari che serviranno sul percorso di Pecol. 3 ore in sella sotto un sole gia' molto caldo alle 6 di mattina. Per questo motivo ora sente le palpebre pesanti e le gambe indolenzite. La strada e' quella per Pecol. Non e' dritta, e neanche piatta. La fatica scorre di vena in vena, passando per il cuore. La testa e' l'unico organo che ancora non sente la stanchezza. Determinazione si chiama e Manuel Roca respira forte l'aria pura dello sforzo fisico. Si esalta in questo stato che lo porta ad avvicinarsi ai suoi limiti. Per esempio, stamattina c'e' stato spazio per una volata a tutta. Il virtuale arrivo era posto sulla somma di un cavalcavia. Lanciato sopra i 40 Km/h per un pezzo di strada prima dell'impennata finale. A 150 mt. butta, Manuel Roca, tutta la forza sui pedali. Come la carica di una mandria di bufali lanciati nella prateria. Un proiettile sputato dalla canna di un fucile. Butta la rabbia sui pedali, i muscoli diventano fruste furiose, i nervi si tendono come cavi di una gru in tiro. S'abbatte sul colle 'che da tanta parte de l'ultimo orizzonte il guardo esclude'. Sembra voglia spianarla quella piccola collina Manuel Roca. Spinge, stantuffa, soffia, si tende, pulsa, scuote, vibra e mantiene i 40 km/h fino in cima alla somma del cavalcavia. Tira un lungo respiro, come una diga che apre la bocca, un occhio che guarda nel buio. Raccoglie l'aria tutta attorno Manuel Roca, con foga, avido. Si riempiono i polmoni, l'ossigeno spalanca le porte dei bronchi. Respira ora, Manuel Roca.

Astenersi. Per Manuel Roca la questione intelletuale era fermarsi. Astenersi dal correre dietro a miraggi di futuri radioso. Dietro a bandiere e maestri di un qualsiasi ordine nuovo. Non credere naturalmente. Senza Dio, senza politica, senza patria. Manuel Roca vive dentro se stesso e per se stesso. Fermarsi. Mettere un embargo sul progredire. Anche sulla famosa questione morale si poteva ridurre al non-fare. Non fare il male - e non tanto 'fare il bene', che Manuel Roca non ha mai ben capito come si possa farlo e a chi. Si astiene dal desiderare, causare, volere il male, sia per se stesso sia per gli altri esseri viventi, tutti: animali compresi. Una concezione della realta' un po' superficiale quella di Manuel Roca ma che gli ha fatto sempre amare la vita. L'evoluzione della societa' gli ha sempre dato torto, facendogli sentire quanto fosse ingenuo e sognatore. La cosa non lo tocca affatto e imperterrito prosegue con il suo 'operare con il non-agire'. In definitiva, Manuel Roca continua a pensare che l'uomo sia comunque un grande, perche' tutto cio' che intraprende sia comunque inutile.

Ogni sera arriva la notte

Fatta. Sono quasi 30 ore di sport quelle che Manuel Roca ha fatto questa settimana. Stamattina ha terminato l'impresa con 188 Km con un tempo attorno alle 6 ore e 30. E' soddisfatto Manuel Roca, ha avuto buone sensazioni e non vede l'ora di vedere i benefici di questi giorni intensi.

La giornata e' iniziata con una nebbia fitta che ha fatto compagnia a Manuel Roca per un paio d'ore. In pratica dalle 5 alle 7. Quando la nebbia s'e' staccata da terra, Manuel Roca ha incontrato l'amico Frank Lagache con qui ha pedalato per quasi 4 ore. La prima di queste ore e' stata abbastanza difficile per Manuel Roca perche' Frank Lagache aveva un passo spedito e sicuro. Manuel Roca sentiva nelle gambe la fatica accumulata in settimana ed ha temuto il peggio. Solo quando sono entrati nella parte collinare del percorso, Manuel Roca ha cominciato a sentirsi meglio. Per le ultime due ore s'e' unito anche l'amico Penkish che alla fine s'e' complimentato con Manuel Roca per la piccola impresa. Pecol fa sempre meno paura.

Manuel Roca cominciava ad avere un'idea chiara sul fatto che l'essenza del vivere era l'errore. Secondo lui, l'uomo e' forse l'unico essere incapace di fare le cose giuste per costruirsi un'esistenza degna, degna delle possibilita' che ha; mentre invece e' impegnato a distruggere sempre e comunque, a soffocare la vita propria e quella altrui. Per lui la vera differenza tra stupidita' e saggezza si riduceva forse a questo: nella prima si commettono sempre gli stessi errori, nella seconda errori sempre nuovi. Manuel Roca decide d'appartenere alla seconda categoria. S'impegnava a commettere errori sempre nuovi anche se non credeva d'esservi riuscito.

C'erano giorni in cui Manuel Roca rincasava con il sentimento che la vita fosse tutto uno spreco idiota, l'assurdo logoramento di quanto non prendera' mai forma. Torna a casa in quelle giornate con l'intera Mato Rujo in gola, come se questa fosse lo sputo d'un altro. Credeva che la salvezza fosse proprio andarsene altrove ogni volta che questo sentimento faceva capolino nei suoi pensieri ma poi, ritornava ad essere lucido. Desiderava allora impegnarsi perche' rinascesse ogni mattina. Osservare ogni sera arrivare la notte, e il sole la mattina seguente. Manuel Roca pensa che e' alla mattina che bisogna essere ebbri, non la sera. Stupirsi ogni giorno di avere due mani, prodigi articolati capaci di sentire gli oggetti, di cogliere l'indifferente intimita' delle cose. E di accarezzare corpi. Ciononostante partecipava, Manuel Roca ad alcuni riti sociali, ma sempre di meno. Li accettava ma li prendeva come un gioco.

La meraviglia

Attraversa, Manuel Roca, lo spazio di tempo che lo porta a raggiungere quell'impareggiabile stato di ben'essere mentale e fisico. Sei ore e ventitre minuti in bicicletta per un totale di 186 Km. L'eroe Masetti sarebbe stato contento di una pedalata di questa entita'. Se avesse fatto parte di uno dei suoi viaggi sarebbe stata sicuramente una giornata da considerare positiva. Partendo da Milano avrebbe potuto raggiungere Aosta o Cesana Torinese, in altre parole si sarebbe trovato a pochi passi da Svizzera o Francia.
Non e' neanche tanto stanco Manuel Roca che pensa gia' a quello che fara' domani; probabilmente lo stesso che ha fatto oggi. Seduto sul sofa' con il suo laptop sulle gambe medita sul fatto che la meraviglia la si puo' trovare, a saperlo fare, svoltato l'angolo. Non serve un'astronave o quant'altro di simile. A Manuel Roca gli basta la sua bicicletta, il suo pedalare, il paesaggio che si srotola a 30 Km orari, il profilo di un albero vestito di foglie verdi in mezzo ad un campo, la corsa di cavalli su per un pendio. Ha capito Manuel Roca, mentre respirava la meraviglia, che il mito del posto di lavoro, della carriera costruita accumulando ore straordinarie e risparmi, da una parte, e un debito incommensurabile dall'altra, credendo in una sicurezza che non c'e', in un futuro che non esiste - ebbene: e' una grande presa in giro. Lavora Manuel Roca, ha una casa di cui paga un mutuo ma tutto nella ricerca della massima sobrieta'. Senza smanie del possedere o del mostrare. Oggi, Manuel Roca puo' dire di essere piu' ricco di quanto avrebbe potuto anche solo immaginare. Ricco di una ricchezza interiore, della consapevolezza delle sue azioni, del suo agire, del suo pensare, della genuinita' dell'esercizio fisico. Sente parlare di progresso attorno a lui. Manuel Roca non crede piu' alla possibilita' di un progresso per l'uomo. Gia' aveva dubbio che ci fosse mai stato. Come poteva essere possibile chiamare progresso quello di pochi privilegiati ai danni dell'umanita' rimanente? Era pronto a trattare a male parole chiunque parlasse di progresso e, soprattutto, chiunque affermasse che il tempo e' denaro. Ma poi, bastava che si guardasse attorno per capire che non avrebbe mai trovato corda sufficiente per sostenere le proprie idee.

Fuengirola

Giornata di riposo. Le gambe ne avevano bisogno piu' che la testa che sembra gia' pronta a rincorrere Km sulla strada per Pecol. I muscoli sentono il peso del lavoro svolto in questi giorni.

La notte e' stata una favola di sogni che ora Manuel Roca non puo' ricordare. Bello svegliarsi e prendere un libro in mano per cominciare la giornata con un po' di letteratura. Domani e' un altro giorno, impegnativo, ma se il programma verra' mantenuto ci sara' quell'impareggiabile senso di appagamento che segue una grande giornata in bici.

Manuel Roca ha un forte senso d'insofferenza nei confronti della gente attorno a lui. In questi giorni, e' piu' forte che mai. Non sopporta questo agitarsi per cose che potrebbero essere affrontate con altro sentimento e con il sorriso sulla bocca.

Manuel Roca pensa che se fosse nato in riva al mare sarebbe partito forse a cercare gli orizzonti seghettati e aguzzi delle montagne. Invece e' nato al cospetto delle Alpi e, sente per questo, una forte attrazione per il grande elemento marino. In una sua vita neanche troppo lontana Manuel Roca visse in una cittadina della costa Andalusa. Li, aveva goduto di uno dei periodi piu' belli della sua intera esistenza. C'era una luce a Fuengirola che non aveva mai visto prima. Una luce chiara, appoggiata sopra il mare quasi a carezzarlo. Una luce come un orgasmo che nasce, capace di rendere seducente anche i palazzi riempiti dai turisti provenienti dal Nord Europa. Comincio' Manuel Roca a coltivare in quel periodo, con compiaciuta consapevolezza e intima esaltazione, la sua diversita', che altro non era se non la disposizione, che poi divenne un vizio, a giocare con se stesso piuttosto che con gli altri. Il soliloquio silenzioso al posto del dialogo troppe volte chiassoso. Capiva Manuel Roca che la societa' ricattava: se non giochi con me e non fai tutto quello che a me piace e a me serve, non mangi. In quel periodo, Manuel Roca si rese conto di possedere l'ironica certezza di sopravvivere. Per ora ce l'ha fatta, Manuel Roca.

La bicicletta

Negl'ultimi 4 giorni Manuel Roca ha totalizzato quasi 500 km sulla strada per Pecol. E' molto soddisfatto di questo e non vede l'ora di finire questa settimana di lavoro con due lunghi Sabato e Domenica.

Stamattina, tanta salita e tante ripetute in pianura per finire con un'oretta piu' leggera con l'amico Penkish.

Mentre misurava il suo respiro tra una ripetuta e l'altra ammirava Manuel Roca la sua macchina meravigliosa e silenziosa: un'amica fedele, un'animale di metallo che cura con tutto l'amore possibile. Non si sente in pericolo quando sta con lei, si sente protetto. Quanto incontra un'automobilista che impreca, lo lascia imprecare. Quando incontra un cane che abbaia, lo lascia abbaiare. Piove? E lascia piovere. Tira vento? E lascia che tiri! Nel suo piccolo mondo, con la sola forza di volonta' e cn scarsi mezzi compie grandi imprese ogni mattina che esce con la sua Colnago C40 Manuel Roca. Potrebbe servire da esempio a tanti poltroni, pretenziosi, incontentabili, vanitosi, i quali, magari provvisti di mezzi migliori non sono capaci di concludere nulla, e passano su questo mondo inutili, annoiati e noiosi a se' stessi ed al prossimo. Manuel Roca e' un uomo felice. Egli sa bastare a se stesso; non desidera piu' di quanto ha; sa di essere amato dai parenti, dagli amici, da quanti lo conoscono; ha ciclovagato per Italia, Spagna, Francia, Inghilterra, Mato Rujo, Belgio e Olanda trovando questi posti belli; ha incontrato delle difficolta', e le ha superate; ha incontrato degli ostacoli, e s'e' dimostrato all'altezza; non si e mai sconfortato; si accontenta sempre di tutto, ma sa anche voler tutto. Il filosofo greco Diogene ebbe la melanconia di chiudersi in una botte, e passo' la vita brontolando. Manuel Roca, non piu' ricco di Diogene, e' balzato in bicicletta, e percorso mille e mille strade sorridendo. Al pessimismo poltrone, al fatalismo ozioso, preferisce sempre l'energia indomabile, la volonta' allegra, le audaci imprese. Subito ha compreso le straordinarie possibilita' di esplorare il mondo, conosciuto o meno, in piena liberta', senza vicoli di sorta. Esclusivamente con la potenza dei propri muscoli e con la forza della propria audacia e intraprendenza.

Pecol non e' poi cosi lontana.

Il cavaliere

Anche oggi il programma verso Pecol e' stato rispettato. Manuel Roca ha passato piu' di 6 ore in sella della sua Colnago C40 che come sempre s'e' fatta guidare fedele dal suo cavaliere. Non e' stata facile. Le prime 5 ore sono apparse leggere come sacchi di piume ma, nell'ultima ora i sacchi si son riempiti di sassi. Era la prima volta che Manuel Roca doppiava la boa delle 5 ore e chiaramente il corpo non era preparato a questo stimolo. Il momento piu' difficile e' stato a circa 20 minuti da casa quando improvvisamente ha sentito un senso di vuoto e di fiacchezza inaspettata. Ha visto anche tutto bianco per un istante, mentre le mani hanno cominciato a formicolare inspiegabilmente. Per fortuna Manuel Roca aveva ancora una barretta energetica in tasca che ha subito divorato. Per 5 minuti il senso di spossatezza e' proseguito ma dopo questi interminabili momenti Manuel Roca s'e' ripreso. Le mani han continuato a formicolare ma per lo meno ha potuto arrivare a casa ancora in forze. Prendendo l'ascensore, Manuel Roca s'e' guardato nello specchio vedendo qualcuno che faticava a riconoscere. La fatica e lo sforzo cambiano i lineamenti, il sale attaccato alla pelle ne modifica il colore. Gli occhi non si sono soffermati a lungo su questa immagine per non portare alla mente un'idea sbagliata sull'utilita' di queste uscite estreme.

Una volta a casa Manuel Roca ha divorato un piatto di pasta e uno yogurt con cereali prima di buttarsi sul letto ancora esausto. La strada per Pecol e' questa, Manuel Roca lo sa e non vuole affatto prendere delle scorciatoie o delle deviazioni. Vuole arrivare a Pecol per la sua strada, fiero del lavoro fatto.

Manuel Roca ha iniziato la sua giornata pedalando su per la collina che domina Mato Rujo, da li s'e' guardato un po' in giro e, dopo un' istante, piantando in asso il panorama s'e' tuffato dall'altra parte dell'altura. Ha proseguito sul piano pensando che la vita doveva conquistarla giorno per giorno, e che il percorso verso Pecol si percorre pedalata dopo pedalata. Guardo' la bici e si chiese com'era possibile arrivare ad amarla sino a conoscerne ogni segreto, quasi la macchina fosse un tutt'uno con lui. Questo ciclo-impegno e' lo scopo principale della sua vita, bruciando primavere, estate e autunni sulla strada. La maggior parte delle volte, gli piace tanto pensare e pedalare da solo che gli annoierebbe anche l'interruzione di qualsiasi voce amica. Guarda la strada Manuel Roca quando si porta faticosamente verso il cielo. E seguendola rapido egli guarda, egli osserva, egli pensa. Quale educazione della mente e del cuore, qual tesoro di cognizione e di esperienze portera' a casa dal suo pedalare! Ha una salute ferrea, una costanza di una saldezza a tutta prova, un'istruzione perfetta, sono tre qualita' che gli permettono di superare qualunque ostacolo. Manuel Roca e' instancabile in questi giorni e aspetta il domani per avvicinarsi ancora un po' a Pecol.

Luigi Masetti

Come da programma, Manuel Roca e' salito in bici alle 5 e 50 di mattina. Il sole, ancora basso in cielo, bucava ogni tanto una fine coltre di nuvole bianche. Compagno di viaggio di Manuel Roca e' il computerino attaccato al manubrio che gli da un po' d'informazione riguardanti l'uscita. Per esempio, mostra Km fatti, media, tempo impiegato, altitudine, temperatura ed altro. Obiettivo di Manuel Roca oggi era quello di non guardare nessuno di questi parametri ma volersi regolare unicamente sull'orario di ritorno che aveva fissato per le 10 e 30. Alla fine cosi e' stato, Manuel Roca rientrava in casa appena dopo l'orario prestabilito, stanco ma contento. All'inizio dell'uscita si sentiva molto stanco, o meglio, assonnato. Credeva a una di quelle giornate 'no' in cui le gambe non ne vogliono sapere affatto di portarti in giro ma pian piano le cose sono migliorate e Manuel Roca ha finito in crescendo anche se non ha mai spinto a fondo perche' domani il programma prevede una giornata ancora piu' lunga. Le strade percorse erano praticamente senza traffico facendo godere Manuel Roca di quella tranquillita' dove puo' rincorrere i propri pensieri mentre le gambe mulinano sui pedali e smuovono le ruote, cancellando tempo e spazio. E' questo il vero scopo che stimola Manuel Roca inducendolo sulla strada quando ancora tutti dormono. Si sente un poeta sulla bicicletta, un'anarchico delle due ruote, il filosofo di una vita che ammira percorrere lentamente, pedalata dopo pedalata. Si ritiene un eroe della bicicletta con lo sguardo spalancato sul mondo che con lentezza gli succede attorno aiutandolo a superare l'inerzia quotidiana. E' eroe quando trova vento o pioggia, quando fatica su salite mozzafiato o quando si tuffa in discese strabilianti. Ama la fatica fatta per scelta, quel sapore di antico in questa vita, a volte, troppo comoda. Adora faticare sui pedali come altri faticano nei campi, nelle fabbriche o nelle miniere. Manuel Roca ha l'esercizio nella testa quanto nelle gambe e sopratutto nel cuore. Conosce poche persone 'imprigionato' da stessa passione che a volte diventa un ossessione. Un chiodo fisso che gli permette di vivere in buona salute, assecondandelo nell'apprezzamento della vita di tutti i giorni, di gustare di paesaggi che non potrebbe ammirare seduto su di un divano o al tavolo di un pub. In bicicletta tutto diventa metafora, Manuel Roca e' una creatura rilucente che taglia lo spazio e il tempo, che scatta in piedi ai pedali appena la strada s'impenna verso la disperata salita. Ha diverse foto che lo ritraggono a cavallo della sua bici. Parlano dello sforzo fatto per stantuffare i pedali, delle buche come crateri da evitare per strada e di traguardi che non son altro che i suoi sogni.

A casa Manuel Roca ha ripreso la lettura del libro che parla di Luigi Masetti, L'anarchico delle due ruote. Incredibile personaggio che ancora prima del cambio del secolo scorso ha viaggiato il mondo su di un bicicletto. Un vero eroe delle due ruote che l'hanno portato a toccare l'America, l'Asia e tutta l'Europa su strade che erano qualcosa lontano anni luce dalle strade asfaltate dei giorni d'oggi. Un vero libro d'ispirazione per Manuel Roca che sempre piu' si infervorisce per questi personaggi mitici che escono completamente dagli schemi sembrando ai piu' dei matti. Proprio come gli piace essere pensato dagl'altri. Manuel Roca, quello che si sveglia alle 5 della mattina per passare delle gradevoli ore in sella alla sua bici. Quello che ad una ragazza preferisce ore in solitudine a costruire pensieri e filosofie come ragnatele che tesse con passione. Idee e modi di vedere discordanti da quelli che sono i modelli seguiti dalla massa. A Manuel Roca piace considerarsi cosi, nello stesso modo in cui Luigi Masetti piaceva vivere sulle strade di mezzo mondo. Manuel Roca non avrebbe idolatrato Luigi Masetti perche' non gli piace proprio l'atto di idolatrare le persone ma sicuramente gli sarebbe piaciuto far qualche km al suo fianco per farsi aiutare, anche solo per pochi minuti, a tessere la ragnatela della sua filosofia di vita, in bici.

Riposo (2)

Altro giorno di riposo per Manuel Roca sulla strada di Pecol. Non era programmata e non e' stata causata dal maltempo o da altro. L'origine di questa 'pecca' e' stata la veneziana che ieri sera Manuel Roca ha montato alla finestra della sua stanza. Il problema non e' stato il trapano che, bene o male, Manuel Roca sa usare, la complicazione e' nata quando, per sbaglio, ha tagliato le cordicelle che tenevano tutte le parti della veneziana insieme. A quel punto Manuel Roca ha dovuto fornirsi di tutta la sua pazienza ed infilare le cordicelle negl'appositi passanti per fare in modo che tutto funzionasse. Lato destro, lato sinistro. Alla fine, Manuel Roca e' andato a letto a tardi, nervoso e con poca voglia d'alzarsi presto per fare un'ora di bici prima d'andare al lavoro.

Alla fine ha dovuto accettare la situazione e starsene buono buono in officio in attesa del domani dove lo aspetta una lunga giornata in sella. Malgrado la giornata paciosa, Manuel Roca non s'e' fatto tentare dal cibo, o meglio, ha mangiato il giusto per prepararsi alla due giorni che lo aspetta. In fatti, domani e dopo avra' occasione di starsene in sella, forse, per un totale di dieci ore.