The language of the Earth

Cycling is an art in which experience almost always wins. It's a discipline shaped by effort and determination, where every turn holds a new lesson.

In the world of cycling, there are masters who guide us in choosing the perfect bike, teaching us to care for it as we would a fragile love. Then there are those who study the biomechanics of the body, transforming us into harmonious machines, ready to unleash pure power as we travel our own path.

There are masters who, if it hadn't been for that small and unpredictable accident, would have gone on to become professionals. They are the ones who, looking back, recount races they won as kids, memories sometimes swollen by the inexorable passage of time, but which still shine in the eyes of those who listen.

In attempting to write these words, I pondered for a long time who our true teacher was , the one who, above all else, has something to teach each of us cyclists. Days of reflection left me silent, unanswered, until, speaking with a dear friend, I dared to ask him the question. His answer was clear and immediate, almost obvious in its simplicity: the landscape.

The environment, nature, is the invisible thread that binds every cyclist, regardless of discipline, be it road or dirt, competition or simply training to lose a few pounds.

It's impossible not to feel the harmony that is created when we pedal immersed in a world that doesn't belong to us, but that welcomes us generously, always leaving us something more, if only we're willing to listen.

Mountains , with their endless climbs, teach us perseverance and inner strength; winds show us the importance of adaptability, forcing us to find new ways to face difficulties. Forests offer us peace and reflection, granting us moments of quiet in which to listen to our thoughts. Finally, waterways flow freely beyond adversity, without resistance, teaching us to be flexible and to challenge ourselves, abandoning preconceptions and rigidity.

For these reasons, every time I pedal, whether alone or in company, immersed among these silent masters, I always return with something new to tell, a piece of the road in my heart, a few kilometers of experience that will guide me not only on my next bike trip, but also on the paths of everyday life.

I thank Federico, my friend and fellow adventurer, for opening my eyes to what this passion truly leaves in my heart. I'm often the one teaching you about cycling, but this time, you were my teacher.

Text: Fabio Conti

Photo: Andrea Pialorsi @andreapialo