Ronda Ghibellina 45 km, Tuscan hills

I've done a lot of races but I still run up against the unexpected. When I checked into my hotel in Castiglion Fiorentino for this race I asked at the desk for directions to walk to the race expo, which was also the race start. The desk lady was so sure that I shouldn't walk to the expo that she was not prepared to give me directions! She said the road was a highway and definitely not to be used by pedestrians. I knew she had a point since many Italian roads don't have a shoulder. This put a temporary damper on my plans for running the race, but then I asked myself just how impossible it could be to walk two kilometres on a busy road.

Not impossible at all. I had a most enjoyable stroll to the expo, walking up through the old town and then out to the race HQ along a quiet road which had the ancient town wall on one side and a grove of olive trees on the other. On race morning I asked for a lift with some other runners.

This was a hard race, there's no other way to put it. For me it was seven hours and 21 minutes hard for something not much longer than a marathon - 45 kilometres of steep ups and downs with possibly my slowest ever average pace of 9.8 minutes per kilometre. This wasn't a total surprise because I had seen the results from previous years and I knew that a finish half way down the field would mean running around seven hours. I didn't get all the white stuff like last weekend (although there were several icy patches and some frozen trail) but the hills were serious and I came down many of the loose descents at a snail's pace. For much of the last quarter, after I had cleared the final checkpoint and cutoff, and therefore knew I would have time to finish, I could only think about finishing.

We started by running through the town, probably waking a few people up with a stampede of a thousand legs early on a Sunday morning, and headed for the hills. Soon we were in forest, climbing in single file on a narrow trail. Breathing heavily. The trail was stones and dirt, often slippery. Occasionally the trail dipped down perilously and I was scared of slipping, so scared that I had to let masses of runners go past me and then immediately on the next climb I would be stuck in a slow moving line. Coming down on my bum, so successful last weekend, wasn't an option on the dirt. I knew that once the field spread out I would feel more comfortable, so I just regarded this part as a way to reserve my strength for later on, but it was still frustrating.

We came, eventually, out onto a ridge (hello frozen puddles and frost) with a view back towards the town and other tiny Tuscan hamlets and farmhouses. In all directions endless hills. All lovely under that deep blue Tuscan sky. Today was the first day of 'la merla' the Italian word for the final three days of January when the weather is supposed to be the worst of the year. Not this year. Nevertheless, race requirements had us carry a good raincoat and thermal.

Just as last weekend, the conditions were never as difficult again as in the early kilometres. We spread out a lot and I ran alone much of the time although I would play cat and mouse all day with the same crowd. I'd pass them on the uphill then they'd pass me coming down.

Much of the race was spent in the forest with those constant climbs. We would go high, come down a bit then go up again. Sometimes we came down a long way so we had a long way to go back up. I'm not talking small undulations, either. Much was not runnable. This was the sort of terrain where I could imagine the wild boar roaming - they are on all Tuscan menus - and I hoped not to encounter any. Especially after I overheard a couple of runners chatting about them. But what made these forests extra enjoyable to run was that we were on the edge of a ridge so there were frequent views of the countryside below and around us. Unlike last weekend, we ran through forest and scrub with very little time spent in civilisation. There were rare incursions into villages and once we ran through an olive grove on grass, but mostly the terrain was wild.

At one point high on a ridge there was a range of mountains on the horizon with a thick covering of snow. It must have been a really long way away.

Both the rationale for the route and the race geography became very clear to me as we approached the 33 kilometre checkpoint. I could see exactly where we had run along the ridge tops. These hills were arranged in a horseshoe shape to the east of Castiglion Fiorentino and may have represented the Ghibelline controlled area (one of the two main medieval clans here). And even though I could see Castiglion Fiorentino hazily in the distance (its hilltop towers made it easily recogniseable) I could also see that there was a huge hill standing in the way between me and the town.

We had to make a long descent down to an aid station in a small village back down at our starting elevation, and then commenced a very arduous climb up the hill I had observed. With only 11 kilometres to go I did not expect this section to be more than mildly uncomfortable. But the climb was endless, in forest and then on a dirt road of sorts. I was passing people but I couldn't wait for the top. My only comfort was that the top would have to be close to the finish. But glimpses through the trees didn't make the town appear close at all.

Someone ahead of me asked a marshal where the next aid station was and he was told it was at the top of the hill so I held on hopefully. He had made it sound like it was two minutes away. Hah! I was still half an hour away.

The race support was very good, with lots of marshals near the more treacherous spots and several checkpoints where they scanned our race numbers. They clearly didn't want to lose us. The marshals had lit little bonfires so a smoky smell heralded an encounter with a marshal.

The route was marked well with yellow tape but I still managed to go wrong three times. The first time was just after a checkpoint and the marshal yelled at the group of us who had gone wrong. The second time I missed a turn, but because the route had been so well marked I soon noticed the absence of markers and turned back. Funnily enough what I had sailed past was a sharp downhill which I did not end up liking at all. The third time I was following someone when he lost the route so we were able to correct ourselves.

There was an SOS number printed on our race bib (in case of a runner being found unconscious in a ravine, I guess) and also race requirements had included us having to carry a cellphone. Despite the fact that my phone didn't actually work in Italy I brought it anyway and I took this opportunity to try some race photography. My first time at this. I managed very few decent photos. By the final checkpoint the battery had died so the phone wasn't going to be much use to me. Like my whistle and raincoat it was just dead weight.

After about a year I got to the top of the hill. I mean, I got to the aid station, and was dismayed for two reasons: it wasn't yet the top and I still had almost six kilometres to go to the finish. Eventually, eventually I did reach the top, and there then followed a wonderful downhill. It was wide and fairly smooth and I could do what felt like flying down.

At the bottom we still had two kilometres on roads, snaking around the edge of the town. Tortuous, but I passed many people because I was still able to run while many were walking, and everyone was calling out 'dai, dai' (give, give) which is what Italians call out for encouragement.

We got a beer at the finish in a souvenir mug. Wonderful, and a reminder that I had run all day through to the drinking hour! We also got a plate of real Tuscan food: pasta, roast pork, white beans, salamis. Then I very slowly walked the two kilometres back to my hotel, showered and rinsed my running gear, had two aperol spritz at a bar near the hotel where they had a big range of appetisers and went to bed.

A morning on Tuscan hills

This morning I was able to satisfy my desire to run on the Tuscan hills. This was the reason I came to Montepulciano, although it is an absolutely delightful hilltop town in its own right. There are gorgeous views of the surrounding countryside at every turn, many old churches and palazzi, and generally quaint narrow streets of ancient stone buildings (but maybe not quite narrow enough since they are wide enough for cars and the traffic zips around at high speed with total disregard for pedestrians. At the moment the town is deserted and I don't like to think how the cars behave when the streets are hopping with tourists.)

I decided to run to another hill town about 8 kilometres away, Montichiello, my choice being guided by seeing on the map that there was a quiet road winding through the hills which I hoped would have little traffic. I was proved right so that was good; I could run in the middle of the road and enjoy the scenery. That is, after I had made an initial false start and run a few kilometres in the wrong direction on a provincial road with no shoulder. Yuck.

I could see Montechiello on its hill almost from the start. It was just beyond some empty fields, olive trees and vineyards, beyond a scattering of rustic farmhouses, with the tower of its fortress poking up into the sky. I had a nice view of Montepulciano looking back although it's hard to get a good view of all the town's layers since the setting is so steep (the top of the hill seems to vanish from view easily).
There were four hills separating the two towns, all long and not especially gradual, and nothing flat in between and I could always see the road painted on the hillside. I passed a few farmhouses and a lot of vineyards and olive trees. It was all typical Tuscan colours of sage greens and browns, with the dots of yellow houses with tiled roofs. In the beautiful sunshine I felt warm but the air was cold, I think it was a couple of degrees above freezing.

I entered Montechiello through its stone archway and had a walk around. It was deserted apart from the local rubbish collector in his truck. The church had some nice frescoes, and the fortress seemed inaccessible. Many of the buildings had brightly painted window shutters. From the edge of town I could see Pienza on its hilltop, a larger town. I had contemplated continuing on there as a one way run but the network of minor roads looked complicated and I didn't want to get lost, also the bus back from Pienza wasn't for hours and I thought that if all the cafes are closed there as is the case in Montepulciano it might be hard to kill time there.
So as I started to feel cold I headed back for Montepulciano. The return felt much more uphill, strange how that happens. The rubbish collector passed me along the road. I detoured to the St Biagio church at the base of Montepulciano, running towards it down a very nice cypress lined avenue. Unfortunately the church was closed, but I saw the same rubbish collector again there. (I thought he might acknowledge me, after all I was dressed oddly and he must have noticed me each time.) The detour gave me the chance to enter town by a different route.
By the time I got to the Piazza Grande at the top of town I had started walking. The Piazza was lit up by the sunshine although the very austere wall of the duomo was in the shade and the place was, of course, deserted. Its name is a bit ironic as it isn't a large square, but the prominent buildings on the square are large so they appear oversized. Now I only had to go downhill. I had done about 18 kilometres and I was more tired than I expected.

Short run in Padua

My very short run in Padua was unexciting, the best thing about it was the total abscence of frost or ice, and the worst thing about it was that I ended up running by busy roads where the footpaths were also congested. I had planned a route that would take me through the park with the Capella Scrovegni, along to another park and then back to complete a circuit. I intended to follow the river where possible.
Shortly after leaving the Scrovegni park I realised I was not on the intended route, and I thought I might be able to run it the opposite way round. That wasn't going to happen, even after I consulted my map. I was so glad I had brought a paper map with me as I was clearly going to be completely lost.
However the running gods were shining on me and I came upon a riverside trail, first an unpaved minor road and later a footpath, alongside the river and in places alongside the old city wall. I felt I was headed in the right direction. This was pleasant off road running despite uninspiring scenery of derelict houses and a somewhat stagnant and green waterway, and I wished I had time for a longer run as the path looked to continue a long way out of the city.
All good things end and all too soon I was back on a crowded path running through the university, then on the busy street to my hotel. The run hadn't felt too bad so I guess I had satisfied my goal of getting my legs going again after the race on Sunday.

Montefortiana race, 44 kilometres with snow and ice

Ecomaratona Clivus 44 km, Monteforte d'Alpone, Italy
22 January 2017

Well, I don't think I have ever underestimated a race so much. This was just meant to be a warm up for next week's ultra, and while I knew it was going to be hilly I was blithely unaware of what else was going to be in the mix. I didn't expect the Verona countryside to throw up any serious challenges. To be fair, I don't think there is usually so much snow and ice on the course, and everyone had been talking about the unusual amounts of recent snowfall, but this turned out to be a much harder day than I had been anticipating. Despite perfect blue skies all day race conditions were little short of treacherous in many places.

Even before the start the Italians had provided me with entertainment. There had been no pre race information so I had emailed the organiser to ask the location of the race expo and start - basic info in my view. His reply: Dietro la Piazza della Chiesa (behind the church square) which I found vague to say the least; every Italian town has many churches and a quick search told me that Monteforte d'Alpone has three. However I found my race ok because the start was by the church with the tallest tower.

Then, as we waited on the start line the national anthem was sung; the Italians didn't pay the blindest bit of attention but went on talking at full volume. I had to check with a woman next to me if this was indeed the national anthem. When we started running there was a lot of pushing and shoving. But, as a contrast, at the early aid stations, which were very busy, the runners queued patiently and yelled when someone tried to jump the queue.

This was billed as an off road race so I was a bit surprised when we started with several kilometres on roads, heading quickly out of the small town of Monteforte d'Alpone. The start was very crowded with two races going off at the same time, my 44 km and a 26 km. The weather was perfect and once we had left the town we were surrounded by vineyards. Looking back you could see the very tall spire of the town's church looming out of the valley. Yes, we had started with a long climb.

I think it was just before the first aid station that we hit the ice for the first time. There had been small patches of snow by the roadside but suddenly, as we went off road, the whole path became one continuous stretch of ice. It was constantly undulating and the short steep downhills had me petrified. Often on bends there was nowhere to run, or even walk, safely. There were lots of falls, and I was determined not to be in that number, so I inched along like an idiot while everyone passed me. I had read recently that the technique for coping with such conditions is to disconnect your brain but I don't like that idea much; I'm sure my brain performs some useful functions even while I crawl downhill and besides I'd be too worried about not managing to reconnect it. I observed that some people had spikes on their shoes which could account for their not being slowed by the ice at all.

Once I saw a guy fall and he just skidded on down the slope. I don't think this was intentional. But this gave me an idea - I could go down the steeper slopes on my bum. So I did this. Four times during the race I sat down at the top of an icy slope and slid down. More than actually doing this, I think my awareness that I had this option kept me sane.

I had started to worry. I wasn't sure how I could manage 44 kilometres of such conditions. The snow wasn't only on the higher ground, as we had descended from our early climb, and even when we reached a clear stretch of road or trail the ice would soon reappear. I worried about making the 21 kilometre cutoff as I feared I was moving extremely slowly. As a precaution, and in contrast to usual ultra behaviour, I resolved to run as much of the uphill as possible so that I could walk the downhills.

The fabulous views made up in part for the running difficulties. I noticed the scenery when I felt brave enough to lift my eyes off the ground for a few seconds. Small villages, hillsides covered with vineyards and churches on hilltops. Sometimes we ran right through the middle of a vineyard, between the rows of vines. You could see for miles and miles. One thing I found unusual was looking down on the hilltop churches: usually I am looking up at them.

As it would turn out the conditions were worst in the first part of the route. Leading to the half way point we had a very long climb and I was seriously concerned about the inevitable descent. We reached a ridge which was cold but fortunately not windy and followed it for a long time. Up here there was a lot of snow, but it was mainly hard packed and definitely runnable. You had to be on the lookout for patches of ice, which appeared among the snow often and unexpectedly, but I found I could make a decent pace and I relaxed. The sun had been shining here for the past week and I was surprised it hadn't melted the snow.

Our initial descent from the ridge was gradual and luckily not much ice. It was like a ski trail winding through woods. I jogged along happily, knowing that I would be able to finish this.

The hours passed and the hills kept coming. The second half featured a great deal of slippery mud.  But people were still having heavy falls on an unexpected patch of ice. A moment's inattention was all it took. The later aid stations were in small villages and it was nice to run through the village streets. We had a surprisingly steep descent late in the race, on loose ground. People seemed to me to take this more slowly than they had taken the icy descents, but it could just have been tiredness showing through. I was very pleased to be still able to run at this stage.

After an eternity I could see the spire of the Monteforte church. What a relief. I couldn't quite see how we were going to reach the church but our circuitous route brought us from vineyards suddenly into the town centre and a welcome finish line. The finish area looked like a battlefield and was knee deep in litter as there had been many races run during the course of the day.

Just before the finish I came very close to a woman I had been following early on; she was carrying walking poles, then and now, and on the treacherous early slopes I had worried about falling towards her and becoming impaled on the spikes of those poles, and she was still carrying those poles in what I regarded as a dangerous way!

I was really satisfied with my run even though I was far down the field. I had beaten my early despair and had a good day.

Then I spent a long time queuing for things: a too large shirt, a tiny bowl of tortellini and a show bag with a packet of fresh pasta (Italy, I guess) and a packet of cooking cream. But better than that, 2 bottles of wine. How nice to run in a wine region. And I had another souvenir too: the next day I found several painful splinters in my fingers from where I had clutched at prickly branches during some of the descents, the tips of nasty long spikes that had penetrated my gloves.

Riverside Bressanone

After a cold night in my hotel room (the heater was working hard making a constant and irritating noise like someone flossing their teeth but it didn't emit any heat) I was glad to get out on my hour's run. And Bressanone held the promise of lots of tracks along the river, same Isarco River as in Vipiteno.
I ran along the river as far as possible on the track going north, and then a bit further as I wondered if the path would continue beyond the industrial section. Then I crossed the river and went back south on the other bank. One side of the river had the main part of the city, and I had another good view of the Duomo and the White Tower, then became industrial. While the other bank was residential and then became quite countrified with small vineyards. The river itself had a lot of bluish ice floes and little of it was flowing. It definitely looked cold. On the horizon were the hills surrounding Bressanone, with no snow on them, and then in the distance some snowy mountains. In the centre of town there is an island in the river where it branches so I made my route a bit creative, following the other branch for a while.

Another run from Vipiteno

Today's run didn't turn out quite as expected and was very cold. I intended to do only about five kilometres return, to Castel Tasso just on the edge of Vipiteno and I planned a route using my map, which has not proved to be a particularly accurate map in the past but it's the best I had.
I headed out through the medieval town centre to the bike path I had noticed yesterday which should take me in the right direction. It led to the path alongside the autobahn, so far so good, but then the signs seemed to be pointing in the wrong direction to what made sense to me. I followed my instinct and was soon rewarded with the sight of a castle on the hillside in what looked like the right place. I ran towards it. Then by chance I looked to my other side and I saw the castle I was actually intending to visit (I'd seen a photo of it so I knew what it should look like). The moon was still out just above the castle.
A country road took me right to this castle on a snowy hillside, and I followed a snow covered gravel path uphill to the entrance. It was a compact and pretty castle. The main gate was open but you could only get into the castle grounds, not the building itself.

When I got back down to the road the castle was bathed in sunshine and looked lovely. The sun was also turning all the mountains around Vipiteno a shade of pink.
I took a different route back, following signs. At first I was ok, then I ran through the grounds of a farm, surely not on the intended route, but emerged on a proper path where I could see some walkers. The path took me to a country road, across the autobahn, and onto a very snowy path signed to Vipiteno. This path was alongside the river so that was nice, but this was an industrial part of town and I went the whole length of the sewage works. Even beautiful South Tirol has sewage works.
I came back into town and had no idea where I was and had to ask directions. I made it back feeling very cold having done more like nine kilometres, and I think I irritated the woman at my hotel by being so late for breakfast.

Vipiteno to Colle Isarco

I'm back in Italy now and having a break from skiing to run a bit and prepare for my race at the weekend. It was a beautiful day when I woke up and I was pleased I would be able to put my plan to run from Vipiteno to Colle Isarco into practice. I went on a school skiing trip to Colle Isarco in about 1972 and I had some sort of romantic attachment to the place, even though I didn't enjoy the skiing trip all that much at the time.
The only thing standing in my way was a bit of doubt about the route. The main road linking the towns had some odd colouring on the map which suggested either a discontinuity in the road or a tunnel, neither of which would be of great benefit while running. I also read about a cycling route between the towns but it was not shown on the map and I had my doubts about it being runnable in winter. However, all worked out well in the end. The bike route was clearly signposted and was certainly runnable.
I set out from the medieval centre of Vipiteno and went uphill to the edge of town, and saw my first bike route sign, heading me around the outside of the bus station and past the gondola station. The skiing conditions on the mountain didn't look all the fantastic but I couldn't see the top of the gondola. From here I followed the river for a while, alongside the road, and after a while the bike route went into a tunnel under the road to continue on the far side of the road. I opted to cross the road on the surface as the track into the tunnel looked like deepish snow.
The very minor road on the other side then started to climb towards a small village and I had a great view of the autobahn, which is hugely elevated. I could also see, looking forwards, the mountains beyond the Brenner Pass, and the mountains behind Vipiteno when I looked back. There were two villages to go through, and by now I was off the road and on the bike path. Most of the way the path wasn't too snowy, with just a couple of places where I had to be careful about sinking into the snow. Luckily none of it was icy or slippery, even though I was mostly in the shade.
It must be a bit unusual to run at this time of year because I got a couple of quizzical looks from people in the villages and someone called something out to me.

Once I got to Colle Isarco I had a little look around. I had intended to have a coffee there but I didn't see a cafe that was open. I went in the church and up to its chapel, and walked around the cemetery in the snow, and I think I saw most of the town. I may have identified the hotel I stayed at before, but I don't remember much about it.
On the way back I was able to run in the sun for a while. As I had anticipated, once I stopped to look around the town I got very cold and it took me several kilometres to warm up again. My run was only about 11 kilometres in total but despite this short distance I was glad to get back to my warm hotel room.

Return to Austria's Tirol

Innsbruck
After dithering for ages I decided not to ski today, common sense prevailing (unusually for me) because of hurting my thumb skiing yesterday (it was very swollen when I woke up) and because today was again overcast and promising limited visibility on the slopes. Although I was aware that a run might not be the best thing for helping my thumb heal, but I was going to ignore that side of things.
I headed down the road towards the river, not running this first bit because the footpath was slushy and slippery, and also busy as I didn't start out until 9am. By the time I got down near the city centre where the Christmas market had been last time I was here a few weeks ago, I tried running and it was ok. I was fully aware that the worst thing I could do for my thumb would be to fall on it.
I stayed on the city side of the river at first, going east, on the pedestrian walkway and then going through the park in front of the Hofkirche. It was a winter wonderland with all the new snow, and everywhere was quite different from last time I was here, when there was no sign of snow. It was foggy so there weren't any mountain views, but I could see snowy hillsides immediately behind the street fronting the other bank of the river. I passed the covered bridge and the Nordkette Bahn rail (seeing one of the cable cars), and then had to cross the river as there seemed to be no alternative.
The footpath was near the road with some long straight stretches. At one point I tried a detour through a park but that proved not to be a good idea as there was deep snow and I was glad to get back to the roadside. After a while I came onto a more scenic walkway through a grove of trees, and then joined a cross-country ski route. Some of the way was on hard packed snow, other parts were cleared and others were icy. I was happy to be able to stay right by the river the whole time. The path was signposted to Kufstein where I stayed for a few days last year, but I wasn't going that far!
I turned back as I approached an industrial area. It seemed colder on the way back and I was pleased to get back to the built up area. A two hour run followed by pastry and cake made up for a day without skiing.

Zell am Ziller
Ok, so actually this was a walk, but I had been intending to run. It didn't look like it was going to be much of a skiing day due to low cloud and snow falling heavily, so I thought I might go for a run instead. The only problem was that I didn't think I had suitable clothes to wear for running in such damp conditions; I needed something more snow proof than my running tights but I couldn't see myself running in ski pants, and I also didn't think the path I was going to run on would have been cleared of the recent snow and it might be so deep that my running shoes would quickly get soaked. So I went for a walk in my ski gear.
I walked along the south bank of the Ziller river in the direction of Mayrhofen. The whole landscape was engulfed in cloud at first so there was little to see, although I could tell that there was a layer of  fresh white snow on the hillsides and everywhere else. The rail line snaked through the fields, and there was little sign of activity apart from a handful of other walkers. It was very nice that this riverbank path was well away from the road.
My aim was to walk 4 kilometres to the river bridge in Hippach, cross the river and come back to Zell. There aren't many bridges across the river so when I came to one after a while I thought this might be the one to cross but I wasn't sure. There was a guy walking his dog (well, the man was walking towards me while his dog was sitting on the far end of the bridge) so I asked him if this village was Hippach. He said (in German) "The dog is in Hippach but this is Wiese". Turns out, this wasn't yet the right bridge, it was an extra one that wasn't on my map, so I continued a few minutes more to Hippach, which proved to be a largish village (spanning the river).
It was bright in Hippach as if the weather had taken a turn for the better. I could see the hillsides clearly and there were people walking around carrying their skis. So I decided to hasten back to Zell and head for the slopes. But as I walked back the clouds came down again and soon it was again snowing heavily. Around Zell conditions did not look good at all. But I went skiing because I couldn't resist.

Bologna and Florence

Looking at the map the obvious place to run in Bologna appeared to be around the outside of the former city wall. As it was New Year's Day we thought the roads would be quiet. We took a route out of the old town and onto the more major road that was part of the ring road around the wall.
It wasn't especially interesting at first, until we reached the first of what would be many of the old gates into the city. Some were more elaborate than others, depending on their era and how much they had been renovated. They were all red brick with arches. There were a few stretches of the walls left and even a bit of moat. We occasionally got views towards the hills around Bologna, some of which had churches on top.
The roads we ran along varied between passing large buildings in good condition to some fairly derelict parts beyond the railway station. The last parts were more residential, and then there was the largish Giardini Margarita park. I went inside this park but kept parallel to the intended route.
On our second day we walked up to the basilica of San Luca, along the 666 porticoes beyond the Porta Saragossa. It didn't seem worth the effort to run there, with so many steps, and the idea of that trip is to walk through he world's longest series of porticoes.
On the next two days I worked out a route that would cut out the really dilapidated and uninteresting part of the route around the walls, and meant I could allow myself a lap of the Giardini Margarita park while still staying at around 10 kilometres. After a few kilometres outside the wall I cut across town on a long straight street. This was much nicer, lots of porticoes, a roundabout with a fountain to go around, passing the piazza and park near Via Indipendenza, and brought me out by one of the better renovated gates in the wall.
Then I headed up to the park. There were plenty of runners there, mainly making a circuit of the park on the road. The road seemed a bit too slippery for my liking. But I spotted a dirt track on the grass at the perimeter of the park so I ran on that, under the trees. It was great and I couldn't see why nobody else was using it.
And I went back for the same thing the next day.

Florence, January 6
Florence was so busy with people it was hard to imagine finding anywhere peaceful to run. Lots of people, narrow streets and delivery vans that show no mercy didn't add up to a pleasant running scenario.
But I found a good place to go, following the Arno river on its northern bank to the Cascine park, running to the tip of the park and crossing the river, then returning on the southern bank for a trip of about 11 kilometres. The path through the park looked like it continues well beyond, going on for miles but the scenery might not have been all that special.
The section of road along the Arno by our hotel was very quiet so nice to run along, passing a couple of bridges (one of which seems like it is only used as a cark park) and a huge
long weir set at an angle across the river. I stayed by the river once I got into the park. The park was quiet with just a few runners and walkers and there wasn't actually much to see on either side of the river. Another time it might be nice to run through the centre of the park. There were some more formally laid out areas and avenues of trees.
At the tip of the park was an abandoned building and a bridge crossing a tributary of the Arno, then a two level bridge across the Arno. Once across the river I was in a sort of wasteland, rather surprising for the world class city of Florence. But the gravel path was nice for running and well away from the road. There were a couple of tricky places where I had to go to the road and I had to run around a large traffic circle, and then run along a narrow road and negotiate an old city gate where there was no footpath. There were also walking tracks right down at the river's edge but that part of the river bank had plenty of rubbish lying around and did not look inviting.
I could see the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio for most of the way back and also the Duomo, and once I got closer to town the palazzo type buildings on the north bank were more interesting to look at than those on the south bank. But the road wasn't closed to traffic on the south bank so the running was more tricky with lots of walkers and a very narrow footpath. It was a clear day so I could also see the mountains on the horizon.

Foggy Mantua

Mantua was the place for two very foggy runs. On the first day we headed out in search of the bike path shown on the map, which should take us from our hotel very easily to the lake shore of the first of Mantua's three lakes. We couldn't find it so ran along a busy road for a while until we could cross the railway lines (lots of them) and found a park by the lake. The fog was a shock! It had a lovely effect on the scenery however, trees shrouded in fog and a hint of the lake nearby.
We ran through this and further parks on dirt tracks and saw few other people, but heard trains coming into the station close by. There was some bird activity and a couple of fishermen. It was the coldest we've run in so far in Italy.
When we came to a junction and a path heading under the railway lines Denis turned off. I didn't because I didn't realise where we were exactly. I continued straight ahead on a sort of bitumen boardwalk built out into the lake, crossed some more parkland and negotiated a rather slippery bridge, then found myself among houses and saw a sign for the Mantua to Pescheria del Garda bike path. The bike path seemed to follow a canal.
I opted to turn back at this point, and it was only then I realised I had crossed on the causeway between two of the lakes. Silly me. I had intended to follow the shore line of each of the three lakes, not to cross between them.
When I got back to the junction with the trail under the railway line I went under the railway line, which is how I had intended to go in the first place. This path took me through parkland within sight of the Centro Storico and it was very nice. It was still foggy but you could see the old buildings and towers. Although the sightseeing boats moored along here didn't look like they were about to see much activity.
I followed the path as far as it went, only a couple of kilometres, then turned back and retraced my outward route home. The fog was lifting a bit. For the last part I found another bike path that was slightly away from the busy road and took me to a last little park. 13 kilometres of nice running.
On the second day it was even more foggy, right from leaving the hotel, and we did find the bike path that started near the hotel. But it wasn't a great find because it just followed the main road until we reached that junction under the railway lines where we had parted company yesterday. So from there we continued along the lakes to the end of that path, but sadly there were pretty much no views of the Centro Storico due to the fog. The path was also rather more slippery with frost.
Here we separated and I retraced the last bit then went across the lake. The reason was that I had not been able to check what I'd done yesterday on the map so I wanted to see once more where I'd been. The path on the boardwalk across the lake was very slippery.
Finally I ran the length of the parks back to where we had started out yesterday, in some ways the calmness of the fog made this the loveliest part of the run, and took the nicer bike path home. A good 10 kilometres.