Fiorino Mud is a 400km bikepacking event with 8000 meters of elevation gain through the hills of Florence, from Florence to Punta Ala and back. It's a relatively light bikepacking race since it's fast-paced. In my bags, I choose to pack only a waterproof jacket, arm warmers, and a neck warmer, leaving plenty of space for food, essential for sustaining energy. The theoretically planned climbs seem enjoyable, leading to the choice of a rather fast setup with a 1x42t front and a 10-50t cassette at the back. Aerodynamic extensions complete the setup, perhaps not very useful for such a fast event, but my experience leads me to mount them anyway. The gravel-to-road ratio is about 50%, so I think it's worth "enjoying" those moments on asphalt to give my hands a break and save some effort with aerodynamics. The initial plan is to take around 28 hours to complete the entire ride.
On Saturday morning, the alarm goes off at 5:30. Everything is already set in the bungalow where Gianluca, the organizer of Fiorino Mud and a great friend, has kindly hosted us. Three of us are sharing a room, and departure mornings are always a bit chaotic. I check multiple times that the bike is in perfect working order and, without paying much attention to calories, try to fill my stomach with some carbohydrates here and there. The departure is at 07:00, and half an hour before that, I start getting dressed. I wear a short-sleeved Transpira S3 base layer (short-sleeved instead of a tank top because when the night brings cold, and I wear the arm warmers, I'd be left with a part of my shoulder exposed, and I know how uncomfortable those few centimeters of exposed skin can be), Sterrato S4 bib shorts with comfortable pockets on the sides and back, Popolarissima S3 jersey, super lightweight and comfortable for hot days like the one ahead. I also bring a Normandia_E vest for those fast descents where it's not necessary to dress completely. I check the lights, put on the helmet, fill the water bottles (I carry 1.5 liters of water, definitely sufficient if you make good use of refueling points and fountains). At 06:45, I show up at the starting line to chat with friends and the staff, who will make sacrifices over these two days to take photos and follow us along the route. The atmosphere is warm, always a pleasure to meet people with common passions, share these moments before the start, and sense that hint of tension on the faces of others. I carry some tension with me too; the idea of spending more than a whole day in the saddle inevitably brings thoughts and some concern. Fortunately, it's a pleasant tension that only increases my desire to start: on one hand, I know it will be long hours, but on the other hand, it's a short event for me. We start and finish without checkpoints, emergency camps in unlikely places, or scarcity of supplies.
As usual, the pace of the first kilometers is always leg-breaking. The front riders go all out, trying to break away quickly. Fortunately I'm familiar with these situations and I prefer to bide my time and enjoy the scenery. I keep them at a recoverable distance and wait for them to slow down because I know they will. After a few hours of cycling and the first serious elevation gain behind, I gradually start overtaking some from the lead group until there are only two ahead of me. I stop for 30 seconds to refill the water bottles, and right at the beginning of the longest climb of the route, I realize it might be a good time to try to pick up the pace. Along the elevation gain, I pass the second rider, and at the end of the gravel section, on the last switchbacks of the road before the summit, I think I see the leader. It's already 2:00 PM, and there's a need for a quick stop to fill the pockets with food. There should be a bar right at the top, and the next one is in 25km, so it would be a bit of a wait. When I arrive, the place seems closed at first glance, and I don't see any parked bikes. I choose to resist a bit more and continue. My mind is convinced I'm still chasing, but in reality, the bar I just passed was open, and there was a bike parked—Filippo's. I try to increase the pace even more, at least to get closer to the leader. I stop only for 3 minutes in a restaurant to buy Coca Cola, an ice cream, and two sandwiches, which I devour on the bike while pedaling. The average speed for the first 10 hours is quite high, over 29 km/h, including almost a kilometer of walking in the mud.
Arriving in Punta Ala, I make the first real stop to eat, fill the pockets and water bottles, rest my legs a bit, and continue. Filippo arrives 15 minutes after me, and in the end, we leave Punta Ala more or less together. Until just after sunset, we ride side by side at a frantic pace; both of us are feeling great. Around 9:00 PM, we're almost at what the organization tells us is the last available place to eat because everything will be closed later. At this point, Filippo and I decide to negotiate for a joint finish. We're already far from the third, and continuing at this pace during the night can become dangerous, especially downhill. The night passes quite quickly; we manage to chat a bit and enjoy the last climbs in the cool air. Morning comes early, and with the sunrise, I cross the finish line a few minutes before 7:00 AM, just in time for breakfast at the campground.
It was a truly exciting race, with breathtaking landscapes, all types of terrain, technical sections, and above all, many people and friends to share this passion for cycling. I had a lot of fun, thanks to Gianluca, the organizer, the entire Fiorino Mud staff, and, last but not least, Bicycle Line for believing in what I do.
See you next year!
