After a wonderful Saturday spent with friends, watching the event we created come to life once again, we reached our goal: making people smile as we shared in what we all love: Running. Sunday, however, was my turn. I had one last long run planned before the year’s grand finale: the Valtellina Wine Trail in two weeks.
As I considered my route, I realized I longed for one last trip to Alpstein before the season’s end, and I wanted to share those trails with my beloved wife. That’s when the idea came to me: why not start from my doorstep and run all the way to the mountains? The thought alone felt like an adventure, and it turned out to be the best decision.
I watched the sun rise as I climbed through soft, green fields, gradually approaching the foot of the “real mountains,” where rocky trails began to stretch out before me. Eventually, I reached our destination: a delicious lunch at the Meglisalp Gasthaus. What a day it was. I can’t wait to relive such an experience.
Visiting Morocco for work is undeniably different from visiting for leisure. It offers the opportunity to peel back its outer layers and discover the authentic customs that may differ from those shown on television.
Like every country, Morocco embodies strong contradictions. Here, you’ll witness contrasts between day and night, heaven and hell, unity and division, wisdom and ignorance, generosity and greed, harmony and chaos, freedom and captivity, dreams and reality.
The landscape is chameleonic. Not only does it transform with every step, but the same location can appear vastly different depending on the time of day.
The Moroccan people are welcoming and possess boundless generosity. They consistently attend to your needs, offering assistance and hospitality at every turn, within the constraints of their social structure.
My time in Morocco taught me a lot. It’s all about adapting because every day brings unexpected challenges. Amidst my worries, the phrase “Inshallah” that I kept being told every other minute, reminded me to stay hopeful and determined, interpreting it as a commitment to making things work, rather than just leaving it up to fate.
After successfully co-founding two trail running races, is it now legitimate to add “Race Organizer” as a job title?
Another epic day was spent outdoors on Saturday, November 25th, at the first Altstätter Berglauf.
Upon moving to Switzerland, I immediately fell in love with Altstätten, a little gem nestled at the foot of the Appenzeller mountains. This charming city, with its vibrant community, serves as the gateway to countless trails weaving through forests, cascading waterfalls, lush green fields, and diverse terrains, making it a veritable paradise for various outdoor activities.
I was surprised to discover that such a picturesque region lacked a trail running race. However, at that time, I hadn’t considered the possibility of organizing one myself. This hesitation was due to my lack of experience in race direction and limited connections with the locals, leaving me uncertain about where to begin.
Fortunately, fate intervened when I met Michelle Eigenman, initially through our shared love for live music (having performed together at a Swiss wedding). Learning that she was the mastermind behind the popular road race Städlilauf, I saw an opportunity to bring my dream to fruition.
Having gained confidence from organizing the ALL IN Trail Run in Italy since 2021, I teamed up with Michelle, and we set out to create something new in Switzerland.
Our initial plan was a traditional trail race through the beautiful forest’s single tracks, up and down the hills. However, our direction shifted when Alex Gamper, co-president of MTB Rheintal, informed us of the potential dismantling of our beautiful rack railway in the coming years unless it saw improved business. This revelation presented an opportunity to raise awareness through the region, and a sports event seemed the perfect avenue.
Putting our original route on hold, we focused on designing a new one that climbed alongside the railroad. This unique route allowed runners and supporters to benefit from the train, shuttling between the start and finish lines.
After months of collaborative efforts with a fantastic team of colleagues and friends, all race numbers sold out quickly, and the D day arrived. We were prepared to rock, each with assigned tasks.
Despite the less-than-ideal weather on November 25th (I’m a summer person), my initial worry about low runner turnout was pleasantly proven wrong. All athletes took their places at the starting blocks, and I thought, “Here we go again, it’s showtime.”
Post-start, I remained at the bottom to dismantle the area, hoping everyone was enjoying themselves. A message from Michelle in our group chat saying “Big smiles at the finish” reassured me that we had succeeded.
What I’ve learned is that organizing a race closely parallels running an ultra. The process involves phases of initial excitement, the realization of demanding preparations, and moments when you declare, “Never again!” Ultimately, you cross the finish line exhausted but with a priceless sense of reward.
Returning home, swaying through the snowy turns of San Bernardino, I reflect on my just-concluded fifth Valtellina Wine Trail.
I’ve been running for years, always finding my personal sweet spot in medium/short trail races (40-60 km). It’s the perfect balance—not too short for frantic paces, nor too long to endure nights.
In this distance, I discover harmony between joy and suffering, never letting the latter dominate and turn into a toxic experience. It’s the mystical phase of suffering that deeply imprints memories of my adventures, often emerging in the final 10 km.
Ten thousand steps, where every slight ascent becomes Manitou Spring’s incline, and every steep descent turns into a flirt with cramps. It’s the moment when one crosses the threshold of “now I can’t stop” or “I can do it,” initiating mental projections: “less than the lake’s loop” or “equivalent to a lunch break jog.”
Focusing on everything but my steps, I ignore the gps watch, which, with each glance, abruptly brings me back to reality, marking just over 400 meters covered in what felt like a kilometer.
In the last 5 km, this dimension changes again. The mental shield becomes a refreshing jog for recovery, but even this doesn’t turn into the hoped-for sedative. “I can do it” finally becomes “I did it,” unleashing an emotional storm.
Every smile, encouragement, extended hand for a high-five, every background melody, the voice of the distant speaker, causes a lump in my throat. Tears blur the view of the finish line, and in that moment, there is no other definition than: Happiness.
ITA
Tornando a casa, danzando tra le curve innevate del San Bernardino, rifletto sulla mia quinta Valtellina Wine Trail appena conclusa. Da anni corro, e fin dall’inizio ho scelto le gare di trail medio/corto (40-60 km) come il mio “sweet spot”. Un equilibrio perfetto, dove la corsa non è né troppo breve per affrontare ritmi frenetici, né troppo lunga per attraversare le notti. In questa distanza, trovo l’armonia tra gioia e sofferenza, senza lasciare che quest’ultima prenda il sopravvento, trasformandosi in un’esperienza tossica. È la sofferenza mistica che incide profondamente nei ricordi delle mie avventure, spesso emergendo nei 10 km finali. Diecimila passi, in cui ogni lieve salita diventa l’incline di Manitou Spring, e ogni discesa ripida si trasforma in un flirt con i crampi. In quel momento si supera la soglia del “ora non posso fermarmi” o “ce la posso fare”, dando inizio alle proiezioni mentali: “meno del giro del lago” o “equivalente a una corsetta in pausa pranzo”. Concentrandomi su tutto tranne che sui miei passi, ignoro l’orologio che, ad ogni occhiata, mi riporta bruscamente alla realtà, marcando appena più di 400 metri percorsi in ciò che sembrava un chilometro. Negli ultimi 5 km, questa dimensione cambia ancora. La protezione mentale diventa una corsetta di defaticamento, ma nemmeno questa si trasforma nella sperata pillola sedativa. Il “ce la posso fare” diventa finalmente un “ce l’ho fatta”, dando inizio a una tempesta emotiva. Ogni sorriso, incitamento, mano tesa per il cinque, ogni melodia di sottofondo e la voce dello speaker in lontananza provocano un groppo in gola. Le lacrime appannano la vista della linea d’arrivo, e in quel momento, non c’è altra definizione: Felicità.
I appreciate psychotherapists, but I’m definitely less enthusiastic about mental coaches.
The genius fascinates me, while perfection seems less interesting to me.
I love those who put their all into it, those who throw themselves without waiting for the perfect moment, even if it means making mistakes and trying again.
I’m fascinated by authentic sports like tennis or squash, preferring them to commercial compromises like padel or pickleball, which try to entertain everyone.
I adore the talent and authentic artistic virtuosity of painters and musicians who create intelligent works, while I resent performers and their followers who proclaim themselves connoisseurs and glorify crap.
I like the spontaneity of groups of friends who share stories and experiences, while I despise communities organized by brands to gain visibility.
I appreciate those who are transparent, even if not always pleasant, while artificiality in forced positivity doesn’t convince me.
The romance in every story excites me, while the technical details behind it seem less important to me.
I like having this vision of things and the fact that everyone can have their own.
ITA
Mi piace l’autenticità delle cose.
Apprezzo gli psicoterapeuti, sono decisamente meno entusiasta dei mental coach.
Mi affascina la genialità, mentre la perfezione mi sembra meno interessante.
Amo chi ci mette tutto se stesso, chi si lancia senza aspettare il momento perfetto, anche se significa commettere errori e riprovarci.
Sono affascinato dagli sport autentici come il tennis e lo squash, preferendoli ai compromessi commerciali come il padel o il pickleball, che cercano solo di intrattenere tutti.
Adoro il talento e il virtuosismo artistico autentico di pittori e musicisti che creano opere intelligenti, mentre malsopporto i performer ed i loro seguaci che si auto-proclamano intenditori e glorificano merda.
Mi piace la spontaneità dei gruppi di amici che condividono storie ed esperienze, mentre disprezzo le community organizzate dai brand per guadagnare visibilità.
Apprezzo chi è trasparente, anche se non sempre simpatico, mentre l’artificialità nella positività forzata non mi convince.
Il romanticismo in ogni storia mi emoziona, mentre i dettagli tecnici che si nascondono dietro di essa mi sembrano meno importanti.
Mi piace avere questa visione delle cose, e mi piace il fatto che ognuno possa averne una propria.
What a confusion! The fervent passion for this sport makes us tolerate even extreme situations, as is the case here, where we approach the brink of total exasperation. Trail running, the most primitive form of physical activity that only requires one’s own body and a trail, is experiencing its peak of popularity in 2023. Undoubtedly, the Golden Trail World Series has greatly contributed to this fame, transforming simple races into captivating entertainment for enthusiasts, attracting new followers, and piquing the curiosity of many.
This system, which aims to add more competition to the event, seems like a forced addition, as emphasized by Jonas, who concludes by saying “Keep it Simple Stupid.”
Finally, the event schedule is the last element causing uncertainty among participants. The prologue takes place in Spotorno, while the main race is in Noli. Women compete on Thursday and Saturday, while men on Friday and Sunday. Start times alternate between 10 AM and 10:15 AM on different days and the entertainment is divided between the two towns, with daytime activities in one and evening events in the other. Eavesdropping on the local residents, I hear them discussing in confusion where the concert will be held, as it seems there are stages set up in both locations. One person concludes, “Nothing’s clear here.”
However, sometimes, as seen in the final of the Golfo dell’Isola Trail, this forced spectacularization creates a lot of confusion. Starting with the choice of the location, split between Spotorno and Noli, which ironically seems in line with the proposed format: picturesque but complicated places.
The “petal” course, where runners repeatedly pass through the starting point for ever-changing loops, was designed to facilitate live event broadcasting but appears intricate.
Another element of confusion is the ranking system. Conversing with Jonas Svengård, Team Manager Nordics, I discovered that I’m not the only one who doesn’t fully understand it. Even though there are good chances for his team to win the National ranking, he’s unclear about whom his runners are competing against.
But then comes the magic: when the runners gather at the starting blocks and the countdown begins, suddenly all doubts and uncertainties dissolve, giving rise to the most sublime and elegant form of this sport. Two hours or a little more of a unique spectacle, where the world’s strongest athletes execute a meticulously planned strategy to overcome their opponents.
As soon as the race begins, I quickly move to the trails to cheer on the athletes and capture photos from the numerous breathtaking viewpoints that Liguria offers. Throughout the entire course, I met fans and volunteers, all eagerly waiting to see their idols run like lightning. “They’re flying” and “They’re superhuman” are the most common words I hear, and watching them tackle steep climbs, challenging descents, and flat sections at surreal speeds, I can only agree.
I then hurry to reach the finish line to enjoy the grand finale of this marvel. Once they cross the finish line, I admire the exhausted but happy faces of the runners, both men and women, who once again gave their all, offering a unique spectacle in this grand media showcase that is changing the face of this sport. For completeness, I remember that the winners of GTWS 2023 are the American Sophia Laukli and the Swiss Rémi Bonnet. The remaining intricate rankings can be viewed on the official website goldentrailseries.com. Once again gathered under the tent reserved for elite athletes and media, giving this event a somewhat summer camp feel, my roommate, the Norwegian athlete Hans Kristian Smedsrød, asks me how I envision trail running in 10 years, emphasizing how technology will allow smaller organizations to create entertainment around their races. I reply that I hope trail running continues to grow while maintaining its authenticity. Whether this is the right direction, I don’t know, but certainly, all my initial doubts about this specific event have been dispelled, and I hope my concerns about the future of this sport also find a positive answer.
Ora che sono trascorsi alcuni giorni dalla terza edizione dell’ALL IN, trovo finalmente il tempo per scrivere due righe. Rivivendo i momenti di quella meravigliosa giornata attraverso le fotografie (che presto pubblicheremo) e guardando con orgoglio i volti sorridenti delle persone divertite, mi viene in mente un’analogia che mi riporta indietro nel tempo. Vi ricordate quando da bambini in spiaggia costruivamo castelli di sabbia? Quelli che riuscivano meglio, i più maestosi ed imponenti, che attiravano gli sguardi dei passanti curiosi, spesso non erano opera interamente nostra. Sicuramente nascevano dalla nostra immaginazione, ma la vera forza in grado di costruirli e rifinirli in ogni dettaglio veniva spesso dai nostri genitori o dai nonni. Ecco, l’ALL IN è il castello che nasce dal frutto della nostra immaginazione, ma per costruirlo e farlo reggere in piedi, anno dopo anno, non sarebbero bastate le nostre idee, la nostra passione per la corsa e la voglia di far divertire chi partecipa. Per il successo di questo evento è stato indispensabile il contributo e il gigantesco supporto fornito dall’associazione @mattdecasaa . Amici sempre pronti a dare più di quanto gli venga richiesto, e a sacrificare il loro prezioso tempo per renderci felici. I Matt sono come i nostri genitori/nonni, e noi del Ciuk Running Team siamo i bambini più felici ed orgogliosi di tutta la spiaggia. Il nostro castello porta la nostra bandiera sulla torre più alta, ma credo di poter dire a nome di tutto il team quanto siamo grati per il dono che ci viene fatto anno dopo anno. #correrefaschifo#mementofinirefiniti
September is my so-called emotional month when I have hit the lowest and brightest moments of my life. The month I lost my most inspirational man. The one who taught me that being kind and loveful to everyone who deserves it is always right. The man who taught me there is no shame about being honest and expressing genuine feelings, even if this means showing your weakness. Being authentic will always pay off in the end. But it was also the month I learned I was about to become the dad of the most wonderful baby I have ever seen. Since that day, I started relating to all those stupid parenting quotes. It is the month my beloved summer fades away, leaving behind a dull colour palette that, besides its romantic mood, keeps reminding me that winter is at the door. It is the month I have the most fun organising and participating in the year’s best races and events. The month I feel invincible and fragile at the same time, excited and scared, anxious and mindful. Some would call it being bipolar; I call it being myself.
Following the scandal that emerged after Martina Valmassoi’s post, I firmly believe it deserves a few thoughts from everyone. For some years, I have disliked the direction of the UTMB world tour and, consequently, the entire Trail Running movement. Now I feel it is currently going too far. The whole qualifying score system, where the amount of points you earn from the race only depends on how much the race organizer paid the ITRA company, ignoring how complex, technical, or spectacular the race is, sounds unethical, not to say like a mafia. I earned most ITRA points in the worst shitholes and no points at all on top of the world’s most beautiful mountains in Austria. And next year is about to get even worse when the runners will be qualified for UTMB only by collecting enough “tuning stones” that they will earn only by racing at events owned by UTMB.
The second criticism highlighted by Martina is regarding the registration fee. Her complaint was not only about the outrageous price of €270 but also because Elite runners had no discount. In my opinion, this is the only fair choice UTMB has made since this sport is committed to equality, and Elites runners often have a sponsor that will pay their fee. But. (There is a big BUT) from an organizational point of view, what would justify such a high price? The Staff? Most of them are volunteers paid with food and drinks and a sweatshirt with a sponsor on it. Exactly. Sponsors, covering infrastructure costs at aid stations, food & beverages, and finisher prizes. Than what? Prize money? Only €10.000 were allocated to prizes this year and only for the UTMB race. (none for TDS or PTL) I have organized, since a couple of years now, a race that is nothing remotely comparable to UTMB. We have 200 registrants instead of 10.000, and we have only about 20 volunteers covering 24km of trails instead of 170km. Our registration fee this year was €20, and with it, we managed, with no sponsors, to cover the costs for logistics, food & beverage at aid stations, and a small finisher prize (a Mug) A stupid logic brings me to do simple maths where: 170km is around seven times 24km, but €270 is thirteen times €20. And if we compare as an example, just the TDS having around 1600 runners paying for €270, with our 200 runners paying for €20, it makes a €423.000 income on a €4000. Over a hundred times more. I fully understand that a race going over days and nights on Mont Blanc requires much more safety, rescuers, and infrastructure than any other race, but is it that much of a difference? Or is it because the organizers are well aware that the unique spectacle between Chamonix, Courmayeur, and Champex is unrepeatable, and runners would pay any price to run it? But why does UTMB acquire the right to charge these aberrant fees to run on mountains they do not own? Mountains should belong to the entire population. Well, because UTMB is not a race anymore, but a Brand. And the law of economic demand explains that higher demand generates a higher price. Is this legit? Yes. Is it ethically correct? No. Capitalism is not always (not to say never) ethically correct. But this is probably one of the worst parts of Capitalism, where they savagely monetize people’s passion and love for nature. Is this what made you deeply fall in love with this sport? We all know most of us are hooked on running gear and spend crazy amounts of money on shoes, clothes, and electronic devices we actually do not need to run. But isn’t this going too far? UTMB isn’t even selling a physical product; it is literally selling Air. Fresh and clean Air indeed, but that we could have for free. I am not suggesting anyone boycott a UTMB event, but just be curious, when subscribing to your next race, about who you are financing, what is the philosophy of the race and what are the founding values of the organization. And if you are living close to the Mont Blanc region, start thinking of founding your race that stays in line with the authentic running values.
It all started in 2017 when my friend Manuel and I while running our hometown hills in northern Italy, thought we should have a running team. But a fun one. Unlike the usual running teams that focus on the performance and results of their athletes, looking for sponsors, and recruiting proselytes that pay fees that allows them to run. Running requires no sophisticated add-ons, and our goal was to have an authentic and genuine group of people who do not take themselves seriously. Because, as I always say: running is a game where to share stories, feelings and emotions. So we founded the Ciuk Running Team. Initially with our closest running friends. It started with funny hashtags like #correrefaschifo (Running sucks) and #mementofinirefiniti (remember finishing trashed out), then with an Instagram page @ciukrunningteam that slowly started catching attention from our local running community. Then in early 2021, we thought it was time to go further and have a race in our woods. Late night Zoom meetings with the team to brainstorm, gather ideas and retrieve pieces of information on “how to organise a race” since most of us only participated in races as runners. We knew we couldn’t be perfect, we were full of doubt and fearful of forgetting crucial parts, but we just thought, “fuck it, we’re gonna do this anyway.” After months spent coordinating, setting up things, overthinking what could go wrong, building infrastructure and poor sleeping, we finally made it. On September 5th 2021, the pilot edition (zero) of the ALL IN Trail Run took place in Casale Litta. We woke up at dawn, setting the last details into place, and when we saw the first runners arriving, we thought, “That’s it! It’s happening. It’s showtime!” The weather was also on our side. Sunny morning lights illuminated wonderfully every people’s smile, spreading good vibes all over the place. What happened next is in this video from last year. I learned from this experience that if you wish for something to happen, don’t wait too long. Make it happen. See you this year on September 4th, ready to run fast, dig deep into your personal pain cave, and come out of it as a better human being. ALL IN
