What, no koozie?

The title of this post refers to my incredulousness at the paucity of koozies in the Old World. And by paucity I mean total absence. How am I properly to commemorate my Grand Tour (Part Due) without a koozie emblazoned with an image of Botticelli's Birth of Venus (witnessed in all its stunning freshness this morning at the Galleria degli Ufizzi), or Giambologna's huge-buttocked Oceanus, or at the very least, a begging Roman gypsy? The Duomo? No koozies. The Ufizzi? No koozies. The Colosseum? No koozies. The countless sidewalk vendors hocking their landfill-fated schlock? No koozies. The navel of Western civilization? I spoke prematurely.

But I digress. It has become a running joke between me and, well, me, to pronounce in a voice as shocked and offended as I can muster as we pass a museum gift shop or merchant's stall, "What, no koozie?!" It's probably not funny. It isn't funny. But I say it anyway. That's what I do. I repeat unfunny things until the sheer repetition begins to border on funny.

Speaking of funny, the feeling in my legs and back and other parts not to be named after riding my rented Willier Triestina full carbon racing bike, with Sean on an identical steed beside me (unless he was in front of me or behind me), through the hills in and around Florence, Sieci, Montefiesole, Rufina, Castiglioni, Borselli, and Pontassieve for 7 hours in 95 degree heat yesterday is a kind of funny. Not a bad kind either, but unusual. Neither of us had ever ridden distances, elevations, or durations so much as approaching the 50.77 miles (81.71 kms) and 3110 feet (947.92 meters) of climbing we squeezed out of our undertrained, overexcited bodies. I don't think I can explain in any detail the thoughts that went through my head, because aside from "this is beautiful!" and "I am in such pain!" relatively little went through my head. Stopping at the occasional, timely water spout, which in Italy are ubiquitous, and in the higher elevations, ice cold and clean, unlike any water I've drank, Sean and I would share a look that said, "Are we really here? Are we really doing this?" Sometimes we would say the words aloud, but there was really no need. To that effect, here are some photos to do my speaking for me, although the proverbial thousand words that each picture speaks fall far short of the experience. (Those of you who are reading this will hear more from me in person after I have had more time to process the experience. Plus, we are riding another 50 miles to Siena tomorrow, where we will be staying for 2 nights, most likely exploring some of the country down there by bike as well.)

The riders, day 1, above Olmo, Italy.

Action photo, day 1, Adam climbing the Tuscan hills toward Polcanto, Italy.

Injured by a banana, day 1, somewhere on the Via Faentina, Italy.

Much needed rest stop, day 1, Polcanto, Italy.

Last espresso and slash before descent back into Florence, day 1, Molinaccio, Italy.

Beside the Arno, hot as blazes, day 2, Sieci, Italy.

First climb of day 2, vineyards and villa above Sieci, Italy.

Windmill at top of first climb, day 2, Montefiesole, Italy.

First descent, day 2, below Montefiesole, above Rufina, Italy (in background).

God-sent cold water spigot near a chiesa on a very long, hot climb, Castiglione, Italy.

Much needed break, Castiglione, Italy.

A small slice of shade, Castiglione, Italy.

The chiesa, Castiglione, Italy. Many more kms. of climbing ahead of us.

Map of ride 2: Florence, Rufina, Castiglione, Rimaggio, Borselli (the blessed top of the climb), Pontassieve, and back.

A graph of ride 2: elevation in meters on the left, distance in kilometers on the bottom.

Tomorrow, we do much the same as yesterday, but this time we make a straight line instead of a circle, from Florence to Siena:

51 miles, 4200 feet of climbing, and 2 days in an ancient city with only the barest of essentials, just what we can carry comfortably on our backs. We take the train back on Saturday, when I will resume this record of our two-wheeled adventure in time and space, on new roads through old countryside. No dragons or unicorns yet, but here's hoping.