When the Giro d’Italia is suspended between heaven and hell

He has already been in heaven. May 21, 1962. A Monday. Giro d’Italia, third stage, the Sestri Levante-Panicagliora, 225 kilometres. “Three men on the run. Me, Germano Barale and the Belgian Jos Hoevenaers. Tricolor finish line in Castelnuovo, but in Carbonaia. Almost in my house. And I won it.” For that matter, he’s already been in purgatory. Four days later, May 25, 1962. A Friday. Giro d’Italia, seventh stage, the Fiuggi-Montevergine di Mercogliano, 224 kilometres. “I had a fever. And I paid for it. I reached the finish line, but out of time”.

Olimpio Paolinelli, from Lucca from Piegaio Basso di Pescaglia and then from Castelnuovo di Garfagnana, a legendary life. Starting with the name: “My father wanted to call me after Bizzi, who was called Olimpio, but who was called ‘il Morino’ by everyone, a phenomenon from Livorno who even beat Gino Bartali. At the registry office they wrote Olympus instead of Olimpio, and that error haunts me with every request for a certificate”. To continue with the family: “Papà Virgilio and mamma Pia, sharecroppers. Seven brothers and five sisters, me the tenth. Little desire to study, to say nothing. You were already lucky to finish the fifth grade, yet I dropped out in the middle of the year. Until one of my brothers returned from Africa, where he had been a prisoner of war like Fausto Coppi, he asked what I was doing at home, then he grabbed me by the ears and took me back to class, and so as not to lose sight of the teacher, in agreement with my brother, he placed me near the desk”. To continue with the work, or rather the work: “At the age of 13 I was already like a grown man. Farmer, woodcutter, worker, pork butcher, later forester… And runner”.

The pink race is a tour of memories and dreams, adventures and misadventures, businesses and crises, stories and passions. Another Giro is the column by Marco Pastonesi who will accompany us along the roads of the Giro d’Italia 2023

Also legendary as a runner, the Olimpo-Olimpio: “The passion inherited from my father, a good cyclist, independent Italian champion. The first bike was that of Antonio Poli, first a racer and then a mechanic in Lucca. He welded, mounted, painted with the brush. I had saved 20,000 lire by cutting and selling wood in the winter, the bike cost me 18,000, I was left with 2,000. The first victory in San Salvatore di Montecarlo, until noon a terrible storm, at 3 pm the start, I arrived there with a backpack, the group had already left, the race director stopped him and ordered them to wait for me, then I separated them all. I was a hybrid runner. I managed everywhere, I beat Bitossi in the sprint, the climb was my forte, but the truth is that we were all stronger than those who ride it today. Born barefoot, raised without heating, some hardened by war and some by hunger, even if we peasants were luckier, and we Paolinellis, with four cows, wheat, potatoes and secretly milk, managed even during the war. And then the passion. Even now I don’t miss a stage of the Giro on TV. The Giro is also a celebration for those who ride it”.

A year and a half as a professional, Olimpo-Olimpio: “First with Ignis, with whom I also made a retreat in Varese, then immediately with Torpado, which offered me little more, but always little less than what I earned at the salami factory: 70,000 lire a month for 10 months instead of 90,000 a month for 12 months, but being on the saddle was better than being behind the counter. I took part in the 1962 Giro with the Torpado, I satisfied myself with racing and the curiosity of a rider, I looked for a job, I answered an advertisement in the newspaper, it was Cite that was looking for a seller of television stabilizers for Spain, I found myself racing for another three-four months for Cite which also had a team of professionals directed by Sandrino Carrea and Michele Gismondi, two supporters of Fausto Coppi”.

The Olimpo-Olimpio would have to tell about it: “That time when, still an amateur, I set the record on Ghisallo, better than Coppi. That time when, as a professional, at the 1961 Giro di Lombardia, after Ghisallo and Superghisallo, who fell behind due to two punctures, on the Sormano climb I caught up and even pulled away from Jacques Anquetil. That time when, at the 1963 Giro del Piemonte, valid as a pre-world championship, in the Valenza Po circuit, ready-go-in-break, at each lap a gold pin and a Freisa carboy were awarded, first in the first six laps , the race was seven laps and on the seventh I broke out, a pity, but I went home enriched. That time, in the Florence circuit, but in Sesto Fiorentino, in 1962, I threw the sprint to Guido Carlesi, who wasn’t from my team, my sporting director Vasco Bergamaschi asked me why I had done it, I told him the truth, Carlesi he promised me 150,000 lire. The time when, having stopped for about ten years, I went back to racing, Fanini blue and white jersey, Alan bike, but on its own, as a pastime, but time had passed”.

Paolinelli, 87 years old on November 15th, would then have had a second life, perhaps a third or fourth, in running on foot: “On the track and in the mountains, cross-country and marathons, Tuscan and Italian champion, winner of the Passatore and reserve at the World . Maybe I’ll tell you next time.” Done deal.