🏃♂️ Five months later, I found out why I almost dropped out at Ironman Emilia-Romagna. And the whole thing was a coincidence. 🤭
There are things you learn in courses. Others from books. And some… at the table, after a race, with the right people.
After Gerar, as usual, we went out to a restaurant. Us—our Gerar crew, the Inglourious Basterds. We see each other rarely, but regularly. With Bogdan once a year, right there, like clockwork. With Gabi and Valeria at two or three competitions a year, and we celebrate every time the same way: good food, lots of stories, laughter, and piecing the year back together from fragments. ☺️ The kind of meal where you’re not rushing anywhere, where everyone pulls out of their backpack what they’ve lived through even between two races.
At some point, inevitably, we get to Cervia. Ironman Emilia-Romagna. I tell what I’ve told here too: that I wasn’t destroyed, that it wasn’t my legs that stopped me, that it wasn’t lack of energy, but a weird, deep stab on the right side that showed up only when I ran. And it got worse if I ate or drank anything. That I could walk relatively OK, but running bent me over like an existential question mark—with legs. That “emotional appendicitis,” if you’ve read my experience or if you still remember it. 🤭
And then Gabi says something like:
“Man, I had something really similar. And I went to this guy… a physiotherapist. He told me about a muscle… damn. What’s it called… it’s not coming to me right now, but I’ll ask him.”
We all look at him.
- A muscle?
- Yeah, one of those you don’t know exists, but when it gets pissed off, it ruins your life.
Perfect. Exactly what I needed.
He didn’t remember the name then. We laughed, changed the subject, ate, drank, and ended the evening like normal people who don’t see each other often and want to squeeze everything out of that time.
A few days later, I get a message: “Man, I remembered. The muscle I was talking about is called the iliopsoas.”
Well, damn… it sounds like a Wi‑Fi password or a tropical disease, but in that moment a few things that had been haunting me for months finally lined up. More precisely, for five months.
Because that pain in Cervia didn’t bother me out of pride. I don’t have a problem when things go badly. I have a problem when I don’t understand why. Because if I don’t know why, I don’t know what to do next time. Or how to prevent it. Or at least be able to say: “yeah, it was my fault.”
So I did what any responsible person does in 2026: I asked my good friend Marcel (ChatGPT). 😂 I told him the whole story, no polishing. I asked him plainly: “Is it possible it was this? And how likely?”
The answer hit me harder than the pain at km 32. In short: yes. Very likely. Almost textbook.
The iliopsoas is the muscle that connects your torso to your leg. It’s deep, discreet, and works like crazy on the bike and on the run. It stays compressed for hours on the bike, especially in heat, wind, dehydration. And when you finish and start running, if it’s already irritated, it won’t let you run normally. It’ll let you walk, but it punishes you if you try to run. Exactly what I lived through.
It doesn’t drop you like a cramp. It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t stop you brutally. It negotiates with you. And if you add on top of that the fact that, surprise, I already had a virus in me (Covid, confirmed later), the picture is complete.
That doesn’t change anything about what happened in Cervia. But it changes everything about how I look at that episode.
It wasn’t weakness.
It wasn’t drama.
It wasn’t “by your 14th Ironman you’re not as motivated anymore.”
It was a small, invisible detail that pulled the handbrake so something else wouldn’t tear. I finished the race. Crooked, hunched, negotiating every kilometer. But I finished it. And now, finally, I know why. 👍
I’m not telling you to take everything I’ve written here as gospel. I’m not a doctor (neither is Marcel), and I don’t want to sound like one. But if you run a lot, if you do triathlon, if you’ve ever felt a nameless pain that shows up only when running and disappears when walking, I recommend one thing: read about the iliopsoas.
At least know it exists. At least know who you’re negotiating with next time. And if it happens to you again… at least know that yes, it was your fault.
Or not. 😂
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