Abano Terme, Mazzuccato Cup for juniors. Ninety kilometers. A short circuit, to be done twice, then a longer circuit. There's also a climb, that of Monte Grande. Ready, go, puncture. Virginio Pizzali puts his feet on the ground, gets off the bike, tears off the old tubular, mounts a new one, inflates, restarts and chases. They didn't wait for him. Ahead, there's a battle. Two men in breakaway, then the group, and a minute and a half from the group, here's Pizzali. Head down and pedaling, Pizzali asks for information - escapees, gaps, distance - from a motorcycle judge. It ends with a bet: two thousand lire, the judge promises him, if he wins the race. Group caught, group dropped, escapees caught, escapees dropped, Pizzali will win the race. And the judge will hand him the two thousand lire. In 1952, a nice sum. Then Pizzali returns home. By bike, from Abano to Padova, by train from Padova to Udine, by bike from Udine to Mortegliano. Already night. The cup in his backpack.

At the presentation of Franco Bortuzzo's documentary about Ottavio Bottecchia in Mortegliano, last December 6th, during an evening dedicated to Friulian cycling, he was there too, Virginio Pizzali. In words, in memories, in recollection. And with a book titled "Virginio Pizzali - The Champion from Mortegliano", written by Francesco Tonizzo, published by Alba Edizioni (106 pages, 10 euros). Stories, photographs, newspaper and magazine clippings, cards and postcards, membership cards and badges. Today, December 28th, Virginio would have turned 90 years old.

That time when the teenage Pizzali faced Rino Comuzzo, a cycling amateur, in a pedaling duel on the Montenars climb, near Gemona, first staying glued to his wheel, then jumping and dropping him, and thus earning his recommendation. That time when, with Comuzzo's recommendation, the teenage Pizzali presented himself to Dino Doni in his workshop in Udine, obtained the contract, a contract that only included a wool jersey, but used. All those times when his fellow villagers, seeing him return from a race, would ask him how he finished, and all those times when the junior and then amateur Pizzali would answer them "Strac!" (tired).

That time in Paris, at the Parc des Princes, in a race among stayers, the Italian Pizzali dueled with the Spanish champion Guillermo Timoner until exhausting him, and the thirty thousand spectators stood up to applaud him, even more, to acclaim him. That time when the old Pizzali handed over all his jerseys to Renato Bulfon, now displayed in the Ciclismuseo of his Mortegliano.

And this is how Pizzali never stopped breathing, pedaling, living.