Classic screenplay, same movie: for a week everyone stops and cautious ahead of the first mountain stage, then comes the first mountain stage, everyone stops and cautious because there's wind, because you need to first evaluate your strengths, because after five or six flat days the leg arrives stiff at the pace change, so everyone stops and cautious until the last climb, better, until the last two kilometers of the last climb, various attacks (this time Ciccone and Bernal), then sprint among the best, order of arrival minimal soup, classification only slightly altered by time bonuses, just to be able to say later it was already something, what more did you expect, this was a climb in name only, there was no ground to attack, we were climbing at 35 per hour, we must wait for the third week, the Giro is long and anything can happen. Amen.

Classic screenplay and usual movie in Tagliacozzo too. First mountain stage and always the same old story. Last year there was the boredom of having Pogacar, always him, always his predictable and obvious attacks, this year there's the boredom of not having Pogacar, because without him all the others don't unleash themselves freely, but instead take advantage to stay calm and wait, wait, wait...

Us with them, another Giro to wait for. Like in a dentist's waiting room. Lots of patience is needed. Sooner or later, two years ago in the final time trial, the Giro will be decided. Always later, never before. And so if it's not soup, it's soggy bread, if it's not boredom, it's still boredom. With or without Pogacar. Personal taste: I choose Pogacar's "boredom" all my life, this is the boredom of laziness and mediocrity.

He says: calm down, we're just at the beginning. I agree, but I also know our guys. Always ready for tomorrow, never for today. Like the national health service: they schedule appointments very far ahead. Now the next one is for the white roads (personal opinion: thank goodness they exist, they can do more damage than climbs, as long as they don't neutralize the classification due to excessive gravel).

Let's say it: the first week closes and here if it wasn't for Pedersen we'd be twiddling our thumbs, watching them parade, with a thousand excuses and a thousand mitigating circumstances. One day you slip, one day there's wind, one day the right terrain is missing, one day everything is decided in the third week. Emotions, heart-pounding? Not present. But don't you dare say it. We'd come across as defeatists and critics. So let's meekly follow along: here's Tagliacozzo, public in delirium for a memorable stage. The truth now belongs to whoever tells it. Let's tell it like this, as we like to tell ourselves.