Today I almost got hit by a car. Not because the driver didn't see me, we in fact made eye contact, but because she did and decided that my position as a squishable object did not over-power her position as a squisher, such is life.
Later on, I'm 95% two elderly women were cheering me on in Italian to keep going. I only like to think this because at that moment in my run I need immense motivation. So that 5% of doubt is probably correct.
I treat being able to see snow-capped Alps as my reward for running up Montichiari's only, very large hill.
The hardest part of my run you might assume is the delightful challenge of having to dodge all the cars and fellow pedestrians on the streets without breaking an ankle or losing pace, but really it's having to run past all the cafes and pasticcerias in town after they have finished all their baking for the day. Torture.
Overall, running in Italy is dreadful and truthfully most of my runs turn into walks, but in the end I go out most days to run to see more of Montichiari and spend time at my favorite spots--balancing out my massive consumption of Nutella and staving off diabetes for a little longer is just the added bonus.
Ciao!