Yesterday has come to an end, and this morning, still charged with the incredible energy you gave us, I went up to the mountain passes. It was very early—I couldn’t sleep. It was just before 5 a.m., before sunrise. There was no light yet, but in the distance, I could sense its promise. The promise of the light that is about to arrive is one of the most beautiful spectacles we are gifted. It’s the light that drives away the darkness, the promise of the future, the gift of a new day.

Light is not just an abstract entity. Light is made up of countless tiny packets of energy—photons. Light is pure energy, spreading through space in the form of photons. Light is the echo of a primordial vibration, from the moment we crossed from nothingness into creation. Light is matter that chose to have no weight, so it could reach everywhere. Light is what happens when energy becomes visible. It’s the echo of a primal vibration, a motion that needs no mass to set a direction, matter without mass—perhaps an expression of divine will. And light never stops: it dances, bends, travels, caresses—like the effort that united us across the Dolomite passes, with a single direction: forward.

During the Maratona dles Dolomites - Enel, every pedal stroke we made was like a photon. Every breath we struggled through was a wave. Every glance from someone climbing in silence was a form of energy that traveled far beyond the next turn. And now that the race is over, we realize that this light remains. It stays on flushed cheeks, in tired smiles, in the memory of a body that dared. It stays with those who didn’t finish this time, but found the inner light to say that starting was already enough, and that they’ll be back. Because light is never consumed: it is passed on, and it lingers.

We can say that light is dual—it moves in waves, with wavelengths and frequencies that define its color, the few colors we humans can see—and it’s also a particle, behaving like a stream of energy. In my view, it’s the perfect metaphor for the human being, who exists and moves through space: we are flow and presence, rhythm and impact. Body and dream, like soul and heart.

And so too is the energy of all who pedaled together—not lost. I felt it on the passes this morning, because it settles into things: into the kind gestures of volunteers and their endless smiles, in the sound of the forest that served as our stage, in the voice of the mountains that cheered us on and painted our journey with color. And now, as the body rests and the bikes are laid down, the light continues and becomes luminous rest.

What a beauty, ladies and gentlemen. A pause that is not emptiness, but preparation—with a full silence, like the one that comes just before dawn. The Maratona is not just a race—it was again this year a passage, proof that when energy is shared, it changes form: it becomes beauty, harmony, care.
And so, after the climb, after the finish line, after the breathless moments, flat tires, and shared toasts, we can say it with certainty:
We have generated light.

And this light will remain—in the eyes of those who were there, and on the roads of those who will come next year to seek and carry with them a little bit of PEACE.

michil costa