There are some sports sessions that we don't forget. This can be due to various reasons : success in a difficult exercise, an intensity so high that we almost pass out, an unfortunate injury or some ideal training conditions.

A few weeks ago, sitting in the stands right after a track & field competition, I was talking with my teammates about an upcoming trip to Rome. One of them, Ahmed, said to me : « You have to train at the Stadio dei Marmi, it's beautiful ». We all laughed, because he really said it with his best Italian accent. Nevertheless, I looked at some pictures of the stadium on my phone, out of curiosity, and I immediately understood why he had recommended it to me with such conviction. I told him that I would go.

Four days later I was on a bus ride in the suburbs of Rome, heading for the infamous Stadio Dei Marmi. In Europe, all subways look the same: big underground stations, white-lit cars, and crowdedness during rush hours. Buses differ a little more from a country to another : the driver's style, the proportion of fare evaders or even their ability to run on time, after time, or not at all.

The bus dropped me off at the De Bosis stop, on the banks of the Tiber. Apparently, Lauro De Bosis was a poet and an aviator. He died in a plane crash after dropping anti-fascist leaflets over a city of Rome that Mussolini had taken over: I guess he at least deserves to have his name on a bus stop. I headed towards the stadium, asking passers-by for directions. What is cool about Italy is that if you don't understand what people are saying, you can always read the subtitles on their hands.

As I continued to walk I saw one, then two, then three statues in the distance. That's when I knew I had arrived. Suddenly, I saw the fifty-seven other figures that were surrounding the track and seemed to watch over the athletes who were training there. They were illuminated by a bright sun that warmed this autumn morning.

I spent a long time walking around the stadium watching all these athletes throw, jump, run, stretch. They didn't seem to be as amazed as I was at the environment in which they had the chance to do it. I wondered if they were simply accustomed to the extraordinary, or if I was just a victim of the grass and fence theory.

After my training session, I looked for an answer to that question. That's how I met Edoardo, an Italian-American athlete. While he was warming up, we talked about his career as an ex-professional sprinter and what it meant to be a top athlete in Italy.

He then left for training. A few minutes later, I realized that I had forgotten to ask him about the stadium. But I had found the answer to my question myself anyway: in November, the grass is clearly greener on the other side of the fence. Especially the one from the Stadio Dei Marmi.