Italy’s Anello di Giano is born

In the beginning, there was movement. After countless runs across the hills of Ancona, capital of the Marche, I started noticing a streak of runners. First a few lone figures scattered around town, then one Sunday a pack of about fifteen cutting through my neighborhood. I had to find the source. One lead took me to a climbing gym downtown, where a few familiar faces hung around. In that bouldering den, I met Francesco Gabrielli. After a few exchanges, I realized he’d been meticulously building a trail circuit in the Apennines for months, that 1,000-kilometer mountain chain that runs the length of Italy. My curiosity for singular solo projects was instantly piqued.

Meeting a territory

Francesco, a support worker in daily life and also a personal sports coach, is an ultra-trail addict. He enjoys official races, but he’s just as drawn to exploring what the terrain around him can offer. That huge passion led him to dig into the region’s hiking routes: “For more than a year, I’d sometimes catch glimpses of fragments of this big loop: a route that was often concealed, hidden, never totally clear and never really laid out coherently on a map or in a guide. Almost by chance, I stumbled onto the Fabriano section of the Club Alpino Italiano (CAI) website, and there I found a page dedicated to the hiking itineraries in our region and, among them, this mysterious ‘Anello di Giano.’ As the route started to take shape in my mind, everything began to come together. That’s when the intuition hit: why not try to run it? The basic idea was as simple as it was captivating: link some of the most iconic mountains, passes, and places in the Apennines between Umbria and the Marche, starting from Fabriano and drawing a loop through areas rich in history, nature, and identity. Janus, at least as I experienced it, was never just an ‘ultra.’ It was a journey into the heart of a territory that’s as beautiful as it is fragile, and that in places seems to be slowly disappearing into silence and vegetation.”

That’s how the Anello di Giano was born. Janus? The two-faced Roman god, one looking to the past, the other to the future. A deity of beginnings and endings, thresholds and doorways… a fitting patron before tackling 180 kilometers. Above is the GPX line for this unofficial outing, with 10,000 meters of gain. After months of preparation, both logistical and physical, the start is set for Thursday, April 30, 2026. At 7 p.m. that day, Francesco rolls out from Fabriano for the challenge he’s been building toward for months, alongside another seasoned runner from Ancona, Paolo Gobbi, a member of Sforzancona which Francesco is part of as well.

© Charles-Emmanuel Pean

After the “sketches,” time for the challenge

You need a bit of experience to take on the night, the cold, the wind, and the damp that still hang over the region this time of year. The crew around Francesco, about ten people, is busy supporting him, and he’ll be the only runner to complete the entire loop. For Francesco, the Anello di Giano begins under the pull of the moon: “A long, cold night awaits us. The most exposed ridgelines are swept by an icy wind that combs through spring grass and, again and again, feels like it wants to snap us with its devastating force, as if it were an extra trial on top of the distance ahead. The harsh winter has claimed plenty of trees, now lying lifeless on the ground and slowing us down far beyond what’s reasonable. It’s a draining mental battle: lost in the thickness of the forest, in something like a dark wood, we do everything we can to get out as fast as possible and keep moving. Here too, my thoughts return to the Divine Comedy: not so much the punishment, but the storm that carries you off and strikes without respite.”

The hellish squall, which never rests,
sweeps spirits away in its violence;
whirling and striking, it torments them.

© Simone Fiorindi

© Luca Recanatini

Francesco reaches Fonte Avellana on Friday at midday with two other runners, after a brutal first night shaped by cold and wind… A few minutes to eat, change, and they’re back on the trails, relentless. Francesco clearly has split times in mind. I decided to tag along for this section to feel it from the inside, while keeping it reasonable. No way I’m going to weigh down this tight operation. I’ll do 32 kilometers with the group, just long enough to watch Francesco settle into that solid, steady stride. The weather has turned ideal now, after a tricky opening stretch. The backdrop of Monte Catria (photo below) is stunning and gives you a lift. We run between green and blue. A real paradise. Soon, Francesco has already covered more than 100 km. And aside from knee pain that occasionally makes him grit his teeth, everything is “fine.” I watch him. He looks locked in on every gesture, every bit of energy.

© Charles-Emmanuel Pean

The test of the second night

Paolo is still there, grounding Francesco with a calm, focused presence. The massive recon effort pays off, and despite a section with no real trail, the team keeps moving on the Anello di Giano, ahead of schedule. Still, Francesco’s armor, built on long days out, is only human. With the second night on the horizon, the mind takes a beating: “Just the thought of facing a second night on the move devastates me mentally. I inevitably start to feel a few physical issues too: at times, my left leg begins to hurt at the knee. I wonder if I’ll really be able to manage all of this until the next morning. Doubts and worries become more and more tangible. From there, night fully falls. It must have been around 8:30 p.m. when I slowly started giving in to sleep. The memories become more confused, blurry, almost altered. I remember climbing through a dense conifer forest, up an endless ascent entirely under the canopy. I hear my companions talking and constantly trying to keep me awake, but their voices reach me distant, muffled, as if they’re coming from somewhere else. I’m now in a kind of permanent half-sleep. I keep walking almost automatically, like a sleepwalker. I knew this moment would come sooner or later. I remember the cold, the frosted grass, and the dawn light tinting the landscape a pale violet. Even there, Morpheus calls me hard and I have to grant myself a few more short rests, lying down as best I can on the frozen grass.”

Francesco will pull out of that nighttime trance, something ultra runners talk about often. Thankfully, the 30-year-old is trained and prepared. By first light after the second night, his body takes back the wheel for the final kilometers of the Anello di Giano. His companions are still there. That kind of dedication deserves a shout in an amateur setting. Passion and friendship. The runners close in on Fabriano; the loop is about to be closed: “After passing the Monte Cipollara area, a roe deer crosses our path and snaps me awake for a moment from the night’s torpor. Soon after, I finally spot my crew’s vehicles. Everything feels unreal. Getting there means, in a way, that the feat is already done: one way or another, I would handle the last descent too and drag myself to the bottom of the valley. We’re here. It’s done. Now it’s really over. One last big descent, left turn, then straight on to the public gardens of Fabriano. The feat is complete. I’m back at the start point on schedule. I arrive running. I arrive smiling. I arrive happy to have pulled off something that, just a few months earlier, felt almost unthinkable. But more than anything, I reach the end of this adventure surrounded by a group of people who believed in me, in the project, and in the real possibility of bringing it to life. And then there’s only one word left: thank you.”

© Paolo Gobbi

A run has been born. One more reason to share a moment with friends around a common obsession. Let’s hope the Anello di Giano will be experienced in the future by other runners, too. They’ll be able to thank Francesco for all the work and all the energy he poured into this project… which isn’t a project anymore. The 31h46 on the clock proves it.

Long live the Anello di Giano.