Paralysis on the Finestre: Why I Can’t Stop Thinking About the Giro’s Stage 20
On the penultimate day of the Giro d’Italia, we expected a showdown. What we got instead was silence, and a lingering sense that something slipped through our fingers.
Hello cycling fans,
It’s been over a week since the Giro d’Italia ended, and I still can’t stop thinking about what went down on the Colle delle Finestre on stage 20. Specifically: what was going through Isaac del Toro’s mind as he climbed that legendary mountain, marking Carapaz but never attacking, watching Simon Yates slip away, and doing nothing to stop it?
It haunts me. And in my spiral, I entertained wild theories—emphasis on wild. Did Adam Yates quietly sabotage Del Toro to help his brother? Was this some kind of British-engineered redemption arc, bought and paid for behind the scenes? I know, I know, this won’t win me any Yates fans. But these are the kinds of thoughts that creep in when something feels off and the logical explanations fall short.
But the more I sit with it, the more I find myself returning to a quieter, less dramatic truth; one that doesn’t satisfy the conspiracies, but lingers all the same.
Keep scrolling, and let’s try to make sense of it together.
–Rosael
🚴♀️ What’s Next on the Racing Calendar?
🇫🇷 Critérium du Dauphiné June 8–15 – Peacock (US) | FloBikes (Canada) | TNT Sports/Discovery+ (UK)
🇨🇭 Tour de Suisse (W) June 12–15 – FloBikes (US & Canada) | TNT Sports/Discovery+ (UK)
🇨🇭 Tour de Suisse (M) June 15–22 – same as above
🇫🇷 Tour de France (M) July 5–July 27 – Peacock (US) | FloBikes (Canada) | TNT Sports/Discovery+ (UK)
🇮🇹 Giro d’Italia (W) July 6–14 – FloBikes (Canada) | TNT Sports/Discovery+ (UK)
🇬🇧 The Women’s Tour of Britain wrapped up on Sunday, and you can find full race replays and highlights on British Cycling’s YouTube Channel.
Paralysis on the Finestre: Why I Can’t Stop Thinking About the Giro’s Stage 20
A week after the Giro ended, I keep replaying Stage 20 in my mind, looking for answers that may never come. The facts are simple enough—Simon Yates rode into pink, Isaac del Toro rode out of it—but the emotions, the decisions, the hesitations… those are harder to make sense of.
We were primed for a battle on the Colle delle Finestre: Del Toro defending the maglia rosa, Carapaz on the attack, a final mountain to settle three weeks of tension. But what unfolded was not the war of attrition we expected. It was a strange, slow unraveling. Del Toro and Carapaz didn’t chase. Yates flew. And somewhere in the long valley to Sestriere, the Giro changed hands without resistance.
Fans are haunted not because Del Toro lost, but because of how he lost, not in a blaze of glory, not in a dramatic explosion, but in a moment of paralysis and quiet, tactical stillness. Two contenders watched another ride away and chose not to follow.
Credit to Visma-Lease a Bike, who executed a near-perfect satellite strategy. They placed Wout van Aert in the breakaway, not just for a stage win, but to tow Yates through the descent and the valley. It’s a tactic that requires timing, discipline, and committed execution. It’s also one UAE-XRG should be familiar with, as they’ve lost races to this exact scenario before.
So why did UAE-XRG repeat the same mistake?
It’s starting to feel like a pattern. For all their firepower, UAE-XRG often rides as if talent alone is enough. When you have a Tadej Pogačar, or, in this case, a rising star like Del Toro, it’s easy to believe the legs will solve everything. But when strategy falters, even the strongest rider can end up alone.
While Visma streamlined everything around Yates, UAE-XRG spread themselves thin. They kept too many riders high on GC: Adam Yates, Brandon McNulty, and Rafal Majka, all seemingly to hedge bets. But having four riders in the top 15 means little if your leader is alone when it matters. It kept potential helpers too close to be allowed in breakaways, and too fatigued from defending the jersey to do damage in the final mountain stages.
Why didn’t they back Del Toro fully when it counted? Why didn’t they let others fall back on GC earlier to become true domestiques? Why was he left alone in the last 30km of the most important stage?
We search for reasons. Was Del Toro told to sit up? Was Carapaz playing mind games? Did team strategies clash? These are the kinds of questions fans love to ask, not to stir scandal, but to make sense of a sport that so often dances on the edge of logic. And if we keep asking, we eventually arrive at something quieter, and perhaps more truthful: Did Del Toro’s cool and composed youth betray him? Did he freeze, not just from pressure, but from fear? Fear of making the wrong move, or of being the one left with nothing?
Philippa York called Visma’s plan “an ideal scenario”—one that rarely works in real life. But it did. Not because it was perfect, but because UAE-XRG let it happen.
And maybe that’s the answer; not some conspiracy or act of betrayal, but something more familiar and more human. A young rider, brilliant and brave, was caught in a kind of paralysis; overwhelmed by the moment, uncertain of what to do, and frozen between fear and instinct. A team worn thin by three weeks of defending the jersey. A tactical standoff that became a slow-motion surrender.
And when Del Toro crossed the finish line in Sestriere, it seemed, for a moment, that even he wasn’t sure what had just happened. Instead of collapsing into disappointment, he smiled, celebrated with his team, and tried to look proud. Maybe it was an act of composure. Maybe it was a shield. But it felt off. It felt like someone trying to save face in a moment when the more honest reaction, the more human one, might have been to show a little heartbreak.
As fans, we live for the big moments: attacks, counterattacks, tears on the podium. But sometimes, it’s the silence that stays with us. The valley where no one chased. The wheel that wasn’t followed. The race that slipped away not with a bang, but a pause.
Del Toro may say he has no regrets. But we might carry them for him, not because we expected perfection, but because in the thick of the battle, the bull didn’t charge. Not even when the horizon burned red with opportunity. In a moment when the beauty and brutality of this sport demanded instinct, he froze.
They say the Colle delle Finestre gets its name because, on the grueling way up, you can’t see the summit, just more steep road. You climb and climb, unsure of where the road ends. But once you reach the top, the view is so stunning, so clear, it’s like opening a window into a paradise you didn’t know was there.
On Stage 20, that window opened for Yates, for Visma, for everyone who dared to take the risk. Yates didn’t just benefit from hesitation; he recognized the opening, committed fully, and rode like someone who knew exactly what was at stake. That’s not luck. That’s racing.
But for Del Toro, for UAE, and those of us watching with hope in our chests, it stayed shut. The view we imagined never came. Just questions, shadows, and the ache of what might have been.