When I came to France, I had never run more than two miles at a time. I'm still am not entirely sure how running became such a large part of my life. But I came here looking for new experiences, and the semi marathon in Paris was certainly unlike anything I have experienced before.
I used to jog occasionally in Bloomington, but it was always sporadic and I never went for more than 20 minutes. Early last semester I started jogging with a couple of friends in the program.
Our first group run included myself, Katie, a girl with our program who coached her cross country running team in highschool, Frank, also an experienced runner, and our Polish friend Bart, who lived on the edge of Poland and Germany and actually used to run across country borders.
The route led to a park not far from our dorm. 20 minutes in and they had just started warming up on the track, while I was drenched in sweat and breathing like I was about going into labor. I guess my pride dented, because after this embarrassing first run, I started going on my own more and more frequently, and after a couple of weeks (and several gallons of perspiration), I started going on longer runs with my friends. After all, Aix is a beautiful city, and there are two lovely parks just a short jog away. And when everything in your small town is closed evenings and sundays, what else is there to do?
I used to jog occasionally in Bloomington, but it was always sporadic and I never went for more than 20 minutes. Early last semester I started jogging with a couple of friends in the program.
Our first group run included myself, Katie, a girl with our program who coached her cross country running team in highschool, Frank, also an experienced runner, and our Polish friend Bart, who lived on the edge of Poland and Germany and actually used to run across country borders.
The route led to a park not far from our dorm. 20 minutes in and they had just started warming up on the track, while I was drenched in sweat and breathing like I was about going into labor. I guess my pride dented, because after this embarrassing first run, I started going on my own more and more frequently, and after a couple of weeks (and several gallons of perspiration), I started going on longer runs with my friends. After all, Aix is a beautiful city, and there are two lovely parks just a short jog away. And when everything in your small town is closed evenings and sundays, what else is there to do?
Some of our runs include the road to the mountain, a path along a ridge which offers beautiful views of the mountain and aix, and a road leading to venelles which takes us past quaint vineyards and provencal cottages. We even startled a couple of quail in a feild on the venelles run.
Several weeks ago this new hobby( or obsession) culminated in the semi marathon in Paris. My friend Katie had also signed up to run. We took an early morning train to Paris. We decided to treat ourselves and booked a hotel rather than a hostel. The day before the race we carbo-loaded, mapped our route, and went to bed early. The next morning we got onto the subway to find our car already full of determined looking men in windbreakers. They all carried duffel bags and wore expensive looking running shoes. Some of these sneakers looked like they were designed and tested by NASA engineers, with more springs and support than a mattress factory. I felt underdressed in my sweat pants, t-shirt, and sneakers from Pay-Less.
We got off of the subway at Chateau de Vincennes. I really enjoyed watching all of the runners standing in line to take the escalator out of the metro.
There were already thousands of people at the race start. We made our way to check in, where we got our number, a goody bag, and an electronic chip which we tied into our shoe-laces to record our time. The goody bag was... interesting. There was an energy drink with enough electrolites for a fleet of kenyan runners, some testosterone scented dude-shampoo, and an innocent looking tube of cream. I didn't know what this was at first, but my innocence was shattered when i saw at least half a dozen middle aged men with their hands up their shorts applying it. Anti-chaffing Cream.
That brings me to the other runners. There were about 22,000 runners from all over the world, ranging from 17 to 70. I was especially amazed at the number of older men running. There were also other students close to my age, but the over 40s were definitely the majority.
and the work out gear! holy crap i've never seen many skin tight short shorts! in every color of the rainbow, plus some nineties neons. There were windbreakers, fancy socks, sweat bands, and - my favorite- utility belts. holy water-capsule grenades batman.
The crowd began moving towards the track around 8:30. It was forecast to rain, so there were black trash bags available near the exit of the conference, and many people were taking advantage of these make-shift ponchos.
Katie and I wandered towards a crowd of runners who were warming up near the start line. They were being lead by two jazzercise instructors on a platform. It was an incredibly surreal moment- following jazzercize instructions in french in front of a medieval castle. I was nervous. I was confused. I was giggling rather hysterically.
We took our positions around 9. Runners were organized in groups based on goal-time, with the faster runners starting first. Katie was several groups ahead of me, so we agreed to meet at the finish line and separated.
And then I was off, being carried across the start line by a wave of sneakers. Within minutes runners were breaking away from the pack and off into the woods to piss. Nerves?
Within the first kilometer, I started tripping over black trash bags which runners had torn off as they got hot.
The sidelines were lined with people holding signs, blowing horns, cheering, or just sitting outside of their houses and shops watching. There were live music and speakers blaring music every few kilometers. I was excited and feeling good!
Not so my kilometer 11, when it started to rain. True, the live music and cheering crowds were exciting. but i was in pain and still had 10 km.
There were also several stands along the way handing out water and gatorade. Two of these tables also had volunteers handing out banana and orange halves. Wanna see something funny? watch thousands of runners slip and slide over a carpet of banana peels for about 30 feet, then resume their game faces as they try to pretend nothing happened and keep trucking. This is the stuff cartoonists dreams are made of.
kilometer 15: I find myself behind a man dressed as a smurf and painted blue from head to toe. I will forever have the phrase 'ALLEZ LE STROMPH (french word for smurf)' tattooed on my brain, because I had to listen to crowds chanting that for the most painful 6kms of my life.
By the last few kilometers I was wet, cold, and in considerable pain. My left foot and my lower back hurt with just about every step. And I wanted to kill the stromph in front of me. All I could think was 'did i seriously pay to do this?? this isn't fun!'
But I managed to sprint over the finish line... I think it may have been simultaneously the proudest and most miserable moment of my life.
Mika's 'Relax' was playing and people were cheering. I was told to put my foot on a stool so they could cut the timing chip out of my shoe laces and handed a medal. I started stumbling back towards the conference center. I don't even know if I grabbed any water.
I was incredibly relieved when I saw Katie at the conference center. Both of our cell phones were checked with our stuff, so this was a weak point in our plan. We picked up our coats and started making our way through the large room towards the exit on the other side.
I was almost- ALMOST- too dazed to notice that people were changing in the middle of the conference room. I understand that many Europeans think that Americans are prudes when it comes to nudity, and I am no exception. I saw one elderly gentleman stripped down to... well... his running socks... fumbling in his bag for clean clothes, cool and calm as though he were in the privacy of his bedroom. After that I kept my eyes on my shoes (how the hell did i get that much mud on them??) and hoped that I wouldn't bump into anyone.
Katie and I spent the next- very miserable- hour walking to our metro stop, standing on the metro (it was full), then walking to our hotel. the clerk was nice enough to let us use the bathroom in an empty room to shower and change, and had i not been so wet and disgusting i might have hugged him for this. Then we gathered our stuff and it was back on the metro to a much cheaper hostel on the other side of town where I would be spending the night.
Again, more walking, this time with all of our stuff. And we still hadn't eaten. And I was still in pain. but I was too tired to complain.
We checked into St Christophers hostel, dropped our stuff, and finally, FINALLY, went to get food.
I ate an entire pizza. topped with ground beef and a fried egg. and i washed it down with a watery milkshake.
food has never tasted better.
Kate left that evening for Aix, I stayed the night at the hostel (I was in bed by 9) and spent the next day exploring Paris alone.
It involved a lot of walking, and a lot of pain, but its hard to be grumpy in Paris and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. However, due to a slight delay on the subway, I ended up sprinting through the station with my bag to catch my train, one of my sacks burst sending my stuff flying across the station, and by the time i boarded I was panting, sweating, and every inch of my legs and back ached.
I was ready to go home.
(though there was still a 35 minute walk home from the bus station in Aix)
We got off of the subway at Chateau de Vincennes. I really enjoyed watching all of the runners standing in line to take the escalator out of the metro.
There were already thousands of people at the race start. We made our way to check in, where we got our number, a goody bag, and an electronic chip which we tied into our shoe-laces to record our time. The goody bag was... interesting. There was an energy drink with enough electrolites for a fleet of kenyan runners, some testosterone scented dude-shampoo, and an innocent looking tube of cream. I didn't know what this was at first, but my innocence was shattered when i saw at least half a dozen middle aged men with their hands up their shorts applying it. Anti-chaffing Cream.
That brings me to the other runners. There were about 22,000 runners from all over the world, ranging from 17 to 70. I was especially amazed at the number of older men running. There were also other students close to my age, but the over 40s were definitely the majority.
and the work out gear! holy crap i've never seen many skin tight short shorts! in every color of the rainbow, plus some nineties neons. There were windbreakers, fancy socks, sweat bands, and - my favorite- utility belts. holy water-capsule grenades batman.
The crowd began moving towards the track around 8:30. It was forecast to rain, so there were black trash bags available near the exit of the conference, and many people were taking advantage of these make-shift ponchos.
Katie and I wandered towards a crowd of runners who were warming up near the start line. They were being lead by two jazzercise instructors on a platform. It was an incredibly surreal moment- following jazzercize instructions in french in front of a medieval castle. I was nervous. I was confused. I was giggling rather hysterically.
We took our positions around 9. Runners were organized in groups based on goal-time, with the faster runners starting first. Katie was several groups ahead of me, so we agreed to meet at the finish line and separated.
And then I was off, being carried across the start line by a wave of sneakers. Within minutes runners were breaking away from the pack and off into the woods to piss. Nerves?
Within the first kilometer, I started tripping over black trash bags which runners had torn off as they got hot.
The sidelines were lined with people holding signs, blowing horns, cheering, or just sitting outside of their houses and shops watching. There were live music and speakers blaring music every few kilometers. I was excited and feeling good!
Not so my kilometer 11, when it started to rain. True, the live music and cheering crowds were exciting. but i was in pain and still had 10 km.
There were also several stands along the way handing out water and gatorade. Two of these tables also had volunteers handing out banana and orange halves. Wanna see something funny? watch thousands of runners slip and slide over a carpet of banana peels for about 30 feet, then resume their game faces as they try to pretend nothing happened and keep trucking. This is the stuff cartoonists dreams are made of.
kilometer 15: I find myself behind a man dressed as a smurf and painted blue from head to toe. I will forever have the phrase 'ALLEZ LE STROMPH (french word for smurf)' tattooed on my brain, because I had to listen to crowds chanting that for the most painful 6kms of my life.
By the last few kilometers I was wet, cold, and in considerable pain. My left foot and my lower back hurt with just about every step. And I wanted to kill the stromph in front of me. All I could think was 'did i seriously pay to do this?? this isn't fun!'
But I managed to sprint over the finish line... I think it may have been simultaneously the proudest and most miserable moment of my life.
Mika's 'Relax' was playing and people were cheering. I was told to put my foot on a stool so they could cut the timing chip out of my shoe laces and handed a medal. I started stumbling back towards the conference center. I don't even know if I grabbed any water.
I was incredibly relieved when I saw Katie at the conference center. Both of our cell phones were checked with our stuff, so this was a weak point in our plan. We picked up our coats and started making our way through the large room towards the exit on the other side.
I was almost- ALMOST- too dazed to notice that people were changing in the middle of the conference room. I understand that many Europeans think that Americans are prudes when it comes to nudity, and I am no exception. I saw one elderly gentleman stripped down to... well... his running socks... fumbling in his bag for clean clothes, cool and calm as though he were in the privacy of his bedroom. After that I kept my eyes on my shoes (how the hell did i get that much mud on them??) and hoped that I wouldn't bump into anyone.
Katie and I spent the next- very miserable- hour walking to our metro stop, standing on the metro (it was full), then walking to our hotel. the clerk was nice enough to let us use the bathroom in an empty room to shower and change, and had i not been so wet and disgusting i might have hugged him for this. Then we gathered our stuff and it was back on the metro to a much cheaper hostel on the other side of town where I would be spending the night.
Again, more walking, this time with all of our stuff. And we still hadn't eaten. And I was still in pain. but I was too tired to complain.
We checked into St Christophers hostel, dropped our stuff, and finally, FINALLY, went to get food.
I ate an entire pizza. topped with ground beef and a fried egg. and i washed it down with a watery milkshake.
food has never tasted better.
Kate left that evening for Aix, I stayed the night at the hostel (I was in bed by 9) and spent the next day exploring Paris alone.
It involved a lot of walking, and a lot of pain, but its hard to be grumpy in Paris and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. However, due to a slight delay on the subway, I ended up sprinting through the station with my bag to catch my train, one of my sacks burst sending my stuff flying across the station, and by the time i boarded I was panting, sweating, and every inch of my legs and back ached.
I was ready to go home.
(though there was still a 35 minute walk home from the bus station in Aix)
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