PARIS MARATHON

Sunday, 9^th April 6.30 am. 5 very nervous runners (and Pat) are sitting round a breakfast table trying to force down another croissant. We all decide it is possible to run a marathon on half a cup of coffee and a banana and off we go to the Metro. Tony is panicking cos he thinks we should have left at 4.30am, Jane is panicking cos she has too many/too few layers on, I am panicking cos I have stubbornly decided to wear my new socks (what’s the number one rule for marathon day?), Kevin is panicking cos he’s only been to the loo 6 times and Brigid is panicking in case she can’t find the pub at the end.

After an uneventful (and uncrowded) trip on the Metro, we emerge at the Arc de Triomphe to a fantastic sight of 30,000 runners all trying to cross the roundabout without being mowed down by the traffic (close the roads? the French? Are you joking?). A couple of loo stops later – one of them actually in a toilet – we have dropped off our bags and found our start pens, lots of hugs and kisses all round then Jane & I decide we absolutely must have a yellow souvenir hat so we trudge off to the back of the pens to get some which means we start right at the back.

Suddenly there’s lots of French shouting and we think we’ve started but it takes us 18 minutes of climbing over tons of soggy plastic, discarded gels, old jumpers and the odd dead dog to get to the start. The run starts well, straight into the sunshine down the Champs Elysees & we’re soon dodging round what feels like thousands of runners to get a good start. We soon see our ‘support crew’ for the first time and they are quickly covered in discarded jumpers, gloves and yellow hats. There are virtually no barriers so the French feel quite entitled to wander in and out the runners whilst skateboarding, wheeling their baby buggies and reversing their cars, we even had to stop at a zebra crossing to let an old lady cross with her shopping trolley.

The water stations were superb, offering fresh and dried fruit, sugar and water. Tony loved the figs but couldn’t crack the walnuts and managed to miss the beer at halfway and the red wine at 37km – unlike Jane who now swears by a glass of Beaujolais nouveau for tired legs.

We found the support a bit thin on the ground, apart from our own crew who popped up at the halfway point and got a sweaty hug from me and who then shouted themselves hoarse again at the end – sorry about the tears! Mostly the French just stared in amazement at these odd people who had forgotten to bring their bikes with them or else they provided some very strange entertainment in the form of a Tai Kwan Do demonstration along with some men in very tight lycra waving yellow pom poms.

Finally, after running for what felt like days and having long since got tired of the Louvre, Eiffel Tower, Seine and all the other stunning sights, we emerged into the Avenue Foch in front of the Arc de Triomphe to a lovely welcome. The end was quite disorganised, god knows where they had put the water stations and fighting your way through all the French families who had suddenly appeared from nowhere (why weren’t they on the course?) and dodging the discarded hot dogs and burgers, we emerged from the throng wearing our ponchos and beautiful medals.

As I was getting changed in the tent, someone walked in who I vaguely recognised and after a few minutes of ‘I’m sure I know that face’, I realised it was Jane – we had finished within a minute of each other although we had got separated at 16km and not seen each other since! We soon set off for the pub to be met by Brigid who had got lost and was getting desperate for a Guinness, having also missed the beer and red wine and 5 minutes later, we walked in to the James Joyce pub to a huge cheer and more hugs. We all swore we would never do it again and then started planning the next one.

Oh, yes and the times……..

Tony 3.15.12 -pb

Kevin 3.46.12 -pb

Brigid 4.03.57

Jane 4.19.26

Jan 4.20.24 -pb