April in Paris

I should have known the weekend would not go entirely to plan when there was no Haribo stand at the Expo!  I'm not saying that it was the highlight of last year's Paris trip - but it was a pretty good way to start the weekend.  I had the restraining presence of Husbando with me, which meant that I didn't spend too much money at the expo!

We arrived on Thursday, and checked into my first ever AirB&B apartment - that was a slightly stressful experience - I was half convinced that we would find that there was no such apartment and that we would have nowhere to sleep that evening.  As it was our apartment was there, just off av. Foch and ideally suited for our needs.  After dropping off our bags we headed to the expo and picked up our race numbers and t-shirts for the Breakfast Run.    Friday was spent hanging out with friends, walking about a bit and looking, anxiously, at the weather forecast.

Saturday morning was glorious!  We made our way to the new start for the Breakfast Run (in previous years it had started just outside our front door, but this year a short Metro journey to Palais Royal-Louvre was required).  The new route was stunning!  Through the courtyard at the Louvre, over the river, past the Museé d'Orsay and then along the bank of the Seine  before finishing right next to the Eiffel Tower.  The Breakfast Run is strictly a 5k fun run.  Husbando and I started at the middle of the 3,000 strong group of runners and ran together for the first couple of kilometres before he decided he needed to have a pee.  I carried on, comfortably at 9min/mile until I realised that I was catching up with the pace car.  From then on it was 10.15min/mile pace for the rest of the way.  It felt incredibly slow - but the irony of the fact that there would be times the next day when 10 min/miles would seem like a really fast time!  Coffee, croissants, bananas and bottled water were provided at the end.  It felt really fabulous to be running.  I was suddenly buoyed up with enthusiasm and confidence.  Despite my less than ideal training I though that I might just manage a halfway reasonable time at the marathon.  Maybe the two marathons and the couple of really long trail runs I'd already done this year would be enough to get me through.  

Husbando was running his first 'proper marathon.'  He'd run an accidental marathon at one of On The Whistle's events, but I have always thought that it is easier to run a lapped event, where you can stop for drinks, food, hugs, loo break, change of clothes every three or four miles than a traditional marathon.   After the heat last year, I'd decided to buy ourselves a little bit of extra time in the cooler early part of the day and put us down for a totally unrealistic (for me!) time of 3hr30min, with the hope that I might get sub 4, this meant we had a start time of 8.35am.  My friend, running her first ever marathon, put herself down for the 4hr30 plus pen, with a start time of 9.50am.  Husbando was so excited about his big race that he set his alarm for 5.30am .... we'd decided that the two of us would need to leave at 7.50am!  I set mine for 7.10am, and was ready to leave at 7.50.... Husbando was just getting dressed....We eventually left just before 8am.  We got 5 steps outside the apartment before he realised that he had the wrong glasses.  Argh!  No matter, we were close to the start, we had  enough time.  We tried to get into the start pen.  It was so full we couldn't get in as it was so full - it wasn't until they started moving the runners forward that we could get into the pen.  I wasn't panicking, not really, but it wasn't the least stressful start to a race!

Husbando and I ran the first few miles together, it was getting warm pretty quickly.  I think there may be a cheesy photo of us running and holding hands somewhere!  Husbando had a pace band for four hours, and I could hear him doing the maths to work out if we could still make it.  I knew we couldn't and any amount of maths on his part would not change that.  I knew that I was probably being pushed on too hard and that disaster lay ahead if I carried on running with Husbando.  I also didn't want to hamper his chances of getting a great marathon time.  I decided to take a tactical pee break in the woods.  We'd got to nearly 9 miles and we were already baking.

I decided that as sub 4, or even close to 4, was off the cards I would just get round.  It shouldn't be too hard... but it got hotter and hotter.   I've probably run in hotter weather, but not much and not out of the blue.  A friend informs me that the average temperature in the shade while I was running was 26 degrees with a maximum of 31 degrees.  And there is precious little shade on the Paris marathon route!  I don't think I've ever run a race where so many of the other runners were downright rude!  I know the route was crowded, that the course was very narrow at several places, but to push another runner out of the way is unacceptable.  And I'm not talking about the unintentional bashes that occur by accident, on several occasions I was pushed out of the way by another runner trying got get past.  The course does get narrow at times - because spectators crowd onto the road.

At some point I got it into my head that I needed to go to the loo.  Probably because every single portaloo I saw on the route was padlocked closed, apart from the one that I climbed over a concrete barricade to get to at about 16 miles.  That one was so disgusting that I couldn't even step inside it to use it.   Ah well, I soldiered on.  Then my foot started hurting.  My right foot.  It hurt every time I pushed off, a couple of mile later the fact that I was obviously 'running funny' meant that my hamstring was making its presence felt.  At 18 miles (ish) we ran under a pedestrian bridge that had a load of people touting trade for (I think) the Chicago marathon.  The noise there was phenomenal, and slightly scary.  I began to panic about my ability to run London if it was going to be this noisy.... and would my foot even work?   At this point I popped into a cafe and asked if I could use their toilet.  Amazingly they said yes, but that the toilet was upstairs.  I went up, locked the door and burst into tears.  I looked at my garmin, it said I'd done 19.69 miles, so I sent a text to the three friends who were with me in Paris, saying that I had 7 miles to go (overestimating the distance I thought) that I was in pain, and that I might have to walk the last 7 miles.  You can imagine how awful I felt when I'd been running a bit longer and got to the 19 mile marker!  (My watch at this point read 19.75miles!)

I did some maths, calculated that I was walking at about 15min/mile pace, and that I wasn't prepared to be out there for another hour and three quarters, so I was just going to have to suck it up and at least run part of the way.  So that's what I did.  More rude runners, very hot sunshine, minimal support where it was really needed in the last stages through the Bois de Boulogne made this a less than joyful experience.  I was just glad to finish.  Husbando had finished about 20 minutes ahead of me, having struggled in the heat too.

Having collected our medals we went back to the apartment, had a shower, got changed and had a quick snooze before heading back to the finish line to support my friend.  I was wearing flip flops and compression tights - an attractive combination!  The marathon website states that there is a 6 hour cut off from the time the last runners start.  I was getting concerned that we were getting close to the limit, so I told Husbando (jeans and trainers) and my friend's husband (t-shirt and cargo shorts) that I would head back along the route to find her (wearing my finisher's t-shirt, medal, compression tights and flip flops!)  I ran back about 2km, shouting encouragement at the runners coming toward the finish, until I found her.  We ran her last 2km overtaking people along the way as she upped her pace (probably to get away from my incessant and inane chatter) and got to the bottom of av. Foch just as they were starting to move a lories and fork lift truck across the bottom of the road to close the finish.  We legged it up to the finish, I had tears running down my face, with her husband joining us too.  Husbando, taking pictures, said that there were only about 10 more people who finished after us, so I am so glad that I made the decision to take my knackered legs back out there to chivvy her along!  She worked so hard to complete her marathon, the idea of not making the cut off does not bear thinking about.  I am so proud of her.  She was out there in the full heat of the day, while the people at the water stations were packing up the tables as she ran through them and she DID IT!

We took our medals out for supper - the best steak frites we've had in long time, before collapsing into bed.  Some of us will run another marathon, one of us says she won't but I doubt any of us will be in a hurry to enter Paris next year!

What a difference a year makes….

I have a goal this year.  I want to run a sub four hour marathon.  I've worked hard, lost weight and run 20 miles in a time that indicates I am capable of achieving this ambition.  I ran a PB at Paris last year  and really enjoyed my race, so had psyched myself up for a repeat performance this time.  

The trip started well, I arrived at St Pancras and discovered that I could upgrade my seat for very little money.  Arriving in Paris I went straight to the Expo to collect my race number and try, unsuccessfully, to avoid the temptation of so many pretty, shiny running related goodies!  I bought a pair of compression tights, some t-shirts, a fridge magnet, some no tie shoe laces and a cap.  I went past the stand giving out free Haribos several times... 

From there, I went to my friend's house in Saint Gratien.  I had persuaded my old university friend that he should run a  marathon and this was to be his first marathon.  I kept thinking that this was a much better marathon to do as a first one than my first marathon in Abingdon.  The atmosphere and the crowds would be much more exciting!  We hadn't seen each other for a while so there was a fair amount of catching up and chatting to be done.  

On Friday I went sight seeing!  I love Paris - but dispute the self proclaimed tag of 'the most beautiful city in the World.'  It does have many stunningly beautiful sights, but it is also pretty grubby, with ankle twistingly uneven pavements littered with doggy land mines!  I try to see one new 'thing' every time I visit, so after a trip to Shakespeare and Company and an excellent steak frites sitting outside I went to visit the Musée Carnavalet.  A lovely museum, located near Notre Dame, that details the history of Paris.  Unlike the better known museums it was virtually deserted.  I spent a couple of hours wandering around trying to decipher the French labels!  

Saturday morning meant that it was time for the Paris Breakfast Run.   A 5km run from Ave Foch to the Eiffel Tower with coffee and croissant at the finish.  I had thought about running the new Bois de Boulogne parkrun  but decided to leave that for another trip.  The weather for this run was perfect, overcast and cool.  I crossed my fingers that the weather forecasts were wrong and that the weather would stay the same for Sunday.  I ran with my friend, a nice gentle leg stretch with a bit of a sprint at the end.  I ran and took photos and chatted to marathon buddies and strangers.  Great fun!  

Then it was back to Saint Gratien to take it easy for the rest of the day, a trip to the supermarket to stock up on Haribos - you can't buy a Happy Box in England and every home should have a Happy Box!  Dinner that evening was not what I would have chosen - but that is part and parcel of staying with friends.  Let's just say, I don't usually eat cauliflower and chickpea curry and avoid spicy food the day before long runs!  I slept badly, woke up with a burbly tummy about an hour before my 6am alarm went off and lay looking at the ceiling visualising how I would feel finishing the marathon.  I got up and got dressed - leaving the house as quietly as possible.  My friend's start time was an hour later than mine, so there was no point in him coming in with me.  

Security was much more in evidence than last year.  Hardly surprising in light of recent events!  I went through the security, queued for the loo, discovered that buffs serve as excellent face masks to mask some of the odour of a portaloo, came out of the portaloo, took one look at the queue and rejoined it!  Just in time logistics.  In this second visit to the loo I realised too late that the pocket in my running shorts was not closed - as my Shot Blocks fell into the toilet bowl.  Not good.  But not a lot I could do about that really!

I went to the starting pen and managed to find a group of people speaking English.  This group included an American lady who kept telling me that this would be easy as she 'did Ironman,' that this was 'just a walk in the park' and wasn't going to be an 11 hour day so what was there to worry about.  I wanted to get away.   The Champs Elysées is an excellent place to start a race.  Long enough, and wide enough for us all to start from the same point (unlike London).   As soon as we were off I reminded myself that the start was slightly downhill and that I had to make sure I didn't go off to fast,  I didn't.  I felt fantastic.  I was going to bloody do this!   At about 2.5 miles I saw a sea of blue and yellow on the right hand side - it was the Hatch Warren Running Club support crew.  I was on the other side of the road, so I veered across shouting 'Hello Hatchies!' and was met with a roar of support.  

On we went to the Place de la Bastille, more cobbles and the first water/food station.  In light of my dodgy tummy and the fact that I'd lost my Shot Blocks I decided to eat whatever I could grab (bananas and raisins) and to grab some water to replenish my water bottle.  I noticed a pain in the balls of both my feet at around 5 miles - but decided that there was little I could do about it, my laces were not too tight - I had no idea what was causing it, but apart from the occasional really "ouchy" moment it was manageable.  I had 2 pace bands with me, one for 3.49 and one for 3.59.  I was hitting the times for the faster band with about 30-45 seconds to spare, but I felt really strong at this point.  I passed a runner in a Macmillan cancer top soon after this - he recognised my KRR top and called out to me.  We ran together and chatted for several miles, his pace was slightly slower than mine, and I was conscious that was itching to go faster - so we parted company.  

I hit the halfway point on target for 3.48 and still felt good.  I was going to get my sub 4, I was sure of it!  And then we got to about 14 miles and the heat and my stomach got the better of me.  I had a loo stop.  The sun was full on now and there was very little shade.  The sapeurs pompiers were out with their hoses to spray us down, but the relief was fleeting.  Now everything that I had enjoyed about he marathon last year seemed to irritate me this year.  The crowds encroached onto the road, in the absence of any barriers and very few marshals there were several points where the course narrowed dramatically - at times you could not get more than three 'runners' running at the same time - and this meant slowing to a walk.  The water stations were like running through fruit salad - avoiding slipping on banana skins, avoiding colliding with other runners as everything was on one side of the road.  

Did I mention it was hot?  It was very hot.  I was aware that my pace was slipping and I chewed through the 3.49 pace band so I could discard it, why aren't pace bands edible?  That way you could have a consoling snack when it all goes tits up!  I needed another loo stop.  This was not good. 

At around 16 miles the race goes underground.  A long underpass that had some sort of essential oil aromas wafting through it in an attempt to mitigate the stench of pee.  The lack of satellite reception meant that I couldn't really rely on my Garmin for accurate information.  This wouldn't have been an issue if there had been mile markers every mile - but they were intermittent.  I plodded on.  Coming out of another underpass (shorter this time) I was losing the will to live when I heard a cry of 'There she is!' and somehow knew that the shout was for me.  I turned and saw the Hatchies again.  It was just the lift I needed at that point.  

On I went, it felt hotter than ever.  At 30km there was a 'wall.'  Hoarding on either side of the road with bricks painted on it.  It said '30k wall' on one side and '20mile wall' on the other side.  I run in miles not km, I had lost satellite reception for long enough not to know how accurate my Garmin distance was, and here was a sign saying I'd run 20 miles!  Yay!  Only 6 and a bit to go!  And then about half a mile later there was the 19mile marker at the side of the road.  Despondent does not come close to describing how I felt about being 'robbed' of over a mile.  I know that if I had thought about it I'd have realised that 30km isn't 20 miles - but maths while running isn't my strong point. 

On we went, eventually getting to the Bois du Boulogne.  In my memory this was close to the end - but in reality you spend miles and miles in the Bois.  And the spectators are few and far between.  I'd kissed goodbye to sub 4 hours now too and was feeling very sorry for myself.  Then I realised how many ambulances I'd seen, how many people were being looked after by the Red Cross, and thought that at least I was still upright and moving forward.  I overtook one of the 3.45hr pacers at some point in this long, soulless stretch of running - so I wasn't the only person having a bad day!  At around 40km I felt a tap on my shoulder.  It was the Ironman running American lady from the start pen.  I decided that she would not be finishing in front of me, so concentrated on running rather than shuffling for the last couple of kilometres (more cobbles, and did I mention it was hot?)  

Finally there were supporters again!  I was nearly there!  Back on the Ave Foch with only 195m to go - I picked up the pace, desperate to get this purgatory over with.  I crossed to line and smashed into the back of another runner who had come to a dead stop the minute he stepped over the finish mat!   I got my medal, retrieved my bag, texted Husbando, misread a text from him (I thought that he had come over to surprise me and my heart sank when I realised that I had totally misunderstood what he was saying).  I walked along sobbing.  I was so disappointed with my time (4hrs 6mins).  It felt as though I had thrown away a perfectly good chance at a PB.  

I retreated to a friend's hotel room for a shower and a sob, and a chance to update Facebook!  I found a silver lining - I'd caught the sun, so have made a start on my summer tan, but that was about the only positive I could find.  After showering I felt a little better - cooler anyway, and struggled into my new compression tights which I topped with the lurid green finisher top.  I was glad that I'd remembered to bring my FitFlops with me as I wasn't sure my feet would fit back inside my trainers! The Hatch Warren supporters were close to l'Arc de Triomphe and I bumped into them on my way back to the race village, I thanked them for their support, had a hug and burst into tears again!  Then, having had a look at the marathon tracker app, I thought it might be possible to get to the bottom of the Ave Foch to see if I could see any of my friends finishing, so set out and walked almost to the end of the avenue before I realised that I wasn't going to be able to battle my way through the crowds to get close to the front, and that I'd probably missed most of them anyway!   

I trudged back up Ave Foch and decided that I was really rather peckish!  I found somewhere to eat, and texted my friend to tell him where I was.  Another steak frites with a large beer was called for!  It was very good.  I chatted with other marathoners while I waited.  One bloke, who thought he recognised me (and may well do as he belongs to a Reading based running club) had missed his target massively.  When his mum asked him what went wrong, he said it was more a case of, 'What didn't go wrong?'  And that seemed to be a theme; lots of people not doing as well as they'd hoped.

I was halfway through my meal when I spotted my friend approaching the restaurant.  I jumped out of my seat and ran, yes, I really did run - surprised myself too, towards him, nearly knocking him over as I gave him a hug!  Then I bought him a beer, shared my Café Gourmand with him and talked about his first marathon.

Two days later, back at home, and with a couple of recovery runs under my belt, I am still disappointed.  It gives me some hope that lots of runners were 25-30 mins adrift from their target times, but I worked really hard in the build up to this race, and felt that I had a really good chance of achieving my objective.  Ah well, there are other races!  On a positive note I have now run 10 marathons (OK, 8 marathons and 2 ultras!) so I reckon I have the marathon bug!

April in Paris

What's not to love about April in the city that believes itself to be the most beautiful in the World?   Admittedly it can sometimes be a trade off between looking at the pavement to avoid canine land and looking up to see the stunning architecture, but Paris is lovely and, on a warm spring day, it is a great city for walking, talking, eating and drinking.

I took the Eurostar out on Thursday, not because I wanted to get away from the children but because it was much cheaper to travel then.  I went straight from Gare du Nord to the Paris Marathon Expo at Versailles.  I've never done a marathon with an expo before, so I had no idea what to expect.  I thought that there would be a desk to pick up my race number and a few stalls selling stuff I didn't need, but the expo was HUGE! All the major sports kit manufacturers were there as well as several smaller ones selling interesting bits and pieces (I now own a FlipBelt) and, had I taken the time to visit all the stalls, I think I could have signed up to enough marathons to guarantee my entry into the 100 Marathon Club with events to spare!  Needless to say, common sense - or the fact that my back pack was heavy - meant that I didn't spend too long at the expo and didn't spend too much money and I didn't enter any races.

Friday was spent mooching around the Musee d'Orsay, looking at some of my favourite paintings and deciding that I really do not like many of Picasso's paintings!  From there it was a short walk over the river to the Musee de l'Orangerie for a long overdue to see Monet's Waterlilies.  I'd been meaning to go to this museum on several previous visits to Paris - but for some reason I've never managed to get there.  The galleries with the water lillies are stunning.  It was a very restful place to be - until a hoard of school children arrived and started to career around the two oval galleries.    It was a day for doing things in Paris that I hadn't done before.  I had lunch near the Grand Arche de la Défense - a structure I had only ever seen from a distance - with the friend I was staying with.  From there it was another first - a trip to Sacre Coeur.  All in all, I walked over 12 miles before heading back to my friend's house.

Saturday is normally parkrun day, but there are, as yet, no parkruns in France - so the Paris Marathon Breakfast 5k was the only alternative!  We set off from Avenue Foch with 3,000 other runners and finished by the Eifel Tower where we were treated to coffee and croissants.  I met with friends from other races and bumped into a runner from Basingstoke parkrun - I had no idea that he was going to be there!  It was lovely to run with my friend from my OTC days - as we ran with chatted with other runners, I even managed to chat in German with some runners from Barvaria.

Sunday… the big day.  Where Saturday had been chilly and overcast, Sunday dawned bright and sunny.  I packed my bag and headed for the start, dumped my bag on Avenue Foch and made my way to the start on the Champs Elysées, along with 54.000 other runners.  It was warm - which made a change from the start line of many recent races, but as it was only 9am I was aware that it was going to get warmer!

At 9.15am my wave went off.  A downhill start on cobbles in brilliant sunshine and a real party atmosphere.  It felt good to be running after the hell that is tapering!  I tried to stay in the shade as much as possible to avoid the heat and just soaked up the atmosphere.  Bands were plentiful - it seemed that the music was almost constant.  Water stations were plentiful, supplemented by the pompiers who had set up extra water stations and were spraying the runners with their hoses.

The water stations were on one side of the road only - which meant that if you didn't want water you had to run through people who were trying to cross the road to get to the water.  It was also a bit like running through a fruit salad at times - orange peel, raisins, banana and sugar cubes littered the road along with empty bottles.  We ran through the city and out into the Bois de Vincennes, here the crowds thinned out a bit, which meant that we had fewer bottle necks to slow us down.  At some points the supporters had been so enthusiastic that they took up half the road space.

My Kent Road Runner vest got loads of attention from the supporters, and quite a lot of jealousy from fellow runners.  I was lapping this up and having a ball!  I particularly remember the stretch between 12 and 13 kms where the supporters were particularly vocal.  I sang the Welsh national anthem to some supporters with a Welsh flag, high fived all the children and was laughing and smiling so much that there were tears running down my face.  I have never had so much fun running in my life.

At around 16 miles we went into a long tunnel.  The relief from the sunshine was nice, but it was muggy in the still air.  My Garmin lost satellite reception and when it found it again it said I was about 2 miles ahead of where I should be.  The pace info was also messed up.  There is no way I ran a 7 min/mile at that stage, the pace info never really sorted itself out for the rest of the run, so I covered my Garmin and just glanced at it when I passed the distance markers to try to work out where I was.

The last few miles were tough.  Not helped by my getting very confused.  At 36k I thought 'I've got 6k to go - that's 2 parkruns!'  (Because when I get to 20 miles I think that I've got 2 parkruns to go).  2 parkruns, at the pace I was going at would take me close to an hour - which meant that any chance of sub 4 was well out of my grasp so there was no point in pushing too hard.  By the time I'd realised my stupidity I had less than a mile to go, and couldn't possibly make up the time.  I did my best, overtaking people as I threw myself over the cobbles (horrible, hot, bumpy cobbles) towards the finish line on the Avenue Foch.  4hrs, 1minute and 17 seconds.  A 10 minute PB - but I was gutted and elated in equal measure!

All in all, I loved this race.  I would sign up for it again in an instant - but I worry that I might not enjoy it as much next year - especially as I would be going along with high expectations.  I think I will definitely investigate other city marathons in foreign countries.  A great way to see a city and to meet loads of other mad runners!

I am confident that I will get that sub 4 hour marathon time soon.  'All' that is required is that I run each mile 3 seconds faster than I did on Sunday.  Given the heat and the crowds, and my propensity to treat any run as a social event, I am sure that if I get some cooler weather, a clearer run and think more about running than having fun I can do it!

Paris to Versailles

I'm not enjoying getting old!  My memory is playing tricks on me!  I was sure I'd last run Paris-Versailles in 2012 - I was so sure that I spent ages trying to look for my time in the 2012 results listing (tricky anyway on a mobile 'phone!)  I knew it was 1hr 26 mins and some change, and I also  knew I wasn't anywhere near fit enough to come close to that time at the moment.  When I ran that time, in 2011 it turns out, I was running really well!  I got PBs at every distance I ran that year.  I think the fact that I only started working at the beginning of September that year may have had something to do with me being more focussed on training!  

So, after a longer break than I remembered we were going back to Paris for the race with that hill!  We travelled to Paris on Saturday morning, arriving with plenty of time to pick up our race numbers and look at the stalls at the expo.  I was beginning to have doubts about my choice of running kit.  It was really warm in Paris and I had brought a t shirt to run in.  I had a look at the clothing on offer, and while it was possibly to buy obscenely short running shorts there was not one single running vest on offer because they were all showing off their autumn and winter stock.  So I would be wearing my lovely Kent Roadrunner top, as would Husbando!    Neil, who were were staying with and who had hoped to run with me in 2011 but ended up running by himself in 2013, was running with us - he had to make do with the rather nice, but much more subdued, official adidas race shirt!  My KRR top was admired by a French lady - who informed me that I must be American because I was wearing 'such a shirt.'  No amount of denial by me would convince her that I was English!

Race morning dawned bright and sunny, we had breakfast, got our stuff sorted out and headed for the station to get the train to central Paris.  In contrast to 2011 my mood was good - we chatted and laughed and talked about our goals.  Neil wanted to do better than last time, Husbando was planning to run with me, and was hoping we could run sub 1hr 30.  My A goal was sub 1hr 30, my B goal was getting round in one piece.  We were joined by a growing throng of runners - always reassuring to know that we were going in the right direction.  At Champ de Mars I sent the boys off to check the bags while I queued for one of those 'tardis loos' - the ones that self clean between each user.  I reckoned that, by the time I got to the end of the queue I might need a wee!  From there we made our way towards the start and took some photos with a famous Paris landmark in the background.  

There are no starting pens at this race, and with 25,000 entrants we thought we ought to make our way to the start areas where runners were gathering.  There was a constant commentary from the, very loud, PA system.  I understood about 60% of what he was saying.  I didn't think we were too far back from the start.  We tried to chat over the PA, and ignored the nonsensical warm up ("Jump up and down on the spot to raise your heart rate").  I was struck by the number of runners who were kitted out as though they were about to embark on an ultra.  Whilst a 10 mile race might be a good time to try out kit that you are considering using on a much longer race I don't think that it is possible that all the people we saw with Camelbaks were ultra runners, and nearly every other runner was wearing a race belt stacked with enough gel packs to feed an army.  One bloke had 12 gel sachets (yes, I am that sad, I did count them!)  TWELVE!  That is more than one per mile!  I can't imagine eating that much gel without wanting to throw up at some point.  

At 10.00am the elite runners went off, followed by waves of us mere mortals going off at 1 minute intervals.  We crossed the line at 10.17!  The first male was nearly half way through his race by then (he finished in 47mins 42 seconds).  While I was waiting I looked up and took a photo of the Eiffel Tower - I note that I took an almost identical photo last time I was here.  We were the last to be allowed through in our wave - Husbando had to say, in his best school boy French, that I was his wife in order to be allowed in.  We crossed the line and suddenly all my nerves and uncertainties faded away, I forgot my niggling sore throat and remembered why I was here.  I love to run!  I really just do.  Off I went with a huge smile on my face.  I knew I was going too fast but I didn't care!  I knew that I'd slow down later, but it felt fantastic to be moving!

Husbando had been talking about a wee stop from before the start - the queues had been to long before the start, so he joined a row of men peeing against a wall before we got the the first kilometre marker.  I carried on.  It was crowded and I had to constantly change direction to plot my way through.  Husbando caught me up at about 3k in.  It is very flat for this section, but in the back of my mind I knew that the hill was coming!

The hill came.  Husbando is much better at hills than I am, I told him to go on ahead - as to be honest the thought of him stopping every so often to wait for me to catch up was very depressing.  I plodded on.  The hill isn't hugely steep but it is very long.  At several points you think you much be at the top, but you aren't - there is more, and some of it is on cobbles.  I may have been slow, but I kept going and was even overtaking people.  A new addition to the signage this year was one saying that we were at the highest point of the run.  Lovely, there was still another uphill section that I could recall, but for now it was time to recover, get my breath back, get my legs moving again and fly down hill.

It was never easy going.  There were so many slow runners in the 16 start waves ahead of me that it was a constant case of weaving in and out.  There was a distinct lack of running etiquette - no moving to one side before slowing down, people just stopped in the middle of the road!  And faster runners used their elbows to warn that they were approaching!  The water stations, however, were well placed and the volunteers cheerful and friendly.

At around 14km I had a real conversation, in French, with some fellow runners.  There was one of those traffic signs that calculates the speed of approaching vehicles and it was picking up the speed of the runners.  It was fluctuating between 9, 10 and 11kph,  I announced that I wanted to get it to 12 - and with lots of cheers and encouragement from those around me I did it!  A much needed burst of speed!

Soon I was approaching Versailles along the Avenue de Paris, looking left and right to see if Husbando was watching.  I knew I had my sub 1:30 in the bag, so now I was just seeing how fast I could get to the end.  I crossed the line, stopped my Garmin, and saw Husbando waiting for me.  I'd run 1:26:41 - I was amazed.  Was it a PB?  It would be close…. Checking my records I found I had missed a PB by 20 seconds.  Which is gutting, but there are positives to be drawn.

When I do this race again I will get there earlier and hopefully get a clearer run.  When I ran my 10m  PB there in 2011 I was having an amazing year, this year has been a bit naff really and I don't feel anywhere near as fit as I did then - so hopefully I can take a few more seconds off my time.   And above all, we had a great time.  We spent time with friends, we ran in the sunshine and collected a medal.  What more could one ask for?

What is it with me and losing things in France?

'That was the best Christmas ever!'

Not just my words, but those of all the family!

We left home at about 3pm on Christmas Eve and drove down to Maisons Laffitte to stay in Cerys & Paul's house, while they were back in England staying with their families. We didn't bring presents with us, as there would be no room in the car if we did, but Santa managed to arrange stocking presents for the children. Arriving late in the evening, the children put on their traditional new pair of PJs (from Father Christmas) and went to bed. Luckily they were all tired and didn't take long to drop off. They did wake early. Very early! I normally have to wake my children up, but they woke up at 6am French time! That is 5am UK time and far too early for me to be civil to anyone - even though Cerys had left the caffeinated ground coffee easily accessible! We managed to put them off until 7am, and then they all piled in to open their stocking presents. Sonic screwdrivers, watches, autobiographies (Keith Richards) and toothbrushes were all well received.

After a quick breakfast followed by topping up the oil in the car (pesky warning lights) we set off for Disney. I've never seen the roads as empty - it is normally stop start traffic until about 15km before you get there. I noticed that the small boulangeries, tabacs and cafés were open - even though it was only 8.30am!

Disney was chilly, about minus 4c, when we arrived, and didn't seem to get much warmer during the day. We realised that various children had forgotten their gloves, so headed into a shop to buy some more. I'd just paid and we did the normal count up of children when we realised Esmé was missing. I wasn't worried, as normally when one can't find a child they are engrossed in something on the other side of a display and you locate them a minute or so later. This didn't happen. We scooted around looking for her, having told the other 4 to stay in one place and not to move on pain of death! We started shouting her name, but still couldn't find her. We asked to speak to someone about a missing child and were asked how long she had been missing for - I said 'about 15 minutes' they told me they would file a report when she had been missing for 30! I tried to have a hissy fit in broken French, he tried to calm me down in broken English. I was torn between getting this man to do his job and running round the park looking for a small girl in a pink ski coat, and believe me there must have been hundreds of small girls in bright pink ski jackets!

Eventually, after half an hour, he took me to 'Lost Children' to fill in a report. No one would believe that she had a 'Pink hat with a pig on it!' They made pig noises at me and asked if I was sure, I said yes, and then remembered my camera and showed them a picture taken just as we arrived showing madam with her Peppa Pig hat! Forms were filled, 'phone numbers exchanged so that they could 'phone me 'if they found her' and I could 'phone them 'if' we found her! I wasn't mad on the use of the word 'if' or the suggestion that I go off and enjoy my day until she turned up again!

Luckily, just as I was finishing this process, as with all things French a lot of paperwork was involved, and about 45/50 minutes after we had first noticed she was gone, Joshua spotted her. She was chatting away to a French lady and walking back towards the shop. She'd gone out of the shop, all the way up to find the Slinky Dog ride (how did she remember how to get there? The last time she was there was September!) and then back again. She was quite bemused when I burst into tears and kept hugging her! She was very pleased with herself and had enjoyed her adventure!

The rest of the day was great fun! Lots of rides, minimal queues, and all of us knackered by about 3pm! We left Disney, stopped at a boulangerie in Maisons Laffitte to pick up some bread, and went 'home' to make supper! Pasta may not be a traditional choice for Christmas dinner, but we've had it before (by popular demand) and will probably have it again! This was followed by Doctor Who, and reasonably early nights all round!

Boxing Day followed a similar pattern, with unwrapping of presents replaced by packing of car! Disney was busier, but not excessively so. It was much colder, minus 6c when we arrived! We didn't do as much today, picking and choosing rides where we wouldn't have to wait too long and which would offer some warmth!

We are back home in England now, and will open presents tomorrow. It has been a lovely Christmas, very different to normal, but very nice all the same. We are hugely grateful to Cerys and Paul for letting us use their house as a base! I can't believe how stress free the whole weekend was (well, apart from losing Esmé!) It was far more relaxed than a weekend at home!