When I first started adding distance to my running regimen, I did so because I found it to be the best means of escaping the isolation that accompanies a major life transition. Newly-single and setting up shop in a new city, I found that plodding away in the D.C. heat was the only time where my head was clear, and nothing at all was going to creep into my brain for an hour’s worth of spin on the Useless Cycle. That was a couple of years ago.
I couldn’t have expected it, but while distance running started out as an instrument to quell my unpleasant loneliness, it soon morphed into the very remedy that disappeared all the adversity that I was facing at the time.
Anyone who has been reading my blog might know that running long and slow has brought me into contact with a great group of like-minded women in D.C. (funny, a bit crass, and a lot Type A). Since leaving our nation’s capital, I sorely miss meeting up for runs that are often punctuated by a morning coffee or an afternoon happy hour bitching session. Now that I live and travel to random places, I am always on the lookout to experience this social activity, and thus it’s exciting when I encounter someone who is keen to share a few miles of pavement with a fellow runner.
Finding someone to run with in France couldn’t have come a moment too soon! I mean…check out my typical running route when I’m out running in my own hood. C’est très classe, non?
The great thing about this city is that it is BIG, and there are always new places worth checking out. I set up a time and place to go for a run with a friend of mine, and then got up extra early so I could hop a morning metro in my synthetic running attire. I didn’t exactly blend in with the rest of the morning commuters, but after living in Dakar for so long as a relative curiosity, stares no longer phase me.
Morning runs are always my favorite. The sun is coming up, the city is just about recovered from the previous night, and everyone is still stepping through their fog of sleep. Also, I’m not expected to be too social.
We started out our run off by crossing the Seine. No sex shops in sight, and I’ve got great company.
Did I mention that we ran with the cutest one year-old ever? I have to tell you, these baby joggers are no joke. I gave our passenger a push for about 200 meters, and I can tell you that these fantastic modes of high speed baby transportation provide moms with two workouts in one. They are tough!
We snaked down to the quay in order to get a little more room to spread out. This jogger also had an iPod attachment that plays your tunes through little speakers. This enabled our Parisian run to take on an international flavor as tunes from K’naan, U2 and The Killers serenaded our course.
I will never grumble about waiting for the green man. I love how pedestrian friendly- and orderly- this city is. I still keep a sharp eye out for cars, but I love this whole traffic light deal.
We were in Meaghan’s neighborhood, so she was good enough to map out our course. This was a huge bonus for me, because she introduced me to the absolutely gorgeous Jardin des Plantes. How did I not know about this place?!
She was kind enough to let me keep stopping to snap photos (okay, I was also tired). Clearly, I need to come back to this place and experience it in normal-motion.
Exiting the jardin, I spy yet another suggestion of Senegal. I swear to God, that land will follow me wherever I go as long as I shall live. In a twisted way, I kind of like this….
Our run concludes with the highly-anticipated coffee drinking session (it is morning, after all). I think that most of you know that I prefer to be a cold weather runner; I hate the heat. Je ne supporte pas la chaleur! With this in mind, I firmly believe that there are two things that become exponentially more enjoyable after a cold weather run: coffee and showers.
Here’s the coffee. You don’t get a shower pic.
Thanks Meaghan and T3 for an awesome around trip around the banks!
