Germany has many things going for it; even if there aren’t designated paths alongside the main road, at least you have these fantastic markers that are spaced 50 meters apart. You can do some excellent tempo runs with this kind of German precision.
One of my favorite parts of the Runner’s World magazine is the two page spread at the front of every issue offering views of great places to land your feet.
I think that I have professed my love of fall many times over. Christina and I would run for handfuls of minutes in silence, and would only punctuate our silent conversation with two word observations like “So beautiful”. My favorite running partners are always the ones who run alongside me and say very little. I feel like during these moments, you actually exchange the most information between yourselves.
Our loop back just has lots of everyday beauty. We also pass a number of older German folks out on a morning walk. They all say hello. Or morgen. Or whatever it is that nice German folks say to one another.
Sighted on the path, I have no comment about this hydrant.
We get back into town, and I see that I also have no comment about this water fountain thing.
I love sundials, and in the past couple of months, I have learned that Europe must love them too. They are everywhere. (You know what I also love? The German bakery that was just behind me as I snapped this photo.)
We grab some baked goods and make our way back to the older-than-Amerika homestead.
Christina and I pose for a final photo, and I continue to ask myself why I look like a giant next to people.
A stop at the ole rest station for some food. Here’s hoping that they have some good options.
Good food options, by the way, do not include restaurants wishing me a Merry Cheesemas. We do not dine here.
Back in the car, Christina takes over. Here she is telling me that she thinks that I am Number One in her book.
Hello France. As soon as you cross this sign you can just sense the chaos and self-centered driving returning to the world order.
Our trip away from France brought us through Nancy. On this leg, we’re headed straight back to Paris. 
All quiet on the Western Front. I should mention that we are driving back to Paris on Armistice Day, which is of course better known in the States as Veterans Day. This sign says “battle fields 1914-1918”. 
City of Peace. The battle of Verdun was a massive battle between the French and Germans during World War I. Over 300,000 people died here. Vous ne les laisserez pas passer, mes camarades.
I find it incredibly fitting that we as two military officers are traveling these roads today. My great regret was that we had no time to stop and pay our respects to these important historical sites. I am due for a rather sizable return to France in order to properly tour these areas. 
The winter sun doesn’t offer much, and soon we are headed into darkness. I’m snapping photos and doing my best to deejay with my iPod.
Traffic starts to pick up as we near the big city. After seven hours, we are ready to get out of the car. 
And before we know it, we are back in a land where Megan can speak the language (hooray) and properly curse the city center traffic (boo).