Au Revoir PB, bonjour injury

Ah Paris, Ville de l’amour, La Ville Lumière, Une Capitale de la mode, etc, etc…the perfect place to take on my second marathon, (well the perfect place to convince my wife and daughter that me ‘popping off’ to run a marathon in the middle of a long weekend away was ok). 

It all started during the come down after completing my first Weymouth Half Ironman, what do I do now? What can top that? My plan was always to do a full Ironman at some point so I eyed up IM Wales at the end of 2018. Planning my training back to start on Jan 2018 I realised that a cheeky marathon in April / May time would be good ‘prep’, even typing that shows how ‘long distance’ is all just a matter of perception, but that’s a topic for another day. 

Starting on the 1^st January I decided to follow Hal Higdon’s ‘Novice 2’ training plan and then flip across to a triathlon plan in May giving me plenty of time to get both plans / events in. I chose Paris partly because it was an easy sell to the family but also as I have a goal to do all of the ‘main / famous’ marathons, namely London, Paris, New York, Berlin and, if I can get a lot quicker, Boston – a guy can dream. 

[ Training ]

The training program rolled along, generally once I’ve committed to a plan, I go for it. The hardest thing I found was the weather. I’d not really considered what an early Spring marathon meant in terms of training during the cold, wet months of January and February. It all culminated in me running through the ‘Beast from the East’ in February, I certainly got some funny looks from drivers as I ran along smiling maniacally as the snow fell, sometimes you’ve just got to laugh! 

I arrived at my April taper, in good shape having had a pretty good training block. The aim was for a 3hr45 time with a secret eye on 3hr30 if all went well, both well ahead of the 4hr20 I managed in London…bags packed with some confidence, off we drove. 

Now, it’s not rocket science to suggest that 20,000 steps mooching around Paris, including a long walk back down the 674 steps of the Eiffel Tower, is ideal pre-race prep but the marathon was just part of the weekend. You can’t go to Paris and not see the sights! 

The morning of the race beckoned, the Metro was close by and not too crowded it was easy to get to the start, the locals seem to be enjoying the event, (contrary to things I’d read), with a few ‘bonne chance’ as I got off the tube.  

[ The race ]

The French relaxed attitude extended to getting to, and lining up in my timing pen, making it all relatively a painless experience. It was pretty much a free for all, as long as you had your race number on show you were let in past the metal barriers and then could stroll along wherever you wanted. I’m almost sure it would have been possible to get close to the front if you really wanted.   

The next 7 miles flew by; Place de la Concorde, Hotel De Ville, Place de la Bastille. Crowds lining the streets, cheering the runners on, the weather was perfect, cool and dry. I was running conservatively at 8min45 pace, feeling great and marvelling at all the sites… 

[ …and then, oh and then, it all went wrong ]

Around mile 7 I ran around a pedestrian island as we moved from the main road into the Bois de Vincennes, (wooded area on the edge of Paris), moving across to the side of the road following the flow of the other runners. Maybe I was looking around at the sights too much, maybe I was just unlucky. As I rolled around the island, I heard a crack and a pop. Anyone who has been to Paris will attest to the uneven tarmac on the Paris streets, I immediately knew something was wrong, the front of my right foot hit the side of the bump, the rest of my body continued forward, effectively twisting my ankle and stretching my calf in one quick movement. I stumbled a few steps, grabbed the bannister on the island and hopped out of the way of the other runners.  

The initial worry was my ankle, I stood for a few seconds assessing the pain. I rolled my foot in a circle and felt the area, so far so good…it hurt for sure but not too much, maybe I’d gotten lucky and it was just a little strain. I took stock, necked a gel from my pocket and let the pain subside. 

 A couple of minutes passed and I felt ok, I turned around and re-joined the throng of runners. The ankle felt good, phew. Adrenaline was pumping so I slowed the pace a little just to let myself get back into a rhythm but about 100m down the road my first 2 toes on my right foot started to ache and my calf felt tight. 

Sod this I thought, I didn’t come all the way to Paris to just do a 10k so I ploughed on, slowing to a 10min mile pace. I couldn’t tell you what other landmarks there were on the run, I vaguely remember Notre Dame and the Eiffel Tower. All I can really remember is grinding out step after step after step as my toes throbbed, my calf knotted tighter and tighter and the weather got unhelpfully hotter and hotter.  

Spectator support was sporadic, sometimes it was 3 or 4 deep, other times – all around the Bois and along the Seine toe-path – hardly a soul. I even had a mad French lady shouting insults, (at least that’s what it sounded like), as she strolled across the route with her small poodle. However, where there was support it was loud and encouraging and far outweighed the quiet periods.  

At around mile 20/21 there was a much-needed morale boost as a rather noisy British contingent were supporting the runners whilst also supporting the French beer economy. I saw my family but didn’t stop for more than a few seconds for fear of stiffening up even more. 

[ Finished in 4hr32 ]

In hindsight, I’m pretty pleased with my time, given the circumstances, and also that I didn’t quit. Yes, it could be seen as being a bit foolhardy as I could have made things a lot worse but it did make me realise just what the human body can endure and I certainly learnt a lesson in metal fortitude to win over 3 hours of pain. 

Would I do the event again? Yes. Paris itself is a lovely city, the run was well organised, well supported in the main and I will take the memory of running down the Champs-Élysées with me.