Paris in the springtime. A fine place to take a romantic break, take in the sights, or... run a marathon. The day of the 29th Paris marathon started early (5am breakfast for some of us), allowing for an earlier than usual race start time of 8.45am (to accommodate the whims of French television, apparently). The day dawned slightly overcast, but pleasantly cool, with only a light breeze- perfect running conditions. The assembled masses at the top of the Champs Elysees (the 'most famous street in the world', according to the Parisians!), against the backdrop of the Arc de Triomphe, were a sight to behold. 'Aurevoir' to the motor vehicle, 'bonne chance' to the usual melee of noisy polluters; the running revolution had arrived; the lunatic driver to be replaced, for the next few hours at least, by the willpower of 35,000 runners. Not quite the 'storming of the bastille', perhaps, but somehow it felt just a little like that...
The start is well organised, as far as you can tell, and, following a short spell of friendly gallic shoulder-barging and general jostling, you are off, a small army heading for the siege of la Concorde, from where a brief bottleneck is followed by delightful open-strided and scenic running past the Louvre and out east towards the 'bois de boulogne'. After 10 kms you are out of the cobbled streets and into the wooded section of the route which loops more quietly past the zoo, east of the city centre. As you begin to turn back west there is a kilometre or so of slightly stiffer running- one of those apparently 'flat' sections which conceals a subtle but steady incline; your legs are working now, an early taste, perhaps, of what is to come...
Then it's easier ground down towards the 20km mark and on to the cocophany of noise which is the halfway point. Legs still flowing- unlike last time- you enjoy the wave of noise, the drum beats actually give you a kick. Ahead there's a constriction; the crowd has converged on both sides, leaving only a narrow corridor of perhaps a few feet. The noise is deafening; you furrow your way through, then on, looking for your planned 'ISO' fructose drink at 23kms (an inspiration, it even tastes okay...)
You are on the banks of the Seine now; the Eiffel Tower dominates the skyline ahead. Your legs are beginning to dominate your thoughts. But just keep the rhythm, past 25kms, and on through a long dark tunnel. There is light at the end of it; the sun is shining bright; a series of underpasses provokes complaint from increasingly agitated quads.
30kms. Just 10kms (and a (short) bit) to go. You like kms; they come around quicker. But there's a lot of them! It's starting to hurt now; keep the legs going, keep the rhythm. 'Allez, allez, monsieur!'- French crowds, it seems, are polite (in London, it was, "come on, shift your f****** a***!").
35kms. You are back in the woods, 'de Boulogne' this time. The Eiffel Tower keeps appearing from all directions, but always in the distance. Maybe you are delirious. Just keep the rhythm. Someone blows a screaching hooter 6 inches from your right ear. Someone else offers you 'un hotdog'- a hotdog? In a marathon? Only in France. 'Non merci'. Keep the rhythm.
Last mile now (you have lost track of kms- just too many of them). Final corner and the Arc de Triomphe is in sight. You cross the line, stagger to a halt. Someone puts a medal around your neck, and a big orange bin bag; and you walk, slowly, along with the other zombies, to the waiting hug, and celebration. It's over, a pb, and the sun is shining in Paris.Report and photos Ben Kemp
Results here
Ben is too modest to mention his time was a staggering 2.46 and although there were 324 runners ahead of him there were 28,500+ behind. pb
