Harmeny Pentland Runners

By Bob (The bag carrier’s tale) “Eleven worthy souls and an equal number of unworthy hangers-on journeyed over for a gentle run in the temperate ambience of the Paris Springtime. Or so we thought. The weather forecast was chaud, tres chaud and getting encore plus chaud all the time.

Caroline pulled rank with the World’s Favourite Airline and got her own personal pilot to fly the main group of us over. Getting out of Charles de Gaul airport was reminiscent of the weekly Sunday morning “where shall we go discussion” as we split into various groups to tackle the trip into the city and made hurried arrangements for meeting up again.

The afternoon was spent getting to the Registration to collect stuff, and sitting in the shade. Using the Metro was reminiscent of the weekly Sunday morning “which way shall we go discussion” .All the time it was getting hotter. I made an executive decision and bought a floral club flag (!) at a florist to assist our runners and other bag carriers to spot me.

The day of the race dawned with a soft hazy freshness we knew would soon disappear. We were spread over various hotels, with various numbers of randomly allocated stars, but all near the Arc de Triomphe, where the race started. It was a short stroll for everyone to gather together. Apart from Norma who cycled from the camp-site. Nothing like a cycle through a strange city to prepare for a marathon.

We (David Boyle, Joanna McGavigan and I) saw the runners into their pens and ambled down the Champs Elysee to the 1k point. It was now sunny.

The wheelchairs, elite runners and a running model of the Eiffel tower went past…. then came the hordes. Approx 35,000, but we weren’t counting.

The 1k point is not a good place to stand. It is the first point on the course where there are a lot of trees. Runners who had consumed a lot a fluid, and had been penned up for ages, made for the trees like greyhounds. And used the trees like greyhounds.

Once the hordes went past I was getting too warm and I took off my Currie top. It was shorts and T-shirt weather, and I was prepared. “Coffee time” we agreed. A pleasant stroll over the Seine took us to a corner café in the shade and there we parked. David noticed it was a Rugby Café, and I spotted a Melrose top.

A telly in the corner was covering the leaders. “They’ve only six miles to go”…. “Our lot will be nearly half-way”….  “Time to walk up to the 30k point”, which is where we said we’d be cheering.

The 30k point had a high wall alongside the course that allowed us a good view of the runners coming along. Our “flag” interrupted the view for a lady further along the wall and we got some traditional Parisian abuse. Zut alors! We shifted along a bit. I put some sun cream on.

One by one we spotted our runners, or they spotted us, some looking and sounding fresher than others. It’s just as well we were carrying some water, as the organisers hadn’t seen the weather forecast. Or maybe they had but couldn’t find a Tesco open on Sunday.

It was time to move up to the finish area. The reunion pen was rather crowded and we had to squeeze in through a narrow gate against the flow of hot, sticky humanity (and that included other bag-carriers).

Caroline had already finished. One-by one most of the others arrived at the gathering point. Eventually everyone was accounted for. Verity had required treatment on the course and hadn’t been able to finish. We walked, slowly, out of the post race gathering pen and past the various hot-food stalls. Yum-yum, just what runners want to smell when they’re hot, sore, exhausted and dehydrated. I was quite peckish but decided I could wait.

Thankfully everyone was able to make the evening meal, and complete the replenishment of lost fluids. We even had the pleasure of a traditional Parisian hissy fit from the waitresses until they realised that large party + lots of wine = good tip (maybe).

PS: Did I mention it was hot? About 27 deg C.
PPS: The flag is in our conservatory. It may re-appear for ceremonial duties.”