Race-Day Training in Aix-en-Provence

In January my friend, Jackie, convinced me to at least start the training for a half-marathon with her.  I was set to begin anew my running regimen, and thought why-the-heck-not.  Jackie had run a half-marathon before and had a training regimen that we could follow.  I printed it up and gulped.  There were 5 runs every week.  Each week had a long run, which began at 7K, already more than I was currently running.  There was hill training, which in Aix-en-Provence is a must.  And then there were the sprints.  I told Jackie that my plan was to train with her until I could see how this old body would handle the increase in the running schedule, the longer distances, etc. 

We ran most of the longer runs together, and some of the shorter ones as well.  Jackie has a time which she is aiming to meet, whereas I am simply running to complete the run.  As we got further into the training I was really amazed at how my body was responding.  Did I love every run?  Absolutely not.  There were days when I really had to just keep my feet moving using sheer will power.  There were the days when, the day after the run, I realized that the reason my run had been so awful was that I was coming down with something nasty. 

Yet there also were the days where I could pull off my long-sleeved t-shirt in February and run with the sun on my arms.  There were my beautiful runs along the Venetian canals, the Seine River in Paris, and down the boulevards of Grenoble, surrounded by snow-capped mountains.  There were the long runs over our last vacation, where I doubted my ability to run without Jackie’s unflagging encouragement and support.  But I did it!  In the sun, in the rain, chugging along like the wheels of a train. 

The runs up the hills were a challenge that I enjoyed.  There was a big bad dog who lived along one of my hill routes, so if he was out I switched to running a stretch of road.  I had to wonder what the lady who waited at the bus stop was thinking as I ran up and down a stretch of steep hill, over and over again.  Trying for a bit faster each time. We’ll have to see how it goes on race day, as there are two big hills, one at the 10K mark and one at the 15K mark.  I am a bit nervous, but a bit confident in my perseverance as well. 

The sprints were something that I wanted to love, but just didn’t.  My thighs BURNED the second week of sprints, in a way that I did not appreciate.  If I weren’t so stubborn I would not have stuck with it.  But it was written on paper, and Jackie would be asking me how they went...

Because I am not much of a shopper, I really did not have appropriate equipment for all the training.  I went out and bought new running shoes, and a pair of running tights to get me through the wintery moments.  And just yesterday I had to buy a new bra because the one I have had since my time living in Madison (read at least 12 years old) has been chafing and that’s not the kind of run I want to have on Sunday.  Chatting with the running store owner about the number of female runners in France he was surprised to hear that I was not running the “Feminin” Course on Sunday but the “Semi.”  As well, the doctor who filled out my “Certificat Medical” stating that I was in good enough health to run, was also surprised.  But he was doubly surprised after giving me a heart recovery rate test.  I had to do twenty squats in his office, then have my pulse taken.  He then took my pulse again a minute later to see if it had dropped.  After taking the second pulse rate he announced that I must be a fast runner because my heart rate was already back down to its normal rate.  That made me feel good.

So, it is off to the races on Sunday.  We start at 8:45, late for most North American races, but early for French time.  The race loops to the west edge of town, then back through the center.  Next through the park that I have run through most often and then up the mountain to the next town over and back down to another park in town for the grand finish.  I have heard rumour that the water tables may also have wine on them.  And the running store owner told me that there would be about 2000 runners.  I am looking forward to a nice sunny morning run, along with 1999 of my fellow crazies.  Oh, and did I tell you the name of the race?  Les Grandes Folles!