Printemps at last

[stillwaddler]

Runners in Paris seem to wear an awful lot of clothes, well, the female ones anyway, long yoga type flared trousers, long sleeved top and hoody, although sometimes the later was slung around their waste ( bum disguise perhaps;-) ) They also run very slowly, short stiff strides with feet barely leaving the oh so clean - except for the doggy do do’s - pavements. Odd, but then we joined the big boys running before breakfast in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

Now I don’t usually run first thing in the morning – ever, but, having eaten and drunk so much it was becoming a necessity if I wasn’t to return home from a week enjoying the printemps á Paris a total blob. We were there to celebarate thirty years of wedded bliss and meet up with some now US based friends who were enjoying 6 months sabbatical in the beautiful city – gosh it must be tough being an academic.

So it was up and out of the hotel door on to the rue d’Ecole past the Sorbonne up Boulevard Saint-Michel and into the park to join the predominanently fit lean and fast parisiens dans les trainers.

Delightful place to run, hugging the perimeter on decent recently raked paths, past the magnificent Palais under the newly budding trees amongst glorous spring flowers. As Mr SW remarked – “It certainly beats working for a living”.

Back to reality, and yes you’ve guessed it, I’m a blob!!!