Running in North America 2 - Montreal

[Sweder]

A complete lack of time means the full tale of running amongst the vines in South Western France must wait awhile. Attention turns now to my current locale, Montreal, for I am here for the FDI World Dental Congress. It's a huge coming together of evil - people who have trained all their lives to pull, scrape, file, fill and drill teeth. Happily I only co ordinate the international transport and destination logistics for the event, although dealing with Canadian customs can be a bit like pulling teeth. (Eyethangyou, I'm 'ere all week - TSSSSH!)

Friday 19th August - 3.5 mile city plod
I arrived in Monteal last night and crashed spectacularly early in my hotel room. Awoke this morning at 6am, the sun peeking over the cityscape outside my 20th floor window. A cup of coffee, running gear on and I was out the door ready to embrace the quiet city streets.

Armed with my mobile/ stopwatch and a very shabby map I set off in the general direction of the Palais des Congress. As I reached the impressive modern frontage, repleat with stained glass walls, I was hailed by a fellow jogger. This chap, it turns out, works as aircrew for Air France and is also out for his first ever morning slog around Montreal, and is lost. He's French, and so holds a distinct advantage over poor mono-languaged moi. However, he was sans map, so the advantage this morning was all mine.

I invited him to join me. We continued south towards the docks along la Rue St Pierre, past the neo-Gothic Catherdral Notre Dame (that's really what they call it - a rather modest facsmilie of the fabulous Parisian original). Downtown Montreal has a San Francisco-esque profile, although the gradients are more forgiving for the morning plodder.

The docks, I reasoned, being set around water, should be relatively flat. They were. A mile in and my new companion, in his late 20's and thin as a rake, started puffing like an old man with an opium habit. I slowed a little, and after a minute or two light conversation became possible.

The fellow has spent a lot of time in Charlotte, Carolina, training with ex-pat Rugby Players who, seeing as he was the lone Frenchman in the group, predictably christened him 'Froggie'. I delighted in this revelation, and resolved to use his new monika, much to his chagrin.

The dockside offered a cinder track/ cycle path, and we took it west away from the rising sun. Our conversation turned to International Rugby, Froggie lamenting the poor performance of the French coach, Bernard Laport. We agreed on the following:

1. French indiscipline costs them more matches than lack of skill
2. Frederick Michelack is the new star of Northern Hemisphere Rugby
3. England miss the duffers who bailed after the World Cup triumph in 2003

Blimey! 2003 . . . I was in Sydney just 3 weeks before that tournament started, for this very same congress. How time flies.

The track looped back after a klick or so, and we followed it's course. As we passed University, the main uphill drag into the downtown area, I noticed a good deal of yellow barrier tape ahead. Beyond this a collection of police cars, TV crew vans and various uniformed personnel littered the road and sidewalk. Discretion overcame curiosity and we turned North and homeward, crossing via Rue St Jaques to Rue St. Laurent. Froggie had tired on the incline and waved farewell, destined for a shower and the evening flight to Charles de Gaulle. I pushed on, increasing my pace and looking for my cross street. President Kennedy Avenue duly appeared, and I wheeled west toward the hotel.

35 minutes, with stops, various speeds (Froggies don't like hills, it seems) equated to around 3.5 miles or so - at least that's what I'm booking. I reckon I'll get out 2 days out of every 3 (a few hangovers expected this week as this congress brings a few old friends together). I'll aim for 5 miles tomorrow - oh, and I may look up the local Garmin dealer; I've had it with this guestimated mileage malarky.