Initially I was missing Paris. Running on the Seine - amazing. French food - amazing. Why? Butter, butter, butter. Note, add stinky cheese to list of non-recommended pre-marathon foods. Also, apparently rose is neither zinfandel nor a blend of red and white.
Got to Caen after difficult shlepping of luggage on train stations that do not believe in elevators/ escalators. Compared to Paris, crowded, noisy streets with lots of rust, no subway, average age of people ~18 (though they look 14), not as easy to sit alone in cafes without raising eyebrows. Tiny 60's decor hotel. What was I thinking?
Caen is full of 11th century churches and castles, and the marathon was great. You realize that D-day is a big deal to Normandie. Got bused north for this point-to-point, running along the coast and through small seaside towns, also a surprising number of spectators. The field was ~95% male, and there were no porta potties as men do not need them (they barely bother to go to the side of the road to pee). As much as I didn't want to eat another large hunk of brie after the race, I sure needed it for the 4 mile walk back to the hotel.
Tomorrow it's on to Provence and Cycling with the Ironmen. I know what damage they can do after the 7 Hills of Kirkland Century, and am feeling slightly like a drowning rat when I think about my impending encounter with Mont Ventoux.
Thanks for posting Suzie, the brie must be hard to resist!
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