Je fait du jogging

"Le jogging" in France is not as popular as it is in the States but one certainly does see here runners grimly slogging along. From my knowledge of French society and culture "le jogging" is a bit too socially isolating. One tends to see the French doing physical activities more in groups, be it soccer, ice skating, or even walking and hiking. Of course the time of the year and the weather are factors in not seeing many other runners. Also, running in the town itself is not particularly convenient as the buildings sit right on the corners so one tends to run most of the block but once one nears the end of the block one has to slow down and peek around the corner to see if cars, bikes, and/or pedestrians are coming. It's a stacatto pace.

The first two weeks here I've gone on a few runs that have been quite nice. The Puissant family lives in the middle of Tours and a little over one mile south of their home, across the river Cher one can find a park with a sizeable lake, Lac de Bergeronnerie, that has a 1.5 mile path around it. Typically, I'll run to the lake, through the town of Tours, do two to three laps of the lake and then run home. The trail around the lake is very gently rolling and is mostly a crushed gravel path. I can think of worse ways to spend forty minutes to an hour. However, after doing that run several times (laps are not that thrilling after a while) I thought it might be better to see something else in the time I am here.

Sunday seemed to be an optimal day for a long run as my two housemates were gone and the family was out doing errands--and it turned out to be one of the most memorable runs in my life. Many of you have heard of my past marathon training where Sundays are reserved for my friends Keith, Ross, and I to do a long run of anywhere from twelve to twenty-two miles. Even though I am not in great long-distance shape being two months past my last marathon I thought Sunday would be a good day to restart the long-run tradition here in France. What also convinced me was that we finally saw the sun this weekend after literally having no sun for the first ten or so days here (and some of you may know that I do not care for that particularly). It warmed up to a balmy 45. With the forecast being a return to gloom the rest of the week I decided to take advantage of the day.

I checked the map in my room for possible options and decided to run to Vouvray, some seven miles away. I was familiair with Vouvray for the locality produces a delightful and affordable white wine with the Chenin Blanc grape that I heartily recommend (I'm being paid by the Office of Tourism, Vouvray for this product placement). After dressing in my strange running garb I left Chez Puissant at 1:30 and ran my first herky-jerky paced mile through the streets of Tours. So far, just about the usual. Then, I came to the bridge over France's second most famous river (as one has to rank the Seine first). The Loire is the Platte River of France: long, wide, full of sandbars, and, mostly, unnavigable. Of course the Platte River is not dotted with the odd Renaissance-era chateaux. For several miles I could run alongside the river on a sometimes-dirt, sometimes-grass path as I could either watch the river and some local wildlife on my right: ducks, swans, and some other various waterfowl. On the left I could see some small chateaux, built right upon or atop the ochre-colored cliffs, or small villages that dotted the landscape. It certainly was an idyllic scene and an easy run. But, moreover, it was free of the diesel exhaust one has to breathe in town.

They were a few other joggers and walkers on the path and I nodded a "bonjour" to them. Some of them looked at me as if I were a bit mad as I was just wearing my running shorts and a short-sleeved running shirt and bandana (other runners and walkers were bundled as if the ice age was coming--must be my Swedish heritage). After nearly an hour I made it to Vouvray, a "village" of several thousand. Many independent grape growers in the village environs had signs out for tastings (dégustations) but I miscalculated doing my run on a Sunday as all those I could see in town were closed. In fact, the town looked empty, which upon reflection was not such a surprise as it was off-season for tourists.

However, luck found me and I located a small combination "tabac" and bar near the center of town. Peering through the window I could see a bartender and two customers at the bar having a drink. By this time I looked even more disheveled than normal as I saw my reflection in the window. What I also saw in the window that convinced me to go in was their menu--one could get a glass of the local wine for 1.1 € (1.35 US). Dishevelment bedamned! I boldly strode in and stated in my finest French "un vin blanc, s'il vous plait."

The magic of going to a language school for two weeks finally paid off as I did receive my small glass of wine (with a quizzical look). I could lie now and say how the four of us at the bar began to talk and how I charmed them with my good humor and that after that hour we reached a general Franco-American rapprochement. Alas, no: the bartender went back to conversation with the two locals and I had my glass of wine in a few minutes and then decided to run home. Oh, in case you were wondering, the wine was delicious (get the '97).

The run home was little different than the run to Vouvray save for the gentle glow in my stomach. I did have the sight of the some 300-foot towers of the old cathedral of Tours in the distance to mark my way home. In a little less than an hour again I found myself back at Chez Puissant, a little weary and a little sore and ragged, but with a great story to tell.


p.s. by the way, I am doing more here than just eating cakes with ceramic figurines and running and drinking wine. At some point I'll make an entry on the school and my classes...

click on link below for map...

Map From Tours to Vouvray