Observations about Paris and it’s runners.

They run and dress differently than we do.  Why not – they are French, n’est pas?

High tech American running gear hasn’t caught on there at all.  I saw people running in black, cotton t shirts in the middle of a hot Paris afternoon.  Men and women wore what looked to be long Bermuda shorts or capri pants as part of their jogging ensembles.  There were all combinations of old and the new styles.

I didn’t see many running styles that would lead me me to believe that someone was a natural runner.  There was a lot of bouncing on toes or flat slapping feet on the pavement.  Arms flying everywhere and none of the runners I saw attempted to make eye contact with other runners.

I was fortunate to be able to run a couple of miles in Parc Montsouris which was created and built in 1875.  There was a huge pond filled with ducks and geese, a really neat children’s playground, a cafe where I had crepes and on Saturdays the park featured pony rides.

I couldn’t get any other runner to catch my eye, smile or even wave.  There is a small memorial plaque in the park commemorating a French soldier who was killed by a German bomb in August 1944.  Paris history is serious and it’s everywhere.

Even though I was far from home being able to run put me into a comfort zone.  I wonder how many of my fellow runners felt the same.  I hope they did.

Running is a universal language sort of like music.

Running in Paris.  It was pretty swell.