The only reason I managed a leave pass to France to do the High Route in the first place was because my good friend Jean-Christophe managed to convince my wife that he and I had to run the marathon de Paris together. The High Route was a mere side trip under the alibi of altitude training. There are a lot of mythologies about the latter and the short is that a week of exercising at altitude is unlikely to make a scratch of difference. Morry and I both agreed that we felt invincible from a cardio perspective, but that our legs were rogered earlier than habitude. I ran a 3:18 which was shorter than my expectations for LHR. The best bit of this fab trip as usual was getting back to my wife and wombats.
An early start for a long day. Paris from the hotel window.
Morry psyching himself up.
It was a chilly 5 degrees. Good running weather!
Jean-Christophe's dad walking him to the start line conveniently around the corner his place.
Jean-Christophe et Tristan
And they're off! Champs Elysees.
Rive droit
Kilometre 30
Towards Eiffel Tower
Feeling tired on the home straight.
Four sore boys all celebrating their first marathons in JC's dad's apartment.
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