Marathon Touraine Loire Valley

Day 10 - Marathon Touraine Loire Valley

When I woke up on Sunday, I was in full out “So why the heck am I running a marathon today?" mode.  I was kind of kicking myself for signing up and wondering if I should just start drinking the wine in my marathon goodie bag and call it a day.  

This could quite possibly be a side effect of:

A) Running four marathons in one year

B) Running 3 marathons in 4 months

C) Running 2 marathons in 2 weeks

D) Going on a phenomenal vacation to Spain and France and capping it off with a marathon on the last day

Or E) All of the above 

But of course the race was the entire reason for you, know going to France!  Thus, any pre-race jitters and slight laziness were set aside, and off we went.  That said, the race started at 8:45 (latest marathon race start I’ve ever experienced) so that was a small victory.

Even though it would have been an atrocious idea on a hot day, I am eternally grateful for the race organizers setting the start time for 8:45 (latest marathon race start time I've ever experienced), so that was a small victory, and much easier to stomach than the 7 am start for the Erie Marathon which I did a few weeks before. 

I was super skeptical that I could comfortably wear the turtle costume I had brought for an entire marathon and was ready to ditch the entire idea when I got to the start line, but opted to just toss it away if it got too annoying, and shockingly (or not shockingly?), running the marathon was far more uncomfortable than the turtle costume part.

It was lightly raining and about 70, but the light rain cut the heat.  Mom and I took some pictures and then parted ways so I could head to the start corral.  

Usually, race starts are full of me chatting with strangers, asking how everyone is feeling, if they’re excited, where they’re from, if they’ve run a marathon before.  

But, as I toed the line of marathon #6, I was struck with my first experience of a complete and utter language barrier at a race.

I mean, sure, Tel Aviv’s first language isn’t exactly English but I recall talking to so many Americans who had made Aliyah during the race, that it may as well have been.

And in Australia, the biggest language barrier was the difference between kilometers and miles.

I watched my fellow competitors closely, waiting for a hint that some of them may be foreigners, English speakers even, but no such luck.

In hindsight, much with the cooking class in my last post, you’d think I would have realized that if the English section of the website hadn’t been updated since 2015, they didn’t get too many English speaking participants.  That maybe a small race in a small city wouldn't exactly be shouting, "Americans, come run this race!"  

Hindsight is 20/20 though.  Foresight not so much.  

It seems I picked a very, supremely, un-international marathon in a country where people don’t seem to want to speak English.

It was suddenly incredibly eye opening how mono-lingual I am.

And it is for that reason that it’s not my favorite race I’ve ever ran but it was also the most educational.  I couldn’t just chat mindlessly to any poor souls who would listen, or easily make new friends. I couldn’t just chill out with the pacers and listen to the advice they gave.

And yet, at the same time, running a marathon is a universal language.

You don’t need words to know where to line up if

you have a start line, a crowd of people and signs listing times on it in numbers.

You don’t need words to know the race is starting if everyone in front of you starts moving.

You don’t need to understand the words when people cheer you on from the sidelines, although the fact that we all wore bibs with our names on that definitely helped.  

Or when someone teases the pacer for running with a can of soda in her backpack or someone yells “Duck” because you’re running through an arch and the pacers are wearing tall signs on their backs with their pace time on them, you can get the gist without catching the words.

And yet, it’s not always so easy.  Sometimes you’re completely lost in translation, struck with an extreme inability to communicate all the thoughts in your head.  And being a native English speaker, I’ve been extremely privileged to not have to deal with that very often.

Sure, in Israel, there were times where a taxi driver got frustrated with me and I with him because he couldn’t seem to understand where I wanted to go.  But I got out of the taxi and found another driver.  

And before I learned how to read “Herzliya” in Hebrew, I had to ask people if I was getting on the correct train.

I think it comes down to the difference between needing to communicate and wanting to.  If I needed to know where the train was, I could say, “Herzliya” with a questioning look on my face, and point.  They could nod or shake my head and I’d be on my way.  I also had a phone on me 85% of the time if I really needed to figure something out.

During the race, it was less about needing to communicate.  I mean, I've done the marathon thing enough times to grasp that you follow the crowd, you grab snacks off the table as needed, you take cups of water and sports drink from the volunteers, and eventually, if you're lucky, you cross the finish line.  

In this case, it was more about wanting to communicate, about having a desire to share that 4 hours of my life (okay, admittedly a little bit more) with others.  

And also knowing that other people around me were communicating, and I was the only one who couldn’t.

But it’s kind of funny because I ran next to the same pacer for several miles and he had no idea I didn’t speak French, or even that I wasn’t French.  I always thought that people in European countries could smell a tourist from a mile away, or by their clothes and demeanor.  

But I guess in a race that’s primarily French people, there’s no reason to think anyone wouldn’t be.  

It turned out to be great immersion though - which again, if you don’t have an ounce of French in your background, might not quite count as immersion.  I learned some words though (if you hear the french equivalent of “Go on”, a couple hundred times you seem to catch on eventually), and I met a few English speakers along the way, starting with my friend Tarzan.  

My tortoise costume was definitely a conversation starter, although that conversation was not always one I understood.  I got a lot of ninja turtle comments even though I was definitely going for the tortoise and the hare look (remind me not to run my next marathon until I have someone willing to dress up as the rabbit to come along; feel free to volunteer yourself or your friends!).

Communication between me and my fellow runners quickly became a smile and a thumbs up, a blank stare when spoken to, and finally thanks to Tarzan (but more on that later), the ability to say “I don’t speak French” in French (which I admittedly can say in French now, but have no prayers at being able to spell).

Tarzan was pretty cool, even though his name was actually Bruno, and not only because he was running barefoot, with a Tarzan costume (shirtless and loin cloth and all) and a stuffed monkey who was wrapped around his neck/across his chest.  We chatted for a while, and he told me running with shoes was harder for him than running barefoot.  Weird concept for me to fathom, but to each their own, and I'm seriously impressed!

For a race that included a costume contest, there weren’t as many people  in costume as I expected, so Bruno and I bonded - and he caught on that I was just “La Tortue” and not a ninja turtle 🐢.

Like I said, he was the one who taught me how to say, "I don't speak French" which was a godsend for the rest of the race. And at one point, he told the pacers I didn't understand and did some translations for me.  

Around the halfway point, we passed a goat on the side of the road as we approached the Chateau of Villandry, which is known for its beautiful gardens.  Weirdly enough, running through there is a blur.  I remember talking about it and being there but don't really remember seeing anything.  That was the main reason that after the race, I encouraged mom to go check it out with me.  

We ran along the river on a bike path for a while, and shortly after that, the unwise choice of running two marathons in two weeks caught up with me, and I fell back, eventually succumbing to a walk (the only marathon I've ever walked in).  I lost my pace group, but I made a few other friends, armed with my new phrase, "Je ne parle pas français" which magically either flipped the conversation to English or instantly ended it.

Eventually, kilometer after kilometer passed until I made my way across the finish line, and found my mother (and tortoise and hare puppets). We celebrated the race with paella and wine overlooking the river, which was pretty delicious. Then we headed back to the hotel for our bags. I changed out of my race clothes, stared longingly at the hot tub, kicked back on the couch in the lobby going through trip photos, and asked if we should go to Villandry, since mom had been hoping to watch the race from there but hadn't been able to get there.

She didn't really think I was serious, and if she had hesitated a bit longer, I probably would still be laying on that couch (it was so comfy), and it was a little nuts considering a) I had just run a marathon and b) We still had a 3 hour drive ahead of us back to Bordeaux.

But we're us, so of course, we went to Villandry. And it was so worth it! The castle was neat, and the gardens were phenomenal, and it was a great way to cap the last day of our trip (or my trip at least).

A downpour started as we were finishing up exploring in the gardens, signaling that it was time to go. We stopped at a nearby bakery for food to take with us, and hit the road.

We arrived in Bordeaux super late, cleaned out the car and packed up all our stuff. The next morning, Mom headed to the Bordeaux train station to meet friends to go on a bicycle trip that started in Bergerac, while I headed back to the States to get back to work.

But, what better way to cap off a European adventure than to run a marathon?

4 continents down.

3 to go.

Leave a comment! Where should my next marathon be?

Cooking Classes and Marathon Expos a.k.a. Full Immersion Day

Day Nine: Tours, France

On day nine, it was almost time for the whole reason we took the trip in the first place, and like I always am the day before a marathon, I was full on in denial (and astoundingly

nervous) about it.  This time, that feeling was further exacerbated by the fact that I ran the Erie Marathon two weeks before the race in Tours, and I knew that was bound to be a foolhardy feat to attempt.  

But when it comes to athletic endeavors, I can sometimes be a little overzealous and I always get it done in the end, and so we were there finally, after months of talking about it, and almost two years of trying to get a Europe marathon on the calendar.  

It was almost time for continent number four.  

But before we could think about such things, I had promised mom we would take a cooking class!  (Because that's absolutely what you should do the day before a marathon).  So Saturday morning, after having bagels for breakfast, we walked over to Tours a table for our class.  

Despite how well traveled I am, I'm still cluelessly American, so I was shocked when I arrived to discover that the class was taught fully in French and that most of the attendees were locals who didn't speak English (you would think I would have figured it out after struggling to sign up for it on the website when the website was entirely in French).  

At one point the chef looked at mom and me and asked if we understood.  I shook my head.  He knew English, but just told us (in French) that we should have signed up for the English speaking class (hmmm, didn't find anywhere on the website that said that existed) and that he would keep speaking French.  In the end, mom was glad we did the French version.  Since my French is so much worse than hers, the jury is still out on that one for me.  

We made lamb, scallops, a salad, and a meringue for dessert.  Mom got to practice her high school/college French and I stared blankly at the chef while he talked, but caught on to things that don't require words, like chopping onions and such.  

At the end of the class, we apportioned the food and shrink wrapped it, and everyone got sent home with it for lunch.  

Since we were staying at a hotel (albeit a super cool hotel primarily targeted at business travels called the Oceania L'Univers), we had to figure out where to eat.  Luckily, the front desk staff was happy to steal dishes and silverware from the hotel restaurant (which was closed) for us, and sent us to a sitting area where we could devour our creations (even though no recipes were provided so I highly doubt we could recreate such masterpieces ever again).  

After we ate, I was tuckered out, so mom went window shopping and I relaxed for a while, before it was time to go to the race expo.  

Finally, we went to the car and headed to the expo, held at a shopping center on the outside of town.  When we got to the expo, we struggled to figure out where they were registering people for the marathon, since the marathon and the shorter races were being registered in different areas.  Add the language barrier, and the fact that everyone thought I looked too young to be running 42 kilometers, and the struggle was real.  

Eventually finding our way to the correct area, I produced my doctor's note and an English speaker had to be found to confirm that it said that I was fit to participate (what does it say that the French require proof of your fitness levels for such endeavors, but Americans never do?).  

Then, I was given my race bag, complete with my number, a nifty windbreaker, and a bottle of wine (sauvignon blanc from the Loire Valley itself).  Have I mentioned yet that I LOVE France?  I mean, for like 60 bucks, you get a cool jacket, a whole bottle of wine, a marathon through the grounds of a chateau, and paella (with more wine) to top it all off at the end?  

What does 60 dollars get you in an American race (a free hot dog, water and half a marathon)?  Or in Melbourne, Australia, I swear my $150 race entry didn't get me all that far.  A medal and a dry fit tank (both normal requirements for the average race) but I don't recall any memorable snacks.   I think in Tel Aviv, it got me a full marathon and some post-race snacks in a runner-only tent.    

No offense to the U.S. or Australia at all (and Israel, you fall somewhere in between), but France takes the cake in race swag (and while we're at it, race costume contests as well).  

Pretty satisfied with my swag, we ventured through the expo, took some pics at the Photobooth, and then I went to the grocery store to get fuel for the next day.  The store was huge though (I got a bit lost in there) and I left with about half the things I went in for.  We finished off our visit to the expo with some croissants (what do you want?  We were in France), and then headed back to near where we were staying to have pasta for dinner.  

I was slightly disappointed that what ended up being my last sit-down dinner in France was spaghetti with red sauce, but it was better than dying during the race because I had a huge exotic meal.  

We hit the hot tub and pool before bed, and hit the hay thrilled the race wasn't until 8:45 the next morning (American races, please take note.  The French know where it's at with their race start times).  

Loire Valley and Cheverny

Day 8: Exploring the Loire Valley Further - Cheverny

Our optimistic plans for the day involved waking up early and heading to Cheverny to see the feeding of the hunting dogs.  But when you eat dinner until 10:30 every night, early mornings are optimistic at best. Thus, we slept in, checked out and headed to Amboise for breakfast before determining our next course of action.  

We had omelettes and chatted with the couple at the table next to us - who were from Massachusetts.  It always amazes me how you can travel to another continent and meet people from a state you used to live in, but then again, in Jerusalem people came up to me, pointed at my jacket, asked if that was in Buffalo and then asked if I knew their cousin who went to Nichols.  I didn’t, but later on, asked one of my high school friends who did know him.

To be fair, we also met a lot of Americans from Colorado, California, Florida, DC, etc - nowhere near our neck of the woods.

After breakfast, I spent 11 euros on 7 pieces of chocolate - oops, but the caramels were arguable worth it, and we decided to go to Cheverny after all even though we had missed the feeding of the dogs.

On the way, mom pointed to a chateau on the other side of the river asking, “Is that Chenonceau?”  It was the wrong river, but a quick consultation with Google Maps told us that it was Chaumont, another famous and gorgeous chateau.  We passed by without stopping, but I was glad to catch a glimpse of it.

When I initially planned the trip, I assumed I could drive around to 5 different chateaus, catch a glimpse of the outside and move on.

It doesn’t work that way though.  Some of them are visible from public lands/roads/etc, but a lot of them are situated on large grounds.  You would think it would occur to me that castles aren’t just sitting out in the middle of the fields (these things have moats and gardens and such), but I’m American.  Castles aren’t exactly a part of our daily life.

We arrived in the town of Cheverny, parked and followed the signs towards the chateau.  On our way, we spotted the famed dogs!!!  There are a hundred hunting beagles kept at Cheverny, each with the letter V shaved into their right shank.  They were in a fenced in area and thrilled to see us, jumping and barking for joy.  We took some video and photographs, when suddenly a man approached us and told us we were in a private area.  Oops.

We were able to see the dogs again later in their kennel, but we were super glad for the initial glimpse of them, even though we apparently weren’t supposed to be there.

Finally arriving at Cheverny, we got the ticket that gave us the whole nine yards - chateau, a little electric car and boat ride, and a visit to the exhibit about TinTin - the hero of a comic series that had been based on Cheverny. 

Cheverny was a pretty neat chateau to explore, and they had lego displays in some of the rooms, which albeit being a little weird was an interesting way to spice up a super old castle.  It was also fascinating that the family who owns it still lives in a portion of the chateau, while hundreds of thousands of tourists flock through the other part of the chateau on a daily basis.  It hasn't even been closed on a single day in years, except for when the current owner got married there.



After we wandered through all the rooms, we headed to our electric boat and car ride where we got the inside scoop on all the different types of trees on the estate (From firs to elephant feet) and how large the estate of Cheverny actually is.   Then we wandered through the labyrinth garden maze (I love those things even though Mom's always sure we're never going to find our way out) and had tea and snack time (the below picture of the large macaron I consumed can speak for itself).  Finally, we headed into the interactive display of 'Adventures of Tin Tin'.  Unfortunately, most of the comic strips were written in French, but it gave mom a chance to practice her reading skills, and it was pretty cool to walk through it, and see how the author had been inspired enough by Cheverny to base a whole series of comic books on it (and later a TV show).  We finally left town with a couple of croissants in hand and headed to Tours to get ready for the marathon.

Loire Valley and Chenonceaux

Day 7: Exploring the Loire Valley - Chenonceaux

Honestly, maybe this is jaded, but every hotel or Airbnb we were in kept being pretty nice, and every day kept being really fun, so I was kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.  And I was kind of regretting having to head to the Loire Valley anyway — was second guessing why I had come to the land of cheese, wine and chocolate to run a marathon, and also I had to leave the beach, what!?  (I had no expectations of this trip being a beach vacation but when the temperatures ended up being perfect for it, I really didn’t want it to end). 

But the thing is, no shoe dropped.  The Loire Valley was as gorgeous as the tour books had promised and we easily found ways to make it so we weren’t spending our days drowning in chateau history.

On Thursday, we lived out mom’s dream of bicycling through France downhill with the wind in her hair. 

After breakfast at Chateau de Pray - (sidenote: not sure what the croissant like things with chocolate inside are called, but they’re delicious), we drove to Amboise to rent bikes.

Mom’s limited knowledge of French was enough to get us two heavy bikes with a panier and lock (but no helmet, because the French don’t need those). 

We couldn’t completely comprehend the bike shop owner’s directions, so after getting our favorite picnic items from the grocery store (bread, laughing cow cheese, ham, chocolate, apples), we stopped in at the local tourism office to figure out the route.

They gave me a map (route 47: the King’s highway) and we rode primarily on a bike path until we finally reached Chateau Chenonceau which is located on the Cher river. 

Along the way, we noticed that French acorns were different than our acorns (a bit longer and skinner), mom discovered some wild raspberries that to her chagrin weren’t ripe, and we visited with some donkeys.

Once at Chenonceau, we had our quick picnic and then headed in.  Due to a ticket snafu, we didn’t end up with audio guides but we were actually glad not to have them.  The provided leaflet was more than enough for us to discover the chateau and some of its history.  Chenonceau is one of the most popular chateaus in the region to visit, due to its location on the river, and archways over the water, so it was packed but it was well worth it. 

With its marvelous views of the River Cher, impressive architecture, pairings by famous artists and tapestries, coupled with a somewhat contentious history (after Henry II died, his wife, Catherine de Medici made his mistress, Diane de Poitiers give her Chenonceau in exchange for Chaumont) 

I see why Chenonceau is one of the most visited in the region, and it had the ticket lines and crowds to prove it!  

Since we still had another ~22 kilometers to bike and a 7 o’clock dinner reservation at our chateau, we had to bypass the labyrinth (which looked awesome - apparently every castle needs its own labyrinth garden maze), but we were very pleased with our first Loire Valley castle experience.

  

We like to think we’re masterful bicycle riders.  I’ve done century bike rides at least four times and we biked across Iowa six times when I was a teenager, so essentially we figured thirty miles would be pretty easy peasy, but the bikes were heavy and we haven’t done a long bike trip since 2014, so we had our work cut out for us, and our legs definitely felt it afterwards!

We made it back in the nick of time for our dinner reservation at the chateau.

The food was great, but decidedly not our style.

Sea snails - ick!

Hazelnut fois gras - yum!

I’m not sure if we’re just not foodies, or if we are just foodies of a different type, but each course dragged on and on and by the time dessert came, we were ready for bed. The tiny appetizers were tasty, the sea snails tasted like rubber bands (one French delicacy I still can’t figure out), the hazelnut fois gras was phenomenal, and the beef tartare was well, raw, but beautifully presented and I found it pretty good.  Mom could have done without it.  By the time we were presented with a cheese board of a dozen options, we were both stuffed, but I tried a few specialties before dessert - a mousse combined with sorbet with a topping of raspberries.  Probably the only dessert of the whole week I could have done without. Completely exhausted, we went back to our room and slept soundly.

How much would it cost to make my bed
look like this?

I'm starting to think the ceilings at my place
are a little lame after seeing this!

La Rochelle to Amboise

Day 6: La Rochelle to Amboise

I chose La Rochelle simply because we needed a way to break up the seven and a half hour drive between San Sebastian and Amboise.  But, we loved La Rochelle.  I was really disappointed we didn’t have more time to spend there. 

La Rochelle is a port city with three towers (two medieval towers from the 14^th century and one from the 15^th century).  It was a beautiful place to just wander around, since it was right on the water, and full of towers in addition to the three main ones.  And the port and rows of boats never seemed to end, which made it an even more exciting place to explore.  Away from the water, the charming streets and alleyways were a joy to explore.  Unfortunately, we didn’t have time to explore the local parks and beaches, so I’ll have to go back someday. 

We spent a few hours wandering around and taking pictures from different vantage points and then opted to brush up on our World War II history by going to the Bunker Museum. 

First a little background, before we get too deeply into that.  La Rochelle was occupied during World War II by the Nazis, who housed some of their submarines there.  They built this huge concrete complex to house their subs, and some members of the resistance managed to send the plans to London.  The Allies decided to wait until its completion to strike, which was a big mistake, because by then it was nearly indestructible.  A lot of civilian casualties were also lost in those bombings.  Since the target was away from the towers, the towers remained intact, but huge portions of La Rochelle were destroyed during the war. 

During those bombings, the Nazis hid out in the bunkers that now make up the Bunker Museum.  It was eye opening to be standing in the areas that the Nazis were protected in, and also hung out and drank in.  Through reading the printouts they provided, and watching some videos spread throughout the exhibits, which were subtitled in English, we learned a lot about how the region had been affected by the war. 

After the museum, we headed back towards the towers, and I climbed both Tower of the Chain and Tower of the Lantern quickly (fun fact: it’s free if you’re under 25), before we got in the car to head to our next destination. 

The towers were really neat to examine, and they gave a great bird’s eye view of the city. 

Overall, La Rochelle was the perfect blend of a beautiful waterfront city, medieval history, a World War II historical site, and a modern city with tasty food (and not just the macarons).  I was sorry we didn’t have time to go to the island nearby where their donkeys literally parade about in costumes, or visit the beach. 

But there’s always next time! 

Our only regret about La Rochelle is we never really spoke to anyone.  Everywhere else on the trip, there were other English speaking tourists — Americans mostly, and we tried to talk to the locals too, but in La Rochelle, even in the bunker museum or up in the towers, we didn’t really talk to anybody. 

I’m not sure what that was about.  Maybe if we had had more time or more French?

From there, it was time to head to Amboise in the Loire Valley - our final region of the trip.

It was about a three hour drive from La Rochelle to Amboise, and the last hour, despite a few wrong turns, was a beautiful journey through the countryside, complete with an amazing sunset.  

We checked into the Chateau de Pray, a charming chateau 2 kilometers outside of the town of Amboise, equipped with walking trails through the woods, a gastronomic restaurant, and a pool.

The Loire Valley is full of chateaus, some of which are hotels and others private residences, but most of the ones people come to see have become tourist sites (Although in some cases the families who own them live on one side while the other is toured by the public; I suppose without tourism, the upkeep has to be pricy to bear alone).

We were directed to Amboise for dinner.  I had a delicious appetizer of a semi-frozen cantaloupe with red wine in it.  Wasn’t expecting it to be good but I can’t wait to go home and try (and fail) to recreate it.

Mom had foie gras (I swear she loves that stuff and it’s not too bad) and we both had duck for dinner.

Dessert was passion fruit, pear and I believe, cherry sorbet.  Yum!  All the French people at the table next to us were oohing and aahing at my beautiful dessert.  Tasty food knows no language barriers :)