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?