Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Another reason why I miss France

I'm back into hecticness now after returning from my long weekend in France. I decided against a full weekend off training as I'm smack bang in the middle of races at the moment but I did need to get away for some kind of break.

In the end I took Thursday off training as I was shattered from a 6am flight, returned to the track I spent 3 years training on on the Friday for some 400s (way hotter than I was used to so I was dying - also forgot my watch and have no idea what my splits or recoveries were like... probably a good thing!) and then did a run of some description on the Sunday. The rest of my time was filled with beach times and alcohol fueled madness with people I hadn't seen in the guts of a year. Good times!

Going from London to France I was amazed at how friendly people were. They were always like that when I was there but I reckon I took it as a given when I was living there and only really noticed it due to the fact that you won't even get a "Good morning" when you walk into the same coffee shop in London every morning... at least I don't get it anyway!

Pretty much just off the bus from the airport and I bumped into the owner of the local running shop who came over shook my hand and asked how I was getting on. The girls in the local boulangeries were full of chat, even though I was stumbling trying to remember how to speak in French. At the running track there was one guy there that used to run with the club that I trained with who came over to say he'd heard how I got on in the last marathon and congratulated me which was fierce nice. I've no idea how he knew.

I suppose these are people that know and recognise me so it's not that weird that they should be saying hello when they see me. What was nice though was when I was doing my Sunday run (which was cut short due to the fact that I didn't wake in the morning and it was 30+ degrees when I was doing it) a lady started cycling beside me and having a chat about running. She'd just ran a 10km race that morning and was telling me about it. That has never happened to me in London! After a few minutes she cycled off and then a group of lads from the old running club cycled by me in the other direction and a huge shout of "Come on Irish" came up as they passed me by.

Between seeing all my friends again, bumping into randomers, speaking French for the first time in ages (it's still there!), even just hearing people speak French and eating well in so many nice restaurants I don't think I've felt so at home in a long time. It definitely drilled into me what I've thought for a long time, London is not home and it's time to move on. Next stop will be the real home I think. Back to Dublin with me to live for the first time in nearly 5 years. Once I'm there for a while I can figure out what I want to do next.
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