Worse Things Happen At Sea

This was going to be a whole other post. Literally. It’s saved as a draft that I will delete at some point. And as much as this blog side-steps the absolute truth, the other post is now an utter lie. Or at least the ending is.

What you need to know is that I’m not running the Paris Marathon next weekend. I trained for it and I trained hard; that much is true. Through rain, sleet, snow and flood I ran 430 odd miles along some of Cheshire’s crappest B roads. I was running greater than two half marathons a week and recording some respectable times. Regrettably, I’ve had to pull out through what I will only describe as a highly unfortunate injury.

To say I’m heartbroken by this is an understatement. I tried to convince myself that I could still do it. I almost believed my own ignorant optimism. But in the end I consulted a professional. It was a flat non-negotiable ‘no’. Since you need a signed medical certificate to compete in French races, I had to concede defeat. But not without a lot of bellyaching about it, of course.

In fact, running was altogether off the agenda temporarily and this alone made me irritable. Running soothes me, takes the edges off life’s personal disappointments and makes my ass look good. I missed it immediately, like the love of my life had walked out without so much as kiss goodbye. I was bereft.

But as they say, worse things happen at sea (literally, where’s that bloody Malaysian plane?) and while I’ll be sidelined next weekend, I’m still heading to Paris and will be doing my best to drain their supply of champagne. I’ll picnic like a tourist at the Eiffel Tower, queue at The Louvre and gaze lovingly at The Husband (especially after a few glasses of decent fizz). Because, like listening to heavy rock, it’s hard to get too upset strolling the streets of such a beautiful city.

So, crib notes here is I’m not running the Paris Marathon. And that’s all I want to say about that.

14 thoughts on “Worse Things Happen At Sea”

  1. Ah well I am sure that you will still enjoy yourself in Paris and recover from that injury. I had a couple of good sessions in Harrys Bar when I was last there, they don’t sell wine, its worth a visit but it might not be your scene. My oldest son broke his foot playing AFL this pre-season, he is still in a cast and wont play AFL at all this season and might not get back into the team. He has literally been housebound for six weeks now other than school, I must mention to him that worse things happen at sea.

    1. Some might say I’ll enjoy myself more now I don’t have that pesky four hours of sweating. That’s good drinking time.
      Speaking of which, I’m actually not much of a wine drinker save for the quality fizzy stuff. A love a sour lambic brew, preferably if it involves raspberries or the like. I am particularly fond of the Danish Mikkeller Spontanframboos.

      Yes, tell your son that unless his foot has been amputated, to have a spoon on concrete and harden up. It’s just footy. Was he planning on making a career out of it?

      1. Well if you aint a wineo, then Harrys Bar at Sank Roo Doe Noo is worth a visit but not for those type of beers though. It’s a reconstructed NY bar with the best bartenders in Europe, so mixed drinks should be the order of the day.

        As for the tough love on the lad, 15 next month, its to early to say whether he could go pro. I would encourage it though, means I don’t need to fork out for yooni fees and I can retire early and get to host all the WAG parties and cary our pool maintenance at Palazio Bardonici.

        1. Mixed drinks are a passion, especially for The Husband who enjoys a well made Old Fashioned. I’m a fan of the Moscow Mule. If it’s made with a french accent, even better.
          Tough love? I’m currently watching We Need To Talk About Kevin. I’m not even close to ‘tough’. If you think the boy can go pro, encourage it til he makes it or burns out and resents you for not allowing him to become a quantity surveyor like he always wanted.

          1. So Harry’s Bar is now a must go to joint, they invented a few standard cocktails there, plus the bartenders will understand hubbies accent.

  2. That sucks. I know that you really wanted to do this and that running is the balm for your soul or some sort of crap like that. Hope you have a fab time in Paris and party like it’s 1999.

  3. Aw no, that sucks donkey balls! Glad you’re still coming to Paris, though. You’ll have a great time here, and I can probably assist you in jumping the queue for the Louvre…basically, I can get in for free plus 1 other person, no queuing. Might be able to scam both of you in, or you visit in shifts. :)

    1. I was always going to come to Paris, no matter what. Not only have I already paid for the trip, but I love the place. Of course, that’s because I don’t live there, am sure it’s less glam if it’s your full time residence.
      The Husband actually really wants to see the Louvre. If you can make it happen, that would be ace.

    1. Shit, sometimes the best ideas are right in front of you. Any clever ideas how to get my medical certificate stamped?

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