By Iris M.

Our first week in Paris, one of our program directors told us if we were bored in Paris, it was probably our fault. While I don’t know if I wholeheartedly agree with that sentiment, you’d be surprised how much time there is in the day when you suddenly aren’t involved in any of your usual extracurriculars. There is no arguing, however, that Paris is full of things to do if you look for them.

In my first month here, I found myself with a sudden influx of free time and a whole new city to explore. Fortunately, Paris is dense enough that it’s pretty feasible to get just about anywhere on foot with enough time, patience, and espresso (which the French spell with an x, for some reason). What better way to solve one problem with another than to pass my time running from monument to monument?

Turns out, that was an excellent way to pass my time, and it ultimately brought me to my half marathon on Easter Sunday. The half marathon gave me a way to structure my wandering and something to look forward to. If you’re looking for something to do in Paris, the value of wandering, errer, flâner, cannot be overstated.

I had so much fun training for this half. Paris is full of gorgeous running routes. I’m partial to a run along the Seine, and my apartment is situated delightfully close to the Place de Trocadéro, which is on the river and offers the city’s best view of the Eiffel Tower. Not a bad way to start a long run (or a walk, if that’s more your cup of tea). If you follow the Seine far enough, you’ll find Musée d’Orsay and the Louvre, and when it’s not too crowded, the Jardin des Tuileries has some lovely sights of buildings and flowers alike. Pro tip: if you start at the Eiffel Tower, a five-mile run can take you to the Louvre, through the Tuileries, and all the way up the Champs-Élysées to the Arc de Triomphe.

I also have to mention the Bois de Boulogne, Paris’ second-largest green space (after the Bois de Vincennes) and gracious host to many of my runs. It’s situated on the western edge of the city, and happens to be right next to my host family’s apartment, but I’d recommend it even if you have to go a little out of your way. The best route is the roughly three-mile loop around the lakes, but if you get bored of that (and go during the daytime), there are a plethora of smaller paths that will take you through the expanse of trees. If you pick the right one, there’s a cave behind a waterfall that is definitely worth the trip, though part of the magic is that I’ve only ever found it by accident.

Running so much also means eating a lot, too, and as places to carb-load go, Paris is surely top of the list. A plain croissant, for one, will run you less than €1.50. There’s a crêpe stand at Trocadéro that one of my friends swears by (they know her both by her name and by her crêpe order), and I can attest that the post-workout Nutella-banana crêpe is surely one of mankind’s greatest inventions. My personal favorite post-run treat is an almond croissant from the patisserie near my apartment, but it’s a close contest. Fortunately, you are rarely out of eyesight of a patisserie and/or crêperie in Paris, and there are few wrong choices.

For me, this half was really more about the journey than the destination, but that is not to say I didn’t have a blast on race day too. Running a race, no matter where you are, is an incredible opportunity for support and camaraderie. Through language barriers, and surrounded by strangers, you can reliably count on the fact that everyone is rooting for you, and you can root for everyone else in turn. While I don’t think Parisians are necessarily an unfriendly crowd, the size of the city, cultural differences, and my actively developing French language skills all hindered my sense of connection to Paris and the people around me. I confess that I’ve missed the sense of community that follows me inescapably at my small liberal arts college. You don’t need to run thirteen miles to make friends in Paris, but the best way I found to emulate that spirit was the half marathon. It’s the friendliest I’ve seen the city, down to people congratulating me and insisting that I sit on my tragically long metro ride home.

I’ll be the first to tell you I’m not a particularly fast runner, but that is not the point. The race sorts you by your estimated finishing time, so you start with other people who are running at about the same pace as you. Ideally, you see a lot of familiar faces for the next 21 kilometers. For me, I spent the better part of the first five miles sandwiched between an older man wearing bright green socks and a younger woman who I gathered to be his daughter, about my age. He would turn periodically throughout the race, keeping her, and by proxy, me, in eyesight, and offering her encouragement. I lost them both at about mile seven, but he caught up to me one or two kilometers before the end of the race. That 18-20k zone is the hardest part of the race for me, and a simple “Allez-y!!” from this man, who remembered running with me, really did make it that much easier.

As expected, I ran past many people holding signs (some in English, most in French) and playing music, none of whom I knew, and all of whom cheered me on with enthusiasm. Up particularly tough hills, smiling volunteers beat heavy drums to keep you in tempo. I would be remiss in my account if I did not tell you that, numbered among the other characters was a remarkably tall man in full Easter Bunny getup (complete with tail).

We finished the race in the Stade de France. I’m not a big sports fan, but I have watched my dad watch enough soccer on TV to know that the Stade de France is a big deal. It was built in 1998 for the FIFA World Cup, and since has been host to countless soccer and rugby matches, plus music concerts and a myriad of other sporting events. The last three or four hundred meters of the race were a loop around the track surrounding the field. Friends, family, and runners who had finished before me filled up a small section of the massive stands, with people scattered and cheering all along the track. The energy and the feeling of running that last tired push, finishing my race in the same place professional athletes have played the greatest games in their careers, was an incomparable feeling.

The joys of my half marathon were twofold: race day, of course, but also the structure it gave me in my exploration of the sights, sounds, and snacks of one of the coolest cities in the world. I have been to plenty of incredible museums, but the opportunity to share in community and sport with so many French people at their most cheerful was entirely different. If a race is of interest to you, I cannot recommend it highly enough, and if it is not, I implore you not to overlook the joys of exploring the city on foot. My greatest piece of advice in Paris: wander. You never know where you’ll end up, and it could be a finish line.