So, fast-forward a few weeks and I’m in Paris, up to now, bar one “bad” 13 mile Sunday training run (where I’d fallen apart at 8 miles) my preparation had gone great, well apart from two long days in Disneyland with super-excited three year old wanting to sit on my shoulders for hours on end

and more junk food in 3 days in than I’d eaten in 3 months. Especially overpriced gimmicky junk food

Ok, I’ll admit, my inner 9 year old loved eating Jedi burgers watching a live action Star Wars show.

It wasn’t that gruelling. I’ve done the two US Disney parks as an adult and rather enjoyed them, but doing them with a 3rd year old is just magical (if very very tiring).

Moments like this

and this

were so special to him, that I didn’t mind multiple rides on the teacups, it’s a small world (the most horrible saccharine sweet experience in the world, bar none) and the Pirates of the Caribbean when secretly I wanted to sneak off for a go on Space Mountain.

I did manage to sneak off the day before the race to the Expo centre to pick up my number, race T-Shirt and and wander around a couple of dozen stands selling various bits of running and general fitness paraphernalia.  Wandering through the middle of the exhibition I spotted somebody I recognised giving a talk (in French) to about 20 or 30 people.

It wasn’t until the TV behind her changed that I clocked who I was looking at.

What I didn’t realise was she speaks impeccable French, so whilst she had a translator on stage with her, she took and answered most questions just in French. My rather rusty GCSE French couldn’t keep up, I worked out she was very happy and something about doing a marathon with her dad, Had she wanted to book a hotel room with two beds and a bathroom, wanted to know where the beach was or even wanted to know where the monkey is, I may have understood more of what she was saying.