Run Day 9 - Lorteil to Beaumont sur Oise

An Ozzie a Day helps the Marathon go away

A perfect early September morning in the pretty village of St. Felix. A clear blue sky, hardly any breeze and the sun already warm by 9am in the gardens of the mansion where we were staying. Thanks to road closures and a delayed flight, it was after 11.30pm when Sandra, Dave and I made it back to Villa Iris last night but after a good breakfast, we went for a walk along to a beautiful lake with a solitary fisherman and were ready for the drive back to Lorteil by 10.30am and the start of Day 9.   

The mood was noticeably different with Dan and Rob both looking forward to a fresh running companion and some new banter to wile away the hard miles. Dave realised just how sore they guys were, with their shuffling start from the camper van and roar of pain to the Stephen’s watching video camera.

After 2 mile on the flat, the road climbed up into the forest of Hez-Froidmont and the trees provided shade and shelter as the runners found a steady rhythm. Down and out of the forest, the route for the next 10 miles followed the valley of the river Therain and was largely flat as it meandered through several villages – each mile, one less to do before St. Denis.

Going ahead in the camper van, we stopped for provisions at the Mutant Discount Supermarket (not recommended in the Sandra Reeve Guide to French Shopping) after guiding the runners past a closed road and town fête being set up in Mouy. The pace was slower than yesterday – a combination of the effect of a ‘fast’ run and thoughts of ‘going for it’ tomorrow and after 20 miles, for the first time, Sandra, Faye and me managed to miss the guys as they ran by, even though my watch alarm had woken me up in time. By now the clouds were massing and the heat of the mid-day sun was overtaken by a more humid atmosphere.

The end of the run was near Beaumont-sur-Oise in 4 hours 32 minutes. 9 marathons in 9 days – it’s hard to comprehend but watching Dan and Rob climb down out of the motor home at our accommodation for the night, near Domont in the northern suburbs of Paris, gave some indication of the stick their legs have taken.

We’re off to find a restaurant tonight for a last, alcohol-free meal for the guys – I suspect they may have a quiet beer tomorrow.