What It’s Really Like to Run the Paris Half Marathon With My Husband

Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...

I Ran the Paris Half Marathon With My Husband

I was terrified but excited as we filed into our corral early that morning. For obvious reasons, it was the slowest-timed departure, but you wouldn’t have known that from the other runners. March in Paris was a curious blend of lingering winter chill and budding spring. The air was crisp, with a hint of warmth trying to break through. Trees were starting to show their green, and the sky was often overcast, with a 30% chance of rain. Many people wore the orange rain ponchos from the swag bag—thankfully, no one needed them that day. I couldn’t believe I was there, running the Paris Half Marathon.

Table of Contents

1. I Ran the Paris Half Marathon With My Husband
2. Running the Paris Half Marathon
3. The Hill
4. Where Are You Going?
5. Are We There Yet?
6. Like it? Pin it!

Running the Paris Half Marathon

FloRida’s “Oh ooh sometimes, I get a good feeling” blared through speakers set up all over the Bois de Vincennes, a large park just outside Paris. The starter pistol exploded, exciting the slow-moving millipede of sneaker-clad feet down the Route de la Pyramide. A kilometer later, the field thinned out and we began to run. A little further down, the gutters were littered with a layer of discarded orange rain ponchos and other outer garments no longer needed.

The first 10 kilometers were filled with music on every corner. The wide boulevards were lined with spectators and street performers, and the tempo was steady. I was having fun, but I regretted running past the water station at km 5. I won’t do that again if only to take a sip or two.

The Hill

Then it happened. I turned the corner and faced my worst enemy—a hill. I began the slow, tedious climb, step by step, and my ill-preparedness was evident. As a result, I dropped my head, my knees buckled, and I began to walk. Yup, I failed the first hurdle.

From that point on, we were on our own. Every once in a while, we’d see other runners on the course. Sometimes we’d pass them, sometimes they’d fade away. Seeing them motivated me to keep going and confirmed we were heading in the right direction. But I would never catch up to the tail end of the millipede, alternating between walking and running to the end.

At km 15, we were instructed to stay on the pavement as the streets reopened to automobile traffic. We had missed the 3-hour cut-off. I had no idea we had just passed by the beautiful Place de la Bastille. At that point, I probably wouldn’t have seen the Eiffel Tower either.

Where Are You Going?

We arrived at km 17 just as the race staff was heaving the large black-and-white mile markers into the back of a non-descript black van. The water station was in shambles, no water to be seen anywhere. One of the staff dug deep into the cooler behind the tables and tossed us two water bottles when we stopped to consult the race map. It was 1 pm, and the sidewalks were packed with lunchers, shoppers, and tourists.

The aroma of fresh bread tempted me. The air was full of curiosity for our misplaced marathon. We weaved in and out of the bustle of people—bibs visibly displayed—my confidence totally destroyed. I can’t accurately describe how happy I was at km 19. We had navigated the unmarked route back to the park. I also received a boost from the runners who had finished as they left the finish line ahead. I tried to funnel their energy into my feet. Two kilometers to go, and I could stop this farce.

Are We There Yet?

Less than 1 km and I could see the balloon-clad finish line swaying in the light breeze. Steven ran backward, challenging me to finish strong. I picked up the pace even though every muscle from my neck to my ankles ached. All I had left was the heart and determination to finish what I started almost 13 miles ago.

It’s not a race but a challenge of mind over body. I sucked it up and dug in deep, sprinting across the finish line as fast as I could. I expected to see Steven by my side when I crossed the finish line, but when I turned around, he was standing behind me with a big smile on his face. “Good job, keep moving,” he said after giving me a hug. Some things will never change.

What I Learned After Running the Marathon

After that first half marathon, I gained a greater appreciation and admiration for people who can drown out all the voices, doubt, and fear, ignore the pain, and run for the finish line. I’m not there…yet. It’s not enough to want it; it helps when you aren’t mentally strong enough to rely on your training. I wondered whether I could even finish—and now I know. I ran, jogged, and walked it, finishing in almost 4 hours from beginning to end. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fast.

As a matter of fact, I’d find out later, due to the staggered starts, that the winner had finished and begun carbo-loading before I’d taken my first step. When I showed people my finisher’s medal, they had no idea I had to write to race officials to get it since there was no one to greet us when we finally crossed the finish line.

So no, I didn’t run the whole thing. But it didn’t matter then and doesn’t matter now. We finished, and isn’t that really the important thing to remember?

Tips for Running in Paris

Enjoy the Sights: Take in the beauty of Paris as you run. The city’s landmarks and parks are stunning; spectators add to the vibrant atmosphere.

Plan Post-Race Recovery: Have a plan for after the race. Stretch, hydrate, and refuel with a good meal. Paris has plenty of options to treat yourself.

Check the Weather: Paris weather can be unpredictable. Be prepared for rain and chilly temperatures, especially in early spring.

Wear Layers: Start with layers you can remove as you warm up during your run.

Hydrate Well: Drink plenty of water before the race, and don’t skip water stations during the run.

Familiarize Yourself with the Route: Knowing the course can help you mentally prepare for any challenging parts, like hills.

Pace Yourself: Start slow and find a comfortable pace. Paris’s scenic views can be distracting, so focus on breathing and rhythm.

Looking Back: Was It a Good Idea?

Looking back, running the Paris Half Marathon was a mix of triumph and struggle. It wasn’t easy, and there were moments I doubted myself. But the experience of running through the streets of Paris, feeling the city’s pulse, and pushing through my limits was unforgettable.

Would I do it again? Absolutely. The sense of accomplishment, the sights, and the shared struggle with other runners made it worthwhile. It taught me resilience and gave me stories to tell. So yes, it was a good idea, and I’d recommend it to anyone looking for a challenge and an adventure.

Like it? Pin it!

_{This post is sponsored and/or contains affiliate links, from which I earn a commission at no extra cost to the reader. I appreciate your support and know that all the views expressed are my own.}

Thank you for reading this post, don't forget to subscribe!