From Paris to Sunnyside

Our flight home wasn't until 1pm on Monday, February 18th, so we had time for one last six mile run through Paris. This time we headed up to Montmartre to see what sunrise looked like from the vantage point of Sacre Coeur Basilica.

It was another one of those runs where Jeff repeatedly pulled ahead little by little before realizing I wasn't keeping up. He would then slow down until I caught up to him again and we'd repeat the process. I was running much faster than my normal everyday pace, but it didn't make a difference. Jeff is so much faster than me (his pace is close to three minutes per mile faster than my pace) that he always matches my pace if I speed up, and then he holds me to that new faster pace. It was hardest during the first half of the run, because Montmartre is one of the highest points in Paris, so we ran up, up, uphill.

I'm not trying to cloud these lovely memories with fatigue, but I was pretty tired by this point in our travels. I knew I could slow down my pace any time I wanted, and I did a few times, but my runner-pride would not let me completely take it easy on our last run of the trip! Plus, we had to be showered, packed, and boarding a train to the airport by a specific time, so the faster our run, the better. Knowing that I was about to spend the next 24 hours in and out of airports, airplanes, and other vehicles helped me dig deep and find satisfaction in a brisk morning jog.

The final ascent up to Sacre Coeur involved nearly a dozen long flights of stairs, testing my endurance even more thoroughly than the previous inclines. Jeff dashed up ahead and then waited for me at the top... which meant I had less time to catch my breath when I finally arrived, haha. Up top, we took a few quick cell phone pictures and admired the familiar Paris panorama laid out at our feet, with a pink sunrise smudged on the horizon. Then we headed back down the stairs, an effort which set my quads a-trembling. Jeff reached the bottom first and to my chagrin, he turned back around with a determined glint in his eye.

"I've got to go for this segment!" he called over his shoulder, referring to the Strava challenge. "You don't have to come."

As if I was going to let that challenge slide! I reached the bottom stair, spun around, and took off as fast as I could, taking the stairs two at a time. The funicular glided up the hill next to me, and I put on a burst of speed to try and keep up with it, but after a few more stairs it passed me and I was gasping for air. I was barely lifting each foot onto the next stair by the third to last staircase, and I probably could've walked up the last staircase faster than I ran up it. But the Strava segment challenge was complete. We turned around and trotted wobbily back down the stairs. I actually tried racing the funicular back down, but it beat me again.

Side note: Strava is a physical activity site where people can save routes and segments on maps. It tracks everyone who runs those segments and ranks their times. We wanted to see how we would stack up against the world stage--the Montmartre steps segment had hundreds of runners' times listed, so it was the most popular segment we had ever encountered. We didn't get great places on the all-time list (and we had a suspicion that the best times were recorded while riding the funicular rather than running up the stairs), but it was fun to try.

The second half of our run was a nice cruise back downhill to the Seine, whereupon the sidewalk leveled out and I found myself huffing and puffing to maintain our quick downhill pace on the flat. By the end of our run, we were cruising through the streets of Paris. I could barely take in the sights at our speed, and my hasty phone pictures turned out mostly blurry. But we had a train to catch!

In spite of my fatigue, our run was a satisfying farewell to the city of lights.

Jeff, pulling away while heading uphill: those are the stairs in the dark blurry distance.

Partway up the stairs...it was risky trying to take pictures on the stairs because I thought I was going to fall.

Going up the stairs...kind of a hot mess of a picture, but hey, it was a hard run.

Ahhh, the view from the top.

Destination: reached. Sacre Coeur looked just as perfect as always.

A salty kiss backed by the Paris sunrise.

Heading down--Sacre Coeur disappeared quickly above the steep stairs. Pictures never capture the depth and dimension of large hills and long flights of stairs.

Happy and blurry down in the shadowy streets, with Sacre Coeur re-emerging as we pulled away from the base of the stairs.

Hello again, Hotel de Ville. This type of building is so everyday for the French that they hardly glance up when they pass it by. I wonder if I would ever get to that point if I lived there? The wide country view outside the back of our house in Sunnyside still takes my breath away on a sunny day, so maybe I wouldn't get pretty-building-jaded if I lived in France.

All showered, packed, checked out, and walking to the train station. Staying in the center of downtown made catching a train to the airport so easy! We didn't even have to change trains once.

Waiting for our train.

In the air, we chased the sun across two continents and one ocean, and it never set. Our connecting flight left Iceland at 5pm local time and landed in Seattle at 4:30pm Pacific time. Time travel! We went through customs and passport control in a tired haze. My mom picked us up and took us back to her house where we ate a quick bite, threw the kids' stuff into the trunk, hugged my dear mom one more time, and then began my least favorite leg of our entire journey: that 2.5 hour drive home. Thankfully the Snoqualmie Pass was clear, and there was even a full moon to guide our way, but it is HARD to drive in the dark after missing a night of sleep. It was agony to try and stay awake for that 25th hour. That drive is the only part of international travel that I always dread. I can only imagine living close to a big airport! We made it home after trading off driving twice and stumbled into bed. 

Back to our wintry reality.

Amber's fierce affections were intensely welcoming. It's nice to know that she cares. (a travel perk)