All roads lead home...

I have started to run again in the morning (run, ie. jog, walk, sprint, stagger...) I can't tell you how it feels to get back to it after the very long 11 month break.  I really get a kick about how my body feels 'un-hindered' by the growing 'Petite-Fille'.  I had been running for about 18 months when I became pregnant and abruptly stopped due to morning sickness followed by 9 months of all the other "joys"..... so in the past few months I longed to get back, obsessively needing the sanity it brings to me to get out for that hour or so in the morning; I am so much happier, healthier and so, so much nicer....

So I started a few weeks ago, after getting the green light from the doc and the same week 'Petite-Fille' settled into a nice pattern of hour long morning naps, freeing me up to get out sans-bebe.  The first day I found a route that turned out to be a seriously tough two mile long incline---ouch!  Gorgeous views, yes! But a really hard re-initiation into fit-world!  After that the 'French-guy' suggested a beach run--which begins at the end of our road and then I can go in either direction for a few miles...and back again.  The additional plus is that I really can't get lost--no matter how far I go, as long as I remember where I started and turn around.  So the beach route won! That suited me well because I am a beach-addict!  Take me to a beach, any day, any weather, any condition--beaches are my 'crack'..... speaking of which--my brain goes absolutely nuts, neurons firing away when I am out on a jog....is that normal?  Does it happen to you? ..... I swear my mind zips faster than my feet....all over the place!  I compose blog entries, think up recipes, re-decorate my house, write a novel......all while plodding down the beach.  Unfortunately by the time I get home, some of it is gone, fallen out of the pockets in my brain, so unless I pack my camera, journal or one of those nifty voice recording memo-thingy's....I am out of luck to put it to good use!

Running in France is an interesting thing...although I can only speak for my experience in Normandy, I think it is safe to say that ........
French women don't jog.... I'm not French, but I am still an anomaly in my t-shirt, tights, running shoes with Ipod ear-buds firmly planted in my ears...goin' down the road.  I was stopping traffic and causing confusion....the vision of woman-jogger was making farmers fall off their tractors and I am certain it wasn't because they were mesmerized by my mind-blowing feminine stamina--I think it was just the oddity element. That's why the switch to the beach-route was a good one.  The beach is virtually deserted at that hour of the morning.  I did however, discover some mysterious foot-prints on the second or third morning--running shoes--just slightly bigger than mine....and for a week or so after I would 'follow' these prints and look down the beach to see if I could find the imprinter....and finally, this week, I came face to face with a female jogger, tights, Ipod, headband and all--we passed, nodded a 'bonjour!' and I found myself with the words..."Wait!  Vous etes Americaine!?! "...ringing in my head for the next mile....

My point is this...(Oui! There actually is one!) That I desperately need this time out there in the morning; me, the sand and the sea birds (and of course the footprints of Madame-la-jogger to follow!) to get by each day...as I seek not just the sense of belonging in this strange land of cheese...but also the need to thrive; be strong , creative and alive....and of course to be more fit is the happy side-effect.  It doesn't actually matter which route I take then....the country or the beach path...as long as it's mine, takes me back to who I was before 'Petite-Fille' and before the move to France while I search for my place....and I hope to find in the end.....that no matter which route I take--all roads lead home......