My First Half Marathon - Les 5 Lieus Foreziennes (Part 1)

And finally, the post I'm sure many at home have been waiting for!  As many of you already know, I had the pleasure of experiencing my first half-marathon with a fellow student Emily this weekend.  We had been anticipating this race for weeks, and I am pleased to say that the experience surpassed what I had imagined it to be.  Let me give you a 100% Complete detailed account of what actually happened.

Saturday morning, I left my house at around 10:30, and somehow managed to make my way over to the train station for 11:00 (Saturdays are typically much slower than the rest of the week, and I ended up missing the bus...).  We hopped on the train at 11:22, and we were on our way.  We made it to Lyon, and then Saint Etienne without a problem.  But then... there was l'autocar.
Finding the bust stop we needed to depart from was difficult enough.  Once we boarded the bus, I thought things were going to go smoothly... Until our bus driver asked Emily for her discount card which she had purchased for SNCF service at the beginning of the semester.  When we bought the tickets, she did not have her card with her, but the kind woman who worked for SNCF gave her the discount anyways.  When we boarded the bus, Emily did not have her card, resulting in a difficult situation. 

I wouldn't have had a problem with it, if the bus driver wasn't being so rude.

Okay, so my French isn't the greatest.  Cut me a break, I've only been here for two and a half months.  Instead of just letting her pay simply, he proceeded to lecture her about why it was important qu'elle pense bien de sa carte.  We were indeed off to a bitter start. 

After this, I had to call the hotel to let them know that we were on our way.  After calling four times, I received no answer.  In mid conversation I decided to make the phone call by chance, and sure enough the hotel owner picked up.  I explained to her that we were on our way.  However, due to my incorrect French at the time, she thought I was arriving at 1AM and not in an hour.  So I rexplained to her that I would be arriving at 4PM.

And finally, we arrived in Bonson, France.  Where is Bonson, France exactly?  To be honest, I still have NO IDEA.  There is only one way I can possibly describe the location of this town: in the middle of NOWHERE!  Below are two pictures that can give you an idea of where exactly we were. 

Look at this quaint little train station!  I felt like I was in the mid-west...

And this picture shows the expansive nothingness that was before us. 

Immediately upon our arrival, I called the Hotel Owner to tell her that we had arrived.  She let us inside, and began to talk to us.  She proceeded to tell us that we spoke French well (at this point in time, I'm still never sure if anyone actually means this or if they are saying it to make me feel better).  She leads us to a small room with one bed.


And this is where we encountered another problem.  Our lovely Resident Director Marie, who called and reserved the room for us, CLEARLY specified in French that we were not a couple and that we wanted two beds.  Emily explained this to the woman, who then brought us to a much larger room with three beds.  Problem solved.


Then, we went and registered for our race, which proved to be unimaginably easy and unimaginably inexpensive.  I was able to register for the race and only pay 8 euros!  8 euros for the race and a nice, tech-fabric shirt*!


*For anyone who isn't familiar with the running culture, it appears to be universal.  Half of the pride is actually completing the race, but the other source of pride is the nice shirt that says exactly where you ran.  I must say, I really did want a shirt that had my race written on it in French!

After this, we deemed that we needed to eat, and badly.  A runner typically loads up on carbohydrates and electrolytes for the few days before in preparation for the race.   We figured that we would be able to find a restaurant without a problem... but, as usual we were drastically mistaken.


All three of the restaurants in town were closed, and it was 16:30.

So, we began to walk towards a sign that said l'Intermarche.  Apparently there was a supermarket, and it wasn't far...by car.  We walked for at least an hour out of town, not passing one single restaurant, or finding the infamous Intermarche.  We became so desperate that we stopped and looked at a flier which had fallen on the ground.  It said KFC!  But it was many kilometers away...We ended up returning the the "town center", and reluctantly, a KEBAB PLACE HAD OPENED.  THIS WAS THE BEST KEBAB I HAD EVER EATEN IN MY LIFE.

Then, we returned back to our hotel room, and eventually, I fell asleep. 


To be continued......