I Hate Paris in the Spring

Ugh.  Sixty-six degrees and partly sunny and it has been over twenty-one days since I laid eyes on the Eiffel Tower.  Oh, and the roses on the banks of the Seine are in full bloom.

Now I remember why I hate Paris in the Spring.  It is absolutely perfect weather.... running weather.

I am not one of those people that pretend to love running.  I hate it. Every second of it.  But not more than I love every last second of French bread.  So I do it.  If there is ever any teeny tiny excuse to get out of the lousy sport, it's all over.  But believe me, it is nearly impossible to come up with one in this city during this time of the year.   Hence, why I hate Paris in the Spring.

After spending the morning cleaning every square inch of my three hundred square foot apartment (approximately an hour) I faced the fact that there were no more excuses and strapped on my old Nikes.  To be honest, once I get going, it isn't all that bad.  It does present many opportunities to stop and enjoy the scenery.  I call it the three to five bridge run (some days I run three miles, some days I run five....ok, one day I ran five.)  I run down my street to the nearest bridge, Bir Hakeim and cross over to the Left Bank to run along the banks of the Seine.  The banks are lined with roses and the Eiffel towers up above.  Once I get the the third bridge, I cross back over the Right Bank and run back the way I came.

I must say, I feel pretty good by the time it's over.  And that it's totally worth it feeling lasts a few more seconds. 

And then I see them.  One by one they appear and I begin to feel the betrayal lurking.  It's not always the same partner in crime. One week Boulangerie, Patisserie the next, and before I know it I'm getting on a metro to hit Michel Cluizel across town.  Oh the pains of life. The bad news, I don't think this Parisian Spring is going anywhere anytime soon.  C'est la vie.