Nice: Groundhog Day. A Quick 10km Race for Breakfast

Deja vu. 

It felt like just last week that I'd been here before.  Corralled in the starting zone of a large, apparently international race (there were accents and languages from everywhere and we even spotted several Aussie t-shirts), music pumping, sun shining, bongo drums bongo-ing. 

Hold on.  It was just last week.  What had I been thinking?  My legs were still sore just trying to get out of bed, let alone attempting to run 10km.  Here we go again.  And to think, we nearly hadn't been able to enter at all and I was the fool who fixed it.

To give you some idea of the scope of the race, the Kenyans and Ethiopians have jetted in for the Nice half marathon (or semi marathon, as the French like to say) which means it must be a decent race on the AIMS* event calendar with either good appearance money, good potential prize money, or both or they wouldn't bother to turn up at all.

But for one small hitch we were all set to enter.  In order to enter a race of any sort in France, a participant is required to produce a medical certificate stating they are fit to race.  I'm sure people still drop dead during marathons and other sporting events but for some reason, the French must feel they are better protected legally if you produce this document.  We are not required to do this in Australia which is no doubt why, when I casually asked my doctor to sign the very simple medical certificate printout for the Paris marathon she looked confused, almost as if she'd never seen one of these before.  I don't blame her.  She probably hadn't.  Apparently France and Italy are the only places in the world that feel this better protects them than asking the athlete to simply sign a waiver like everywhere else on the planet.

The International Athlete at the finish line
Nice, France 17.04.2011

Nonetheless, we had hit a road block.  While Online Trainer may be meticulous in his training methods, his eating habits, and his undying faith in the use of sports supplements, his filing system leaves a lot to be desired. Unlike organised me, he hadn't kept a copy of the medical certificate he'd produced to the organisers for the Paris marathon.  No certificate, no race.   It didn't seem to matter to the organisers that we had just completed the Paris marathon a week ago - an event which we couldn't have participated in had we not produced a valid medical certificate - and in fact they were welcome to check online to see our results as proof.

Fortunately he did manage to fish out a certificate he had previously used for last year's Etape du Tour**.  Unfortunately because it was over a year old it was considered to be out of date. 

The over-achieving Online Trainer.
Nice, France 17.04.2011

I had never seen Online Trainer pout in disappointment before.  And while I thought it highly amusing that this capable, machine of a man had been turned into a pouting, helpless 5 year old, it also surprised me that he hadn't simply thought to do what all the rest of us would do: forge it.

Before you start, let's blame my ancestors.  Modern day Aussies are after all, descendants of convicts. Not my own actual ancestors, you understand, because my own father was born in Italy, but Aussies generally.  So a tiny spot of forgery among friends is really nothing to concern yourself with.  Besides, Online Trainer was certainly fit enough to enter.  He had recently received the obligatory medical certificate to prove it.  It's just that he didn't happen to have it handy.  And really, if anyone was going to drop dead in this race it wouldn't be him.  It'd probably be me.  And I had the valid medical certificate.

There was nothing else for it.  If we wanted to do this race it was time to introduce Online Trainer into the world of crime. Updating the date on his medical certificate proved easy and the certificate miraculously became current.  We were in.  On offer was a half marathon, 10km, 5km or 2km (for the petits - which are actually children and not grown ups who happen to be short).  Good sense reigned for once and we entered the 10km race.  Although let's face it, it was never going to be anything longer as far as I was concerned.  Online Trainer had no bargaining power anyway.  He was, after all, holding a forged document.

Like walking trophies, other Paris Marathon Finishers were milling around at the starting line sporting their red Finishers t-shirts. It seems Online Trainer was not the only one to decide that journeying to the south of France for another race a week after the marathon sounded like a great idea.  Hopefully I managed to redeem my disastrous time from Paris a tiny bit by running a reasonable 50 minute 10km (and yes, I am aware I am still 32km away from a proper redemption) but before you scoff, we could barely break a 6min km for the first 5km because of the throng of competitors. The good news is we once again received medals and finishers t-shirts which I'm particularly happy with.  In the space of one week I have increased my medal tally by two.  And all in France.  I am an international athlete now (even if I am a bad one).

In support of our race, Apple & Fatigado had rushed from St Tropez to Nice for the day.  It seems they had not been enjoying their overpriced, misleadingly advertised, less-than-clean accommodation which regrettably had tarnished their view of St Tropez as a holiday port of call.  Be warned: if you cross Apple you will end up with a very poor TripAdvisor review.  The man means business.  He has an arsenal of portable hardware (iPhones, iPads, iPods and MacBook Airs) with which to strike you down as lightening fast as his Internet connection will allow.

Fatigado's dietary demands determined our lunch venue.  Naturally a connoisseur of Mexican fare, he is unusually fussy when it comes to food.  With his preference for tacos ("I loooovveee tacos") unable to be satisfied in Europe he instead dines on the delicacies on offer at McDonald's and Pizza Hut, although of late he has also taken a shine to Italian food.  Thus it was that despite being in France and surrounded by authentic French cuisine at every turn, Italian it was. Online Trainer proceeded to eat enough for three people (three large people, I'd wager).  How he puts so much food away and stays in such great shape remains a mystery.  Actually, no it doesn't.  He trains relentlessly; training more in one day than most people do in a week.  Make that two weeks.  You see what I mean, don't you? Daunting is underselling it.  Frightening is more appropriate.

Apple & I: It's all just too funny.
Hotel Negresco, Nice. 17.04.2011

Because the Hotel Negresco adorns every postcard and can be seen from just about everywhere in Nice (even from the little balconette of my hotel) I insist we can't leave Nice without visiting such an icon (and this time I am happy to tell you it is an actual hotel that people can stay in rather than being called a hotel but actually being a Town Hall***).

So famous is it, it even decorates our race medals.  We spend half an hour walking up the promenade to get to it only to discover that, while beautiful and ornate and grand, it is after all, still just a hotel.  It turned out we walked all that way basically to use the bathrooms.  Might I add though, those bathrooms are worth the visit.  Apple has photographic evidence of this.  And at least they were free.

* AIMS - Association of International Marathons and Distance Races
** Etape du Tour: a stage of the Tour de France that regular cyclists can enter.  Potentially irrational, barmy regular cyclists who wish to feel a little of the pain the professionals feel during the three week Tour de France
*** As per the Hotel de Ville in Paris