The gym would not sell me a day pass.
I was in Paris with the Chicago Marathon a little over two weeks away. The plan called for a spin session, but the gym ended that option. I found a track and ran instead.
Paris had already been good to me. I got in a nice run along the Seine the day before. I was walking all over the city and made a trip north to Auvers-sur-Oise, where Vincent van Gogh had lived near the end of his life.
The walking was not helping my foot.
It had been sore before the trip. I thought I had strained something by hitting the short 200- and 400-meter work too hard. The Achilles and the outside of the foot were both complaining. I kept telling my coach I was watching it and being careful.
Careful became five mile repeats on a track in Paris.
I verified that the loop was 400 meters and got started. The splits were 5:52, 5:47, 5:45, 5:47, and 5:46.
They felt pretty awesome.
I did not push with everything I had, and I cut the end of the planned workout short. The foot was not in terrible shape afterward. My coach liked the times and reminded me to keep a close eye on it.
The photo from the track has the whole scene. I am sweaty and grinning into the camera. A soccer game is happening on the infield. The red track bends away behind my shoulder. It does not look like a carefully managed injury day.
Two days later I was back in New York and did two 20-minute segments at 6:15 and 6:18 pace. That felt ambitious for marathon pace but not impossible, depending on the taper and the weather.
Chicago would be my first open marathon in ten years. I had run plenty and raced plenty, but I did not think of myself as a student of the marathon. I asked my coach for a call to discuss how the taper should work.
The Paris workout made me feel good. The foot still needed watching. Both things were true when I got on the plane home.