In French, there is no word for "high five"
Last Saturday, I competed in the annual 20 km de Lausanne. As you might have guessed from the name, it is a 20km race (nearly a half marathon) through the streets of downtown Lausanne. As Lausanne is built on a fairly steep hill, the course involves multiple thigh-burning climbs designed to crush both mind and body. Fortunately for me, though, I'd been training for a couple of weeks, so I was not entirely out of shape for the race. Unfortunately for me, though, I spent Friday night in Geneva with a bunch of moral degenerates and thus was not entirely recovered for the afternoon race.
Fig. 1: The course layout. By my estimate, it passes within one block of 15 different apartments that I applied for and was denied.
Loren was kind enough to take the train from Grenoble to run the race as well, so I was not all alone (at least at the start of the race). He had not trained at all for the race, but on the other hand, he was smart enough not to have too much fun Friday night -- sort of the anti-Paul strategy. As we had been talking trash back and for for a couple of weeks, there was a lot riding on the outcome of the race and we were both tense with anticipation.
Fig. 2: Oh, snap! That is a stylish shirt on the man on the left. Where could I possibly order one online?
Of course, the competition did not last long. After a couple of miles, Loren was pulling away and by the halfway point he was well out of my sight. As I faded hard toward the end (Elf needs food, badly!), the whole thing ended up being my worst half marathon by a long shot. Loren stayed strong through the end and finished with a time he could be proud of whereas I was just happy to make it to the end. Still, the weather was fantastic and the views from the top were really nice. Had I been feeling a little bit better, I think it would have been a truly enjoyable experience.
One interesting thing: there were not that many people cheering along the sides of the course, but those present did a pretty awesome job. First, there must have been about 10 different musicians set up along the way. Not professional bands like in a Rock-and-Roll Marathon, but just small groups with no amplification or, more commonly, one dude with a Casio and a speaker. At many other places, people had just parked their cars and blasted their stereos as loud as they could. I went by one big truck that was blasting trashy Euro techno for a while, only to switch to "Take my breath away" after I passed. I'd like to think that the timing was more than coincidental.
Most impressive of all, though, was the level of enthusiasm of the little kids (and assorted drunk adults). Nearly every time you saw a little kid on the side of the course, they would have their arm outstretched eagerly awaiting a high five! As noted in the title, there is no direct French translation for a high five, but you could tell that these kids spoke the universal language of the high five. They knew deep down in their blood how awesome a high five can be for an exhausted runner (see my shirt, above) and they didn't let a silly thing like the failure of the French language get in their way. Without a doubt, I got more high fives in this race than in every single other race I have ever ran put together. It was a great experience and something I look forward to at future events here in Switzerland.
As you might have been able to glean from one of the above photos, I decided to grow a beard a few weeks ago. The reasons for this are unimportant now (let us just say that it had to do with a certain chronically underachieving hockey team that shall not be named here), but once it was time to shave it off, I figured that it would be a good time to try out different styles and see whether they worked. As for the beard itself, when I finally got rid of it not a single one of my labmates even noticed, so it probably wasn't that great a look in the first place. Maybe one of these intermediate styles will be more successful. I leave it to my vast readership to let me know if one of these looks is a keeper.
Style 1: The Relief Pitcher. All I need is a jaw full of chaw and I'm ready to shut down the side in the eighth inning.
Style 2: The Hipster. This isn't facial hair so much as it is an ironic post-proto-punk affectation.
Style 3: The Renaissance Man. A plumed hat and a frilly shirt completes the look.
Style 4: The Freddie Mercury. Classic.
Fig. 1: The course layout. By my estimate, it passes within one block of 15 different apartments that I applied for and was denied.Loren was kind enough to take the train from Grenoble to run the race as well, so I was not all alone (at least at the start of the race). He had not trained at all for the race, but on the other hand, he was smart enough not to have too much fun Friday night -- sort of the anti-Paul strategy. As we had been talking trash back and for for a couple of weeks, there was a lot riding on the outcome of the race and we were both tense with anticipation.
Fig. 2: Oh, snap! That is a stylish shirt on the man on the left. Where could I possibly order one online?Of course, the competition did not last long. After a couple of miles, Loren was pulling away and by the halfway point he was well out of my sight. As I faded hard toward the end (Elf needs food, badly!), the whole thing ended up being my worst half marathon by a long shot. Loren stayed strong through the end and finished with a time he could be proud of whereas I was just happy to make it to the end. Still, the weather was fantastic and the views from the top were really nice. Had I been feeling a little bit better, I think it would have been a truly enjoyable experience.
One interesting thing: there were not that many people cheering along the sides of the course, but those present did a pretty awesome job. First, there must have been about 10 different musicians set up along the way. Not professional bands like in a Rock-and-Roll Marathon, but just small groups with no amplification or, more commonly, one dude with a Casio and a speaker. At many other places, people had just parked their cars and blasted their stereos as loud as they could. I went by one big truck that was blasting trashy Euro techno for a while, only to switch to "Take my breath away" after I passed. I'd like to think that the timing was more than coincidental.
Most impressive of all, though, was the level of enthusiasm of the little kids (and assorted drunk adults). Nearly every time you saw a little kid on the side of the course, they would have their arm outstretched eagerly awaiting a high five! As noted in the title, there is no direct French translation for a high five, but you could tell that these kids spoke the universal language of the high five. They knew deep down in their blood how awesome a high five can be for an exhausted runner (see my shirt, above) and they didn't let a silly thing like the failure of the French language get in their way. Without a doubt, I got more high fives in this race than in every single other race I have ever ran put together. It was a great experience and something I look forward to at future events here in Switzerland.
As you might have been able to glean from one of the above photos, I decided to grow a beard a few weeks ago. The reasons for this are unimportant now (let us just say that it had to do with a certain chronically underachieving hockey team that shall not be named here), but once it was time to shave it off, I figured that it would be a good time to try out different styles and see whether they worked. As for the beard itself, when I finally got rid of it not a single one of my labmates even noticed, so it probably wasn't that great a look in the first place. Maybe one of these intermediate styles will be more successful. I leave it to my vast readership to let me know if one of these looks is a keeper.
Style 1: The Relief Pitcher. All I need is a jaw full of chaw and I'm ready to shut down the side in the eighth inning.
Style 2: The Hipster. This isn't facial hair so much as it is an ironic post-proto-punk affectation.
Style 3: The Renaissance Man. A plumed hat and a frilly shirt completes the look.
Style 4: The Freddie Mercury. Classic.That is all for now. I actually have lots more stuff to write about but have been extremely busy of late. Many more updates to come.
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