Family Eurostar to Paris. Golf clubs, running shoes, and high hopes, what could go wrong?
We had a plan. Lauren and her brother Pete had both entered the Paris Marathon. The boys and I would pile onto the Eurostar, spend a long weekend in one of the world’s great cities, and cheer on their mum and uncle across the finish line on the Champs-Élysées.
Sport has a habit of rewriting your plans. This trip was no exception.
Getting There
There is something about the Eurostar that immediately sets the mood. You leave London and barely two hours later you’re in Paris. We arrived, boys, rugby ball, golf clubs and all, buzzing for the weekend ahead.
Caption: “Collecting the race pack. The smile hides what she already knew.”
For any big race the expo day has its own energy, the flags, the kit stalls, the sea of nervous competitors who’ve spent months getting to this moment. Lauren collected her bib. But she already knew her left calf was playing up.
In the weeks before the race she had been managing a calf strain. As a knee surgeon I see this injury occasionally it’s called a medial gastrocnemius tear, or more commonly, tennis calf. The name is misleading as runners get it just as often as tennis players. It happens when the large muscle at the back of the calf is put under sudden, forceful load, a sharp push-off, a faster training session, a body that has done a lot of miles and is running low on reserve.
The onset is usually dramatic. A sharp pain at the back of the leg, sometimes a pop, immediate difficulty walking. Despite her best efforts to manage it in the lead-up, the injury had made the decision for her.
She didn’t make the start line.
Caption: “Pete, somewhere in the middle of 42.2 kilometres, looking far too comfortable.”
Lauren’s brother Uncle Pete ran, and he ran brilliantly.
Caption: “The post-marathon meal. Escargot, French onion soup, and the medal stays on.”
The post-race dinner was everything it should be. Medal still firmly round his neck, Pete worked his way through escargot and a proper soupe à l’oignon. Entirely well earned.
On Resilience
I want to say something here, because it doesn’t always get said.
Lauren stood on the edge of a start line she couldn’t cross. She then spent marathon day cheering her brother around the course, supporting her family, watching tens of thousands of people do the thing she had trained to do herself and she did all of it with real grace.
In my clinic I see patients who are devastated not just by injury but by what the injury takes from them. A race. A goal. Often a chunk of their identity. Sport matters to people who love it and missing something you’ve worked hard for hurts in a way that’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t been there.
What I’ve learned, both professionally and as a husband and father watching Lauren that weekend, is that how you handle the hard moments in sport says far more about you than any finish time.
She will run Paris and when she does, it will mean everything and I’ll be there cheering her on.
Paris With Time to Spare
With Pete’s race done and a city at our feet, we did what any self-respecting family would do.
Caption: “Three boys, one tower. They were impressed, briefly.”
Caption: “Centre Pompidou. The rugby ball came everywhere.”
Caption: “Everyone wanted to see the Mona Lisa. Everyone slightly regretted the queue. Smaller than you expect. More crowded than you’d like. Still worth it.”
Caption: “The Louvre has 35,000 works of art. Their favourite was this boar.”
The Louvre was vast and magnificent. The Mona Lisa, smaller than expected, more crowded than comfortable — got photographed. The boys’ standout exhibit was a large marble boar, which tells you everything about where we are as a family culturally.
Caption: “Lauren, taking Paris at a slightly different pace than planned and looking entirely at peace with it.”
Read Part 2 here
