Running in Circles

Paris is a town almost entirely lacking in topography: yes, the Pantheon is at a higher elevation than its surroundings (as if it's cyclopean size weren't enough to make it easily distinguishable on the skyline), but there is no Gun Hill, there is no Libe Slope, there is no Mount Pleasant, no Freese, no Sandbank, no Kline, no Renwick, no Remington, and no Oakcrest. For those of you who aren't familiar with Ithaca toponymy, it will suffice to say that in my hometown, it is almost impossible to take a run without either ascending or descending, whereas in France, almost the only hills are the artificial ones in the parks, built by Napoleon III.

If you know me, you know that I like to take nice, long runs, at a moderate pace, with a good clip when ascending. I like to take runs that get me far from where I begin; one of the things I have discovered about "getting away," mentally, when taking a run, is that the process is easier when it is coupled with a physical escape. Nothing makes me realize how far I am from my schoolwork at Cornell than finding myself sweaty and panting at Quarry Road.

Which is why, even though I probably have the best running conditions of anyone living in Paris, I still find them disappointing. I have access to not only one, but to two parks, which are literally right across the street from each other. The first is the giant lawn of the Cité universitaire internationale, where I live. I need to scurry across a narrow line of traffic to get there (because my dorm is a block removed from the main lawn), but, by my watch, this hop, skip, and jump only takes about 30-40 seconds. The Cité U, by the way, contains nationality-based housing; there is a Tunisian House, a Greek House, a Netherlands House, an American House etc.; my house, the Lucien Paye House, is deliberately international, even though most of the residents avoid spending time with anyone not of their own nationality. It's a highly asocial setting, in which most doors are not just closed, but locked, and in which it is virtually impossible to make friends; one must have friends when one enters.

But I digress. Right across the busy Boulevard Jourdan, a two-lane road with a Tramway running down the center, is the beautiful Parc Montsouris, which is as close a substitute to Central Park as I will ever find in Paris. It's a natural space, with statues (including one of my countryman, Thomas Paine), a cafe, little theater (closed), and an ample pond. A group of black swans live in the pond: their plumage is quite remarkable, and there is an amazing contrast with their vibrantly-yellow-orange beaks, which are the color of industrially-produced cheddar cheese.

What I end up doing, usually, is running for about 30 minutes around the Cité U turf, and then crossing Boulevard Jourdan in order to make it to the Parc Montsouris, where I run for another 30 minutes or so, before heading back. Running seems to be common enough, although I will say that it's not as common among students my own age as it is among people my brothers' ages, i.e. young but still independent. I'm only running about 4-5 times a week in Paris, which, I think, might be contributing to my stress. Still, I am being extremely careful with my body: the last thing I need is an injury in a town where I walk 1-2.5 hours per day. According to Google Maps, the Sorbonne is just under 5k from the Cité U. Still, I know I'm going to be lazy and out of shape when I get back, and that a certain older brother of mine will have a very good chance of beating me at a certain race, nearly exactly one year from now.

~JD

"In 1710, the police decided not to publish an arrêt meant to dissuade people from pillaging grain convoys in order not 'to renew the sad ideas of dearth,' that is, in order not to incite them to pillage grain convoys!" (Stephen Kaplan, Bread, Politics and Political Economy in the Reign of Louis XV, p. 79).