Running was always my favourite sport in school; I can’t run fast but I like to think I can run pretty far. I loved cross country because you get mega muddy and we’d miss quite a lot of school for it.
Lucie convinced me to join her and her friend Kate for the Paris Semi-Marathon a few months back so I thought ‘mehhhh why not?’. Training came pretty easily as I go running anyway. I didn’t do anything drastically different to my normal routine but made an effort to do a few longer runs; 10, 12 and 15 miles.
The night before the run I didn’t get any sleep and was sick (excuses excuses) which definitely slowed me down. I think it was the hottest day of the year in Paris and the sun was in our faces most of the way. I also didn’t account for the weaving in and out of people. There were loads of people participating; I think the official number was 43,500 runners, thats a lot of weaving. The rush for water and slices of orange was brutal. Mum was there at the 17th km to cheer me on and shortly after that there was a killer hill which saw me slip from the 2 hour pace maker.
I loved running through the streets of Paris and pretty views definitely spurred me on. Even though it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, I felt a great sense of achievement at the finish line and had mixed feelings of one day completing a full marathon; the feeling was amazing and also disgustingly tiring at the same time. I will maybe wait a few months until I actually seriously consider it.
13.1 miles / 21.1km – 2 hours 8mins
Paris, March 2015
p.s. the photos are awful quality I know. But they made me laugh. Obviously loving life listening to Bey and Jay.
Another embarrassing moment I just remembered that needs to be documented asap before I permanently block it out!
We were on a weird wine induced night out with a big group of us girls in Paris. We’d been to a metro party that was basically a massive flop because the police were hot on our heels, ha. Everyone was still in high spirits though and we were deciding if it was worth abandoning the cramped metros and rude organisers (errrrr don’t drink all my alcohol svp) and heading to a club instead. As we were leaving the underground station I heard a girl we’d met that night scream at some guy to leave her alone. ‘Just get off me!’ etc etc. Obviously it wasn’t a pleasant situation and no one seemed to be reacting or helping her out. He was being persistent and wouldn’t back off and go home like she’d repeated over and over. So I stepped in, pushed him aside and reassured him that she was better off without his harassment. No one needs random guys trying to cling on all night so in my eyes I was doing what I hoped any of my friends would do for me.
He actually seemed quite genuine and wanted to make sure she was ok. I told him, ‘Hey randomer, leave us alone, we’re all good without you thank you very much. Go home like she asked, we’re trying to have a good night’. He eventually left. The end, happy days, right?
Nope! Turns out he was the girls boyfriend of like 2 years and they lived together. ERRRRRR FAIL MARY. Not only had I told her boyfriend to leave us alone but before I’d found out who he was I’d gone to girl and vented about what a creep and loser he was.
Until next awkward moment eh
I hate getting the ferry and never plan to sit on the cold P&O boats but unluckily, some coach companies take it instead of the euro tunnel. I was going from Dover to Calais (well, Leeds to Paris) and was woken up by the coach driver, no one else was on the coach and he was angrily telling me to get off and exit the car park. I flustered my way into the seating area, found a plug socket to charge my phone and tried to fall asleep.
5 minutes later I was joined by a french guy who had been on the same coach as me. He wanted to have a full on conversation (in French ha) and I wasn’t really feeling it and would’ve much preferred to get to sleep on the plasticky sofa. Each time I drifted off he’d ask more questions or remind me my phone or bag was out. He wasn’t harassing me but I wasn’t in the mood for friendly chats (it was 3am). Then he had his phone out and was definitely snapchatting photos of me or photos of him with me in the background. Which is not ok.
About 20 minutes of uninterrupted sleep later I woke up to see a family of 4 sitting opposite just watching me. And mysterious french snapchat guy standing above me also watching. WEIRD.
Obviously then I didn’t want to sleep again but if you know me you’ll know I find that difficult! The final time I was awoken was when Frenchie was poking me to let me know we had to re-board the coach.
And this ordeal is why I hate ferry journeys.
me lookin cool.
Awky Maz number twooooo comes from BHV, a very standard department store in Paris. And everyone’s done this before. I just wanted to share the moment, don’t judge.
I was shopping in the stationery section of the department store and had been there for over 30 minutes trying to find the right type of sketchbook and I was going a bit mad trying to work out the paperchase section. I saw a guy who’d been stacking a shelf for a while. I asked if he spoke English because my patience was at zero which isn’t french speaking level. He said yes so I proceeded to ask where I could find the sketchbooks, I spoke for a while about how I wasn’t satisfied with a A4 one but needed something a bit smaller but not too small and what paper and pens I needed. I think I may have added how badly layout the shop was. Instead of interrupting me throughout this he waited until the end to tell me he didn’t work there.
If you don’t work there why were you sat stacking shelves?! And why didn’t you stop me sooner?!
When I was younger my fave pages in magazines were always the *cringe!* ones. The short, embarrassing stories, usually about stepping in dog poo just before a date with your crush (worst word in the world). My daily life sometimes seems to be a montage of this with added awkward, humiliating moments.
Sooooo I thought I’d put them on the internet.
I had a friend who used to call awkward moments ‘awky mo’s’. Awky Mo’s stuck but Awky Maz is replacing it as Maz is my old nickname. Thanks whoever came up with that flawless phrase that I’m stealing for this title.
me lookin awk
My first awky mo is from Budapest, late December 2014. So like a few weeks ago. I was already so flustered because I’d been sitting on a train all morning and had arrived in Hungary assuming they used Euros. Never assume a countries currency because you will be wrong 110% of the time. I dragged myself and overly stuffed bags around the station, managing to find a ticket machine that would accept my card, speaking tourist English to a few guys who worked in the train station and found a route to get me to my host’s flat.
The train was busy; lots of foreigners all happily chatting about their trip and a few locals just making their way around the city. I got off the train and saw the long escalator to exit. Since 2013 I’ve had a weird fear of escalators; I can go on them but long ones that you find in tube stations really freak me out. Especially when you have a heavy bag on your back. It’s like, if you fall backwards, smash your head on the moving steps you’ll probably die. So I saw the long escalator and hurried onto it; impatient to reach the top and see my first proper view of Budapest. It turns out the escalator was actually moving the other way, coming down instead of going up. So I tripped hard. I tried to find my balance and hold onto the rail but obviously that was moving towards me too. I did a little trip dance and by some miracle didn’t end up face down (and inevitably dead. kinda.). Instead of laughing at the situation in front of the packed station I tried to style it out by running to the right moving stairs. And everyone just stared.