Before arriving in Paris, I spoke with a number of other Francophiles for their suggestions for accommodation. I was very specific in my request: a small, charming boutique hotel near the start or finish of the Marathon. I received several recommendations for the Franklin Roosevelt Hotel and was not disappointed - it fit the bill perfectly. Located between the Champs Elysée and Avenue Georges V, it is perfectly situated for my purposes-to dart between shopping in chic boutiques and yelling myself hoarse for the hoards of runners in the Marathon. The intimate Duret Hotel with Louis XVI furnishings, located near the Arc de Triomphe, was also recommended, so I have put it on my list for the next visit.

The Paris Marathon is an annual marathon which begins at the Champs-Élysées heading towards the Place de la Concorde and continues through the city to finish at Foch Avenue. After the London Marathon and the Berlin Marathon, it is considered the best long-distance annual running event in Europe. The first Paris Marathon took place in 1896. A big crowd gathered to watch 191 participants. It was run over the 40 km separating Paris from Conflans and the organisers awarded a commemorative medal to all runners who finished the race in under 4 hours. The distance of 40 km was chosen as it was the distance separating Marathon and Athens, Greece. The Marathon has since increased the distance to 42.195 km - the standard Olympic Marathon length.

My friend and I studied the route - it read like a lovely tour of the “City of Lights ”. The starting mark is at the Champs Elysée, you pass through the Bois de Vincennes and Bois de Boulogne, meander past the Louvre and then all the other iconic symbols of Paris: Notre Dame, Arc de Triomphe, and Eiffel Tower.

We opted out of the official traditional Pasta Party that is held the night before the race and decided to have a quiet dinner at a local café. My friend loaded up on pasta, salad and bread for sustenance to carry her through the next day's physical test. I enjoyed a delicious steak au poivre and a gorgeous cabernet whose meagre cost didn't match its superb quality. After dinner we returned to the hotel bar for a nightcap before turning in early.

Historically, only 15% of the runners are women, so my friend was eager to join the ranks of these strong, determined women. I, on the other hand, was quite willing to join the ranks of the supporters and intermittent shoppers. I watched her join her fellow bibbed runners, listened for the starting signal, and then began cheering – adding my voice to the throngs of other spectators. I felt intoxicated by the spectacle and sheer physicality of 35,000 athletes pounding the pavements of Paris. I wondered if Ancient Grecian spectators experienced such a rush.

After about an hour or so, I knew that it was time for a little marathon of my own - of shopping, that is. I had a few hours before I would need to find a place at the finish line, so I made a beeline for my favourite haunt, Colette. This temple of funky and chic house wares, designer clothing, shoes and accessories always satisfies. I got distracted by the must-have house wares on display for a long while and then had a coffee for sustenance in the stylish café. I looked at my watch and realized that I had to hot-foot it to the finish line.

I made it just in time to see the 3rd wave of runners cross the finish line. There was much emotion being displayed – laughter, tears and sobbing. My friend was among the overwhelmed - she was crying and laughing at the same time and kept repeating “I did it, I can't believe I did it!”. After she regained her composure, with eyes sparkling, she began to detail the beautiful sights that she encountered during the route.

She said passing the Bastille was a high point as was running along the Seine and passing all of the islands - the view was superlative. But she said the most unbelievable scene that she will remember was the sight of a huge barrel at the summit as she was running in the outskirts of the city. They were serving wine to the runners! And not only wine, but country bread with hunks of a soft cheese to accompany it! “Only in Paris do you get wine with bread and cheese on a marathon! It was fantastic.” she exclaimed.

The next day we planned an easy program of a stroll along the river, browsing through the bouquinistes, book stalls, for post cards and rare photography prints. We stopped at a quaint sidewalk café for lunch and I listened to more stories about her Marathon adventure. She said that it had been such a satisfying experience that she may make it an annual pilgrimage.

Caught up in the moment, I agreed to join her next year and actually run, but when she began excitedly talking about our training schedule it took some of the wind out of my sail. I think that perhaps I am better suited to supporting runners rather than actually running myself. I am already planning next year's trip.