Tuesday - Five days before the race.

My 3 flights, to Dallas, then London, and eventually Nice were unremarkable. Decent seats, no crying babies, and I was able to even sleep on and off. When I arrived in Nice, I was at first relieved because the bike box appeared on the baggage belt really quickly. What concerned me was that the straps that secured it were much looser than when I had put them on, the clips to close the top to the bottom were unclipped, and the whole top half was practically falling off of the bottom half. I wanted to check the bike out right away, but I had another bag to look for.

It wasn’t long that I was looking for my bag when I heard my name over the PA system. “This isn’t good!” I thought. I went over to the counter, and learned that my suitcase was still in London. This was definitely one of those “blessings in disguise.” Turns out that when luggage is left behind, they deliver it to your hotel. That meant that I only had to deal with getting my backpack and bike box back to the hotel, which was enough to deal with!

I went outside and waited in the cab line for about 30 minutes. When I was finally first in line, cab after cab refused service to me because of the bike box. Mind you, that bike box fit in my jetta; it isn’t THAT big! Finally a cab accepted me. I don’t know if it had to do with the pitiful , begging look on my face and my hands in prayer position.

A bit of irony here - the whole reason I took the cab instead of the bus was because I wanted to be dropped off at the hotel door. Walking from the bus station to the hotel with the bike box seemed to daunting a challenge after a day of travel. It so happened, however, that my hotel is on a pedestrianized street, and the cab dropped me off at a bus station, with instructions on how to walk the rest of the way. So, I walked past tourists and shoppers, through the crowded pedestrianized streets, rolling the very loud, thumping bike box along. Very subtle.

Okay, I got to the hotel: Hotel Rex, at 3 Rue Massena. I walked into the main entrance way, and standing in front of me was a flight of marble stairs. No elevator. I definitely didn’t feel safe just leaving it there to go to the front desk, so it just had to come with me.

Take a moment to really imagine me standing there with this bike box, looking up those marble stairs, thinking, “What the heck do I do now?” :-)

I certainly gave it a great effort: First I thought I could just go one step at a time; get the front wheels up one, then the back. Really now, wheels on marble stairs aren’t meant to go together, and I could see that idea was headed for a real “Mr. Bean” situation. Back to square one. I thought I could muster the strength if I just hoisted it up and booked it up the stairs, but it turns out that my energy level wasn’t at all what it needed to be for that Herculean effort. I realized that because I was unwilling to leave the bike box alone for a minute, my only option was to wait for someone to come along and help. (An option, as most of you know, that is very un-Jenn-like, considering how I hate to ask for help no matter what.)

Only a few minutes past before a man came down the steps. Yay! “Bonjour!” I tried to cough up the word as French-like as I could.

“Blachh blacchh gjgjguhhh blachh blacch gjguhh?” He asked. No idea, but I tried to answer him anyway.

“Can you help, s’il vous plait?” I sensed he was offering anyway, and I hoped I didn’t offend him by my “stupid American who can’t speak French” question.

I appreciated the fact that he definitely didn’t SEEM put out, and he kindly took one end of the bike box. We got to the top of the steps, and I started to say, “Merci,” but he didn’t let go of the bike box. Instead, he pointed to the sign that read “Hotel Rex.” Behind it was another flight of marble steps. Oh my gosh. This flight was much more narrow, and the top half of it actually spiraled! Slowly, carefully, we managed to get the box up the corkscrew and over to the reception desk.

I introduced myself, and the very friendly receptionist had an “oh no” look on her face mixed with a little smile. My room was actually one floor below the corkscrew steps! The super nice stranger and the receptionist helped me again, and we very slowly and carefully got the box BACK down the stairs.

The hotel room is just perfect. What it lacks in cuteness, it makes up for in functionality, cleanliness and location. It has a kitchen, and decent sized bathroom, and a large (too large) dining room table that is perfect for laying out all of my race gear and organizing everything. It is also just a five minute walk from Ironman Central.

First things first: I had to check out my bike. I slowly removed the top cover. Inside, at first glance, everything looked normal, but then I noticed that the bike was tilted. When they inspected it, I think they removed it from the front skewer that holds it in, and they never secured it again. I put the bike back together (feeling very proud that I remembered how to do it). I think the derailer got a little bent, so I’ll have to find a bike shop to take it in.

After I unpacked everything from my backpack, I realized that I did a good job of preparing myself for that possible scenario of losing my luggage. The only things I didn’t have to do my race were my nutritional items, and these were things that could fairly easily be replaced.

My luggage was supposed to be delivered between 7 and 8:30, so I had a few hours to check out my surroundings. I eagerly walked over to the Ironman area. They were setting up the expo and the transition tents. So exciting!

I then just rambled through the streets, getting my bearings and taking in what kind of shops were there. I found a bike shop and bought my CO2 cartridges. I was going to buy some groceries, but I wanted to make sure I got back in time for my luggage delivery. So, I just bought some Chinese food for dinner (yes, I see the irony of having Chinese food my first night in France!) and headed back to the hotel. When I got back, there was a note on my door from Marielle, the receptionist, who got a call saying that my luggage was actually not going to come until tomorrow, between 10 and 2. That was a little frustrating, but it could have been worse. At least my luggage wasn’t actually “lost.”

I called my sister to let her know I was okay. I wish I could have talked longer, but it is so expensive to call. I tried to stay awake for as long as I could to help with jet lag, and I think I eventually fell asleep at around 8:00.