Ah, the French

Peter Davy has a France Today article about a French habit:

There is, perhaps, a section of French society that will never be reconciled to President Sarkozy's jogging. Long before he collapsed while running in the grounds of the Château de Versailles this summer, critics had urged him to stop. It began shortly after he took office. Left-wing newspaper Libération noted that it was totalitarian regimes that tended to cultivate physical fitness, while French philosopher Alain Finkielkraut demanded the President abandon his "undignified" pastime. Why not, he suggested, take up walking instead? "Western civilization, in its best sense, was born with the promenade," he observed.
But the President didn't listen then, and he hasn't listened since. Ignoring newspaper editorials recommending that he slow down, he vowed to continue jogging, and when he went to New York City in September of 2013 for the UN summit on climate change, he was found pounding the pavements and paths of Madison Avenue and Central Park.
But he's hardly alone en France. In fact, despite critics' suggestions that le jogging (or now, more popularly, le running) is too "American", Sarkozy is in good company. Look back in history, for instance, and it was a Frenchman who gave us the competitive marathon: Michel Bréal's suggestion to the organizers of the first modern Olympics, in 1896 in Greece, that a marathon should be added to the program to commemorate the original run of Pheidippides from Marathon to Athens in 490 BC, was enthusiastically taken up. And a Frenchman, Albin Lermusiaux, was one of only four foreign runners to take part, alongside more than a dozen Greeks.
That early enthusiasm for running might have dimmed somewhat in the intervening years (in 1977 the inaugural Paris Marathon saw just 87 finishers) but jogging took off in the 1980s and continues to enjoy widespread popularity. And while France might more often be associated with cycling, principally because of the Tour de France, running is significantly more popular.
"It's a way of life for many French people," says Bruno Lacroix, editor-in-chief of the French running magazine Jogging International. Between eight and ten million French people say they run, and the country is believed to have more than five thousand races each year, the most in Europe.
The best known of these is the Paris Marathon, held annually in April. It might not match New York City, London, or Berlin in attracting the big names in running, but more than thirty thousand people participate each year, and it's a big pull for foreign visitors, who account for more than thirty percent of the total; this year, more than seven hundred Americans took part.
It's easy to see why, because, for a visitor, Paris arguably beats even the top races. Those might all be nice courses, but they're focused primarily on securing world records, explains Thom Gilligan, president and founder of the Boston-based travel company Marathon Tours and Travel. That means keeping the course flat and fast, not necessarily packing in all the great sights. "It's about priorities," he says.
Paris, though, couldn't really fit in any more. Starting right in front of the Arc de Triomphe and continuing down the Champs-Elysées, the course checks off Notre Dame cathedral, the Place de la Bastille, and the Eiffel Tower. You also get to run through both the woods, the Bois de Boulogne on the west and the Bois de Vincennes to the east of the city (as well as along the château there). There's a good stretch alongside the River Seine as well, and the finish loops back to the Arc.
"The beauty of it is that you really hit all the landmarks in Paris," says Mark Offenberger, a French-American national living in Trémery, in the Lorraine region. He started running a couple of years ago to get back in shape and got hooked. "It really is a stunning route," he says. And for all that, it's not slow either; this year, Kenyan Vincent Kipruto finished in 2h 5m 47s, just outside the top ten fastest finishes for any marathon ever recorded.
This approach is fairly typical of French races, whose organizers know how to make the most of their surroundings. The Marathon des Alpes-Maritimes, held in October, attracted some thirty thousand spectators and more than ten thousand participants in its maiden run last year, all keen to join the crowd charging down the Promenade des Anglais. The secret? A beautiful course following the Mediterranean seacoast for almost the entire 26 miles between two of the most popular tourist centers in the country: Nice and Cannes. There are plenty of other scenic winners, too: La Rochelle, Marseille, Reims, Nantes, and Toulouse all have their own marathons, and races of various distance can be found all over the country. "In almost any area, on any given weekend, you can find a race," says Offenberger.
Nevertheless, some races stand out. Sometimes that's because they remind runners of something serious. Le Marathon de la Liberté, for instance, passes through the seventeen towns and villages lining the beaches targeted by Allied forces during the Normandy landings. More often the significance is less profound. After Paris, for example, probably the best-known event is the Marathon du Médoc in September. If the Paris Marathon is the event that most appeals to serious runners, Médoc is the exact opposite, says Gilligan: "It's strictly for fun." According to the organizers, the event is founded on four pillars: health, sport, conviviality and fun. In truth, however, that's probably in reverse order. Yes, it's a full-length marathon, officially measured, and there is a fairly respectable course record. However, ninety percent of the runners come in costume; this year's theme was the circus. Participants are known to stash bicycles in the hedgerows to help them make the finish line; and, in all honesty, how healthy can it be to run over 26 miles while drinking wine at more than twenty pit stops and sampling the oysters, steak, cheese, and foie gras on offer? Celebrations before the event, wine and food during it, and a huge ball and fireworks afterward ensure that few steam ahead on a course that meanders through more than fifty châteaux, including many of the big names in French wine.
It's a fine French concept that has been picked up elsewhere. June's Marathon du Vignoble in Alsace, the Marathon de Provence Luberon in October, and La Champenoise, a half-marathon in May through the Champagne region, all take a similar approach. None, though, has really caught the imagination in the same way as Médoc. As one review puts it, the event is "one of the world's great parties with a marathon thrown in for good measure".
The Ultra-trail du Mont-Blanc, on the other hand, is a marathon with about three more marathons thrown in. Starting from Chamonix, the course takes runners over a hundred miles of Alpine terrain, through three different countries and more than thirty thousand feet of altitude changes. This August, 2,300 people lined up at the start; fewer than 1,400 finished. Even the winners take over twenty hours.
So why do it? Two reasons, says Seattle's Krissy Moehl, who finished first among the women this year: the challenge and the stunning scenery. "It's a very tough race, but also very pretty. High Alpine tracks, a beautiful course, long, long climbs and great views— you're definitely rewarded for the effort you put in."
The race also well illustrates another two characteristics of French running. The first is the rise of "trail running"— effectively off-road racing. There are now as many as a thousand such races in the country, and if France is not quite in the premier league when it comes to its marathons, it's the leader in Europe when it comes to trails, says Benoît Laval, who has run for France in the sport's world championships and is the founder and owner of Raidlight, which makes equipment for it. According to Laval, trail running often attracts runners bored by chasing personal bests, who want to run for pleasure in mountains and forests, as well as enjoying the social aspects of the sport. Such runs also tend to be about testing your limits, since many trail races involve extremely long distances: another of Laval's favorites is Le Défi de l'Oisans; again in the Alps, but even longer than the Mont Blanc Ultra at two hundred kilometers.
That shouldn't be a surprise, because the second characteristic is that, if the French know how to have fun with their racing, they also like a challenge. It's probably no coincidence that the Marathon des Sables, generally acknowledged as the toughest foot race on earth, was conceived by a Frenchman. Patrick Bauer, a former concert promoter from Troyes, created the race after he walked alone across the Algerian Sahara in 1984. Now, each year, runners from around the world come to do the same for the 151-mile six-day race. Compulsory equipment includes an emergency distress flare, an anti-venom pump for scorpion and snake bites, 2,500 calories of food per day, and salt tablets.
Back in France, the challenges are a little more manageable, but sometimes no less imaginative. On the Marathon des Sables, for instance, runners are disqualified if they're overtaken by two camels that walk the course; in the Marathon de l'Epine or the five-mile Foulées du Gois, both on Noirmoutier Island, you have to outrun the sea. If you're not over the causeway that connects it to the mainland at Beauvoir-sur-Mer before the tide comes in, you're out. And you get wet feet. Often, though, the challenges just mean long races or very big hills, whether in the Alps or in Corsica, which hosts the Trail Napoléon, a fourteen-mile race climbing more than three thousand feet.
Fortunately, there are many events that offer shorter, easier races, and whatever distance you do, there's no reason not to take it gently. As Gilligan points out, if you're after a fast time, you're better off staying closer to home, so you can sleep in your own bed and not risk the jet lag. If, on the other hand, you're going to travel all that way for a race, it's a shame not to take in the scenery. And the fun.

Rico says the French have traditionally been great runners (if not in the Olympics), especially when pursued by the Germans... (But all this is not something Rico would have done, even when he was young and in shape; he never liked running.)