If you are a resident of Lyon, you've seen him... for me it was a warm summer evening in 2010, and we were sipping on chilled rosé and eating charcuterie atop baguettes smothered in butter. It was starting to turn dark over the horizon, the mouches were zipping around and our conversation had hit a silent lull. From the distance, I could hear a rampage of cheering and clapping. We lazily turned our heads towards the noise and saw it... fast as a flash the Old Man Runner. Probably in his late 50's, maybe even his early 60's... he was running in bright orange shorts and a tight white tanktop.
I didn't understand what it was.. and I didn't until another year later. It was May, last month, we decided to profit in the hot weather and have another picnic amongst friends. Sure enough, the shouting started again. I turned around, and spotted him once again... same jogging shorts, same tank top. I smiled, because I finally knew I had reached the point Lyon was my second home. This time I cheered, I whistled, I shouted my joy... and off he dashed.
Jean-Pierre the Runner of the Rhône, papy joggeur. If you ever go to Lyon... go to les berges take in the sight and wave to Jean-Pierre...