At the heart of the procession which accompanied the ordeal of Kinzang Lhamo, the last of the marathon

But as we approach the Eiffel Tower, we slam on the brakes. Tourists mingle with spectators, and you can no longer cycle on the sidewalks. Too bad, I won’t know the rest. You will have to find out, know your name, your story, look at your finish time… To console myself, I return to my initial idea, seeing the Paris of the Olympics. But once in front of the ephemeral beach volleyball stadium, on the Champ-de-Mars, I hear in the distance the noise that accompanies “Lhamo. » Without realizing it, I am. He gets closer, I accelerate. I see the bikers and the truck following her, I slip onto the sidewalk. When I finally see her, over there at the end, I suddenly hear myself say out loud: “ oh, she walks… »