Race Day / Birthday / Great Day
35 is going to go down in history as one of the best birthdays ever. How can it not?
The weekend kicked off with all-too-brief drinks at the Sazerac Bar with AB & Vince, Rachel getting married, and Sara, all of whom are stunningly beautiful and delightful people.
The weekend kicked off with all-too-brief drinks at the Sazerac Bar with AB & Vince, Rachel getting married, and Sara, all of whom are stunningly beautiful and delightful people.
A relaxing pasta dinner with hometown friends followed. Before bed, the movie version of the high school musical my race roommate (one of my oldest friends) and I were in together was on TV, which seemed like a good omen.
I was wide awake by 3:50 in the morning even though I didn't have to be up until 5. When we were dressed and ready to go, I discovered a big bouquet of balloons and a card from my friends tied to the outside of our hotel room, which was a great way to start my birthday and race day.
I was wide awake by 3:50 in the morning even though I didn't have to be up until 5. When we were dressed and ready to go, I discovered a big bouquet of balloons and a card from my friends tied to the outside of our hotel room, which was a great way to start my birthday and race day.
We walked about a mile to the race start en masse with other runners pouring into the streets from hotel after hotel as the sun started to lighten the sky, and my friend blasted music through her iPod speakers to help wake up the crowd and get us pumped up on the way... everything from Dolly Parton to LL Cool J to Quiet Riot. I didn't particularly enjoy standing in my corral for 40 minutes before our group finally got to start the starting line, but I understand that such is the way with staggered starts. Obviously, I have already blocked out the pre-race porta potty experience and will thus say nothing about it.
Once I reached the starting line, I tried hard to heed the advice of the most expert runner I know, my friend's husband, who said to start slow and then slow down, basically, to a pace you think you could keep up all day until a few miles in when you start to build speed. This was very difficult because I was excited! And cold. And I just wanted to run, run, run. The cold didn't last very long into the first mile, which was the slowest of the race for me, and then I basically picked up a little bit of speed with each one, always wanting to run a little faster but being afraid doing so would make me run out of steam before the end. Ultimately, with an 11-minute pace, I shaved more than 2 minutes off my average pace from three years ago and a minute off my average pace from my long training runs this time around, so I'm viewing it as progress and a good accomplishment. Looking back, I feel like I could have started off faster and pushed myself harder, but I can't go back and next time I'll know that I have a little more to give. Honestly, I am not even focusing too much on time. Other than the GOOD TIME I HAD, I mean! Seriously. It was ridiculously good, all of it.
The route itself was pretty fantastic, very different from the same race three years ago. Some of the streets weren't in the best condition pavement-wise, but that was no surprise. Honestly, it felt like a run through the city's history and my own memories of it. I loved seeing the residents on their porches and balconies in their pajamas, sipping coffee and waving to us. We ran a couple miles up Prytania, a pretty street with pretty houses. We ran about three miles on St. Charles Avenue, where many runners, including myself, decided to head straight toward the path of dirt between the street car rails and run straight down the street car line the entire stretch, something which made me think very joyfully about my sister. Images: seeing a guy I went to elementary school with on the sidewalk with his wife and baby in stroller. Waving to the bands playing their hearts out at every mile marker. Running past the Columns Hotel, site of many years at Mardi Gras with friends. Running past the WWII museum. Running past Jackson Square and the French Market. Running past bars I sat in during my college years sometimes in the middle of the night. Blowing a kiss to my friend Brian on Decatur, so excited to see a friendly familiar face. Running up Esplanade, passing Lil Dizzy's and Cafe Degas and Lola's. The way the sun came down through the giant oak tree branches making shadows on the street. Sure, I was very tired by mile 10. But I never became completely miserable by any means. I mean, the entire run was like one big giant visual and sonic and emotional postcard; every heartbeat was a burst of love for the city. It was so sunny and bright and lovely, and there were so many people from all over the country/world who were there to see it. And when Paul Simon came on my iPod and sang, "The Mississippi Delta was shining like a national guitar," it's possible that there were tears.
Crossing the finish line was very fun.
Once I reached the starting line, I tried hard to heed the advice of the most expert runner I know, my friend's husband, who said to start slow and then slow down, basically, to a pace you think you could keep up all day until a few miles in when you start to build speed. This was very difficult because I was excited! And cold. And I just wanted to run, run, run. The cold didn't last very long into the first mile, which was the slowest of the race for me, and then I basically picked up a little bit of speed with each one, always wanting to run a little faster but being afraid doing so would make me run out of steam before the end. Ultimately, with an 11-minute pace, I shaved more than 2 minutes off my average pace from three years ago and a minute off my average pace from my long training runs this time around, so I'm viewing it as progress and a good accomplishment. Looking back, I feel like I could have started off faster and pushed myself harder, but I can't go back and next time I'll know that I have a little more to give. Honestly, I am not even focusing too much on time. Other than the GOOD TIME I HAD, I mean! Seriously. It was ridiculously good, all of it.
The route itself was pretty fantastic, very different from the same race three years ago. Some of the streets weren't in the best condition pavement-wise, but that was no surprise. Honestly, it felt like a run through the city's history and my own memories of it. I loved seeing the residents on their porches and balconies in their pajamas, sipping coffee and waving to us. We ran a couple miles up Prytania, a pretty street with pretty houses. We ran about three miles on St. Charles Avenue, where many runners, including myself, decided to head straight toward the path of dirt between the street car rails and run straight down the street car line the entire stretch, something which made me think very joyfully about my sister. Images: seeing a guy I went to elementary school with on the sidewalk with his wife and baby in stroller. Waving to the bands playing their hearts out at every mile marker. Running past the Columns Hotel, site of many years at Mardi Gras with friends. Running past the WWII museum. Running past Jackson Square and the French Market. Running past bars I sat in during my college years sometimes in the middle of the night. Blowing a kiss to my friend Brian on Decatur, so excited to see a friendly familiar face. Running up Esplanade, passing Lil Dizzy's and Cafe Degas and Lola's. The way the sun came down through the giant oak tree branches making shadows on the street. Sure, I was very tired by mile 10. But I never became completely miserable by any means. I mean, the entire run was like one big giant visual and sonic and emotional postcard; every heartbeat was a burst of love for the city. It was so sunny and bright and lovely, and there were so many people from all over the country/world who were there to see it. And when Paul Simon came on my iPod and sang, "The Mississippi Delta was shining like a national guitar," it's possible that there were tears.
Crossing the finish line was very fun.
When it was all over, I lay down in the City Park grass in the sunshine and stretched for a good long time and took in the vibe of exhaustion and elation surrounding me every where I looked. Eventually I made my way to the shuttle bus, met up with friends, and headed to a deliciously fun courtyard brunch, where we ate and ate and ate and the jazz trio led the whole courtyard of people in singing happy birthday to me and I spilled grits and creamed spinach all over my iPhone. Thank you, Otterbox, for saving the day.
It was wonderfully relaxing and tasty to enjoy the sun, the atmosphere, and the shrimp creole omelet and mimosa and coffee with friends old and new and basically I want to eat brunch in that courtyard every day for the rest of my life. Soon enough it was time to find another group of friends -- Erin and Linda (both of whom I hadn't seen since 2003 but feel like I see all the time) and the ever-charming Chaos -- which I did at the same oyster house where I watched the Super Bowl. I decided I should probably just go ahead and keep eating, so I got some fried crab fingers and a blue moon.
Clearly there was nothing to do after this but walk down the sidewalks of the Quarter and through Jackson Square, past the street musicians and the artists and the tarot card readers and acrobatic dancers and silver-painted mimes, for some beignets and cafe au lait, so that's what we did, limping and laughing all the way.
Clearly there was nothing to do after this but walk down the sidewalks of the Quarter and through Jackson Square, past the street musicians and the artists and the tarot card readers and acrobatic dancers and silver-painted mimes, for some beignets and cafe au lait, so that's what we did, limping and laughing all the way.
It was the perfect day.
posted by eliza @ 7:05 PM
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