The load

It’s not the load that breaks you down, it’s the way you carry it. So says Lena Horne. And that could be said about New Orleans and how she is carrying herself after the storm. There are odd things that happen here like C’s $20 bills all being counterfeit and the ink running when she placed them on the copper bar, or the stripper who could speak to the parallels of the tsunami and the flood, but it’s definitely New Orleans on the rebound and recover when it stages it’s Crescent City Classic and the gun goes off and you high five Nagin even though you won’t vote for him, you know he did the best he could and he stayed with his ship even when it was going down, then out of the blue groups of musicians show up playing New Orleans classics, or the lone trumpet girl blows hard when you pass, and two guys making hot dogs hand them complete with relish to the runners, at the two-mile mark instead of a water stand, it’s beer, and you keep running into friends running with you, standing on the sidelines, and one rides by on a bike and asks for your water.

I read something recently that says memories are set to music. So when I left P and M at the gun shot and was high fiving Nagin, “I like the way you move” was on full blast from my IPOD, and when I turned down Rampart “Who Shot the LaLa” was on, cruising down Esplanade “Iko Iko”, turning on City Park the Wild Magnolias came on as I waved to H&T, then it was “My Humps” as I passed the bayou stone fox perched on his bike, and coming across the Finish Line “A Certain Cemetery” was nearing the end where the lyrics says it is going to be all right.

Last night S and I had virtual cocktail hour as I opted to stay in and miss yet another NOLAFUGEE fiesta (I saw J standing on the neutral ground holding up a nolafugee business card around mile 4) – having gotten little sleep Thursday night. I went to bed early in anticipation of the race but woke at 3AM in a state of torture about the Ventahood gone missing from my front porch, and about a dream I had woke from about N losing his breath and not being able to get his breath back and I couldn’t give him mouth to mouth and I woke shaking and sweating from the dream and then couldn’t shake the thought of him in need, so from about 3 to 4:30, I read my book to get the creepy feeling out of me and Arlene grew very annoyed with the light on. And when it was time to get up early I was not wanting to pull myself out of the bed but I did and the cab driver was a wonderful treat on the way to the Quarter – he was a big big guy with his seat pulled all the way to the back – he wanted to talk about Global Warming and Organic farming and so we did, all the way to Jackson Square.

He dropped me off in the grey area where my line up was supposed to be. And I took my place amidst a crowd of runners who were all smoking. This last Wednesday was a month since I have smoked – I felt cleansed to say the least watching them all take long drags before beginning a 6.2 mile trek. Then I overcame my time projection – my 5K was 9.3 min miles and this 10K I was able to do exactly 10 min miles and that was stopping for water and fixing my IPOD – so I was happy with my time and I walked into the stadium to the jambalaya, beer, band and did a complete about face and walked home – the bayou stone fox rode by me and this time I said hi – I stopped in at the LaLa and found my Ventahood and felt like a nutball but whatyougonnado – I was relieved – the columns were bubble wrapped by R, who finally listened to one thing I said and started taking care of LaLa.

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