My mom has never been to New Orleans and so she has come to cheer me on at the Rock n Roll New Orleans Marathon… And to enjoy a few beignets along the way.
I solicited the sage advice of Steve’s Dinner Club for dining options. We’re set for dinners at their top picks, including my brother’s favorite restaurant in all the world. The nice thing about traveling for a marathon is that you sometimes get to indulge in culinary craziness. I’m excited to see what made Steve’s finest meal list.
Two of the greatest meals I’ve had in my life were in Alaska at the Marx Brothers Cafe. I went solo when I first did the Mayor’s Midnight Marathon and was so overwhelmed by the meal and the natural beauty of Alaska that a few years later I took my mom as part of a Fire and Ice tour. It isn’t every experience that lives up to one’s memory. But Marx Bros and Alaska in general both delivered time and time again. Here’s hoping Bayona in the big easy proves equally up to the challenge.
First though I’m hitting the expo and picking up my race packet. I don’t always love the commercialized homogenous vibe of the Rock n Roll series of races, especially in the last few years as I feel they’ve over expanded and over extended themselves to an impersonal “fast food franchise” running experience. But when the opportunity to hang out in a unique city like New Orleans presents itself, I can deal with a more corporate marathon on a Sunday morning.
And as an aside, plus as a preview for a forthcoming “summary” post, I’m now a week away from leaving on my Antarctica Marathon trip. Over on Facebook I’m counting down the days via a movie poster a day. I’ll post on here the final list before I go. In the meantime, it’s funny to think my last big training run is this weekend’s marathon. What a weird, wonderful, crazy life it can be.
And what of the voodoo BooBoos? I made the colossal mistake of riding a bucking shoe at the expo. I thought how bad could it be? It’s a shoe. At a race expo!
Turns out it was pretty rough. And as I was thrown from the herking, jerking sneaker, I scrapped my knuckle and my head was inches away from being clobbered by the still moving toe box. I suppose I should’ve been happy to only have a scrapped knuckle and not a head injury. I did foolishly sign a waiver before riding so I would’ve had no recourse anyway (and much like software terms of conditions we also scroll through and agree to without ever reading, I may have blindly signed off on Mein Kempf in there and never know it).
Nonetheless post ride and dripping a blood trail onto the convention center’s floor, I stumbled about asking for a med tent at the expo. It’s a question most couldn’t fathom — I mean really? Who gets injured at the health and fitness expo? Who has two thumbs one of which is spouting blood like a JR Ewing oil rig? This guy. My mom quite smartly asked at the Humana booth and they had a bandaid at least. Walking wounded carrying the stretcher cases from here on out.
I feel like the next time I have an opportunity to customize the name on my bib it’ll have to be Klutzy Kev or Kevin the Klutz.