This weekend we traveled to New Orleans for several purposes. First, it was the New Orleans Full and Half Rock and Roll marathon. I’ve done this race several times-so I knew it was going to be awesome. It was also my friend Carla’s first half, so that was groovy. Add to that Sho’s birthday week kick off and my running partner Kat’s Bachelorette party. I think you know where this blog is headed.
And it’s not pretty.
Let’s start, as we are want to do, from the beginning of this fiasco. First, parties all met at my house on Saturday to head to the airport. Sweet Carla got us all Energy Muse Bracelets and wrote heart felt cards thanking us for our inspiration. Man, I am a heel. I should have gotten her something for her first race. Loser! We applied our muse and got Carla/Shawna’s friend Hot Mark to drive us to the airport. Unfortunately, he did not get the “all guys shall transport us shirtless for Kat’s bachelorette party” memo which went out earlier in the day. Sad face.
Anyway, we trucked it to the airport and checked in. Sho, Carla and I were flying Spirit, and Kat was on American. Here is the thing about Spirit. They have great low fairs…like really low- then they jack you over on every little thing they possible can. For example, to check a bag is $40, but to carry on is $50-unless you do it online before the flight, then it’s $25 or $30. What the hell? They charge you to carry on your own bag? I figured this out a long time ago, and we were prepared. All three of us packed for three nights in backpacks- which could fit under out seat. Take that Spirit!!!! Who screwed who on this flight. Bam.
Ok, so we are on Spirit and Kat is on American. So we SkyLInk to Terminal D- where all the good restaurants are, and begin the three day bender. Mimosas and Blood marys. Yep, this is how we hydrate poor Carla for her first half marathon. Vodka. Poor thing. I mean Sho, Kat, and I have run several races the day after a vodka bender. But Carla…Well, the little lamb was quite a trooper. We jumped back on Skylink drunker than skunks-much to the entertainment of our fellow passengers. Then we faked being sober well enough to hop the plane and flew straight to NOLA.
I love New Orleans! It was raining and cool, but the city is just amazing. We hopped a cab to Muriel’s off Jackson Square- had a few more cocktails and some fantastic food. And then, like the good girls we are, we took Carla home at 10:30 to sleep for her big day!
Wake up, it’s marathon time!!! As you may have read in my previous posts, Kat had not really trained for this event. I only had a 16 and an 18 under me. Sho had been training with Carla, so 13 was about her distance. It’s a little nerve wracking to be there with 60K people waiting for the start thinking…”hell, I shoulda trained.” It helped that we had a giant penis water bottle and a veil with glow in the dark penises on it for Katherine. Our shirts said “Team Kat- Bachelorette support crew” and frankly we looked adorable as we crowded into Corral seven for the start. As fate would have it, we were right behind the Slidell Happy Hour Running Club…and we photo bombed the crap out of the pictures until they invited us to join them. Big fun.
As usual on a marathon, we wave started and everything fell into place. Carla and Sho were ahead of us. Katherine was starting real consevatively- since we wanted to run 13.1 at least before we started partying. Here is the thing. In any given race, it is just a matter of time until Katherine and Shawna have some sort of altercation. I don’t know why, it just happens. But, I wasn’t expecting it at mile 2!!! Suddenly, everyone is yelling and I’m saying “I’m not doing this” and stopping, and Katherine is running up to Carla. WTH????!!!!! These girls drive me CRAZY!!! But, as usual, they made up by mile 4, and everything was fantastic from there on.
OK, so look. If you run NOLA, you have two legitimate choices. You can run the race like any other race-ignoring the beer, donuts, martinis, pbj sandwiches, cookies, crawfish, oyster shots, bloody mary’s, and screwdrivers with hotdogs. OR, you can accept you are going to put down your slowest marathon time ever and eat your way across New Orleans. We opted for the second option. We committed to getting Carla to 13.1- so at the split at mile 12 (2:30), we began what can only be viewed as the slowest and most fun marathon we have ever done. As proof, I offer the fact that we were 2:30 at the half and just barely made the 7 hour cut off!!!!
At mile 22, we literally spent 25 minutes at a water stop where a family was cooking hot dogs and shucking fresh oysters- serving Ketel One bloody marys and screw drivers made with orange/pineapple/banana juice. I finally looked at sho and said “Dude, we have four more miles to do and we have been standing here for half an hour.” Other runners were getting pissed at us for not being miserable. I did the next mile with a Nathan’s hotdog in my hand. You just can’t beat that for endurance racing. We raced, we danced, we ate, we drank (martinis, beer, vodka drinks) It was awesome.
When we finished, we hopped the shuttle back to the start, and I literally almost passed out. The bus was hot and I was a little tipsy. I came out the door and sat on the ground for a few minutes. Then I was fine. Awkward. But, apparently people sitting on the ground in New Orleans is not that unusual, cause noone really seemed to notice. Oh and we stole this sign:
We got back to the hotel and Kat bought Carla a good bottle of Champagne to celebrate her finish. That was when we made a tactical error. See, none of us were really tired, since we had taken our time on the course. And, we decided that we needed to go out on the town. Broiled oysters at Drageaux…appetizers at Root (Sorry Bonnells, we oyster cheated on you). Unbelievable food and super nice people. AND…Vodka and Tequila. See, when you are a loud, fun, engaging group of women from Texas-people buy you tequila shots. Bartenders. Strangers. Whatever. So we are all drinking Titos and complete strangers are supplementing it with tequila. That ain’t right. Needless to say, we ended up drunker than intended (um yeah you were dehydrated idiots) at a bar on Frenchman Street DANCING all night.
Dancing…after a marathon. It was a blur of shots, dancing, zydeco music, and Belgians. Weird Right?
More to come-this is a two day poster. 🙂