It was bound to happen some time.
Sure, I’ve stumbled and wobbled on some runs, but I’ve never outright taken a spill. Until Wednesday. I did a lovely wipeout on the sidewalk in New Orleans exactly 1 mile into my easy run. You better believe my first reaction was to stop my Garmin. I blame this particularly ugly piece of architecture for distracting me: the Eiffel Society building. It’s even uglier in person than this picture (it doesn’t appear to have been well-maintained):
I don’t know how this one got past the NOLA zoning boards.
Anyway, it was actually an uneven sidewalk that I stubbed my toe on and lost my balance. Luckily, I didn’t break anything, although I did bruise my knees, wrist, arm and hand. I almost turned around and gave up my run, but instead decided to shake it off and went on to have a lovely, if more recovery-paced five more miles that got progressively faster.
This was actually my second fall in New Orleans. A few days earlier, I backwards-stepped off some stairs in a coffee shop that I forgot were behind me when I stood up to get a museum badge I dropped.
It’s ironic that I go to a major drinking city, don’t drink, and fall down more within a few days than I do in an average year.
We did a lot of cool stuff, like visited the WWII museum, took a cemetery tour, walked Royal Street and the French Market, road a boat in the swamp, ate beignets at Cafe du Monde, went to a voodoo museum, tried many of the local specialties at places like Emeril’s and Commander’s Palace, bought hot sauce for our son, watched some movie or TV production get filmed right outside our hotel, listened to street musicians in Jackson Square… Like our cab driver to the airport told us yesterday, “What happens in New Orleans stays in New Orleans. Except all the food you ate. That weight goes home with you.”
Yes, I definitely brought home some new poundage. Darn all that bread pudding for dessert.
We returned home last night, and the snowfall wasn’t nearly as bad as we anticipated. Most of it fell south and east of us, it seems. I’m both sad and glad to be home. I didn’t get to see/do/eat everything to my heart’s content in New Orleans, and I really will miss outdoor running until the roads and temperatures get a little better here (hello negative degrees again).
Bourbon Street at night. My husband and I were in bed by nine most nights, so the streets hadn’t filled up yet with pre-Mardi Gras revelers. In the morning, it smelled pretty awful even with the bleach they hosed the sidewalks off with. Fascinating city. I hope to post more on my travels once I get back into my usual groove.