I’m happy to announce our first guest blogger to The Adventures of a NOLA Nerd Couple: Rochelle Pedersen! She is writing a great blog on a classic New Orleans tradition, the Crescent City Classic. – Cristina
Each year on the Eve of Easter, New Orleans hosts the Crescent City Classic 10K Road Race – the GREATEST road race on the planet! There are four main types of racers you might encounter at the Classic: the Runners, the Drinkers, the Chatters, and the Survivors.
The Runners make up the vast majority of the participants at the CCC, and they are there to run because they LIKE IT. They have all of the gear and they are not afraid to use it. I’m sympathetic toward their apparent Stockholm syndrome relationship with running, but there is really no saving them. I mean, I have witnessed runners in thongs and see-through yoga pants hauling ass. If you run in a thong, you are too far gone in my opinion. My husband is in this group – minus the thong – and he waits (and waits, and waits, and waits…) for me to cross the finish line every year like a good husband should. Bless him.
The Drinkers and the Chatters are often intertwined. These folks use the Classic as an excuse to get drunk early on a Saturday morning and/or catch up on the gossip about ya mama and ‘dem. The folks often stop at establishments along the route for drinks, donuts, coffee…if they are selling it, the Drinkers and Chatters are buying it. Many of the Drinkers and Chatters sport matching t-shirts that proudly display their “team” designation. Others wear matching costumes that range from simple tutus and the ever popular “bunny” get-up to majorly inappropriate ensembles. Nothing is off-limits and hilarity ensues. There was a rather large group of Storm Troopers this year, one of which rode the shuttle bus back to the start with us. I was mistaken for a Drinker/Chatter this year at Champions Square by a water volunteer. It was an honest mistake. You see, I am a complete goober who dresses up for the Classic all by my lonesome. When she complimented “our” costumes, she obviously believed others were not far behind me.
No ma’am. I’m a gen-u-ine, one-of-a-kind, goofball.
Now my friends, we come to the Survivors category, which is where my crazy ass is firmly planted. The survivors are an eclectic group of brave souls who may or may not be ready to admit to being a Survivor. These people are not in the prime of their physical lives. I say that with squishy big girl love. (Remember, I am a Survivor!) Many of them are working towards better physical fitness and they are meeting goals by finishing this 10K – HOT DAMN! So very, very many of the female Survivors buy special outfits for the occasion – new shoes, new pants, new, rather strange, tops. This year in particular I saw lots of off the shoulder numbers and one very interesting twisted back pseudo-shirt. Hey, more power to ya, ladies. If it makes you feel good, WERK IT. Incidentally, what makes THIS Survivor feel good is a tiny top hat and half-tutu bustle. I am a member of the amazingly talented Mardi Gras dance troupe, the Nola Nyxettes, so I had to represent with my black and pink tee. All by myself. WERKED IT.
I am proud to be a member of the Survivor group, huffing and puffing along, praying for the next water station. I am never more Catholic than I am during the Classic, y’all, and the day before Easter the paramedics might need totry and raise me from the dead one of these years. Not yet, though, and at the end I find my husband waiting (and waiting, and waiting…), ready to head to the post-race party. Watch out, folks. I’ll be heading for the red beans and jambalaya and your drunk ass better get outta my way.