One month and counting…..

 

 

 

The past few months have been an incredible experience, ones in which I have physically and mentally challenged myself beyond my imagination.  I now know what it feels like to run in 11 degree temperature without the wind chill factored in.  I understand how my running affects my family, as my father stands at the water stops on those cold days or drives along the route to ensure myself and my fellow runners journey to the finish point safely.  I have felt the urge to quick when the winds whipped at me on Morrissey Boulevard.  I hope that the next four weeks will only bring warmer weather and am excited that they will lead me to Hopkinton.

 

I flew to New Orleans and spent the night on Bourbon St only to wake in the morning to run 13 miles and view the devastation of Katrina.  I drove to Hyannis on an icy morning, ran next to the Bill Rodgers for two miles, and then been inspired by the courageousness of Team Hoyt.  I journeyed through the Boston and Cambridge , fighting a cold, only to finish in the same time as the last two races. 

 

However, what amazes me is that I have had the support to do this all, whether it was Ashley and Elyse accompanying me to the starting line, or Bill remembering to bring an extra coffee to me on a Sunday afternoon.  And, this is why I feel it is so important that the Ron Burton Training Village be supported.  These young men need the support and the confidence to establish personal goals, to learn to battle adversity, and to dare to dream.   Through grassroots programs that directly affect these young men lives, this may be accomplished.

 

 

Thank you for visiting my Personal Fundraising Page. Donating through this site is simple, fast and totally secure. It is also the most efficient way to make a contribution to our fundraising efforts. Many thanks for your support -- and don't forget to forward this to anyone who you think might want to donate too!

If you feel unsecure about donating online, and still wish to contribute, please send a check to me at

33 Pontiac Road, Quincy, MA 02169

made payable to the Ron Burton Training Village.

Many thanks,
Adrienne

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Before Hurricane Katrina was even a blip on the radar screen, I spent a week in August helping my sister move into her apartment, as she returned to Tulane University for her junior year.  During this time, I was in the midst of fall marathon training, gearing up for my first, New York.  Despite the oppressive humidity and heat, I still managed to run, mainly out of the fear of the first time marathoner mentality that the miles had to be done, enjoying this genteel Southern city by foot, jogging through Audubon Park, and journeying down the streetcar path of St. Charles Street.

Fast forward a week, and New Orleans was suddenly the location of the devastation we in Boston saw nightly on our local news.  I understood then what Louis Armstrong meant when he sang, “Do you know what it means to miss New Orleans?” Luckily, my sister, along with the vast majority of her Tulane classmates, was able to flee before the storm hit.  However, she was unable to return to the Big Easy and went to California for her fall semester.

Once Tulane announced it was going to reopen, Ashley excitedly made plans to return to New Orleans.  Immediately, I felt the draw to go back as well, for as anyone who has ever visited the Crescent City knows, the atmosphere is both electrifying and magnetic.  Searching the web one day, I learned that the New Orleans Track Club would still hold the annual Mardi Gras Marathon, Half Marathon and 5K, and immediately completed the online registration for the half without a second guess.

Last Friday, I flew into the city, and was able to survey the area from an aerial perspective.  Though the waters have receded six months later, I immediately noticed the blue tarps on many of the rooftops, sheltering homes from the elements, and showing a remnant of the impact of Katrina, as many residents have not either returned to their homes or have not had the resources to fix the roofs.  Also noticeable were the lack of leaves on many trees.  Last I checked, Louisiana does not have autumn, so the stark branches provided an illustration of the mighty winds of this past August.

My sister picked me up at the airport, and we journeyed through Louisiana toward her home in Uptown.  Driving through the area provided me a sense of how the city was recovering. Immediately, I noticed how many businesses were closed and shuttered, and the deplorable conditions of the roads.  Ashley’s roommate Elyse joked to me afterwards that she has had to memorize the potholes in the roads.  I also inquired as to why some houses were marked with large x’s on the siding, and Ashley informed me that it denoted that the authorities found a deceased individual in the house.    Furthermore, we may complain about driving in Boston, but in New Orleans, the vast majority of the stop lights still are not working, providing for an interesting automotive experience.

 On Saturday, after a good night’s work on Bourbon Street where I Cajun danced with the locals among other things, I headed down along Saint Charles Street for what I planned to be a short and relaxed run. A normal run for those who live Uptown involves going down the tracks, while being cautious of the slow moving street cars.  With the trolleys still not in operation, I planned to have an uneventful jaunt.  With the temperatures in the 60s, I bared (or should I say dared?)  my New England winter arms and legs to the New Orleans sunshine.  However, most of the runners around me on the rail tracks were dressed as if they were heading out for a training run down the Charles River in February, with tights, ear bands, and long sleeves being the outfit of choice.  I looked at this sight in disbelief, and wanted to invite them to a training run along the U Mass loop in January.  Along my run, looking at the mansions that line the street, some with mobile homes parked out front, I noticed how much construction continued on these stately houses, and also came upon some sort of filming of a commercial for New Orleans.  Upon returning and looking at the time that had passed, I realized an important lesson for tomorrow- the streets are so incredibly flat in New Orleans, I would have to be very careful to not start out too fast tomorrow.

Sunday morning brought weather in the 50s, and we set out for the Superdome where the race would both commence and end. Runners, many dressed in traditional Mardi Gras costumes,  bounced around and prepared themselves for their race of choice- the 5 K, the Half or the Full Marathon. Waiting for the start, I spoke with some out of towners, who spoke about why the they felt it so important to be here, and with the local participants, who told me of how running was been one of the only constants in their lives in the weeks after Katrina. The announcer readied us for the start, noting that runners represented all 50 states, the national anthem was sung, and the runners for the distance events were off, heading towards the Mississippi River and into the French Quarter.  We ran by the famous Café Du Monde, making me wonder why I was running and not enjoying a beignet and a cup of coffee at the moment.  We turned down Esplanade, and journeyed past houses that are currently being returned to their former state.  It was so interesting to listen to my fellow runners comment on, “Oh, look, that one is repainted a new color”, and “They really did a great job on that new lawn”.  From their, the route turns into the road of City Park, with one of the infamous levees on our right as we crossed mile 4.  A nice gentleman suddenly pointed out a rotted car that was on the side of the road, and stated in disbelief, “That was not here when I was running through on Friday- they must have just pulled it out of the levee!”  The journey continued onward, and we only had one hill between mile 4 and 5, which repeated itself during mile 9 and 10, as the course is an out and back.   Volunteers along the course could not have been more hospitable, thanking us for being there that morning as they passed us plentiful supplies.  Houses along the course blared music, and also offered cocktails if we so wished.  As a BC grad, I appreciated the tailgating fans psyched or the big race!  

Coming into the finish, we passed underneath the highway, where I saw cars that have not been reclaimed since Katrina lined up as if in a car lot, showing various degrees of damage from the storm.  The course turned pack toward the Superdome, where the runners in the half finished and the marathoners grabbed some Gatorade and continued on their way toward Tulane and Audubon Park. Truthfully, I was sad to finish, because I really was enjoying the race and the sights and people I encountered along the way.  As I went through the finish, I raised my hands above my head and smiled at the crowd, it was announced, “Adrienne Fowkes from the L Street Running Club in Massachusetts,” as the waiting crowd literally roared.

Americans will never forget the devastating impact of Hurricane Katrina.  However, more important is that we not forget the resilience and effort of the city of New Orleans to return to its former glory.  I urge all of us to visit New Orleans at some point in the next year, whether it would be to run this race or to experience the ways in which the city has renewed itself. 

"Running, of course, teaches us to move on. There is always another day, another workout, another mile, another race. But more important, it teaches us to listen to ourselves and believe in ourselves." -From The Runner's Guide to the Meaning of Life, by Amby Burfoot