It started off at 6:15 am when I got up and got out of Petaluma to meet up with my kids at Crissy Field in San Francisco for our 11th consecutive running of the Race for the Cure. I'll have pics from that soon (I'm SUPPOSED to have them already, but my personal photographer didn't deliver). Considering that I haven't run more than twice in four months I was relatively happy with my 36 minute time on the 5K course even thought that turns out to be over 11 minutes a mile... boy am I outta shape!
The first time I ran that race was October 1995 just shortly after Marsha was diagnosed with breast cancer. my daughter, Jen and Marsha's son, Caleb went to the race with me (that year it was held on a great course in Golden Gate Park) and they walked the 1 mile course while I ran the 5K (considerably faster than I did yesterday). I will always remember coming around the concourse past the Asian Art Museum and seeing the two of them rounding the corner towards me. One of those incredibly small yet infinite moments it is one of the great memories of my life. I was originally expecting to miss the race this year for the first time since I started running it, but Katrina changed my plans and I was able to surprise Marsha's kids (Caleb and Lia) by calling to tell them I was waiting for them down by the Bay.
After yesterday's race I made my way out of the Presidio and over to nearby Fort Mason to check out parts of the San Francisco Blues Festival and to try and find some semblance of New Orleans overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. It was one of those absolutely perfect early fall San Francisco days with bright sunshine, cool breezes, light whisps of fog over the bay and music in the air... And food... boy oh boy there was food.
My food of choice was the first Creole food I've had in over a month! Courtesy of the wonderful people from TJ's Ginergerbread House in Oakland I wound up with a heaping plate of Jamblaya (chicken, shrimp and sausage), red beans and rice, salad and "sassy" cornbread. It was as close to home as I have been since I packed the van, filled up with gas,loaded up Roxanne and headed out of town exactly four weeks ago. And when Mavis Staples came on and sang "God Is Not Sleeping" for "the folks from New Orleans," and then followed it with a joyful, rip roaring version of "When the Saints Go Marchin' In" I was ready right then and there to WALK back across the country and into my home.
It was a good good day and one I have needed for a month.
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