We've talked about running together before and today was the perfect day. Atlanta Streets Alive closed Edgewood Ave. down from Peachtree to Boulevard (ah-hem...it was really Randolph St., I thought it was Boulevard and the boys smirked and collectively corrected me). Regardless, it was the weather and the opportunity to run down the center of the street, zig-zag to my hearts desire, and not have to worry about cars or broken sidewalks.
So we drove down and started our jog with the idea we would run 6 miles. However, this didn't actually happen...instead it was something better.
Within 2 minutes we were kind of walking, not because we were tired, but came across a relay race. Andrew and Mason's eyes got big and came to a dead stop, overcome with the instinctual desire to race. After two turns, it ended in a tie, and we walk to ran, walk ran, walk ran down the street.
How often do you stumble on a techno circus with hula hoops in downtown? This was our next stop. There were jugglers and hula hoops just laying in the street. We tried to hula hoop and were quickly shown up by a little girl, no more than 6, who had four hula hoops going around her waist. She smiled and laughed as the hula hoops slid off of Mason and Andrew's skinny bodies. We walked jogged and then raced to the top of the hill. Met with music and dancing all around us, Eric said he would treat us to popsicles. We stood in the park, and I reveled in the moment.
Normally Woodruff Park feels like a prison. I walk by a lot in my day to day, and the mood is always somber and cold. Filled with Preacher's yelling fire and brimstone, poor and homeless men and women stand and sit all clustered together, students, business men and women rush through. Feet brisk, heads down.
But today it was free. With Michael Jackson blaring, many of the faces I usually see as a blur in transit, were now dancing and the center of attention. I couldn't help but smile, linger and stay a little longer. There was no rush today. The crowd was cheering and I wished for that joy and freedom to stay. There on the parks edge were two friends, Katherine and Todd. Standing side by side they agreed; there was so much freedom you couldn't pull your eyes away. Katherine lifted up her hand and pointed, "That man in the blue, is reeeaallly good". I watched him as he danced...she was right, he was.
With are popsicles in tote, I asked Mason and Andrew if they knew any good jokes. They said they didn't. As we walked to the car we began to correct this and make up our own ( this is secretly what I wanted all along). Then Eric started telling some jokes, but it was really Andrew who got the last laugh. In attempt to tell a good joke, Eric asked: "What do you call it when Eric tells a joke?"--after a pause and silence--Andrew said "Not funny!!!" With his popsicle mustache he couldn't contain himself, and we all burst into laughter. I think Eric was shooting for "Hyst-Eric-al"...but I am only guessing. (Note: the punchline was actually flopsicle--he was trying to make a pun...Andrew was right).
In Eric's defense, none of our jokes were not really that funny. But watching each other get to the last part of their popsicles and try to save the last bite before it fell off the stick and hit the ground was. Like dominos: Mason's, Mine, Andrew's, then Eric's. Eric claims it was only me and Andrew, but I beg to differ.
We said we would race to the end, but ended up walk running to the car; it was just in time to see all the street performers pack up their stuff and head home. The barricades were broken down, and a police motorcycle rode by us saying "Cars will now be on the street". We moved to the sidewalks. The freedom was over, back to hopping over stoop and stair steps, broken glass, broken sidewalk blocks, and trash. "When will the streets be open again?" Andrew asked. With an image of the Woodruff Park dance party in my mind, all I could say is that I didn't know...but, I wish they'd be open more.
So we drove down and started our jog with the idea we would run 6 miles. However, this didn't actually happen...instead it was something better.
Within 2 minutes we were kind of walking, not because we were tired, but came across a relay race. Andrew and Mason's eyes got big and came to a dead stop, overcome with the instinctual desire to race. After two turns, it ended in a tie, and we walk to ran, walk ran, walk ran down the street.
How often do you stumble on a techno circus with hula hoops in downtown? This was our next stop. There were jugglers and hula hoops just laying in the street. We tried to hula hoop and were quickly shown up by a little girl, no more than 6, who had four hula hoops going around her waist. She smiled and laughed as the hula hoops slid off of Mason and Andrew's skinny bodies. We walked jogged and then raced to the top of the hill. Met with music and dancing all around us, Eric said he would treat us to popsicles. We stood in the park, and I reveled in the moment.
Normally Woodruff Park feels like a prison. I walk by a lot in my day to day, and the mood is always somber and cold. Filled with Preacher's yelling fire and brimstone, poor and homeless men and women stand and sit all clustered together, students, business men and women rush through. Feet brisk, heads down.
But today it was free. With Michael Jackson blaring, many of the faces I usually see as a blur in transit, were now dancing and the center of attention. I couldn't help but smile, linger and stay a little longer. There was no rush today. The crowd was cheering and I wished for that joy and freedom to stay. There on the parks edge were two friends, Katherine and Todd. Standing side by side they agreed; there was so much freedom you couldn't pull your eyes away. Katherine lifted up her hand and pointed, "That man in the blue, is reeeaallly good". I watched him as he danced...she was right, he was.
With are popsicles in tote, I asked Mason and Andrew if they knew any good jokes. They said they didn't. As we walked to the car we began to correct this and make up our own ( this is secretly what I wanted all along). Then Eric started telling some jokes, but it was really Andrew who got the last laugh. In attempt to tell a good joke, Eric asked: "What do you call it when Eric tells a joke?"--after a pause and silence--Andrew said "Not funny!!!" With his popsicle mustache he couldn't contain himself, and we all burst into laughter. I think Eric was shooting for "Hyst-Eric-al"...but I am only guessing. (Note: the punchline was actually flopsicle--he was trying to make a pun...Andrew was right).
In Eric's defense, none of our jokes were not really that funny. But watching each other get to the last part of their popsicles and try to save the last bite before it fell off the stick and hit the ground was. Like dominos: Mason's, Mine, Andrew's, then Eric's. Eric claims it was only me and Andrew, but I beg to differ.
We said we would race to the end, but ended up walk running to the car; it was just in time to see all the street performers pack up their stuff and head home. The barricades were broken down, and a police motorcycle rode by us saying "Cars will now be on the street". We moved to the sidewalks. The freedom was over, back to hopping over stoop and stair steps, broken glass, broken sidewalk blocks, and trash. "When will the streets be open again?" Andrew asked. With an image of the Woodruff Park dance party in my mind, all I could say is that I didn't know...but, I wish they'd be open more.
1 comment:
Hi!
I'm the twitterer for Atlanta Streets Alive and found that a link to your blog was posted on our facebook page.
That was a beautiful post! It really made me smile. I'm so glad you attended and enjoyed the second Atlanta Streets Alive! Don't you worry, we're in the process of planing next year's Atlanta Streets Alive events!
Keep posted for updates via www.atlantastreetsalive.com, our facebook group (Atlanta Streets Alive!), or twitter page (@atlstreetsalive) if you haven't already!
Thanks so much for blogging such an awesome entry about ASA!
Maria
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