Magnolia Half Marathon race report

I chose the Magnolia Half Marathon for my Mississippi race based simply on timing. A week after the Summit2Summit Half in Arkansas, the day before the Magic City Half in Alabama. But in the end it was a good choice -- a sweet little small-town race with thoughtful touches that prove the Race Director is herself a runner. 

On the Friday afternoon we dropped in to Threefoot Brewing to pick up our race packets. Swag included a nice shirt, a decent reusable bag, and the offer of a previous year race shirt for free. (We politely declined...never wear a shirt for a race you didn't run!)

On a verrrry cold morning we gathered at the start with the small group of runners. They had an announcer talking about past winners -- plus there were two runners who had participated in all 10 of the races over the years; they were given free entries to the race for life. That's a nice touch. Recognizing your repeat runners is a great way to build a loyal following!

The fire department were there with a great big flag (a small-town classic!). In the background you can see our hotel, the Threefoot Meridian, so you can see how close were were staying to the start!

A little before 7, following the national anthem an a prayer (ahh, the south...), we gathered in the starting chute. 

The course was really, REALLY well marked with these amazing signs. Branded in all 4 corners, they could be turned whatever direction the arrow needed to go. I love a race that doesn't assume you've memorized the course, and shows that sometimes you just go straight at an intersection. 

We started off with a little loop around downtown -- first through a long underpass beneath the railroad tracks, then a few blocks, and then a soaring bridge back across them into downtown. You can see how big the railroads are here!

We then ran out to an area of handsome older homes, past a golf club, and then a loooooooooong straight shot back into downtown. While we were headed back into town we passed a few other runners, including a woman who was running her first ever half. "Everything hurts!" she said as we passed her. We told her she was doing great, and that we were within 5K of the finish. "5K...ok...I can do that."

Though I didn't take a lot of pictures, I did snap this of a new Jimmie Rodgers mural. 

The race finished with one more little loop -- down the underpass, back over the bridge, and then done. 

At the end we got a nice little shout-out -- at packet pick up we were asked to write a little note about why we were running, etc. Of course, by the time we finished there weren't many half marathoners still out on the course! But it was nice to get a "Here's Sunny Delaney from Seattle, Washington, who has just finished her 40th state!" regardless. 

The course itself was varied if not particularly interesting. But when we came to water stops they were staffed with enthusiastic volunteers and well stocked, too. And, again, the course marking was excellent with dozens and dozens of those very clear arrow signs. 

Once across the finish line we were given our handsome, handmade medal:

We spent the last mile or so with a woman who had run the race several times before, who told us all about the medals. They're made from magnolia wood from fallen or cut trees (they even have a note on their website asking locals to contact them if they have a tree fall). The RD's father makes each medal; the shape reflects that year's race. So as this was the 10th running, it was a 10-sided medal. Then each one has the logo burned into it, and it's hung on a handsome custom ribbon. (There's a nice collection of photos on the Magnolia Marathon website.)

Medals around our necks, we grabbed a slice of pizza and then headed back to the hotel -- we only had an hour to get showered and changed and on the road to our next location. Farewell, Meridian!

Magnolia Half Marathon

3:10:49.37

14:34 pace

And, of course, STATE #40!

Great Wave Stitch-a-Long, part 31: HAPPY DANCE TIME!!!

Hi everyone! I almost can't believe it. But the Great Wave is complete!!! 

I saved the "signature" section until last -- I don't know if it's legible (any Japanese speakers?), but it translates as "From the brush of Hokusai, who changed his name to Iitsu". Iitsu means "one year old", so his name change was meant to symbolize a creative rebirth. 

I found the 300+ French knots really tedious, and to be honest I don't know how essential they were -- maybe on the blues, but on the pale beige they are almost invisible. 

Looking back, this was the image in my first post about this piece, waaaaaay back on March 21, 2021. 

 

I haven't quite decided what to do with this piece. It's too delicate (and frankly precious!) to do anything but frame and display. Just not sure where it should go. I don't want to do my usual "roll it up and set it aside", but I also know we're only a few weeks before Christmas so framers are probably overloaded. I'll put it on my project list to clean and frame it in the month of January. (Hold me to this!) But for now, I'm just going to spend some time happy dancing. 

Now... what's next? I don't think I have the energy to dive into another big project. (After all, there's a LOT of happy dancing to do!) I have a small, secret project that is a Christmas present, so I can't really show it here. I also have one of those goofy felt-and-sequin Christmas banners; I love how kitschy and silly they are, so perhaps I'll apply myself there: 

I really only like working on Christmas projects close to Christmas, but the tree is up, the mercury glass trees collection is on the mantlepiece, so NOW IS THE TIME! 

I have just realized that this is our last check-in in 2022 -- and that our next check-in is January 1, 2023. Until then, I hope you have a magical, merry Christmas. Make sure and take time for yourself, too! (May I suggest taking some time and checking out the amazing projects my fellow stitchers are working on? Avis, Claire, Gun, Constanze, Christina, Kathy, Margaret, Heidi, Jackie, Megan, Deborah, Sharon, Daisy, AJ, Cathie, Linda, Helen, Connie, Cindy, and Mary Margaret.

Meridian, Mississippi

We got off on the wrong foot in Meridian, MS. We had reserved a room at the Meridian Threefoot Hotel, a renovated office building turned swanky hotel. It was right downtown, and only about a block from the start of the Magnolia Half Marathon. It seemed perfect. 

I love when landmark buildings are repurposed -- it's a sign that local government is promoting their town. Meridian had other things going for it, too -- a big splashy museum called the Mississippi Arts and Entertainment Experience; a 150-year old restaurant called Weidmann's; and even a very cool industrial heritage museum housed in an old steam engine factory. 

And, in retrospect all of those things were just fine. 

But we walked up to the front desk of the Meridian Threefoot Hotel and had the most dismissive, cold-bordering-upon-rude treatment I'd ever received. 

The woman at the desk spoke very few words to us, handing us our key with a simple "Here" before turning away. She never gave us any info -- like, where to park, the hours of the restaurant, bar, or anything. She looked at us like she didn't want us staying in her hotel, and I still don't really know why. 

Given that she had fawned over the man ahead of us in line, giving him lots of info on parking (which is how we knew where to park...), we figured we must have somehow rubbed her the wrong way, and that she wasn't just rude to everyone. 

Anyway, we eventually got up to our room and started to settle in. It was when I went to get some ice down the hall that we discovered that our deadbolt didn't retract, so it wasn't possible to close the room door from the outside. Hmmm. We fiddled with it, but then called the front desk to see what we might be doing wrong. 

The woman at the front desk -- a different woman, amusingly -- first spoke to me as if I was an idiot, "Just turn the handle and it will retract." I pointed out that that worked when I was in the room, but not when I was leaving the room. We then progressed to her thinking that I was wrong, lying, or that I had broken the lock on the door. Eventually she said she would sent up someone on the maintenance crew to have a look. Fifteen minutes later, no one had come, so Wil went downstairs to ask. The woman shouted at him, saying "I CALLED SOMEONE. HE'S ON HIS WAY."

Eventually he arrived -- he was pleasant, and said in a friendly voice, "Oh, these locks. All you have to do is tap your card and the deadbolt will retract." To be honest, I hadn't tried that. So I did... and nothing happened. The man said, "Try it again" and then  "okay, try it again". Then he said, "Let me try my key." Nothing. Nada. 

He called down and told he woman at the desk the lock was broken, so would she set us up in a new room? This was frankly the vindication I needed, so I rode down the elevator with him and went to the front desk. Without looking up, or speaking, or apologizing in any way, woman 2 handed me a card. The workman, embarrassed by her behavior, said, "So sorry about that!"

I went back up, we moved to the room next door, and then were entertained for the next half hour by the workman attempting to fix the lock. The next morning, right after 8am, he was back, still working away. 

I will say that on that first night we went up to the Boxcar Lounge, a rooftop bar with lovely sunset views. We were the only guests (it was early), but the staff fussed over us and made us a pair of very good cocktails. 

Later that night we walked over to Weidmann's, and were happy to see it was bustling. 

We had friend portobello mushrooms -- which turned out to be delicious and a massive portion that we ate for dinner the following night. We also had fried green tomatoes, and a bunch of vegetarian sides. I will report that our server was friendly and attentive, too. 

On Friday we started our day with a visit to the former Soule Steam Feed Works. I was sad to see that the visitor's register shows that we were the first visitors in nearly a week. That said, I know that I am an industrial heritage nerd with a special love of steam engines, soooo....

The tour featured a selection of engines produced in the factory, restored to working order. 

I wish I had taken a video of this, slowly chugging away. 

We visited the foundry, where they used to cast the big gears and other parts: 

And the factory office, with some old office equipment next to parts manuals from the 1990s. So amazing! 

this is an "Addressograph", where a plate could be made of a customer's address for future use

can you imagine how revolutionary it would have been to record a message and send it to someone?

We also got to walk through the old machine shop. Though it was no longer steam powered, the belts that ran the equipment were slowly turning. So cool!

Later we visited the splashy Mississippi Arts & Entertainment Experience -- and wondered why it was in Meridian. Lots of investment here! We never really got a sense of the history of Meridian itself, apart from the fact that there were railroad lines and highways that all crossed there. The MAX had fun, interactive exhibits, but not many items in the collection. But the museum serves as a celebration of Mississippi and the artists from there -- like Jim Henson.

After the museum we wandered back to Weidmann's, this time going upstairs to the cafe and having pie, more fried tomatoes, and drinks on the outdoor balcony in the sun. 

We rounded out the day with a little wander -- Meridian is picturesque, but it also feels pretty run down, even though you can see that there's a lot of investment in the town. 

It's not often what we are away and I think, "Well, I'd rather be home." Not that I don't love our home, but it's usually fun to be away and live a different life for a while. But Meridian made me actively want to go home. Which, when I really think about it, is entirely due to the front desk staff at the Threefoot. 

We had an early night and got mostly packed -- because the next morning we would be running the Magnolia Half Marathon, the reason we were in Meridian at all. 

Natchez, Mississippi

I have to admit that whenever I write the word "Mississippi", I need to say, in my head, "M-I...S-S-I... S-S-I... P-P-I". 

Several years ago Wil and I won a trip at a Brooks Christmas party. We decided to fly to New Orleans to run the Rock and Roll Mardi Gras half marathon, and then travel around Louisiana and a bit of Mississippi. On the way we stopped in Natchez, where we spent one night before getting on the Natchez Trace and driving up to Tupelo. 

When we were thinking of this trip to the south, I wanted a spot to break up the races and relax for a few days over our anniversary. I had a hazy but fond memory of Natchez, so I booked the most amazing AirBNB I've ever booked: the Terrace Carriage House.

Super cozy, the 19th century carriage house for Myrtle Terrace. It was full of Asian antiques, vintage teacups, and more. There's a nice kitchen, a cozy bathroom, and, honestly, the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in. As we arrived we met one of the owners, who invited us to come see the main house. 

A few days later we popped over and Geoff and Jim gave us a little tour. They were in the process of decorating the house for Christmas. They told us there would be something like 14 trees, including the big one in the double-height main hall with over 2000 ornaments. We had been to two other historic houses in Natchez and they both felt like museums, sparsely decorated with a few choice items. But Myrtle Terrace was overflowing with life and art and color and pattern. You could see it was a home first -- granted, a home lived in by a decorator with a spectacular eye. If you ever find yourself in Natchez, sure, go see Stanton Hall and Longwood and Rosalie. But make sure and visit Myrtle Terrace, too. 

We didn't have a lot of plans in Natchez. We walked around the bluffs, and down Silver Street to "Under the Hill", where the dock workers drank during Natchez's heyday. 

We went out to the cemetery to see the "turning angel" ... though we could never "see" the effect. 

We also sought out Florence Irene Ford's grave. She died at the age of 10 from yellow fever, and her mom worried Florence would be scared and lonely in her coffin. So the grave was built with a stairway and a window, so her mom could go down at sit with her daughter. 

One day we drove out to Longwood, the great unfinished octagonal house. 

The exterior was finished, but only the grand floor was ever finished. (A little odd to be told that "construction stopped when the Civil War started because the craftsmen all went back north." Well, yes, of course construction stopped during the war...)

I liked being able to see the 19th-century construction techniques -- all the wood cross braces and supports. 

It's clear that Longwood will never be completed; and that all they can do is hope to preserve it in its current state. 

We also visited Stanton Hall, which was kiddie-corner from our house in the garden district. 

  On our drive from Hot Springs to Natchez, we listened to The Deepest South of All, a travelogue about Natchez that weaves stories about eccentric modern-day residents with the story of an enslaved African prince who eventually regained his freedom. It was interesting and painful and eye opening, and made us uncomfortable in the best way. 

It talked about the "garden clubs" of Natchez, and how they organize something called the Natchez Pilgrimage and its accompanying "Tableaux" -- an event that celebrates the antebellum south as a fundraiser to preserve antebellum mansions. A good portion of the modern-day story was set in and around Stanton Hall, and as we were taken around by a series of smiling, powdered, older women I wondered if we had "met" any of them in the book. Such a strange place. 

Speaking of strange, one day we stopped in at a restaurant called "Mammy's Cupboard". Built in 1940 as one of those "roadside attraction" places, Mammy's is shaped like a gigantic Aunt Jemima/Mammy figure. At some point in the recent past her skin was lightened to a strange yellow, but it's clear what this was. 

I was torn between wanting to "see" it, and "experience" it, and feeling guilty about patronizing the place. We had heard the pie was amazing, so decided we would stop, poke our heads in, and see how we felt. I'm happy to say that the owner and our server were both exceptionally nice -- honestly, apart from our AirBNB hosts, they were the friendliest and nicest people we met in Natchez... or all of Mississippi, for that matter. 

We asked for a pie menu, and before we could agonize too much, our server said, "Oh, we do half slices, too!". We had come in for the chocolate meringue pie -- which neither of us had ever heard of. So we each had half a slice of that. Wil had half a slice of peanut butter pie, while I had banana caramel. And they were all amazing. 

I am still swooning when I think about this banana caramel pie. 

Other diners arrived and chatted with the owner; the restaurant does a daily blue plate special and people seemed to love it. "Nothing here is fried -- we don't have a fryer!"

Do I still feel.. uncomfortable about this? Yes. Were they lovely people running a small family business? Yes. 

I think our favorite part of Natchez was just walking along the bluff overlooking the river, and enjoying the sunset. 

On our final morning we packed up, said goodbye to Jim and Geoff, and headed out. We drove out on the Natchez Trace Parkway, the road we once drove all the way up to Tupelo and fell in love with. 

My favorite stop is the old "Sunken Trace" stop, where you can walk an old stretch of the original trail and see how hundreds of years of feet had worn a trench. 

I have a little dream of driving -- or gently cycling -- the entire Trace. It's an incredibly pleasant road, through some beautiful country. But we had to turn off the Trace just north of Jackson to make our way east to Meridian.