The Running Lady

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of assisting Nigel on his commute to school. Our February vacations did not fall on the same week, so when I was home I would give him a ride to the train station in time for the train to Norwalk. It was in the course of this daily drive at sunrise that I noticed the Running Lady.

The first morning, while driving home from the station, I caught sight of a woman in business clothes running through this vast traffic circle. She was wearing a shoulder bag tucked under her elbow and clutching a little pink gift bag in her right hand. Her gait was hurried and she was heading in the direction of a motel on the far side of the circle. I thought, what a drag, she must have forgotten something and has to hurry back to her room, and she has to deal with navigating this horrible suburban landscape. It looked quite treacherous.

The second morning I saw her again, but further along, past the motel. Once more she was dressed in work clothes and carried a shoulder bag and the pink gift bag. She still looked like she was in a big hurry. Now I was a little puzzled. Later that day I said to Lizzy, "Have you seen the Running Lady?" Without hesitation, she said, "Yes! What's her story?" She had seen this woman several times and assumed she was going to work, and didn't give much thought to the fact that the woman wasn't really dressed for exercising. But then one morning Lizzy had to stop at the grocery store after dropping Nigel off at the station, so she was about twenty minutes behind schedule when she saw the Running Lady; only this time she was coming from the other direction. So it seemed she wasn't running to work, but rather was making a roundtrip.

The third morning, right on time, I saw the Running Lady cross a busy intersection, against the light. This time she was wearing Uggs and a winter coat that reached below her knees, but still with the shoulder and gift bags. As I drove past her, I didn't get a good luck at her face, but I could see her cheeks were pink from the effort and the cold. The whole scene, the traffic, the maze of intersections, the neon lights of the donut shops and gas stations, the early morning sky, and this little woman improbably braving these chaotic elements to go running in street clothes fascinated me. I resolved to bring my camera the next morning to try to document what I was seeing.

As expected, the fourth morning, following the Nigel drop-off, I saw the Running Lady once more. She was already past the traffic circle and the motel, heading up a quieter stretch of the road that did not match the scene I hoped to capture. Nevertheless, after passing her, I pulled into a shopping center parking lot and got out to take a picture as she ran by. An uneasy feeling came to me as I tracked her progress through my camera lens and finally pressed the shutter once, twice, three times.

Later that afternoon, after I picked Nigel up and brought him home, I showed him the pictures. He'd been hearing about the Running Lady from me all week, but hadn't actually seen her. As he looked at the photo in the camera display, I asked him, "Hey Nigel, what's weirder: the lady running in street clothes or my obsession with her?" He laughed, "Yeah, I know." So I deleted the photographs.

Since then I've learned that the Running Lady is known around the neighborhood as the Walker. Apparently, at some point she stops running and spends much of the day walking all over town.

Two Men with the Blues

Yesterday evening Lizzy and I attended the Willie Nelson-Wynton Marsalis concert at the Rose Theater at Lincoln Center. It was a terrific performance, highlighted by the guest appearance of Norah Jones, who sang lead, duet or backup on most of the numbers. The song list was both a tribute to Ray Charles, as he had recorded signature versions of all of them, and a musical arc of the emotional highs and lows of love. Between songs Wynton, Willie and Norah would banter a bit about what was going on between the lovers.

The band, consisting of Marsalis' quintet and Nelson's harmonica player, and Willie on his old battered guitar, was outstanding. As always, Marsalis was a smart and warm emcee; Lizzy pointed out how much he seemed to enjoy listening to his fellow musicians during their solo turns. Jones brought an emotional depth to many of the songs that Nelson's restrained, smooth vocals can't, thus acting as the live connection to the old Charles' recordings that inspired the concert. In particular, her interpretation of "You Don't Know Me" was truly heart-rending.

There was a swarm of HD video cameras at work documenting the show, so it is likely that it will be aired, perhaps on PBS, in the near future. I highly recommend it.

Here's the playlist: Hallelujah, I Love Her So; Come Rain or Come Shine; You Are My Sunshine; Unchain My Heart; Crying Time; Losing Hand; Hit the Road Jack; I'm Moving On; Busted; You Don't Know Me; Here We Go Again; Makin' Whoopee; I Love You So Much (It Hurts); What'd I Say. The encore was, fittingly, That's All.

For those interested, the Times reviewed the concert: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/11/arts/music/11mars.html?_r=1&scp=4&sq=willie%20nelson&st=cse