Last weekend I was invited to attend my friends wedding, who Ill refer to as “Elaine”. Believe it or not, we’ve ran a few half marathons together.
Ill pause for your giggle.
I met her three years ago and was impressed by her ability to maintain a constant workout schedule. As you may know, I’ve been unable to keep most everything stable in my life for lack of ambition including exercise, diet, dick, hobbies, friendships, ect…. Well, except vodka. I’ve always loved vodka.
Ill get to that story later… but before I move onto the wedding, can I just say that people who preach about the “runners high” have never been high before. Just something to keep in mind before you get wrangled into a two hour plus event that makes you feel like you want to cry, crap and cuss throughout the entire ordeal.
So anyways, Elaine was finally getting married and I was so exited to support her. She’s been dating the same guy for almost four years and has been anticipating this lock down for some time. He is Mexican but doesn’t speak Mexican, but he looks kinda Mexican. He’s very nice and has a nice laugh. I couldn’t wait for the wedding.
The ceremony was to be a Catholic mass; I grabbed my seat and waited anxiously for the event to begin. All the little wedding soldiers piled down the aisle looking dapper. As we get started, I realize that I was in for a very long evening and I had failed to bring any snacks, reading material or Adderall to keep focused. I found solace in the fact that the priest was Vietnamese or Chinese, or maybe Thai, I’m not sure. His English was broken and while it was difficult to under his proclamations of the Lord, I found his weakness for the English language very cute. I felt this strange urge to pick him up and bear hug him in the middle of the ceremony. My mind began to wonder around the turn of hour one…. Maybe I could kidnap him and place him in my over sized handbag, after all he was a seemingly tiny man.
True to catholic form, it felt more like a UCA Cheerleading camp and I had arrived a day late therefore missing the choreographer go through the chants that the congregation would be responsible for reciting the next day. How did everyone else in the ceremony seem to know all the eight counts? I began to frantically search through the pew filing cabinet where they place the hymnal thinking surely I had missed a handout explaining what to say and when. My hunt for answers left me empty handed.
Not only were these people or “Cathys” as I like to refer to them as, making me feel like an asshole but they were also making me work out. I haven’t taken a step class in quite a while and I was tirelessly trying to keep up with the pace of Up- Down – Kneel, Up – Down – Kneel, Up – Down – Kneel.
By the time the free food and beverages were announced I was excited to take a walk, stretch my legs, grab a drink check out the wedding party up close. Just as this ceremony was starting to come around for me, the priest announces that only the baptized Cathys were allowed to drink and eat but the rest of the crew was encouraged to come up for a blessing. I immediately retracted my previous thoughts of hugs and napping with the priest. He had a lot of nerve telling me that I couldn’t partake in the usual sacrament, but then again, I wasn’t surprised. The Cathys have a way of making outsiders feel like outsiders so I decided that I could use a blessing and took the walk anyways.
After an hour and forty-five minutes, the ceremony wrapped up. I found myself sobbing towards the end of it…. I didn’t know if it was the beauty and happiness radiating from the newlyweds or if it was the anticipation of the open bar that was awaiting me at the reception.
My friend’s dream had finally come true; she would have Mexican babies, become a Mexican housewife and dance her life away to the tunes of Jaunes which happens to be her favorite band. I don’t think there is anyone else in the world that I’d run 13.2 miles for, train through miles of hurt and endure the pain of shin splints and coping with the reality that I’ve had shit come out of my pants while being miles away from my starting/ ending point; which is why she’s the only person that I would happily sit through full mass through. Cheers to mi poco chica amiga!