Thee, Me, And 15,000 Of Our Closest Friends

"I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life." - Rita Rudner, comedienne

I talk much about my wife Suzanne because she is an integral part of my life as coach, as athlete, & as (hack) writer. She's taught me a great deal about myself as well as the world around me. I don't always agree with her; she persists in seemingly-innocuous habits which drive me up the wall, but I would be in a dull, dreary world of funky socks & take-out Chinese if not for her.

When I proposed to her in December 2003, I knew I wanted the socially-accepted & state-sanctioned binding of us together as husband-&-wife to be simple, meaningful, & most especially, in the presence of people we loved most. If you heard me recommend April Fool's Day 2004 as the tentative date for the wedding, I'm certain you would have thought otherwise...but I suggested it mainly for the reason neither one of us would forget the date, & we could have a few laughs in the process. However, Suzanne's cool head prevailed & I moved the date one day to the right, April 2nd.

Okay, we have a date. Now we need to figure out who to invite.

As this would be the second time into the breach for us both, we agreed & longed for minimum drama. Our closest friends, no more than twenty, would be invited; the rest will have to grin & bear it. Unfortunately, the list kept mushrooming. Isn't that like every darn fungus with which you get to deal?

We kept pruning the list back: Okay, only my closest mate from the internship & his wife. My running coach & his wife. My friend George (who took me to my first Crescent City Classic) & his girlfriend (now wife) Dianne. Still, we couldn't get down to twenty. Not only was money an issue, but the running community here in Pensacola is so closely-knit it was impossible to leave some off the guest list.

Finally, in one of those "bolt from the blue" moments, I asked Suzanne: 'what if we just go down to the courthouse & have a simple civil ceremony, then have our wedding reception at Tad Gormley Stadium in City Park, right after we run Crescent City? The Capt'n Fun Runners from Pensacola will all be there; there will be food & a keg, not to mention the post-race feed, & we can always ask Glenn (also known as the "Capt'n") if he'll hold space for a big ice chest of champagne & a ton of beads. They'll understand we're trying to keep this simple & inexpensive, since we're planning to do the Classic.'

The Classic was not my first trip to New Orleans, but rather the first trip in my "reconstructed" life as a working professional. The entire weekend - Friday night's first-ever encounter with crawfish at Acme Oyster Bar, the race on Saturday, closing down the post-race party by limboing on the grass, up to the mildly-boozy little-bit-beyond-hangover breakfast at Camellia Grill in Carrollton before the long drive back to Pensacola - all this left an indelible mark on me. I raved about the experience - from claw-to-coffee - to Suzanne the next night; she had out-of-town business to accomplish & couldn't change her schedule. So, I knew my second Classic - Suzanne's first - would be something memorable. It's always great to introduce a tradition to a friend.

So, every Friday, from Christmas to Good Friday, we would walk across the street to the market across from our little apartment. We'd get a six-pack of Abita & a bottle of champagne. The Abita went into the fridge - for a little while. The champagne was tucked away into a large ice chest. I think we had at least a dozen bottles by the time we rolled into the Chateau Sonesta on Good Friday. Add to that stash enough beads to encourage the entire French Quarter to doff their tops, & we knew we were ready to go.

The race experience was unquestionably memorable. Suzanne & I spent the better part of the post-race in matching aloha shirts, handing out beads & cups of bubbly to anyone who came close to the Capt'n Fun Runners' encampment...it's never been difficult to find it; look for the toucan flags.

Our local running friends sometimes still talk about the wedding reception at the Classic, with fondness. We've told the "How To Hold An Intimate Wedding Reception With 15 Thousand Of Your Closest Friends" story to friends & acquaintances around the country, usually during a group runs at a Road Runners Club of America convention, or while hanging out after a road race. The married running couples find it cute. The unmarried running couples file it for future reference.

Every couple has places, times, & songs which are iconic in their relationship. For Suzanne & me, there's nothing like the warm sunlight of a New Orleans morning - especially during the post-race party at the Crescent City Classic - to remind us how blessed we are to be in love with someone who is passionate about running...and life.

Who...Or What...Do You Love?

The missus & I had another chance to get away from it all...here, taking the kids & grandkids to New Orleans. I had to teach a seminar on Friday, so driving over on Thursday afternoon was naturally out of the question. However, it also provided me a few hours of my Friday afternoon with nothing better to do than point my trusty Scion xB in the proper direction, listen to some of the tunes I'd recently downloaded to my iPod & think deep thoughts.

It occurred to me I had not talked to my father in five weeks (his seventieth birthday), & it was not like I was going to be disturbed by much at that particular time...might as well burn a few cell phone roaming minutes, no? After a healthy dose of touching base with him, & getting safely past the casinos along Mississippi's Gulf Coast, one deep thought led to another & I wanted to know what some of my New Orleans friend/s were doing.

They had been on a cruise ship for a week with two dozen or more of their closest relatives. What had me marveling even more was the fact they were able to make it through that week without throwing anyone overboard...or consuming adult beverages. I knew they had cut back during the spring in Central Florida, but didn't know they had made the decision to cut back in that drastic a manner. They have their reasons, which are quite valid (even if I disagreed, validity is in the mind of the beholder), & I strongly applaud them for it.
The ramifications or the rationale for such decisions hadn't quite hit until I was driving on the trip home...Then I began to think about it all: You see, we didn't drink anything around the family because being (at the least) loose around the children and grandchildren didn't seem like a good example. There were enough people on the streetcars & on the major thoroughfares who were loosened up during the weekend, right? We went out for a bite to eat & to walk around with some of our friends after the kids drove home, sufficient opportunity to loosen up and enjoy some of the more adult-oriented venues we occasionally enjoy. And while I was loose enough to not feel major pain I couldn't help but see some of the really loose denizens of the place/s we visited, most notably the crowd in one of the city's most popular karaoke bars. Believe me, there are way too many people who think they sing well. Add an abundance of adult beverages & it's a Capt'n Fun Happy Birthday Song Audition Night, minus the cake (Robin Williams' 2002 routine about Japanese men in a karaoke bar after a couple of shots of Jack Daniels' says it best.). When you see them you begin to think to yourself, 'dude, is THAT what I look like when...?'
Right now I can say I do not have a drinking problem. There was a time in my life when you could probably say I did, but I think age & a beer-related accident (I thank God no police were around to see!) a long time ago (as well as a recent beer-related accident where we were the victims!) converted me from the quantity drinker to the quality drinker. That means I still spend the same amount of money on beer at 48 as at 18; I share/enjoy the six-pack of microbrews more than I did bogarting a case of Lone Star. I like beer a great deal, & there are days when there's nothing more wonderful after a very hot run or workout than a very cold beer. Of the friends I have, the ones for which I would say I would go through hell in a gasoline suit are very small; & the vast majority of them drink probably the same amount, give-or-take, that I do. I have many colleagues & acquaintances, however, who are perhaps one (stumbling?) step to the left or to the right of the classic hash house harrier definition: a drinker with a running problem. Love 'em, but it's the truth.

And THAT'S where my worried mind begins to operate. I know a person's character can be molded & shaped by the people they spend the most time with. Think about it: Influence of Others -> Thought -> Decision -> Action -> Habit -> Character -> Influence on Others. I've told folks on more than a few occasions we are what we consume, spiritually as well as physically. So, can you control your own cycle? Or would you rather smash the mirror?

'Beer commercials usually show big men, manly men, doing manly things: "You've just killed a small animal. It's time for a light beer." Why not have a realistic beer commercial, with a realistic thing about beer, where someone goes, "It's five o'clock in the morning. You've just @*#d on a dumpster. It's Miller time."' - Robin Williams (1986)