In the ranking of stickers on the back of cars that make you think someone is the worst, it usually starts with Calvin (from Calvin & Hobbes) pissing on something and ends with a “26.2” sticker signaling that someone ran a marathon. Mixed in are those stickers symbolizing how many beings are riding in the minivan going 55 in a 65-mile-per-hour zone, and the “COEXIST” stickers written with peace signs and yin-yangs.
Even less impressive than a 26.2 sticker is the dreaded 13.1 sticker which says, “I ran the bare minimum to make you think I’m still athletic and deserve your praise.” Running 13.1 miles, while not the easiest thing in the world, still isn’t the most impressive athletic feat either. For a seasoned runner, 13.1 miles is like zoning out on a treadmill for an extra episode of Keeping Up With The Kardashians or something. Running a half marathon is essentially saying, “I want to be the insufferable type of person who gets to talk about running, but I also refuse to give up drinking hard all weekend in order to actually train for a full marathon.”
Adding to that insufferability, though? Getting married smack dab in the middle of a half-marathon. Something Krissa Cetner and Alex Salazar did on Mile 6 of the Brooklyn half-marathon on May 20th. It’s like someone said, “Alright, how can we make this the most punchable wedding ever? Oh, there’s a half-marathon in Brooklyn next week? Perfect, let’s just do that.”
But it didn’t just stop there.
Krissa told The New York Times (your one-stop shop for terrible marriage announcements, for any greenhorns out there looking for hate-reads), “I did my first race when I was in my mom’s belly. My parents were runners, and they would take me to races.” This is quite possibly the grossest way to describe your first race – a race you didn’t even run in. Hell, it’s a race you weren’t even alive for. I’m not a doctor, but I feel like putting your pregnant body through the arduous process of running a marathon would affect your baby later on in life. Like, oh, I don’t know… like causing their brain to make them think it’s a sane idea to have a wedding during a half-fucking-marathon? But I digress.
The wedding occurred at 7:30 a.m. in Prospect Park. I had always thought 7:30 p.m. weddings were miserable because you had to sit around all day with your thumb up your ass, but the idea of waking up at the crack of dawn to watch two people drenched in sweat exchange vows while wearing workout clothes somehow just took the cake. Fifty people showed up to watch the groom, who wore a silk-screened fake tuxedo spandex shirt, take thee mom-runner to be his lawfully wedded wife. Oh, and they had “bride and groom running bibs” in case there was any confusion as to who the assholes holding up the damn race were.
Using the most obvious metaphor of all-time, the wedding’s officiant declared, “Marriage is a marathon, not a sprint.” Ground-breaking stuff.
They also finished the race in 2 hours and 45 minutes despite normally finishing races in about two hours. “But we didn’t care,” she joked. “We accomplished a lot in those 2 hours and 45 minutes.” Ha! Like getting married!
In the only part of this entire debacle that made me smirk, The Times also revealed that the bride dropped her iPhone in the beginning of the race, thus shattering the screen. They tried passing it off as “good luck” in the same vein as the Jewish tradition of stomping on a glass, but I’d like to think it was just God’s way of sticking it to them for not doing things the old-fashioned way.
The couple drove off from their ceremony in a green 2010 Chrysler Town & Country with soup cans tied to the back and a 13.1 sticker on the bumper next to “Just Married!” written in sweat. Okay, not really, but nine months from now, don’t be surprised if you see a 2010 Chrysler Town & Country with a 13.1 sticker and a new baby sticker in the family line-up. .