A wedding in Omaha.

I find Omaha charming, part city and part country. Kind of like the bride herself.

MS moved back to Omaha from Boston (where we met and were roommates) about five years ago. In fact, I drove with her cross country from Boston to Omaha for that big move. Nothing like a wedding to bring out the sentimental.

The wedding was sweet and simple. The ceiling of the church, a royal blue that I will never forget. Nor will I soon forget the charming moment where the bride and groom leaned in for a kiss a bit too soon, earning chastisement from the Priest.

But the most special moment for me was likely Monday morning, after everything was cleaned up and it was time to leave. MS and I doing our hair, me playing around with her curling iron. Just like old times.

Also, before the wedding, I loved meeting the locals at the college dive bars and dancing into the wee hours with good friends who flew in for the wedding — all things in short supply in my Jozi day-to-day.

I was up early the day after the wedding for a local 10km, my body a bit sore from the travel but my lungs were thrilled to be running at sea level. I ran solo with music and posted a PB of 58 minutes. And still made it back to the hotel in time to see my girls off with brunch.

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