Have I ever told you about when I was the fastest in the ward? No?! Let me tell you about when I was the fastest in the ward. 'Twas quite possibly one of the happiest 30 seconds of my life.
It went like this: I was standing in the hall at church when Ellen (name changed of course), walked towards me. Ellen is somewhat new to the hood and I don't know her well. I know she's athletic, has four daughters, and brought me flowers from her garden after the Bread Incident. (Ellen isn't the lady in the Bread Incident story, by the way.) Ellen is very nice.
So Ellen says, "I hear you're a runner."
I respond with the typical, "Yeah. I'm a runner."
Then Ellen says, "Someone told me you're the fastest in the ward."
"The fastest in the ward....?" I said. And the voice trailed. My mind immediately wandered off to a daydream (complete with clouds) wherein I was right in the middle of a Sabbath Day podium ceremony. I was just about to bend my humble little head down so as the Bishop could ring my neck with a gold medal. That daydream was rudely interrupted, all record-scratch-like, when I looked to my left and right on that Sabbath Day podium.
"Um." I said. "The state cross country champ is in our ward."
"Oh?" Says Ellen, then begins to back pedal. "But you're the fastest girl, right?"
"Nope. State cross country champ has a sister."
So there you have it. In Ellen's eyes and mine, the rabidrunner was the fastest in the ward for the beginning of one brief conversation. Today however, the rabidrunner (love it when I talk to myself in the third person), might be the saddest in the ward. My Grandpa Plum passed away last night - I suppose we'll just have to wait and see on Sundee if I win a medal for being the saddest.
Oh and while we're on the subject of Bishops, do you read Bishop Higgins? He's been released. And he's outed himself. After three years of hearing the dear Bishop make fun of our goofy culture, he's calling it quits - yet another reason to be the saddest in the ward.