Tradition is an effort. It crowds the schedule. It feels like “thou shalt.” You consider being sick. You worry about what to wear. You get angry at the people who are putting you in this position. And you do it anyway. You grumble the whole way there. You have at least one fight with your person.
Then it begins. And it carries you along. And you carry it along. Tradition. You somehow both ride on its shoulders and carry it on yours at the same time.