Yep, that song pretty much sums up what transpired in the past 24 hours.
See, I decided to go ahead and sign up for the Turkey Dash, despite the fact that I really wasn't feelin' it. It's such a great cause, as my Mom knew Karen Nakon personally...and such a nice little race. So, I signed up last night at the last minute, before going to the Winking Lizard for some tasty food, a Hoegaarten (I can never remember how to spell it--somethin' like that), and dinner with friends. I hadn't ran since Sunday's half marathon, and was feeling still just a little tired. But, I thought, it will be fun.
And then, Dill called.
Dill is my best friend from high school. She's a bad influence on me.
Not really, but I like to joke that she is. And for some reason, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, she always likes to go out in full effect. It's kind of the day when everyone is out and about, and you run into randoms that you haven't seen in years. I'm sort of over it, but she said she wanted me to come out, and I haven't partied it up with her in a while, so I went.
The next thing I know, we're at a crowded bar in the town I spent most of my 20s in, with people that were SIGNIFICANTLY younger (and calling me "Miss Arcaro"--there's a bad sign right there) all OVER the freaking place. I just wanted to have a beer and enjoy hanging out with my friend. Sigh.
Pretty soon, I'm jokingly "bailing her out" of trouble (standard) and before I know it it's almost 5am.
So we basically pretended we were 23 again. See, I used to do this all the time. EVERY. SINGLE. WEEKEND.
Maybe it was the smoky bar (thankfully, Ohio is going smoke free here in a month--yahooooooooooooooo), maybe it was staying up until 5:30am, maybe it was the sheer weirdness and annoyance of hearing, "Hi Miss Arcaro" everywhere I turned, including the BATHROOM, for cryin' out loud (that's what I get for starting my teaching career so young, I guess), but this bar was CLEARLY not ours anymore. It was fun, sort of, but I looked at the clock at 5:30am and called Canada Jenn.
Yeah, um, I so don't want to do a race on 2 hours of sleep.
So I bailed.
My first Turkey Trot in 5 years that I've bailed on! Ugh. I felt a little guilty, but at the same time, it was kind of fun to stay out late, drink with my best friend, and just enjoy being (somewhat) young and having the freedom to do so.
So, in true College Sara style, I slept in until 11am.
I felt all kinds of nasty when I woke up. Hair smelling like smoke, feeling all groggy despite the fact that I had only 2 beers over 7 hours (driving Dill--she needed a driver!), and just generally feeling bunk. So, I knew what I needed to do.
1. Drink tons of water.
2. Get my lazy butt up.
3. Eat a little something, and then make myself feel like TriSaraTops again--go for a run.
Matt laughed at the ridiculousness of the night, and of the fact that I now wanted to run a MINIMUM of 8 miles. For some reason, I thought it might just sweat all the stupid out of me.
Ahhhhhhhhhh. It was PERFECT. The sun was shining, blue sky, there was a little lake breeze, it was a balmy 48 degrees, which means (of course!) running in shorts and a technical tee, and I grabbed my iPod with the kickass playlist and some NUUN.
And I had 8 glorious miles, at an average pace of 8:52, that restored my faith in all things party girl.
I'm not 23 anymore....that's for sure. Those days were fun, and every once in a while, it's fun to remember what it was like. There'll always be a little party in me, I think--especially when Dill's around. Gotta love it, and she is my best friend after all.
But it sure is nice to pound out last night's party on the pavement, and sigh as I stretch after a run, and laugh at how far away in some ways I am from that girl--5am, 23 year old Sara.
She is pretty fun though. I gotta admit. ;)