10 years after high school, I'm one of the few who can still run the mile

Friday night after work, I rushed home, hopped in Casi's car, and her, Eric, and I made the 7+ hour trip to my hometown of Greece, NY. When we arrived at midnight and Casi commented "Wow, I thought it would be nice and cool, but it's still warm out!" that should have been a red flag I was in for a bad run Saturday morning.

Before I even went outside, I posted on Facebook that I was about to have the slowest run of my life, based on how tired and sluggish I felt.

I smiled for the readers, but inside I wasn't excited.

I was expecting it to feel like a nice, cool, fall morning (we're only an hour and a half from Canada, and right on a lake!). Imagine my surprise when I stepped into a sauna. A sauna with the sun beating down.

It was one of those runs where the humidity  makes it feel like that fat guy is sitting on your chest, you can't breathe, and if you try to breathe deeply, it hurts.  I was dehydrated, because when you go on a 7 hour road trip, your choices are dehydration, misery, or stopping every 45 minutes. Working all day without air conditioning isn't particularly helpful either. Which meant that in addition to the chest pain, I was getting side stitches. I knew I had one more salt pill in my camelbak, which I thought would be my saving grace, but when I went to take it, apparently I'd given it to a friend or something, because it wasn't there.

Mile 5

The only thing that got me through the run was thanking Irene for allowing me to do my 20 miler on Monday. Otherwise I'd be doing 20 miles of misery, instead of ten.

There were some pretty lake views.

 

I ran by the restaurant that I waitressed in for six years in high school and college and truly considered going in and drinking a cup of pickle juice (they have a pickle bar) for my side stitches. I forced myself to just ask for water, though.

After the run, things started looking up when my sister and I went to meet our Dad at the Rochester Public Market, this gigantic farmer’s market that has everything you ever want. I am obsessed with farmer’s markets. 

A few weeks ago, I went and wanted to take pictures, but it was way too cutthroat and I needed my 25 pounds of veggies. So I found a solution – go to one that’s even more crowded, and make your Dad take pictures with his fancy camera that will be way better than any I could have taken anyway.

 

We started with an olive oil tasting - my sister and I were in heaven. Even more so when my Dad got us each a bottle of olive oil. Mine is lime flavored.

I'm also obsessed with spices.

Oh...and squash. Stocked up here.

No farmer's market is complete without a wine tasting.

After that fun, Darcy (my sister) and I went to get pedicures. In the middle, she suddenly gasped, pointed to my foot, and cried "What is THAT?". The guy doing my pedi nodded knowingly and said something along the lines of "I've been wondering that too". Sad news - they were pointing to different things. Darcy was shocked by my gigantic callous, while pedicure guy was staring at my black toenail.

He literally brought over a cheese grater to remove my callous. I swear he got it on sale at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. When I told him to leave it alone, I really wish I had a picture of the shock and disgust on his face. Especially when I told him I "needed it". I tried to explain the running, and he seemed to be a little on board. He also asked me when I started school and was shocked again when I said I was already out of college and a teacher myself, so I'm calling the experience a win.

Once I had my veggies, olive oil, and painted toenails (and my callous, intact), it was time for Saturday's main event - my ten year high school reunion. I'm just going to be honest - Casi and I went to see what a train wreck it would be. And it didn't disappoint.

I never considered the life of a simple schoolteacher to be a massive success, like on the scale of a doctor, or winning a major award, or owning three summer homes or something. Turns out, if you have a job and don't live with your parents, going to your high school reunion will be a HUGE ego boost. The popular kids were still too cool to even say hello to us, but a friend's eavesdropping revealed that several of them still had the same address as in high school. After a few drinks I may have interrogated a person or two about where they currently lived, but I got what I needed out of the conversation. One guy claimed his band had gone international, but, as Casi said "Well, I haven't heard of them, and I'm national".

We seemed to have trouble with our memories. Everyone else was chatting nonstop about teachers, other alums who couldn't make it, stuff that happened, and we were pretty much drawing a blank on everything. Maybe because high school wasn't the height of our existance.

I got to eat dinner with my junior prom date. That actually wasn't as weird as it sounds, because I'm still good friends with his sisters (one of them even caught the bouquet at my wedding).

Now, let's enjoy some pictures from the high school reunion, and from high school itself.

As you can see, the following pictures couldn't be scanned because they were outlined in glitter and glued to an awesome poster which is still up in my old bedroom. That's how I role.

Casi and I - maybe in middle school?

Junior prom, 2000

Reunion, 2011, still wearing the same colors

She's a true friend - look at her transferring her frosting to my plate

Prom Date

 

Obviously, we've matured since high school. 

Larping

My mom said our nametags should have included our roles in high school. Mine would have said: "dorky quiet girl that no one even knows who she is". 

What would yours have said?