I was in middle school when I first personally encountered the concept of the Last Dance. I wasn't aware that it was a Thing (so unaware, that the first time I heard the song "Last Dance," I thought, "Cool."). But it was, all by itself, dramatic. The drama of the evening, the delay of seeking out the one boy, the back and forth and trips to the water fountain, etc., were all intentionally part of the intentional procrastinating of the evening's climax. And then, wham, it would strike us/me that we/I were coming up soon to the last dance, the Last Dance, and that all our hopes and dreams and fears would either realize themselves (or not), and this dance would either be a dance among men (or not).
And then, at my first middle school dance, they actually played "The Last Dance," the crime against music that is essentially a practical joke. The first thirty seconds are, you remember, slow. Slow, for just long enough for you to seek out (if you're brave) the boy you want to dance with and to begin working through those awkward first dancing moments, arms on his shoulders, hands around her waist (or on her hips). Slow for just long enough until the beat picks up, and it's a fast dance.
(Though, to be honest with you, I was never actually caught in it. I just watched the devastated uncomfortability it wreaked.)
All of that was a really inappropriate buildup for this: it is my last day at work in Provo.
Grandma and Grandpa take me out for lunch this afternoon, I come back to work, do my last run, do my last errands, have my last Cafe Rio, and then tomorrow, midday, Dave Hedengren (my to-Kansas driving partner) and I drive off into the proverbial sunset.
And it's worth noting--in fact, it's the reason I wrote this--that while this summer, I spent a lot of time not seeking people out (for which I apologize), and while I didn't get as much sleep as I should have (Stacey...Marisa...The West Wing...), I did read my scriptures, I did go to LSAT prep--every time I was supposed to, I did go to the temple weekly, and I did--are you ready?--reach my running goals.
I ran four miles--four miles--twice. Two days in a row. Me, Monday, four miles, no stopping. Me, Tuesday, four miles, no stopping.
And I have to tell you, it's like proverbial icing on the cake.
The Sum Up
In short, I haven't danced with a boy this summer and that doesn't worry or sadden me. So, my whole Last Dance intro was really a red herring. But I have run, and run and run and run, and finally, in the end, I ran just as long as I have wanted to. Four miles, non-stop, twice. And that's my story. And my summer.