Once an Irish dancer, always an Irish dancer. It's a common saying that I've heard often since I retired from Irish dancing two years ago, but being a retired Irish dancer gives St. Patrick's day a whole new meaning. This holiday means something different to the Irish, especially Irish dancers. Like Michael Scott said, it's the closest thing we'll get to Christmas.

I'll never forget St. Patrick's Day as an Irish dancer. Throughout my childhood, the holiday was quite different for me than for most kids my age. Mine consisted of shamrock shakes, car pools, six dance shows a day, late nights, dancing in bars (and maybe on them), friends, tired eyes, and sore bodies.

But ask any Irish dancer: they wouldn't have changed a single moment of it.

Irish dancing is usually a part of someone's life for years; it was a part of mine for 15 years. I competed at competitions called feiseanna (a single competition is called a feis), went to Nationals (North American Irish Dance Championships) twice, and went to Oireachtas (North Atlantic Region) more times than I can count. I loved everything about dancing--but I didn't dance because I wanted to win. Don't get me wrong, every Irish dancer dreams of standing on that podium with a sash draped across his or her body and hoisting a trophy above his or her head. I did, too. But that isn't why I danced.

I danced because I loved it and still do. It was something that I became so passionate about at such a young age. I'll never forget every year when it was time to sign up for classes for the next year and my parents would sit me down and ask me if I wanted to dance again the following year. It's pretty obvious that every year the answer was yes. Every single year, the answer was yes. It got to the point where I wasn't even asked because my parents knew the answer.

So year after year, St. Patrick's Day became such an ordeal at my house. Being from Erie, Pennsylvania, we had a huge parade the Saturday before St. Paddy's Day every year. The best years were when the parade and the holiday fell on the same day. The term "March Madness" means something completely different to an Irish dancer. The madness comes from 20 shows in one week, sometimes six or more shows on St. Paddy's day alone.

Those shows were your favorite because you were right beside your friends carpooling to each venue with a shamrock shake in hand.

But now... It's my second year as a retired Irish dancer. The holiday is still one of my favorites and I try to celebrate as much as I can. March 17 is a lot less hectic for me now, and honestly hate it being that way. I miss the craziness.

The holiday starts to feel a little less special. But then you remember what it truly means to be Irish. We Irish love our dancing, and it doesn't matter if you're 12, 32, or 92. St. Paddy's Day is what you make of it. Last year, I remember teaching college students how to dance, eating traditional food, and singing good ol' Irish songs. It may not have been like what I was used to, but it filled the void well.

St. Patrick's Day holds a special place in my heart, and I will cherish all my memories of it. I may be watching from the "sidelines" from now on, but my Irish eyes are smiling while doing it.