The headlights of the oncoming car remind me of why I'm driving from New Hampshire to New York— over four hours home— on a Thursday night. They remind me of the past four years I've spent dancing in something called the South High Marathon Dance. Those lights reflect on me just as the red, blue, yellow and green flashing lights of the dance did, dancing for those who couldn't. We come from all corners of the country, some flying, taking a train, driving, it doesn't matter. We all come for one purpose. To support the young students who dance, sweat, and cry for 28 hours.
It's hard to describe to your friends at college exactly what this dance means to you.They say "You danced for 28 hours? Why would you do that?" or even "That's cool.", end of conversation.
No. I didn't just dance for 28 hours. I went door to door fundraising in the freezing months of January and February, knocking on doors until my knuckles cracked, trying to raise more money than I did last year. I spent the countless hours with my marathon group— planning out ideas for these imaginative skits the dancers do every year. I went garbage picking for old pieces of cardboard to use as props. I spent endless hours in my friends basement spray painting this same cardboard, tie dying shirts, and making props for our skits. I spent the entire week leading up to this dance dressing up for Spirit Week, Monday— neon day, Tuesday— tie dye day, Wednesday— cause day, Thursday— group tee shirt day, and finally, Friday— red and blue day. I arrived at the dance, practically running through the once busy school hallways, ready to have the best weekend of the year. And yes, I danced.
I danced for the recipients who couldn't. I danced so they could afford a wheelchair accessible van. I danced so they could pay for their pricy medical bills. I danced so they could receive a well-needed therapy dog. I danced for the recipients who needed hope—who needed something to believe in again, just when everything is going wrong. I danced with my peers to show them that 800 kids in a small community care.
So no, I didn't just dance for 28 hours. I did much more than that. I became a part of something that will always impact my life. South High Marathon Dance is a special event that will carry with any alumni, recipient, teacher, community member, and anyone who takes the time to learn what this amazing event is all about. Of course, as alumni, it's sad not being able to get the chance to step back onto that dance floor as we once did. That said, it is also rewarding. It is rewarding knowing that YOU changed someone's life. That knowledge is something that will have an everlasting effect on you. It changes you.
To the seniors who danced their last time this past weekend— raising an incredible $823,614.91— just know that although you won't be a dancer again, the sense of community never leaves you. South Glens Falls is a small town with a big heart, and don't ever forget that.
