Cheerleading at the LA Marathon

It started at 7:22am on Memorial Day. I live an hour away, didn't really feel great stomach-wise and hadn't gotten a lot of sleep in the past few days but when my alarm went off I was up and out the door to cheerlead alongside my friend who was working for the benefit of the cure for AIDS people running the race.

I got there just after eight and found Naomi at mile 14.5 next to KLOS 95.5 (how do I keep running into them?). There were people sprinting by on their way to finish the full marathon in less than two hours. I couldn't believe it. Still can't. How the hell does a person do that? I understand it even less now that I am a distance runner. It's a miracle, damnit. A miracle.

Then a guy came by who wasn't looking so hot. He had probably been doing 7-minute miles. He stopped and leaned over. I was wondering if he had a cramp when he threw up a bunch of liquid.

It was disgusting but the first part of the morning that I actually understood. They were human after all! Or so I thought. You know what he did next? Kept running. I don't get it.

I started think about just walking 26 miles in a day. Frankly, I don't want to do it. Maybe if you give me the whole day but even then, I'm not so big on it. But these people just kept pouring by who were going to run the entire 26. People in wheelchairs even. Children! Even a chihuahua that hauled ass.

Even more surprising were the people who had a sense of humor about it. One guy tied a Mexican wrestler mask around his head. Another guy decided to juggle all 26 miles. Some people preferred to do it shoeless. Then the testicles came around the corner.

Someone was wearing a skin-toned character-type outfit that curved twice on the top and then came inwards to end straight down just at the top of his waist. It also had black things sticking out of it here and there.

"Are those balls?" Naomi wondered aloud.

"Can't be," I told her.

"Maybe it's a potato," she said.

"How often do you confuse balls with a potato?"

Turns out it was balls because the back of the outfit read "www.MaleCancer.net." Then a guy ran by us and said, "I'm slower than the testicles. This sucks!"

What a morning. It was great being a part of the LA Marathon, standing on the sidewalk beating a couple thundersticks together and cheering until I was practically hoarse for these people who were making miracles happen. That's the beauty of sports. They give people something to care about--a common, inspiring purpose that allows us to forget our trifles and bond together as one. I know exactly when that moment happened this morning and I'll never forget it.