The Wind is Icy, Hot

Yesterday my brother Nick ran the Los Angeles Marathon. I made my
way downtown to show my familial support. Let me officially say that
twenty six point two miles is a long, long way, and I'm proud of
anyone who can traverse that distance without using an engine.

I didn't have a map of what was happening, just an approximation and
a lucky parking spot. I figured sooner or later I would catch up to
my brother since I was on foot at this point and so was he. This was
specious reasoning, but it eventually worked in my favor. I was
walking against the grain of the marathon over by Staples Center to
try and rendezvous with my brother. Seeing so many people running
and at least as many people cheering and blowing plastic trombones
was simply breathtaking. I got a big emotional rush being near it.
I then got a big rush of spray-on Icy Hot right up my nostrils. They
have volunteers who hand out Gatorade, bananas, and water as well as
a line where they spray your sore muscles with some sort of airborne
Ben Gay. I made the mistake of walking downwind of this line.
Gross, dude.

After walking for a good country mile in the wrong direction, I
jogged my way to the finish line and eventually met up with my
brother around Mile 25. I imagine he'll be posting a summary of his
marathon experience on LiberalHexum.org, so I'll leave the details to
him. Suffice to say, I ran shotgun for most of the last mile, and I
know he had a seriously sore calf. I'm really proud of him for
sticking it out and finishing the race. Way to go Nick!

Tomorrow is voting day for the dudes and mostly importantly, Brandon
Rogers, on American Idol. Get your autodial, and you Cingular folks, text messaging
ready. Consider this a weekly two hour marathon for your fingers.