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Just watching the LA Marathon today put my adrenaline into overtime. From our sidewalk lookout near mile 22, the parade of people was as rich as can be imagined: from the "students run LA" group of young kids to the dignified dynamo wearing a shirt saying "85+" . It was a perfect sunny day with a light breeze. Those who had made it that far had survived the uphill portion, made it through "the wall" and were propelling themselves forward however they could, knowing there were only four more miles. Among those 20,000 runners was our own John Ball, a PWP who continues to run marathons. It was pure luck that I picked him out of the crowd and called, "Go, John Ball!" (It amazes me when my soft PD voice sometimes can carry, but years of singing lessons may pay off.) He turned to greet me, said he was doing well though a little slower than he would have liked. Yesterday at a support group meeting, he had described his medication plan and I had offered to be there with supplies if something were to change. But today he said his plan was working, and all he wanted was a swig of water. Then off he went to challenge his own personal best, running half an hour ahead of my young nephew and an hour ahead of my young office colleague. "Go, John!" Mary Yost, 51, diagnosed 1990, couch potato undergoing conversion, leaning towards joining the "Snail's Pace" group