They’ve put up all the street-closure signs for the LA Marathon this Sunday.
The cashier at the little Mexican market around the corner from where I used to live in Echo Park 5 years ago remembers me running it in 2010. I remember her cheering me. Aside from a too-cool-for-school hipster I know who visibly made a point of disregarding the race (and the 25,000 people running it) as he walked down Sunset Blvd., she was the only face I recognized on the sidelines. All my friends were still asleep.
She asked if I was going to run it this weekend. I explained to her that I prefer running longer distances in the mountains. She’d never heard of ultras before. She told me to watch out for snakes and be careful if I run in the parks or mountains at night because of mountain lions.
She isn’t into running, herself, even though she knows it’s good for you and everyone is doing it nowadays. She prefers walking stairs or riding a bike.
This exchange is why I always prefer the local markets over the big chains, and why I still shop at the places around the corner from where I used to live even though I moved out of there 5 years ago.
If the rest of the world functioned on this level, it would be a much nicer place.