As I write this note of thanks, my feet look like they were beaten with a meat tenderizer and I’m still peeing five gallons of Gatorade. But it was all worth it. From the hours of 7-11 am on Sunday, I was running the Philadelphia marathon. Sometimes I wanted to break my own legs so I could just give up, and other times I thought how amazing it was to get to run on a gorgeous morning. But without a doubt, the highlight of the marathon was the benevolent whack jobs that cheer on the runners. I saw everything from a man dressed as the Pillsbury dough boy, a 13 piece rag time band, perverts offering free hugs, college kids handing out beer at mile 24, and of course the infamous frat boys of Drexel University. They inspired me to dream about day drinking and nudity for the next five miles rather than why the fat lady wearing felt antlers was cruising past me. For those minutes of peace, I owe them (naked) thanks.