I’m doing a marathon. No, I’m not talking about the three seasons of Friday Night Lights Wife and I have been watching back-to-back-to-back since last week, or the bi-annual marathon, that I invented, which consists of not flossing every day between teeth cleanings, even though I promised my hygienist I would (it’s not entirely my fault: the dentist comes in after the hygienist has just finished lecturing me on the importance of flossing and tells me I have gorgeous teeth and to keep up the fabulous work, causing me to ignore the hygienist’s admonishments like some devious teenager who knows which parent will let me stay out all night). Actually, I am literally running the Los Angeles marathon. Although I am writing this three years after the fact, so you’ll just have to imagine me jogging down Santa Monica Boulevard, balancing a laptop on my left hand and typing with my right. Sure, it’s the coldest day on record, and I’m just on the precipice of freezing-rain-induced hypothermia, but I am having the time of my life! Did you know that you can litter as much as want when you run a marathon? It’s true! People hand you paper cups and plastic bottles and you can throw them on the ground, in plain view of law enforcement, and not get in trouble. In fact, people CHEER when you do this. How great is that? The only way running this marathon could be more fun is if I wasn’t suffering from debilitating joint pain. Quick! Somebody give me some trash to throw on the ground!