Columnist Dean Juipe: Jubilant atmosphere at marathon

Dean Juipe's column appears Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. His boxing notebook appears Thursday. Reach him at [email protected] or 259-4084.

It's laborious and grueling, yet there are nothing but smiles and warm exchanges.

Physical discomforts aside, no one is complaining. There is a serenity here and it's unlike the feeling at any other sporting event.

A marathon is what it is: A heck of a long run amid one giant support group. As was the case Sunday when some 7,000 participants enjoyed the 34th annual Las Vegas Marathon, these people run not so much in competition against each other but in competition against themselves.

As incentives go, it's priceless. Typical motivations, like money, play almost no role as one runner after another makes his or her way to a finish line in which a clock -- as opposed to a wheelbarrow full of money -- awaits.

It's a fascinating snippet of mankind. Even without ever having taken part in one, it appears as if a marathon is the ultimate feel-good experience.

It certainly is from the sidelines.

"I agree," race director Al Boka said. "Everybody's like a brother. There's a common pain that people put themselves through just to feel good about themselves."

This is one place where the also-rans can take a bow and nod to the galleries that shout encouragement as they approach the finish line inside a vibrant Sunset Park.

Everyone from unexpected men's champion Rob Reeder to the last straggler willing himself home is exalted.

"I'm ecstatic," said two-time Olympic racewalker Victoria Herazo of Henderson, who finished third in her peculiar event. Coming back from surgery from a herniated disc, Herazo was pleased with her time and not the least bit put off by her failure to win.

Like everyone else on this sunny morning, she measured her performance by what she was capable of producing -- not by how many finished ahead of her.

No one finished ahead of wheelchair champion Carl Marquis of Montreal, who was making his Las Vegas debut and posted a personal-best time. He zipped across the finish line with an exuberance that reflected his satisfaction at leading his race from beginning to end.

"I was smoking," said the legless Marquis. "The first eight miles (uphill) was a little tough but the rest was easy. I just tucked my head in and took off."

"It's a very nice marathon."

While it took a few minutes for the next wheelchair racer to arrive, soon three or four were in and they huddled around Marquis. Their friendship was apparent as they congratulated Marquis for closing in on a spot in October's para-Olympics in Sydney and, beyond that, they had tales to tell.

So did the men's overall champion, Reeder, and the man he supplanted as reigning champion, Hungary's Zoltan Holba. (That said, Holba's bathroom break during the race maybe isn't a tale that needs to be told.)

Six of Reeder's family and traveling companions obtained clearance from security and sprinted behind the grandstand to greet their favorite son at the finish line as the Californian snapped Holba's four-year winning streak with a stirring run. An earlier assessment -- that perhaps Reeder was "only a 20-mile man" -- proved erroneous as he appeared to accelerate past the 26-mile mark.

With a gleeful expression etched on his face, he crossed the finish line to cheers and an array of plaudits.

Of course, so did everyone else.

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