I want in

Yesterday I woke up at 6 a.m. to watch the New York Marathon.

And I was blown away. The elites were absolutely amazing -- they made it look effortless. And I loved the drama of the race, watching it all unfold: How the elite men all seemed to be holding back, waiting for Haile Gebrselassie -- who holds the world record for the marathon in 2:03:59 (do you realize this is faster than my average half marathon time?) -- to make his move, only to have him drop out after injuring his knee. (And then he announced he is retiring -- super sad.) How Shalane Flanagan -- who had never, ever run a marathon before -- finished in second place for the women, between two Kenyans. (Nice -- I wish I could be so gifted!) How Emmanuel Mutai, second for the men, totally barfed at the finish line while wrapped in his country's flag. Apparently, he has a reputation for vomiting and pukes in races all the time.

And of course, there was the Chilean miner who ran, too -- he said he had trained while stuck underground. He had a rough time -- had to stop in the medical tent halfway through. But he finished -- 5:40:51.

And then there were the thousands of other runners -- the normal runners, the ones like me, who will never run 5-minute miles or be sponsored by Nike or have people in the crowd rush out to grab their discarded glove or hat. (Yup, I believe this is what happened to men's winner Gebre Gebremariam's discarded clothing.) They run because they never in their life thought they could, because the very act of running is joyful and painful at the same time, because they can't help but love it. It was amazing to watch these people wave their arms in front of the cameras, cheer and whoop and holler, and run on.

So this morning I signed up for the New York lottery. (Did the Marathon Monday Mania early entry scavenger hunt on Facebook and posed with my little blue box.)

Entry No. 647856. Choose me.