L.A. Marathon --a Block Party 26 Miles Long

Nearly 19,000 runners trekked through the City of Angels on Sunday, and the city they saw during Los Angeles’ fifth annual marathon was as colorful as their sweat-drenched T-shirts and as alive as a jogger on a high.

The race turned Los Angeles into a 26.2-mile-long block party.

On Olvera Street, a mariachi band played an upbeat serenade. In Chinatown, shopkeepers watched from fish markets and bakeries as schoolchildren performed a traditional lion dance. In Hollywood, a life-size Teen-age Mutant Ninja Turtle strolled about and a rock ‘n’ roll band had runners boogieing in the street.

For many on the course, the day was a chance to simply see if they could run, walk or hobble to the finish line. But for the elite runners--who came from all corners of the world to compete--it was a serious athletic event.

Colombian Pedro Ortiz took first place in the men’s division, crossing the finish line with a time of 2:11:54, just ahead of Toni Niemczak of Poland. Ortiz, 32, who finished second last year, said through his coach that he was proud to win “for all my fellow Latinos here in Los Angeles.”.

Among the women, Cincinnati runner Julie Isphording, 28, finished with a time of 2:32:25, coming from behind to overtake Sirje Eichelmann of the Soviet Union. “I could hear the crowd cheering me, it just got really good out here,” Isphording told reporters later.

Both Ortiz and Isphording walked away with $26,385 in prize money--a figure derived from the marathon’s length of 26 miles, 385 yards--as well as an $8,000 TAG-Heuer watch and a $35,000 Mercedes-Benz sedan.

Throughout the pack, the runners were as varied as the city itself, coming in all shapes, sizes, colors and ages. This was not lost on Adelaide Martinez, a teacher from Panorama City, who joined the throngs that lined the start of the race on Figueroa Street, in front of the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum.

“This is equal opportunity in action,” she said, marveling at the diversity. “Look at this! Every color. It’s like a big rainbow, a human rainbow.”

The race kicked off at precisely 8:35 a.m. with a little bit of show business pizazz. Instead of the usual starting gun, a technician pulled the cord on a cannon that once appeared on the television show “Magnum P.I.” With that, thousands of green, blue, purple, red and orange balloons were released, dotting the cool, gray sky with splashes of color as the loudspeaker blared a Randy Newman song, “I Love L.A.”

Mayor Tom Bradley--decked out in a blue and green jogging suit with new running shoes--and former boxer Muhammad Ali gave the runners their official send-off. (Bradley said he got the outfit from Reebok, a race sponsor. He said he gave up jogging years ago: “I run from one appointment to the other. I stay in shape that way.”)

The mayor proclaimed the marathon “a great day for runners . . . a great day for Los Angeles.”

But it was Ali, not the mayor, who drew the biggest cheers from the athletes. “Ali! Ali! Ali!” they chanted, as the suit-clad former heavyweight champion waved silently and jabbed his forefinger in the runners’ direction, recalling his “float like a butterfly, sting like a bee” routine of years gone by.

An official total of 18,918 runners entered the race--not as many as the 20,000 entrants that marathon officials had hoped for, but enough to break last year’s record by exactly one runner.

They snaked through the streets under cloudy--and sometimes rainy--skies, running past downtown’s gleaming skyscrapers, in the shadow of the hills of Silver Lake and through elegant Hancock Park, where residents held brunches and sipped champagne and Bloody Marys on their front lawns.

Authorities said the weather may have helped keep traffic congestion and other problems to a minimum.

Lt. Bruce Ward of the Los Angeles Police Department proclaimed Sunday’s event “probably the smoothest of the five marathons.” But even without the sun, Ward estimated that as many as 800,000 spectators turned out to cheer the runners on.

On the edge of downtown, Jim and Sally Perkins of Glendale hopped out of their car and waited with a camcorder for their son to pass by at Sunset Boulevard and Broadway. “We’re running from the fifth mile to the 13th mile to the 20th mile to the finish line,” Perkins exclaimed. “We hope to meet him at the finish line in four hours and 20 minutes.”

In Silver Lake, Herbert Landaverte, a native of El Salvador, said it was inspiring to watch the race, especially the wheelchair event. “To see all the handicapped people, that’s nice,” he said. As he spoke, his 6-year-old nephew stuck his hand out for a “high-five” slap from the runners. “Energy slaps,” one marathoner shouted as he passed by.

In Hollywood, a collection of U.S. Postal Service employees--among the 12,800 volunteers who helped stage the race--passed out cups of water to the tired runners. “We love it,” said mail carrier Ralph Fajardo. “People bring their families, their kids.”

And in a town where, it seems, nearly everybody has a publicist or a shtick, the marathon brought out its share of wacky characters:

Los Angeles personality Gypsy Boots, who gives his age as 79 and has the energy of an 18-year-old, was be-bopping his way along the course, ringing his ever-present cowbell and tapping a tambourine.

A zany runner from Wales, dressed in orange tights and leotard and calling himself Captain Beany, declared he had come “to spread the good news that Captain Beany from the planet Beanus has come to planet Earth to help human beans.”

And a 32-year-old waiter from Woodland Hills said he intended to run the race carrying a water bottle on a tray. “I’m trying to open my own restaurant and this will give me a little exposure,” explained Neb Radojkovich.

For the most part, however, the runners were average folks--people like Marine Lt. Thomas Torpy, who proclaimed at the finish line that he and his buddy, John Rice, felt “absolutely wonderful.” His voice booming, he declared that they had “successfully motivated other runners and managed to finish ourselves.”

Rice, however, was not so sure. “This was my first one,” he groaned, doubling over and taking a deep breath. “I was just happy to finish.”

At the medical tent, volunteer coordinator Rosemary Hutton said Orthopedic Hospital had provided 5,000 pounds of Vaseline, 1,500 packs of liquid ice and 250,000 Band-Aids to tend to those who had pushed themselves to their limits--and sometimes beyond.

Among the weary who sought assistance was Michael Stephens, a public health microbiologist from Escondido for whom crossing the finish line was a very personal triumph. Less than two years ago, Stephens said, he was hooked on alcohol and cocaine. This was his second marathon, and after he finished, he sat down to think about what it meant. As a medical volunteer placed ice packs on each of his knees, he looked up and said, “I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”

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