It took just three hours until Anna Lindel almost broke the
cardinal rule of UCLA Dance Marathon.
“Anna, are you sitting?” asked one of her sorority
sisters.
“I leaned! I leaned!” Lindel shrieked. “It was
a lean!”
Phew. Close call.
There wouldn’t be many more of those as the third-year
political science student danced her way through the 26-hour event
that raised more than a quarter-million dollars for research,
prevention, service and counseling programs for children infected
with HIV/AIDS worldwide.
But all that dancing would take its toll on Lindel, both
physically and mentally, before the marathon came to a finish.
Square one
When Lindel really gets into a song, she hunches over, puckers
her lips, and does her own pseudo-sensual rendition of “The
Running Man.”
“You’re not allowed to write about what a bad dancer
I am,” Lindel shouted, sandwiched between two friends soon
after the event kicked off.
Lindel, a first time Dance Marathon participant, said she was
inspired to register this year by her sorority sisters, many of
whom have participated before. Her sorority, Alpha Epsilon Phi,
does much of its philanthropy work with the Elizabeth Glaser
Pediatric AIDS Foundation, the same nonprofit organization Dance
Marathon supports.
She said from square one she knew sticking with her sorority
sisters would be a key to staying energized.
“Having these girls makes it possible for me to be
here,” Lindel said, soon after the marathon began.
Whether she was dancing, dining on a lunch of chicken and salad,
or taking a breather in the break room, Lindel rarely spent a
moment away from “her girls,” whose encouragement and
surprise visits gave Lindel the morale boosts she said she needed
to get through the marathon.
“Anna is a foxy mama!” screamed one friend as Lindel
walked by.
During the first few hours there, Lindel had little more to
complain about than the mint-flavored water dancers were served
with lunch.
“It’s foul,” she said.
That would change as the night drew on.
Halfway there
It’s 50 minutes past midnight and Lindel is hunched over,
hands on her knees, yawning in the middle of the dance floor. Her
hair, once in a neat bun, is now disheveled, and she has bags under
eyes.
Lindel looks like she’s got nothing left. Until the DJ
blares Kanye West’s “Gold Digger.” And just like
that, Lindel perks up and gets back to dancing.
During the marathon’s midway stretch, it often took just
the right song ““ from 50 Cent to Madonna ““ to keep
Lindel going.
“I love Journey,” Lindel said, referring to the
’80s arena rock band.
But as the night drew on, Lindel began to fight off more than
just fatigue, as the event’s speakers ““ many of whom
were infected with HIV as children ““ began to weigh on her
emotionally.
“My heart hurts,” she said.
Lindel said she had always viewed AIDS primarily as an issue for
college-aged people, not children.
“You have to be educated about it. It’s literally a
pandemic,” she said. “That’s something I’ve
thought a lot about, participating in this.”
The home stretch
“This is the most tired I’ve ever been,”
Lindel said, with just two hours to go.
Lindel turns 21 the day after Dance Marathon, and as she dances,
her sister is flying in from Boston to help celebrate.
Hours ago, Lindel was confident she could take a power nap, stop
at the airport, then stop by a local bar at midnight to
celebrate.
Her optimism has since waned.
“I’m just ready for this to be over,” she
said. “I’m not planning a big night.”
Much of the frills Lindel sported earlier ““ a sash from
her sorority sisters, a wreath of blue and white stars ““ have
been abandoned.
With only a few hours left, Lindel seemed distracted as speakers
addressed the weary crowd. Then one got her attention.
A seventh grader, infected since birth with HIV, read aloud a
letter she’d written to her disease.
“Dear HIV, you are not my friend because you destroy
me,” she said, silencing the crowd of once-energetic
dancers.
Lindel grabbed her heart.
“I didn’t cry, but I think it’s just because
I’m so tired,” she said.
Soon after the speakers left the stage, dancing resumed, and
Lindel spent much of her final hour singing along to slower songs
and dancing with a large group of her sorority sisters.
Before screaming every word of Gloria Gaynor’s “I
Will Survive,” Lindel played air guitar to Journey’s
“Don’t Stop Believin’.”
“At this point, everyone knows its close to the end so
they’re just letting out every bit of energy they have
left,” she said.
Dance Marathon came to an emotional climax when about 800
dancers, including Lindel, finally stopped dancing and sat down to
hear the fundraising total, which rounded off to more than a
quarter of a million dollars.
After 26 hours of dancing and a barrage of congratulatory hugs,
it was all over.
“You know when it feels so good, it hurts?” Lindel
said, with a smile.