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Dancer Anna Lindel attended Dance Marathon with her sorority sisters.

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.