The final song faded, the group countdown ended and hundreds of dancers collapsed on the ballroom floor with a unanimous sigh.


It was time to tend to sore feet and aching backs.

Joe Stephens walked out of the dance hall in the Ohio Union and eased into a plush armchair in the hallway.

"I just wanted to come out and sit down," the 22-year-old Ohio State University senior said. "I've been walking around all night looking at these chairs."

The ceremonious sit-down at 10 a.m. yesterday marked the first time in 17 hours that Stephens and hundreds of other students had taken a seat. In between, they danced and did whatever they could to take their mind off their feet.

The annual event, promoted as a dance marathon, is called "BuckeyeThon" and raises money for Nationwide Children's Hospital. This was the 10th year, with registration fees and donations expected to provide more than $222,000 to help pediatric-cancer patients.

About 800 students began dancing at 5 p.m. Saturday, and about half stayed to see sunrise yesterday. Many of the participants were outfitted in cat costumes, kilts and other out-of-place attire to represent dance teams.

During the night, the atmosphere changed from "rock concert," with a live band, to "dance club," with a deejay to an early morning rave that started at 3 a.m.

"That's really when everyone starts to fade, and the glow sticks come out," said senior Jessica Reynolds, 21, who helped organize the event.

Although participants didn't have to be dancing the entire time, the unwritten rule was "no sitting." A break area in a corner of the ballroom allowed students to eat or play cards at high-topped tables, but chairs were not provided.

By 10 p.m., Alexis Nelson was in the break area playing a taglike game with friends as a distraction from her aching feet. At that point, she was unsure she would make it through the night, but she was still on the dance floor 11 hours later.

"My feet are hurting a lot more, but I'm still dancing," the 18-year-old freshman said.

Nearby, freshman Jordan Edelheit, 18, watched longingly as a spectator father hoisted a young boy into his arms and walked by.

"I'm so jealous," Edelheit said with a wry smile. "I need someone to carry me. Where's my dad?"

With the end of the dance an hour away, pediatric-cancer patients and their families began arriving to meet the dancers and speak to the crowd. Some of them, including 8-year-old leukemia patient Luke Torres, joined the crowd to dance.

The students "treat my son like he's a rock star, like he's a hero," said Luke's mother, Rachel. "He gets to see that he really is as brave as we say he is."

After meeting students at the opening ceremony Saturday afternoon, Luke was so excited to return yesterday morning that he woke up at 5:45 and began prodding his parents to get ready. He wore the orange visor a student had given him the night before.

Exhausted from dancing and moved by stories such as Luke's, students became tearful when they learned how much money they raised for the hospital. The sum more than doubled what the event raised last year.

After embracing friends amid the collapse to the floor, dancers began to stand back up and trickle out of the building. With homework to do and, for some, midterms today, most were headed home to sleep.

One thing stood between the ballroom and bed for sophomore Kelsie Gory, 19.

"I'm not looking forward to the walk home," she said. "I can tell you that."