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L.A. Marathon won’t give trans runners prize money. This past champion wants to change the game

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L.A. Marathon won’t give trans runners prize money. This past champion wants to change the game

Cal Calamia remembers stepping into his power at the Los Angeles Marathon two years ago.

It was a cool and especially windy March morning, and Calamia had run through a succession of L.A. neighborhoods — Chinatown, Echo Park, Silver Lake and Los Feliz, to start. He cruised by some of his favorite L.A. landmarks, including the Hollywood Walk of Fame, which he’d romanticized as a glittering oasis while growing up in the Midwest in a conservative Republican family. Here in California, “a sanctuary for transgender people” like him, and ensconced by the cheering L.A. Marathon crowds, he felt not only safe, but celebrated.

During one section of the race in Westwood, with about eight miles left to the finish line, energetic spectators on Santa Monica Boulevard huddled onto a concrete median shrieking and waving signs — one read, “You’re running better than our government,” he recalls. Toddlers sat perched on adults’ shoulders, seniors wielded cardboard posters. He says the crush of rippling flags is an image he’ll cherish forever — more pink-blue-and-white-striped trans flags than he’d ever seen in one place.

“Being in this particular race environment knowing there was genuine love and support for me, for people like me, just felt like being held,” Calamia says. “It was really beautiful.”

Calamia is determined to best his personal record — 2:41:59 from the Berlin Marathon in 2024 — at Sunday’s LA Marathon.

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(Josh Edelson / For The Times)

Calamia would go on to win first place in the L.A. Marathon’s nonbinary division that year, clocking in at 2:53:02 — one of myriad victories in his career. Based in San Francisco, Calamia (whose pronouns are they/he and who asked that both be used in this article) is the only nonbinary marathoner ever to podium (finish in a top-three spot) in six of the Abbott World Marathon Majors. They’re also a leading transgender advocate, helping to educate marathon organizers around the world about equity and inclusion — and a poet, a collection of poems inspired by their gender transition, published in 2021.

Calamia hasn’t participated in the L.A. Marathon since that memorable 2024 race, but they hope to reclaim the top spot in the nonbinary division on Sunday. The race, from Dodger Stadium to Century City, is 26.2 miles long; but the fight for equity for trans and nonbinary marathoners across the sport, Calamia says, is a far longer road.

“It’s changing, but we’re not there yet. So, so much more needs to be done in the realm of education,” they say.

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Runners start the 39th Los Angeles Marathon at Dodger Stadium on March 17, 2024.

Runners start the 39th Los Angeles Marathon at Dodger Stadium on March 17, 2024.

(Jason Armond / Los Angeles Times)

Calamia is competing in a moment when transgender athletes are a topic of national political debate.

The Trump administration has been trying to ban transgender athletes from participating in youth sports competitions throughout the country, a battle that is playing out in court. The Supreme Court is considering whether to uphold state bans on transgender athletes competing in girls’ sports in Idaho and West Virginia. In 2025 alone, hundreds of bills were introduced at the state and federal levels to restrict the rights of transgender people — not only targeting their participation in sports, but their medical care and their identity documents.

Within the marathoning world, the introduction of a nonbinary division is relatively new and has been a quickly evolving issue. Trans and nonbinary marathoners, historically, have run in either the category in which they were assigned at birth — in which they didn’t identify personally — or, depending on the marathon, in the category aligned with their self-identified gender. In the latter case, some might be at a disadvantage, others an advantage (trans men, for example, might be physically smaller and weaker, with regard to muscular strength and lung capacity, than the cis men they’re competing against.

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A multiple exposure image that shows the progression of a person running.

Trans marathoner Cal Calamia started running in fifth grade. “It was the first time I felt like I had autonomy over my body,” they say.

(Josh Edelson / For The Times)

The Los Angeles and New York City marathons were the first to introduce nonbinary divisions in 2021. Now all seven Abbott World Marathon Majors — in New York, Boston, Chicago, Tokyo, Berlin, London and Sydney — include a nonbinary division for mass participation runners.

But non-binary runners typically aren’t awarded prize money because there isn’t a category for them in elite divisions (in which where prize money is typically awarded) as there is for cis runners. (The New York City Marathon does offer prize money to nonbinary runners within its New York Road Runners-member general division, as do some local races.)

One reason: Most marathons take their cues from the Monaco-based World Athletics, the international governing body for the World Marathon Majors as well as large-scale road races such as the L.A. Marathon. And in the elite field, “our categorisation of either male or female for entry purposes and results are based on an athlete’s biological sex,” spokesperson Maggie Durand said in an email, adding that the dispersion of prize money is ultimately up to the races.

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Another issue is that the nonbinary category is smaller and therefore less competitive, the L.A. Marathon says. In 2021, zero nonbinary runners crossed the finish line at the L.A. Marathon; 38 runners did in 2024 and 267 did in 2025. This year, the marathon is expecting 150 participants in the category. That represents just 0.54% of registration for the race, which has about 27,000 participants in all. (A portion of registration fees goes toward prize money.)

While the L.A. Marathon doesn’t have a professional nonbinary division with prize money, it does award the top three nonbinary finishers a trophy or a medal as well as inclusion in post-race publicity.

“World Athletics and USA Track & Field set our industry standards and we look to their regulations,” L.A. Marathon spokesperson Meg Treat said. “But at the end of the day, the category is small. And while some of the runners will clock fast times, many of them are going to be finishing alongside our everyday athletes as part of the general field. We’re watching how the competitiveness of that category develops and we’ll evaluate potential changes.”

Calamia, calls it a “chicken and egg issue.” “There’s a lot of, ‘Oh, it’s not competitive enough and too small,’ but how could it be competitive enough if it’s not recognized?”

Calamia, who was assigned female at birth, grew up in a suburb of Chicago in a “loud, conservative household,” as he describes it, the second oldest of four siblings. “There were a lot of people with strong opinions,” he says, and not much tolerance for “anything different,” which he felt inside. He started running cross-country in fifth grade and it brought him a sense of freedom — from the dissonance inside his mind as well as from the house.

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A runner poses with his dog.

Calamia recently became a vegan. “There’s an intersection between transness and veganism,” they say.

(Josh Edelson / For The Times)

“It was the first time I felt like I had autonomy over my body,” he says.

They moved to San Francisco in 2018 and began their gender transition, having top surgery in 2019. Later that year while training, they ran shirtless through the streets of San Francisco as a nonbinary transmasculine athlete and felt more themself than ever, embracing “the in-between.”

“Early in my transition, my goal was, ‘I don’t want to be perceived as a woman. But I’m not quite like these cisgender men, either.’ It took me a lot of work to understand how beautiful occupying that liminal space is instead. Having the nonbinary division in marathons is an extension of that.”

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His family has “come a long way,” but relations remain strained, he says. “They’re not just, ‘We voted for Trump;’ they’re Blue Lives Matter flag up in the yard and Trump bumper stickers and ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ flag and tattoos,” he says. “To try to have a relationship with them is challenging. Because they’re actively voting against not just my rights, but human rights.”

Calamia backed into an activism career when in 2022 he led a campaign pressuring San Francisco’s Bay to Breakers race to let nonbinary participants win awards. (The race was letting the runners register, but not place.) Calamia won that battle — and then took first place in the race days later.

“I was like: ‘Wow, look what we just did. What else can we do?’” he says.

The answer: The San Francisco, Chicago and Boston marathons all introduced nonbinary categories within a year, partly due to Calamia’s efforts. Calamia, would become the San Francisco Marathon’s inaugural nonbinary division winner as well.

Post-victory elation, however, was short-lived: In mid-2023, Calamia had to tirelessly defend their right to use testosterone, which they’d been taking since 2019 as part of their gender transition, to the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency. It ultimately granted them a 10-year therapeutic use exemption so they can continue to compete.

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Early in my transition, my goal was, ‘I don’t want to be perceived as a woman. But I’m not quite like these cisgender men, either.’ It took me a lot of work to understand how beautiful occupying that liminal space is instead. Having the nonbinary division in marathons is an extension of that.

— Cal Calamia

Now the four pillars of Calamia’s career — marathoning, activism/education, writing and community building (they founded a nonbinary run club that meets weekly in the Bay Area) — are working together with the gusto of an elite athlete. But Calamia feels added pressure to win races because it amplifies their advocacy voice.

“None of it works if the sports performance isn’t up to par, because then no one is paying attention,” they say. “But also, I’m putting pressure on myself to try and beat all the women or compete with at least some of the fastest men. Because I don’t want to feel like a charity entry. I’m a fast runner. I want to be recognized as a strong athlete — not as someone who got the chance to be here because ‘we’re so inclusive.’”

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Calamia says he feels a sense of freedom and calm when running. "It's a flow state."

Calamia says he feels a sense of freedom and calm when running. “It’s a flow state.”

(Josh Edelson / For The Times)

With the L.A. Marathon just days away, Calamia is feeling positive about the race. His personal record is 2:41:59 from the Berlin Marathon in 2024 and he hopes to best that. Toward that end, Calamia will do what he always does the day before a race: visit a spa for contrast therapy (between a hot tub and cold plunge) while visualizing every stage of the imminent marathon, its hurdles and eventual successes. On race morning, he’ll eat his usual: a bagel with peanut butter and a banana.

Next up: Calamia will compete in the open division of the Athletic Brewing Ironman 70.3 Oceanside on March 28, with two other trans athletes as his teammates, Schuyler Bailar and Chella Man. And after competing in the Sydney Marathon this August, he’ll run a 100-mile ultramarathon in Arizona in October.

Marathoning, says Abbott World Marathon Majors Chief Operating Officer Danny Coyle, is “one of the most inclusive movements” in sports globally. “If you’re lucky enough to stand on the side of the street on any given race day in the WMM — and some of the big races like Los Angeles — it’s just this melting pot and stream of humanity of all shapes and sizes, all creeds and colors, with one shared objective: to get to the finish line.”

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Calamia, however, says there are still miles ahead until the sport is truly inclusive for trans and nonbinary runners.

“But I love the sport,” they say. “The fact that it’s still evolving is a beautiful thing and I’ve learned so much about myself, and grown so much, because of my relationship with running.”

The L.A. Marathon, they add, plays a central role in the sport’s own evolution.

“L.A. is this place where all these different people from all over the place come together to pursue their dreams, which is inspiring,” they say. “Having nonbinary representation on the course, as well as support from spectators, sets a precedent for other cities around the globe: that no one should have to choose between being who you are and doing what you love.”

A tattoo on a thigh that reads "Eyes up. Look ahead."

Transgender athlete-activist-poet Calamia shows off a tattoo reading, “Eyes up. Look ahead.”

(Josh Edelson / For The Times)

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Acclaimed 20th century philosopher Jürgen Habermas dies at 96

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Acclaimed 20th century philosopher Jürgen Habermas dies at 96

Internationally renowned German philosopher Juergen Habermas speaks to journalists in an auditorium of the Philosophical School of Athens in 2013.

Louisa Gouliamaki/AFP via Getty Images


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Louisa Gouliamaki/AFP via Getty Images

The German philosopher and influential thinker on modernity and democracy Jürgen Habermas died Saturday in Starnberg, Germany at the age of 96.

Habermas’ death was confirmed in a statement on the website of his Berlin-based publisher, Suhrkamp Verlag.

“His work, published by Suhrkamp since the 1960s and translated into more than 40 languages, continues to resonate worldwide,” said the head of the publishing house, Jonathan Landgrebe, in the statement. “We mourn the loss of a significant philosopher, ever-present advisor, and dear friend.”

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For more than 60 years, Habermas helped shape the political discourse in Germany, particularly during the postwar and post-reunification eras.

He was perhaps best known for introducing the concept of the “public sphere” – a space for public discourse beyond state control, and therefore essential to a healthy democracy.

“Germany and Europe have lost one of the most significant thinkers of our time,” noted German Chancellor Friedrich Merz.

Habermas shot to prominence in the mid-20th century as a member of the Frankfurt School, which was critical of capitalism, fascism, communism, and orthodox Marxism.

Throughout his career, he stressed the importance of confronting the Nazi era as uniquely criminal, insisting that postwar-German democracy must recognize and reckon with its guilt.

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Friedrich Ernst Jürgen Habermas was born in 1929 in Düsseldorf into a middle-class Protestant family. Like many children of his generation, he joined the Hitler Youth as a boy and was drafted into the German military in 1944. He soon became a strong critic of the Nazi regime.

After the war, he studied philosophy, history, psychology, German literature, and economics in Göttingen, Zurich, and Bonn. As a student at Göttingen University, Habermas criticized Martin Heidegger, the greatest living German philosopher of the time, for a remark Heidegger had made nearly two decades earlier and never retracted concerning “the inner truth and greatness of the Nazi movement.”

“Habermas was a modern day Aristotle or Hegel for whom no precinct of culture or science was alien and a gifted polemicist and partisan in the great German political debates of the postwar and post-reunification era,” said Matthew Specter, an intellectual historian at Santa Clara University, in an email to NPR. “He was a philosopher who taught Europeans how to ‘learn from disaster’ by committing to the practice of reason and a radical liberal whose thought remains a resource for resisting illiberalism, nationalism and authoritarian currents worldwide.”

Habermas’s lectures and books were famously dense. He taught at, among other institutions, the Universities of Heidelberg and Frankfurt am Main, as well as the University of California, Berkeley, and was director of the Max Planck Institute for the Study of the Life-Conditions of the Scientific-Technical World in Starnberg.

His “Theory of Communicative Action” published in 1981 is perhaps his best known work and is considered a foundation of 20th-century critical theory.

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“Habermas has been able to go into discussions in political theory and sociology and psychology and legal theory and a dozen different disciplines and become one of the dominant voices in each one,” said former Georgetown University president John DeGioia when introducing the influential thinker before a lecture in 2012.

The philosopher won many awards, such as the prestigious Erasmus Prize in 2013, bestowed by the Dutch Praemium Erasmianum Foundation to individuals or institutions for exceptional contributions to European culture, society, and social science.

As lionized as he was, Habermas’s ideas also came under severe scrutiny. Among other issues, he has been criticized over the years for espousing an idealized theory of communication that ignores power imbalances and practical realities.

Habermas never lost his sense of unbridled hope and insistence on democratic ideals. “Democracy depends on the belief of the people that there is some scope left for collectively shaping a challenging future,” he wrote in a 2010 article for The New York Times.

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Remember the art of window displays? This one will keep you lingering in a vibrant L.A. picnic scene

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Remember the art of window displays? This one will keep you lingering in a vibrant L.A. picnic scene

This story is part of Image’s March Outside issue, a celebration of the Los Angeles outdoors and the many lives to be lived under its unencumbered sky.

In a feat of luck that surprises both visitors and me alike, I live in one of those coveted, mysterious and oxymoronic L.A. neighborhoods: a walkable one. Truthfully (I feel almost guilty saying so), it’s more than walkable; my neighborhood is seemingly oriented around pedestrians rather than just accommodating of them. The main street that intercepts the end of my block is tree-lined and buzzing, with generous sidewalks, gleaming (and respected) crosswalks, and wide windowscapes just begging to be strolled and observed. And yet, it’s rare to find a storefront that compels me to pause and look, as so few display anything other than exactly what is on the racks inside.

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For her window display at the new Toast store in West Hollywood, artist Kyna Payawal wanted to entice pedestrians to stay and linger. Her installation evokes what is perhaps the quintessential Angeleno celebration of spring: a shared picnic. Colorful ceramic fruits, vegetables and flowers mingle on a table covered with myriad serving vessels, all handbuilt in Payawal’s studio, which looks out into her abundant kitchen garden. There are odes to farmers market beans, Payawal’s favorite spring vegetable (the pea), and the woven baskets of her Filipino homeland. And of course there is a piñata, in the shape of a sun and studded with local dried pinto beans, to represent the most joyful of picnic activities. The name of Toast’s new collection, “A Shared Table,” was the catalyst behind Payawal’s picnic, and she was inspired by the brand’s indigo and tomato colorways and their relaxed, organic silhouettes. The tablescape is also a quintessential expression of Padma, Payawal’s art practice, which focuses on nourishing conversations and community through food, ceramic and textile craft collaborations.

With the rapturous cacophony this scene brings to mind, it is surprising to learn that Payawal created all of her pieces in silence. Listening to music rushes her work because she is tempted to sculpt or sew or cook to the beat. Instead, she tunes into the work itself. “There’s a real slowness in food and ceramics,” she says. The time it takes for food to grow and clay to dry requires that Payawal pay attention to her craft. “The attention then becomes this form of care and devotion for the work itself, for the land, and then for the people who touch it.” It is the gift of this slowness and attention that she wishes to impart to anyone who passes by the Toast window and accepts her invitation to share a picnic blanket.

Exterior of Toast and Kyna Payawal in the window.
Window install by artist Kyna Payawal at Toast.

I grew up in the Philippines and moved to Los Angeles about 16 years ago. Being Filipina American really shapes my relationship to food and to gathering and care. Growing up in the Philippines, when you enter someone’s home, their first question is, “kumain ka na ba?” Have you eaten? That’s just core to my existence and my DNA. Sharing and offering food has always been that love language that stayed with me. I went to the market daily with our yaya, and we would make fresh, home-cooked meals every single day. And I grew up in a large extended family, eating kamayan feasts together with our hands. We’d often visit our family farm, where my extended family raised pigs, ducks, chickens and whatnot. Experiencing that life cycle of knowing where my food comes from and watching my uncles do the butchering and then eating it the same day through slow roasting was really impactful for me as a kid.

When I got to L.A., I discovered the rich diversity in cuisines and cultures — Mexican, Latino, Persian, Armenian, Korean. I also started cooking for myself and was lucky to be surrounded by a big group of friends who cooked meals together. That was really formative and evolved my world. And the farmers markets here are crazy! We’re so blessed to have everything grow in abundance. The seasonal aspect of food was nailed down for me in L.A. Sure, stuff is always available, but when you go to the farmers market weekly, you then get to know, OK, peas are really in season for spring and tomatoes for summer.

I moved to this house during the pandemic, when people picked up their slow hobbies. Mine was gardening and it really stuck. Food is one of the most direct ways we can have an impact on the climate crisis. If we change, on a larger systemic level, the way we grow, distribute and decompose food, then we’ll be in a much better place. Gardening just made sense for me to learn how to grow food and eat it sustainably.

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And then, of course, I love serving food and sharing food. I seeded the idea of creating Padma to gather people around to address food insecurity and sustainability. Padma was about bringing these kinds of conversations together in a nourishing space — like over a beautiful meal — to invite care and participation. Now I’m interested in how those same questions of sustainability live in everyday rituals like sharing food, making objects slowly and gathering in ways that restore connection.

Artwork by Kyna Payawal
Artwork in progress by Kyna Payawal
Artwork by Kyna Payawal
Artwork by Kyna Payawal
Kyna Payawal sits with her artwork.
Window install at Toast by artist Kyna Payawal.

Spring is my favorite season. I love it. It’s that season where you’re outdoors and paying attention to the native landscape, to the blooming and the fruiting of everything. You can smell it’s spring. And going out to picnic and just slowing down and getting lost in time with people outside is the best thing. For this Toast display, I was inspired to create a sculptural picnic scene inspired by the outdoor gathering cultures of L.A. and the idea of having a shared blanket. The picnic is one of the most accessible ways we come together across different cultures and share the beauty and magnificence of springtime blooming.

I opted for smaller pieces in the installation. They’re abundant — they fill the scene to get people to pause and pay attention to all the different aspects of the pieces. The colors are inspired by what grows in spring in L.A. The yellows are like the palo verde trees that bloom brightly in the streets. The reds are like the red poppies that wrap around hillsides. The textiles are all dyed with botanical dyes.

The teapot piece has pea tendril decor, which alludes to my favorite spring garden vegetable. The fruit cup and slices are a picnic staple from a Mexican fruit cart. The loquats are from the trees that bloom abundantly right now. The lily is one of the first flowers to bloom in spring. And then there are the vibrant lemons of L.A.

I wove the basket from my neighbor’s tree bark. It alludes to Filipino woven bilao — the big, circular ones with all sorts of fiesta food. I put some scarlet runner beans from the Hollywood Farmers Market over it to symbolize the gathering cultures of Native American tribes. In spring, they celebrate abundance, and my version of the bilao is a kind of offering to that.

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The piñata was a collaboration with a family-run piñata house. It’s actually called the Piñata House, and I designed the sun sculpture, and then collaborated with them on making it. I added some beans over it, too. The piñata functions as a focal point into the scene as a whole, and alludes to one of the biggest gathering cultures in L.A., a very joyous scene of celebration. My hope is that it draws people in and invites them to slow down to look at the pieces, and then inspires them to say, “Oh, let’s have a picnic ourselves!”

Portrait of Kyna Payawal holding her artwork.

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‘Wait Wait’ for March 14, 2026: With Not My Job guest John Cusack

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‘Wait Wait’ for March 14, 2026: With Not My Job guest John Cusack

Actor John Cusack arrives at the Los Angeles premiere of Relativity Media’s “The Raven” held at the Los Angeles Theatre on April 23, 2012 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images For Relativity Media)

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This week’s show was recorded in Chicago with host Peter Sagal, guest judge and scorekeeper Alzo Slade, Not My Job guest John Cusack and panelists Rachel Coster, Adam Felber, and Joyelle Nicole Johnson. Click the audio link above to hear the whole show.

Who’s Alzo This Time

Spring Broken; All The President’s Feet; Marty Supreme Jerk?

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Panel Questions

In The Hole At Whole Foods

Bluff The Listener

Our panelists tell three stories about something 30 years in the making, only one of which is true.

Not My Job: John Cusack answers our questions about people who should’ve said nothing

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Legendary actor John Cusack plays our game called, “Say Nothing”. Three stories about people who should have stayed quiet.

Panel Questions

The Worst Photographers; The Happiest Place on Earth and Your Deepest Secret

Limericks

Alzo Slade reads three news-related limericks: Just Churn It; United Against Noise; H2Occino

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Lightning Fill In The Blank

All the news we couldn’t fit anywhere else

Predictions

Our panelists predict what will be the big surprise at this year’s Oscar ceremony.

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