post-race letdown

Well, I'm back from my day of volunteerism at the ING NY Marathon. In a few ways, it was a satisfying day - and certainly informative. As I wrote before, I will have no tribulations come next year about the logistics of race-day.

But right now, I'm feeling rather let down and disappointed. My position today was not nearly as useful as it should have been, or could have been. There were some communication issues and as a result both the guy next to me on the ham radio and myself ended up feeling about as useful as extra spleens. When you're walking around in an ING jacket and have credentials around your neck, you'd better have information. Whether walking or sitting behind a table, you ARE a helpdesk. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to help in the way either Dr. Maharam or I envisioned. These things will be addressed at the appropriate levels over the next few weeks as the various supervisors go through their post-mortem. For me, what transpired today - as well as some of the vents of the previous three days - have exposed some of the holes in the structure of the Marathon. It is not a perfect setup - but I don't think people realize HOW imperfect. Certainly the major needs and goals get accomplished. 36,894 runners have completed the course as of this writing. Nobody has died that I know of. The vast majority had a pleasant, happy, life-changing experience.

Logistics needs work, particularly communication between supervisors, staff, and volunteers. I will NOT go into the details here; they are not for public consumption. But they are details which will not please the race and medical directors, I suspect, and things will be set right for next time - of that I'm sure.

In the meantime, it was a frustrating day for other reasons. I wanted to volunteer to support the runners - and might have felt fulfilled on that count if I'd been able to do my job effectively. But as I was not, I found myself dwelling on that fact that for the last two years - while being completely uninvolved in NYRR - I was out there cheering the runners on in Brooklyn. But this year, with the best of intentions, ended up in a place where not only could I not cheer the runners on, I couldn't even see them run. Nor could I even hear the cheers of the crowd at the finish line or at Columbus Circle! I saw thousands of runners go by - walking - after they had retrieved their bags and were strolling the Family Reunion area looking for their rides home. All I could manage were many hearty "congratulations!" and to inquire with runners if they felt all right. I couldn't even help them if they weren't - I was not at a med tent and I'm not a medical technician of any type. In fact, due to regulations (all based on wise thinking I admit) I had to deny water to a couple of runners or family members of runners in distress who were pleading for some of the water I had at my station. Concerns of hyponutremia and all that. Fortunately, I was able to point to the Tent 7, about 50 yards away catty-corner from me, and insist they see the doctor in that tent, who I learned was an emergency room physician. These runners - ALL the runners on the course - were really in the best of medical hands. I am impressed with the field of physicians and specialists Dr. Maharam has assembled.

But I digress. I just felt pretty useless and ineffectual. I couldn't solve anybody's problems and I couldn't give them useful information. I would have been of more use to the runners, perhaps, screaming myself hoarse out here on 4th ave in Brooklyn where I live. They do say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

I'm also afraid. I watched the faces of the runners as the day progressed. The leaders and the sub-3 hour marathoners all came in fast, clean; nothing but shoes, shorts, shirt, and a thousand-yard stare, as if looking forward to the next run. The 3 to 3-1/2 group began to have an inwardly reflective look - as if reviewing their race and finding flaws to improve on next time. This look could be seen up through the 4-hour marathoners, though looks of pure joy were also to be seen. Joy, satisfaction, and "wasn't that a good, solid run" were prevalent from 3-1/2 to 4-1/2 hour runners. After that, the looks of fatigue became more obvious, then looks of shock started trickling in. This all got worse and worse until - as I was leaving at 6 p.m. - the stragglers crossing the finish line were walking zombies. They looked as empty and as spent and as forlorn as a child who'd just found out there is no Santa Claus; like there would be no tomorrow. These people - still all finishers! - looked as if this were an experience to be remembered only as painful, woefully drawn out, and cripplingly cruel. It can feel like that to anyone I suppose, but it LOOKED like that on these seven- and eight-hour finishers. What I have to remember is that my own first finish was NOT that bad, even though I was in pain. My next finish will be MUCH better and I devoutly hope I never look like that coming in after a race. To all who have yet to run their first marathon, and who are observing at the finish line, I strongly advise LEAVING after the five-hour group has come in, no later.

And now that I have THAT off my chest, I want to send out a HUGE and HEARTY congrats to Derek and Danny, both of whom ran decent races, Danny for his first marathon! I know, Derek, you're disappointed in your time and you have a right to be. I am still in awe of your skills. And Danny, I had you pegged as a five-hour marathon and you came in well under that. Given your leg problems and your recent cold or flu symptoms, I think you did a damn fine job!

To all the other brave bloggers who ran today; I salute you. I can't wait 'til next year.