Cooganized and Wet on a Sunday

(How's that for cryptic?)

The New York Road Runners, the organization through which I did all my half-marathons, puts on lots of races throughout the year, one of them being the New York marathon. I am dying to do the marathon. Alas, so is half the running world, meaning that if I enter the lottery it's extremely unlikely I'll be chosen and get to run it. Luckily, NYRR has this great deal called 9+1 that guarantees one entry in the marathon. If you register for 9 of their races and volunteer at 1 during the course of the year you get automatic entry into the marathon the following year. I've registered for two races in April so far, and on Sunday I volunteered at a race in Washington Heights called Coogan's Salsa, Blues, and Shamrocks 5K. I have no idea where the salsa or blues come in, but one of the sponsors of the race owns a restaurant called Coogan's, in past years there was a live band (it rained this year, so perhaps that's why we didn't get to see one) which may account for the Blues, and St. Patrick's Day is sort of soon... Happily, my volunteer duties didn't involve explaining the title to anyone.

Volunteers. I'm 3rd from the left  - Sorry for the wet lens!

I worked coat check on Saturday night and didn't get to sleep until about 4:30 A.M., so you can imagine that when my alarm went off at 6:00 I wasn't too chipper. Brushing my teeth and getting dressed woke me up, though, and by the time a very grumpy Manu joined me on the uptown subway, I was wide awake and looking forward to the race. I'd signed up for the post-race hydration and nutrition station. Decked out in stylish neon orange mesh vests with reflectors, a group of about six of us headed off to fill hundreds paper cups halfway with water. I chatted with a middle-aged man who said he'd been volunteering with NYRR for years. He lives in Brooklyn and had cheerfully risen at 4:00 that morning to make it to the race on time. He knew everyone who walked by, it seemed, and said that Fred Lebow himself had persuaded him to get into running years before, although he preferred shorter races and had never done a half- or full marathon. (See below for information about the legendary Fred Lebow.)

Buff starters

We were soon pulled away from the water tables for guard duty at the starting corrals to ensure that people lined up according to the numbers on their bibs. I immediately volunteered to monitor the competitive runners' section, meaning that I wasn't supposed to let anyone past whose number was higher than 100. I was excited to check out all of the fleetest of the fleet, but first I had 25 minutes to wait. Twenty-five drizzly, chilly minutes, as it had started to rain right about the time I left the water tables. A miserable 15 minutes followed during which I lost touch with my toes one by one. An emcee made announcements no one really seemed to hear and kept asking the drifting crowds if they were ready to "get Cooganized." I watched the runners jealously as they jogged up and down, half to prepare for the race and half to stay warm. At last, the runners began to assemble in the corrals, and I discovered that the pre-race excitement I always feel before the gun isn't limited to the runners alone. I skipped to the side of the course seconds before the start, and watched the elite few in the front explode across the starting line.

As soon as most of the 7,000+ runners were on their way, a short-ish man in a hat with an accent shooed us to the center of the course, where we were supposed to ensure that outgoing runners stayed to our right and incoming runners headed back toward the finish line stayed to our left. It was pretty exciting watching the first two finishers blowing towards the end, neck and neck. No one broke the record that day, but the first-place finisher still wound up with a time somewhere around 14 minutes. I always enjoy watching races. It was interesting to see the differences between the stride lengths, energy levels, and body types of these runners from the people I see in half- and full marathons. They take huge steps, have much stronger finishing kicks, and tend to be bulkier and more muscular than the long distance runners.

I was originally supposed to have manned the fruit and bagel tables after the race was over - really, whose carbohydrate stores are so depleted after running three miles that they are in immediate need of a bagel? - but Hat-and-Accent Guy chased several of us across the finish line where we were supposed to keep people moving towards the water tables. Next, we broke down the metal barriers that had held the onlookers in place, emptied leftover water bins, and folded tables. It continued to rain on and off, but now that I was moving again it wasn't so bad. Finally, the kids' races started, and we got to watch tiny competitors zig-zagging their way along a short course until they reached the finish line, where a cadre of police were handing out huge medals. One little girl was leading her heat pretty handily until she crashed headlong into a traffic cone taller than she was and went sprawling. Whoops. The whole scene was hilarious. Shortly thereafter we handed in our vests and trudged back to the subway, which transported me to a hot shower and one of the most satisfying naps I can remember taking.

Competitors from last years kids' race, who look both adorable and very dry.

I always noticed that there were a lot of volunteers at NYRR events and enjoyed munching the post-race apples, but I never really appreciated how much work goes into coordinating these races. We put in a solid 4 hours, and that's not taking into account the work that went into ordering food and paper cups, arranging for t-shirts and medals, setting up and hauling away portable toilets and metal fencing, supervising the baggage drops, stopping traffic... The race entry fees I used to gripe about suddenly seem like a bargain.

Fred Lebow

Lebow, an immigrant to New York from Romania, was an avid runner and founder of the New York marathon. The first one had only 55 competitors and took place in 1970. While checking my facts just now, I was surprised to learn that he finished the first marathon in well over four hours; I guess I'd always assumed he was a bit more competitive than that. (Of course, the poor guy was almost 40 then, and that was in the days before Hammer Gel packets.) There's a statue of him monitoring his watch on the east side of the park which I run by nearly every time I go out. The statue is moved every year to the finish line of the marathon, however, so he can be present as the runners come across.