I'm IN! Volunteering at the Celebrate Israel Run

This month I ran my 9th race of 2013 and volunteered at the Run to Celebrate Israel. According to NYRR's rules, that means I've qualified for the 2014 marathon! I qualified last year for the 2013 marathon - which I'll run in November - in the same way.

I always like volunteering at NYRR races. This one was a four-miler on an exceedingly hot morning. I showed up at Central Park at 5:45 A.M. with, I thought, plenty of time to spare. I hadn't read the email very carefully, though, and had to wander around for about 20 minutes before I found the volunteer check-in tent. This was fine by me. The park was gently warm, quiet, and still. A lone cyclist sped silently by as I crossed the road that encircles the park, but once I entered the center, time seemed to slow down. Birds hopped lazily from branch to branch, and occasionally I'd stroll by someone sleeping on a bench. Once I saw a couple sitting on a large boulder; they were murmuring softly to each other and dressed in what they'd worn the night before, watching morning glide over the distant rooftops. Moments like this are rare in New York, though apparently all one has to do is get up very early to find them.

By contrast, the volunteer staging area was abuzz with activity. I'd signed up for start/finish marshal. I always pick this job because I love the short, spunky Ethiopian ex-runner named Alem Kahsay who always leads this group. This was my third time volunteering with him, though he manages groups of about 20 each week and so didn't recognize me. I showed my photo ID to the check-in lady, then found a man holding a sign that said "Start/Finish" and settled in to wait. One of my fellow volunteers was a man who appeared to be Japanese. While the rest of us were wearing running shorts and t-shirts, he was dressed in slacks, dress shoes, a short-sleeved button-down shirt, and a tie. His hair was neatly parted and combed. He was busily photographing everything in sight. He took pictures of each of the signs, captured the group of volunteers from various angles, and stood in front of things (trucks, tents, trees) and stuck his arm out to snap his own picture.

Secure backpack

After everyone had checked in and helped themselves to water and coffee, the volunteer coordinator made a brief speech about race security. Since Boston, things have changed at NYRR races. For starters, though spectators can't be prevented from carrying bags, runners, staff, and volunteers are not allowed to. We were to stop anyone violating this rule, or to call for back-up immediately if we felt things looked too suspicious for us to intervene. NYRR had gotten around this rule by buying a bunch of clear backpacks for its staff. We were, the official said, NYRR's eyes and ears, and were to report anything at all that seemed strange.

We split into our groups; mine contained about 25 people. Alem introduced himself to us as a formerly fast runner, gave us a few instructions, then lead us to the start, pointing out the finish area, the first aid tent, and the runner baggage check area along the way. We reached the starting area with a few minutes to kill, and so he shared highlights from his running career with us (marathoner for Ethiopia, among the top-ten local finishers of the New York marathon several times, winner of four out of five New York Borough half-marathons, etc.) and told us that now he is a coach. He gave us advice about pacing ourselves and drinking water and shared an anecdote about his biggest marathon disaster which occurred because he didn't do either of those things. He also said that those of us hoping to run the marathon needed to do at least three or four twenty-mile-plus days to be really prepared. (Most training programs advise one day like that.) Then he told us to stay off our cell phones so he didn't get into trouble later and sent us to our stations. I was part of a crew helping runners to cross the running/biking path without causing collisions. We directed people to check-in, baggage, and the starting corrals, and in no time the corrals were loaded, the American and Israeli anthems had been sung, and the gun sounded at 8:00 sharp.

...and they're off!

After we cheered for the runners fora  few minutes, Alem gathered us up and we headed toward the finish, where I was installed in the finish chute. My job was to keep traffic moving to ease chute congestion as runners crossed the finish line. The first guy came in about 20 minutes later. Finish times were slow, but on a day as hot as this one was already, I wasn't surprised. The runners looked miserable, though a fair number of them thanked us for volunteering, and some of them gave us un-asked for high fives. We cheered for them and told them they'd done a great job as they staggered past us. An NYRR employee behind me grimly clutched a ziplock bag of cat litter. "It's slow today," he told me after runners had been coming in for half an hour. "Lots of puking on hot days?" I asked. "Oh yeah. Especially when they drink orange juice. The orange juice is a killer. All that acid." I was more grateful than ever for my college education which exempted me from jobs like being the NYRR vomit sprinkler. Eventually he got his time to shine - several people spewed as they crossed the finish line and he dutifully took care of business. Less vigilant was the policewoman who looked hot and bored in her full uniform. She leaned against a metal barricade, moving slowly along it to follow the shade. There are more police than ever before at these races now, and there are always at least a few walking around with bomb-sniffing dogs. It's certainly changed the climate.

Amped-up security

Some of the top finishers were rangy 12-year-old boys who reminded me of lanky jack rabbits. Toward the back of the pack were kids of a different stripe. NYRR puts a lot of time and money into getting young people, particularly from at-risk communities, to run, and lots of them were out today. I often see them on the race courses. They're still sort of getting the hang of things; you'll see them streak by like comets and then you'll pass them again five minutes later as they walk slowly along the edge of the course, doubled over with side cramps. As often as not, five minutes later they'll streak by you again. Pacing is an art, apparently. I was pleased to see a lot of these kids waddling across the finish line, even it did take them an hour. Most of them were overweight and pouring sweat, but when I congratulated them on finishing the race, they beamed at me and thanked me politely. Four miles is pretty significant for a little kid, even if the kid is, er, not so little.

When our throats were raw, we were shepherded over to the kids' races, where boys and girls of two years old and up were split into groups and told to run for the finish line about 20 yards away. Some of them had difficulty maintaining a straight line. Some burst into tears and refused to move. Some pumped their tiny arms ferociously. It was hilarious. Our job was twofold: We were to ensure that no parent picked up a child without the appropriate claim ticket (this bizarre practice was to prevent kidnapping on our watch) and to hand out Israeli propaganda. We distributed DVDs with names like Big Bird Learns about Sukkot, stickers of the Hebrew alphabet, and Hebrew language activity books. The kids grabbed it all greedily, even little Latino kids being escorted by crucifix-wearing mothers.

After a little over four hours of "work," we were released. We went back to the volunteer tent, checked out, collected our bags, and were given very cool t-shirts in exchange for our efforts. I went home and took a two-hour nap to recover from the early morning and the heat. Running an NYRR race is better than volunteering at an NYRR race. But volunteering is a close second.