Just got back from Central Park where I volunteered with the Red Cross to assist the medical teams at the New York Marathon.
Our job was to be spotters in the post-race area watching the runners as they came from the finish line to where UPS trucks were lined up to give them back their belongs collected in Staten Island at the start of the race. We basically kept an eye out for anyone who looked like they needed assistance and then either escorted them to the medical tent or called for a medical team to come pick them up.
We had a lifeguard stand where one person could sit and watch the crowd from above. Everyone else was fanned out on both sides of our designated area to go to someone either they spotted or were directed to by the person in the lifeguard seat.
We didn't get the top elite runners or the wheelchair athletes because they exited in a separate area. But the first wave of runners were serious athletes and most of their problems were leg or arm cramps. But, after them it seemed to be the runners who had pushed themselves the hardest and that middle group made me wonder why people even run marathons. They showed up around the 3:30 to 4:30 hour mark.
Some were really in agony with leg cramps, others were throwing up, and still others were just disoriented. Our team didn't have any life-threatening situations, though we did have to call for medics a few times.
The next wave of runners appeared to be those who had paced themselves better. They didn't seem to have as much of an issue with severe cramping.
I had to help a few runners who couldn't perform the simplest of tasks because it seemed that their bodies were too tired or too sore for small motor skills. I loosened and retied a Canadian runner's shoes (he just wasn't able to either bend over or crouch down to do it himself.) This big strong runner asked me if I could open his bottle of Gatorade for him, which I thought was pretty funny and another asked for a scissors to open his bag of salted almonds which I just ripped open for him.
There were runners who wore funny hats or bunny ears and a couple of guys in drag. I loved the Dutch runner with the little Dutch hat and matching pigtails. I shouted from the lifeguard chair "you got any chocolate?" And he shook his head and laughed. "Or maybe a Heineken?" I added.
I spoke a lot of Spanish and helped some runners from Mexico and Argentina.
There was an Israeli runner who needed a moment to rest and stretch in our area and I stayed with him a little until he was ready to keep walking. A guy wearing a yarmulke walked by and I yelled out "mazel tov" and then "yesher koach" (may you have strength) and then I got a huge grin.
The runners were so nice. We cheered and applauded for them as they walked by and shouted out congratulations in the different languages our group knew (Spanish, French, Mandarin, Cantonese, a little Hebrew and a little Italian). They shouted back "thank you for volunteering!"
One man with the French flag painted on his cheek turned to us with a big smile and said "New York people, you are the best!" and the rest of the runners around him cheered.
Recent Comments