On meditation and service

Marathon training and preparation does not merely center around preparing the body. Sure, one needs a really good pair (or twelve) of shoes, a training plan, dialed in nutrition, weight training and ample rest and recovery as that body begins the long arduous process of building tolerance and strength. There is also a mental component to training as well. Long hours alone, running, week after week, day after day, wears on the psyche; there is sometimes just too much time to think. I have found mindfulness meditation a beautiful complement to my training; it not only allows me to fold into the practice of long spells of silence, but to also become more aware of my body as it begins to build that tolerance necessary for the final race distance. I found many meditations on the free Insight Meditation application. Not only does the site have guided meditations for training, but for visualization, and motivation. After listening to Emily Saul’s meditation before beginning last year’s marathon, I appreciate those minutes listening to a guided meditation, specifically about running.  As running involves the lungs, and the breath, any moments we take to deepen or increase our lung capacity and VO2 Max are fruitful moments. In addition to my physical and spiritual marathon preparation, each year I begin to earn credit towards the future race. For NYRR’s 9+1 program, that includes volunteering at one race during the year, an opportunity for service which supports the community that has enveloped and sustained me through my running journey.

I have been volunteering at the United Half Marathon for the past four years. When I have been lucky enough to gain entry into the race I will spend time at the Expo, distributing race materials to the expectant runners. When I have not gained entry, I volunteer at the finish line in Central Park. Volunteering for NYRR has been a gift; I have made new friends, and participated in the sport I love, contributing to the vast operational effort required to sustain our running community. After all, runners are special people, we come together to run through the streets, usually just for the adventure and the free tee shirt! I enjoy connecting with these racers as they are either gearing up towards their goal race or celebrating their final accomplishment. This is usually a positive experience for me, and I have maintained the stance that runners are a unique breed of athlete. This year’s volunteer assignment however, proved to be a trying experience, taxing in ways I did not expect (although I should have). My stint at the finish line this year should not reflect poorly on NYRR; they were handling a plethora of  circumstantial challenges that made for a difficult day. 

This year, more than 30,000 (30,299 to be exact) runners made it from Prospect Park in Brooklyn to Central Park in Manhattan, striding over the Brooklyn Bridge, through Times Square and finally, into . This year I was stationed in the post race bag check area, which proved to be an athletic achievement in its own right (my body felt the bending, lifting, and time on feet for the entirety of the 6 hour shift). We would match up bib numbers with checked bags, which had been transported from Brooklyn to Central Park that morning. With not enough time to fully organize the bags by bib numbers before the first waves of runners appeared, this experience took a challenging turn. Throngs of cold runners waved bibs at our group of volunteers, shouting out their numbers as we scrambled to find the 4 to 5 digits in a sea of clear bags. Each time I would repeat a number and begin my search, the shouts proved to be a distraction, the numbers magically transposed in my head and I would have to search for the one I was helping out of dozens who were pushing into the plastic barriers. One racer climbed the gate to search for his own bag, as the shouts, the anger, and the frustration mounted. I had woken at 4am that morning to travel to the city, and I was overwhelmed and filled with anxiety as the situation unraveled. What began as a beautiful day in the city ended on a discordant note. My much cherished belief, that all runners were kind, that we were all a part of this greater community, that belief was a receding ideal, which was further cemented as I read comments (never a good idea) by runners disparaging the nonbinary winner of the race, Daniel Mata. I realized that runners were not a homogeneous group. 

Runners are human. Not all runners are kind, considerate, and complimentary. We get cold, tired, sore, overheated; in other words, we push through and put our physical bodies through challenges (yes even those of us in the back of the pack), but that does not mean that cruelty is condoned. Those slower runners, or charity runners who have worked to raise thousands of dollars to mobilize vital resources for underserved communities or causes, have a right to be there.  Speed and prowess in the sport does not equate with participation. We are runners because we run. Yes, it takes me longer to run a race,  but my slower pace just means that I am out there, pounding the pavement for much longer. I too am sore after a marathon, I too get up early each morning to run, I too have the right to experience a race and not be mocked and ridiculed for my time. 

When I return to mindfullness, when I return to the breath, my connection to the other inhabitants here on Planet Earth, when I return to what we have in common, the roads we walk (at different paces) together, I can allow myself to connect to the discordance of humanity. We can be cruel. We are cruel.  We are also blind to cruelty. Those runners shouting, pushing, and bemoaning their misfortune, those runners are me when I am hungry, angry, lonely, or tired. And while I still need to amend my initial belief to “many runners are kind,” I can acknowledge that all runners are human, and just as capable of hostility and vitriol as the rest of our species. The pedestal has been rightly toppled. Now to plan my next race… 

#FRNYPrideRun