I considered today my first day of training for the Kyoto Marathon, which will be four months from now on March 10th. I didn't go for a long run through Prospect Park, but I did go running through Staten Island with a backpack full of supplies for people who need help after Sandy's devastation. Starting this way, to physically and mentally prepare for the Kyoto race, seems fitting since the Kyoto Marathon was created to raise funds for the Great East Japan Reconstruction after the earthquake and tsunami in 2011. You see, runners really aren't dicks.
I held the really unpopular opinion that the NYC marathon didn't deserve all the vitriol it was getting from what seemed like everyone and everyone's facebook page. Almost every media outlet was reporting on the gigantic generators being set up in Central Park while showing images of Staten Island and its destroyed homes. Finally there was something to put Staten Island on the radar, which was very much needed. The cost to the runners of not getting to run the marathon is something I don't think fair to measure because everyone's attachment to the race is different. No doubt that a lot of runners were in shock when the announcement was made just two days before the race.
This might seem trivial to most but if I were to have to evacuate my home and had 5 minutes to do so, I would grab my animals and a couple of important personal possessions, namely my marathon medals. If you come visit me at my home I will probably spend at least a few awkward minutes showing you my medals and explaining what each one meant to me. Forty-five thousand runners didn't get to take home a medal today. Feeling this disappointment for the runners and feeling compassion for folks in NYC and beyond who are struggling to repair their lives after Sandy, are not two mutually exclusive things; I can feel both of these things. And volunteering today really helped me solidify my love for both runners and communities in need.
In the wake of the controversy, a group was organized over the course of two days called New York Runners in Support of Staten Island. Their goal was to organize a group of runners to show up with backpacks of supplies and use their legs and lungs to deliver them to people in need. It became obvious throughout the day yesterday that we would not only be delivering supplies but we would also be asked by people to help clean up and repair their homes. I needed to do this and signed up yesterday. My friends Betsy and Shamala joined up too, and Shamala and her husband Paul organized a huge group of people from Warren Street Runners. We met at the Staten Island Ferry this morning at 8:30 and in addition to the things we brought, our group met up with some folks who had a car full of supplies and couldn't get to the island. We were in Staten Island by 9:30 to hand off the additional donations, and then we took off in small groups using maps and directions provided by the organizers of the event.
Running with a backpack is hard! I felt like a firefighter running with the determination to put out a fire, albeit at a slow trot. The whole way inland from the ferry seemed to be uphill. The neighborhoods were quiet except for some cars on the road. We passed gas stations that were obviously closed and one that had a long line that had to be taking hours to get through. We passed huge houses with beautifully landscaped yards that I was told were mobster houses, and I immediately pictured Al Pacino. But I was starting to wonder if we were in the right place. Other than the occasional person we'd pass who would say "Thanks for coming, runners," it didn't seem like we were doing any good and we'd been running for an hour. It's true that I didn't know what to expect, but after seeing all the cars driving by I started to think of the running as less of a necessity and more of a symbolic gesture of giving a damn.
We finally turned at an intersection and started heading toward the beach, and we reached what we thought was the Midland neighborhood. We'd been running for about five miles or so but it felt to me like 15. We happened upon a community center where we went to see if we could at least unload our bags. The friendliest group of volunteers, who looked like they hadn't slept in days, greeted us with, "Are you the runners? Do you want some soup? Do you want a sandwich?" Dozens of bags of clothes lined the hallway of the center. The woman in charge, who had dark circles under her eyes and kept apologizing for being so overwhelmed, explained to us that the space was going to become a polling station the next day and they had to get everything out by 6 am. I watched her turn people away who kept bringing more carloads of clothes. It became clear to me that clothes weren't what they really needed.
We were quickly sent out with an address in hand of a family who needed help cleaning up debris. Stocked with bottles of water and a bag of bagels from the center we went in search of the house, running into other runners for the first time along the way and directing them to the community center. The house looked alright from the front (it had a statue of Mary in the front yard and I couldn't help but wonder if it'd ridden out the storm in the grass by the front stoop), but people were coming from the back with pieces of the basement. The backyard was a disaster area, and the basement had been flooded. I later learned that houses in the neighborhood cannot get their power back on until they can get the wiring inspected and then approved by their insurance companies. Also, if a family's house does not pass the inspections it will be labeled condemned. Betsy, Shamala, I, and a couple of other people that made up our group started taking everything out of the backyard and putting it in the front yard. After awhile a garbage truck came and we started putting stuff directly into the garbage truck (too bad this was sad work because garbage trucks are really really neat!). Everything had to go.
I still feel bittersweet about the day. I'm glad I was able to help, but I don't feel like I helped enough given all the work that has to be done. We passed house after house of families going through the same process of throwing everything out on the sidewalk, and it was clearly neighbor helping neighbor as we saw no sign of FEMA or the Red Cross. One house in the neighborhood was set up as a station where people could come for supplies and chicken soup (enough to feed 100 people we were told). I made a note to myself: the next time there is a hurricane, people need work gloves, masks, cleaning supplies, toilet paper, food, and toothbrushes and toothpaste. Socks and hats were also welcome."What can I do to help?" is also needed.
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I held the really unpopular opinion that the NYC marathon didn't deserve all the vitriol it was getting from what seemed like everyone and everyone's facebook page. Almost every media outlet was reporting on the gigantic generators being set up in Central Park while showing images of Staten Island and its destroyed homes. Finally there was something to put Staten Island on the radar, which was very much needed. The cost to the runners of not getting to run the marathon is something I don't think fair to measure because everyone's attachment to the race is different. No doubt that a lot of runners were in shock when the announcement was made just two days before the race.
This might seem trivial to most but if I were to have to evacuate my home and had 5 minutes to do so, I would grab my animals and a couple of important personal possessions, namely my marathon medals. If you come visit me at my home I will probably spend at least a few awkward minutes showing you my medals and explaining what each one meant to me. Forty-five thousand runners didn't get to take home a medal today. Feeling this disappointment for the runners and feeling compassion for folks in NYC and beyond who are struggling to repair their lives after Sandy, are not two mutually exclusive things; I can feel both of these things. And volunteering today really helped me solidify my love for both runners and communities in need.
In the wake of the controversy, a group was organized over the course of two days called New York Runners in Support of Staten Island. Their goal was to organize a group of runners to show up with backpacks of supplies and use their legs and lungs to deliver them to people in need. It became obvious throughout the day yesterday that we would not only be delivering supplies but we would also be asked by people to help clean up and repair their homes. I needed to do this and signed up yesterday. My friends Betsy and Shamala joined up too, and Shamala and her husband Paul organized a huge group of people from Warren Street Runners. We met at the Staten Island Ferry this morning at 8:30 and in addition to the things we brought, our group met up with some folks who had a car full of supplies and couldn't get to the island. We were in Staten Island by 9:30 to hand off the additional donations, and then we took off in small groups using maps and directions provided by the organizers of the event.
Running with a backpack is hard! I felt like a firefighter running with the determination to put out a fire, albeit at a slow trot. The whole way inland from the ferry seemed to be uphill. The neighborhoods were quiet except for some cars on the road. We passed gas stations that were obviously closed and one that had a long line that had to be taking hours to get through. We passed huge houses with beautifully landscaped yards that I was told were mobster houses, and I immediately pictured Al Pacino. But I was starting to wonder if we were in the right place. Other than the occasional person we'd pass who would say "Thanks for coming, runners," it didn't seem like we were doing any good and we'd been running for an hour. It's true that I didn't know what to expect, but after seeing all the cars driving by I started to think of the running as less of a necessity and more of a symbolic gesture of giving a damn.
We finally turned at an intersection and started heading toward the beach, and we reached what we thought was the Midland neighborhood. We'd been running for about five miles or so but it felt to me like 15. We happened upon a community center where we went to see if we could at least unload our bags. The friendliest group of volunteers, who looked like they hadn't slept in days, greeted us with, "Are you the runners? Do you want some soup? Do you want a sandwich?" Dozens of bags of clothes lined the hallway of the center. The woman in charge, who had dark circles under her eyes and kept apologizing for being so overwhelmed, explained to us that the space was going to become a polling station the next day and they had to get everything out by 6 am. I watched her turn people away who kept bringing more carloads of clothes. It became clear to me that clothes weren't what they really needed.
We were quickly sent out with an address in hand of a family who needed help cleaning up debris. Stocked with bottles of water and a bag of bagels from the center we went in search of the house, running into other runners for the first time along the way and directing them to the community center. The house looked alright from the front (it had a statue of Mary in the front yard and I couldn't help but wonder if it'd ridden out the storm in the grass by the front stoop), but people were coming from the back with pieces of the basement. The backyard was a disaster area, and the basement had been flooded. I later learned that houses in the neighborhood cannot get their power back on until they can get the wiring inspected and then approved by their insurance companies. Also, if a family's house does not pass the inspections it will be labeled condemned. Betsy, Shamala, I, and a couple of other people that made up our group started taking everything out of the backyard and putting it in the front yard. After awhile a garbage truck came and we started putting stuff directly into the garbage truck (too bad this was sad work because garbage trucks are really really neat!). Everything had to go.
I still feel bittersweet about the day. I'm glad I was able to help, but I don't feel like I helped enough given all the work that has to be done. We passed house after house of families going through the same process of throwing everything out on the sidewalk, and it was clearly neighbor helping neighbor as we saw no sign of FEMA or the Red Cross. One house in the neighborhood was set up as a station where people could come for supplies and chicken soup (enough to feed 100 people we were told). I made a note to myself: the next time there is a hurricane, people need work gloves, masks, cleaning supplies, toilet paper, food, and toothbrushes and toothpaste. Socks and hats were also welcome."What can I do to help?" is also needed.
Betsy and I with our backpacks
Runners waiting for the ferry
Running up a hill
The Community Center
At the Community Center
Getting directions
Shamala doing some heavy lifting