Run, Interrupted

As the week unfolded post Hurricane Sandy, the inner torment of my friends and fellow runners grew.  The storm damage was worse than we feared.  Many of us were lucky, eating Thai food in Park Slope, watching dvds in the warmth of our not-flooded homes.  Tuesday came around and as I celebrated my 35th birthday out at a bar in the neighborhood, it appeared the city took a wallop, but would bounce back in time for Sunday's race.  The mayor agreed. But he was wrong.

Storm run at about noon on Monday, maybe 6 hours before the eye hit the coast

Bloomberg declared that he'd be happy if restoration of power and the MTA took only a few days.  In the same breath, he suggested the Marathon should go on.  By Wednesday, the true destruction of the storm was being discovered and the casualty numbers increased.  The inner debate amongst my running friends had already begun.  Should I run on Sunday? Is it right? Many of my friends asked this question. I could feel the inner conflict brewing in them.  I jumped in the debate suggesting that the race would benefit the city economically, which is no doubt true. And pushing forward would help the healing process. But how about the resources needed to hold the race?  And was holding this celebration of human will disrespectful to a city still reeling?  That afternoon, the mayor confirmed the race would go on.  Some felt relief to finally have an answer, but no relief came for that knot in the pit of their stomachs- or to mine.

I ran to work on Thursday morning to avoid the troubles via MTA or car.  I was confronted three times and told, "They better not hold that marathon if I don't have any power yet."  Bloomberg, I'm sure, was hoping for this event to be unifying for the city, but that was not what was developing.  Already conflicted runners were now becoming the target of the city's frustration.  That inner conflict became inner torment in many.  I couldn't focus on my daily job.  I needed to get out and help this city get back to right.  I needed to do this immediately, and definitely before Sunday's race.  I couldn't imagine feeling this way come Marathon day- the day I describe as a New York City holiday.

I urged my marathon friends to run on Sunday for the city and to avoid thinking that *not* running the race would be helpful.  Rather than be passive, be proactive- get out there and help.  Many of them had already done so days before.  This race was going to go on, so we had to make the best of it.  Where do we start?

This running blog is about to turn into a Sandy Relief blog...

I started Thursday night.  Saira and I made an attempt to deliver a few bags of canned goods freshly picked from our respective cabinets.  We first headed toward Red Hook, because it was the closest, and because I knew of the location thanks to the help of my friends. Alison created a Facebook group that would serve as a how-to guide in serving during the recovery.  It has proven to be an amazing resource.  Unfortunately, by 9:30PM, it seemed the Red Hook drop off spot was closed, so we made our way toward St. Jacobi Church in Sunset park, where we discovered Occupy Sandy.

The site was bustling with activity, even at that hour.  They were receiving donations and sorting them appropriately.  We were greeted with a smile and when I asked about us coming back in the morning, they were thrilled, even more so when I offered up my car with 3/4 of a tank of gas.  They could use us.  I was happy.  That knot started to loosen.

St. Jacobi Church- the Occupy Sandy hub in Sunset Park (taken by Jeremy Zilar)

Saira and I arrived back at Jacobi Church after breakfast and were fast put to work preparing food.  They had a pick up scheduled in about an hour and we, along with a couple dozen other volunteers, were preparing sandwiches.  More donations came in.  Then more people.  Lots more.  Too much, even.  There weren't enough tasks.  We found ourselves in dish-washing duty for a couple hours, which I was happy about.  It was steady work.  And really, that's all most Americans ask for, right?

Lara, my college girlfriend, was then suddenly next to me.  It was great running into her.  I wasn't surprised.  We've run into each other in random places in the city.  This one probably made more sense than any.  Her heart led here here.  As did mine.

After noon at some point I was summoned by one of the coordinators and dispatched to the Rockaways.  My mission- to stuff my car with as many supplies and volunteers as I could and get to the St. Francis School on 129th Street and Rockaway Beach to lend a hand.  So Saira and I, joined by Jennifer from Connecticut (took a 4 day weekend to come volunteer in NYC), Andrey (from Bensonhurst) and Jeremy (a NY Times staffer) piled into the car stuffed with blankets and diapers and headed out.

The drive there was a tour of destruction.  We hopped on the Belt Parkway and after passing the Verrazano, we had an open view of destroyed boardwalk, washed out asphalt and guardrails, and tons of deposited sand, left by the surge.  As we crossed the bridge into Rockaway, we could see sand covering all the streets.  It was eerily quiet.  The power was out.  The roadway was collapsing in some spots.  I turned the pop music off.  It didn't seem appropriate.  We drove by washed out possessions piled high in front of flooded out homes.  And we passed mounds burned debris, piled in front of the ruins of burned out homes.  There was a lot of gasping in the car. Jeremy took these photos while we were there.

St. Francis was swarmed with trucks and cars making drops.  Dozens of people were lending a hand- many of them locals.  We were told to contact Dean or Steve by our dispatcher at Jacobi.  Dean suggested some things we could help out with- sorting clothes, canvassing the area to let people know the relief spot was there, carrying things, or even delivering MREs (meals ready to eat) to anyone who seemed to need them.

Dean gives us direction at St. Francis School in the Rockaways (taken by Jeremy Zilar)

There was definitely a demand for help at this joint and I was quickly roped into a train of people unloading water and food from a huge truck.  Soon after, I found myself directing traffic between those donating and picking up.  I helped load an unload other vehicles.  And at some point that afternoon I met Yunice.  She was another coordinator at the St. Francis site.  She was coordinating with FEMA and I found myself helping her fill FEMAs little car full of supplies to take down to 92nd street.  We were told they were pretty desperate for supplies.  I offered to fill my car to bring more down and Yunice decided to come scope that site out.

On the way, Yunice pointed out her parents' apartment building, one of the Dayton Towers.  She described what she saw during the storm and how she felt- cars being washed around by powerful waves and the fear of death.  She had actually come back to be with her parents rather than evacuate.  She hadn't driven around yet and was shocked to see the destruction of her childhood home. 

When we arrived at 92nd Street, what we found was basically two young women manning a table, trying to dole out goods to people as orderly and fairly as possible.  FEMA had a big truck that was used for charging cell phones.  I was a bit blown away by this.  The FEMA guys really didn't seem like they knew what they were doing.  In fact, they seemed happy to be helping and taking orders from the two young ladies manning that table.

Yunice and I quickly emptied the car and returned.  I commented on how inept the FEMA guys seemed.  She agreed.  I asked her how she became involved in the relief effort.

"I decided to come in and help sort clothes today."

What? I didn't comment, but I assumed that she had been doing this for days and was probably recruited for her medical skills.  Nope.  Maybe for her leadership abilities?  Nope.  There was no recruitment.  She'd been volunteering as long as I had.

Later that afternoon I chatted with Dean a bit and asked how he found himself here.

"I was walking by.  I came to help my friend clean out his basement and decided to come in to see if they needed help.  That was yesterday."

I was simultaneously impressed by his and Yunice's initiative and saddened by how inept they made my government seem.  The city wasn't coordinating this effort and neither was FEMA.  This was quite literally a grassroots movement, manned by volunteers who simply care and with Occupy Sandy creating connections and developing a relief network.

Perhaps the government was quick and effective in other areas affected by the storm, but I didn't witness that first hand.  City employees- cops and even a bus load of corrections officers from Rikers Island were lending a hand.  But it was Dean and Yunice who were coordinating them and helping to set up the 92nd street site with a supply infusion.

Rikers officers lend a hand (taken by Jeremy Zilar)

It soon became dusk and we raced the sun to get everything into the school before darkness took over.  Without power, this relief site was shutting down for until dawn.  A bit after 6PM, I said my goodbyes to Yunice and Dean and thanked them for what they were doing.  Our carpool gathered and we took off back to Brooklyn.

As we crossed the bridge, mobile service returned and I received an influx of texts, including this one from Rachel: The NYC Marathon has been cancelled!!!


Ok, back to running...


Most of my friends were relieved. All were disappointed. As a friend who was supposed to run said, It's a lose/lose situation. I'd say the biggest gripe runners have was the way it was handled. It would have been better to just cancel right away. They (and I) spent the week trying to rationalize why it was ok for them to run. We all wanted to believe that running was somehow a good thing for the city at this time. An economic boost? A rallying point? Something.

But that wasn't the reality. What the city needed most was a morale boost and man power. NYRR, the organizers, have been on a trend to cater to international runners more than local and it really showed this week. A significant number of people scheduled to run the marathon were directly impacted by this storm- home flooded, no power, family dead. And nyrr's action and words basically implied, "oh well, not everyone will show up." I can't say this is their true intent and I can't pretend to know what they were thinking (partly because they did a pretty bad job of communicating), but to me, NYRR and the mayor seemed way out of touch.

I spent Saturday coaching and preparing for Sunday's outing: Team in Training was going to Staten Island.  Scheduled to run the marathon starting in that borough,  this selfless group that I have the fortune to be a part of rallied how they saw fit.  100 runners were bussed to Staten Island from Brooklyn that Sunday as planned.  Rather than running shoes, the team donned work boots. We carried shovels and brought our good will to our neighbors in need.

I sorted the hell out of those clothes.

On Marathon Sunday, literally thousands of marathoners descended on the city and volunteered. This was probably the most precious resource that was not being counted. All those bodies- like 40,000 or so- that would have been diverted to support or run the race- not just cops or generators- but neighbors as well as foreigners who sucked it up and stayed to give a hand. It was just one day. But what a morale boost this was for those hit the hardest. A woman in SI told me, "You are all angels from heaven! Now I know we're going to make it through this." I corrected her: "Actually, we're angels from Brooklyn."

We are not *just* runners.

For me, to have or not have the marathon was not about disrespect. I never really bought into that. People can do whatever they want. Thousands did a marathon in Central Park anyways. I don't blame them- they trained a loooong time to get to that point. And I bet a large number of them probably did that AND volunteered. But having the marathon tore up most people I know inside- they felt so conflicted wanting to both. The work that it takes to prepare for a 26.2 mile run is not trivial. But cancelling, though disappointing, made the choice easy and clear and nearly all spent the day doing something for their city that was still in pain and that they love.

Ok, that was only *kind of* about running...

Today, yesterday, and last weekend brought some much needed closure to many runner's training season.  Today I spent the day cheering on Amanda, who has been training for way longer than she should have been, and she housed the Brooklyn Marathon.  She conquered all 2 little and 6 big loops of Prospect Park.  Much of the rest of my NYC Marathon refugee friends had similar stories, running in Philly today, Richmond yesterday, Harrisburg, PA last weekend, and sheesh, even a couple doing a the Knickerbocker 60k in Central Park.  Yup- no marathon?  Screw that- let's do a 60k instead. 

And all throughout their extended taper, they volunteered their time and money toward supporting and rebuilding our city.  Brooklyn TNTers teamed up with Two Boots to make meals and deliver supplies to the Rockaways last Sunday.  Manhattan TNT headed to Staten Island to help out some more.

I'm constantly inspired by these people.

Amanda's sub 4 hour marathon mission is a success!