Flashes of Panic

I volunteered at another 10-miler yesterday, this one right in Amherst. I’ve run this race three or four times and volunteered nearly as many, now. I wound up talking a lot.

My first job was to watch the start, then tear over to the mile mark and call the split to the runners as they passed. There was a minor snag when I remembered that my watch, despite having a perfectly good stopwatch, isn’t responding to any of the buttons, so I can’t reach the stopwatch. Fortunately, Julia was passing by, and I traded watches with her. (I didn’t reflect on this until later, but this was the perfect thing to do, because with anyone else, Murphy’s Law would have dictated that I not see them again for a month or so. I’m not sure why this is never the case with Julia.)

Calling splits is both very intense and very boring. The trick is getting to the split before the runners do; I figured I had five minutes after the start, and made it by using a head start, a shortcut, and a car. When you find the marker (both a temporary roadside sign and a faint red mark on the road surface,) then stand there acting as an audible clock, reciting times as they flick over the face of the watch. “Six oh one… two… three… four… six oh five… six… seven…” etc. up to about thirteen minutes.

I stood there until the watch was at about 15:00 (the last runner went by at thirteen minutes and change,) then returned my car to the race headquarters and hiked over to the finish area, where I sought out someone who looked responsible, and said, “I’m here to help, where do you need me?” I wound up filling a lot of cups at the water table, then adjourning to the finish area as traffic control. The finish for this race is unusual in that runners enter a school parking lot, but must do a lap of the lot before they’re actually done. My job was to yell these instructions (concisely, of course) so no runner would mistakenly stop too early. We got all but one or two. Like the last race, I felt like a parrot squawking the same thing over and over, but this task didn’t leave much room for improvisation. Every now and then I would try to anticipate other finish area problems, for example, warning people with zipped-up jackets that their number should be showing as they approached the finish line.

One thing that puzzled me a bit was the number of people with headphones on. I know I need music to keep me on a treadmill for more than twenty minutes or so, but outdoors is a different matter, and this is a pretty scenic and ever-changing course, not one you’d be bored by. More importantly, I wasn’t sure if these people could hear my instructions, or anyone else’s for that matter, which strikes me as a poor choice in a road race.

I wound up staying at the finish until the last runner came in, about 2:30 after the start, and helping break down the chutes, flags, tables, etc. When I returned to the race HQ, barely anyone was left there, which was fine; at one point or another, I’d talked to pretty much everyone who ran.

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