An International Affair: The 2011 NYC Marathon

There are many opportunities for interpreters at the ING New York City Marathon, but if you want to be helpful, my recommendation is that along with your language skills, you possess the ability to stand.

Runners Post-Race, at Cherry Hill in Central Park

Unfortunately, my stress fracture made me unable to work the finish line area, because standing and the more advanced skill of walking are pretty much prerequisites for being anywhere very central in Central Park on the big day. It’s not that I can’t do those things, but if I would like to get unfractured, I’m supposed to do very little of them.

So on marathon day, I instead ended up at Cherry Hill, a bit north of the finish line in Central Park, where I spent my time idling around a medical tent and some other tents set up for major volunteer organizations associated with the marathon. Runners connected with these organizations, about 2,000 in total I think, would make their way to this area when they were done.

But my language skills weren’t really needed. The only thing I helped with was Italian, for one man of 50 who ran an impressive 3:04 time (he was disappointed not to break three hours). We chatted for quite a while in Italian while a volunteer tried to find his bag. 

My Volunteer Badge: Kind of a Lot of Pressure

While talking to him, I was sitting on the ground because all the chairs were being used by runners. (By the way, I hadn’t remembered how hard it is for most people to walk right after they run a marathon; there was much limping everywhere.)

At one point, he stood, and told me to get up as well, holding out to me one of those foil blankets runners use to keep warm. I thought he had noticed I was shivering and was trying to make sure I did not get too chilled.

Very sweet of him, I thought. However, I was not sure where that blanket had been and so declined.

He insisted.

I politely declined again.

Finally I realized he wanted me to stand up and hold the blanket in front of him so he could change! This is a pretty common practice among runners, but normally when a woman, a relative stranger at that, is sitting on the ground with a big plastic boot on her leg, I would think a gentleman might actually figure out a way to find privacy on his own. Like in one of the numerous portable sanitation units (i.e., bathrooms) not many yards from where we were standing.

No matter. I was a good sport. I got up, I helped him out, and he was appreciative. As he changed, I reflected on the fact that his lower half was probably visible from a great many angles other than the 180 degrees obscured by the blanket I was holding.

Overall I kind of enjoyed my day, despite my being confronted with the reality that the medical professionals in the medical tent were about 3,000 times more valuable to the runners than I was.

Yes, I Actually Wore This Getup in Public

My enjoyment may have been dampened somewhat by the absolutely ridiculous headgear I was asked to wear, consisting of a bright yellow hat (yellow is a terrible color on me), with a piece of paper attached to the front showing my languages. 

Although it pains me, I have swallowed my pride to post a picture here. Yes, I wore this all day. In public.

To clarify: the yellow card on my hat is folded in half; there are more languages on the back, but all the ones that I needed were on the front.

Right below the first four, which I had circled in black ink to help out the runners, was Suomalainen. I had no idea what that was, and people kept asking me, which was amusing and also mildly embarrassing. Someone finally told me it means Finnish.

That someone was Toby Tanser, a former professional runner who is well known around New York and a lot of other places globally, a guy who has so many different things going on at once it is kind of hard to figure out how to describe him. Among other things, he heads up a non-profit called Shoe4Africa and is also just a pretty hilarious and witty guy.

I am basing this latter conclusion on a single meeting (i.e., the one today), but I would say it is generally true that people who can be hilarious and witty after running 26.2 miles fast are also those things in their larger lives. With respect to Shoe4Africa, which I looked up later online, one thing I found interesting was the relevance of language for some of his organization’s activities.

For example, on its website he writes, “I discovered there was no AIDS information written in the Kalenjin tongue in the Rift Valley (the center of our activities) and the people knew next to nothing about the disease, so I made brochures and distributed them at events…” Very cool.

Returning to the marathon: in the late afternoon a group of 20-somethings, three men and a woman, showed up by the medical tent. The woman had just run.

“Wow, you speak all those languages?” one of the men asked. “Spanish, French, Dutch, and Italian?”

More Hanging Out at Cherry Hill

I was confused. “Dutch?”

He pointed to the hat. I realized he was pointing to Deutsch. 

“No, that’s ‘German’ in German,” I said.

He looked confused. I tried again.

“Say something in Dutch,” he said.

After some more back and forth, I succeeded in getting my point across. He started quizzing me.

“Say ‘The ice is over there’ in German,” he demanded, pointing to a big pile of ice in front of the medical tent.

I obliged.

He then got distracted temporarily, but soon he was back.

“Tell me you love me in Italian,” he said.

Foil People, at 72nd Street and Broadway

I looked up at him from the brick on which I was by then sitting, a brick that had thoroughly chilled my behind while also cutting off my circulation. “I don’t think I know you well enough for that,” I said.

“Come on,” he begged. In my cold and weakened state, I relented.

At this point his runner friend had been tended to, and his other friends were trying to lead him away, but as he was leaving, he pleaded, “Now say it in German.”

“You’ll be sorry,” I warned. But I said it anyway.

Ich liebe dich has always been very low on my list of romantic-sounding foreign phrases. But perhaps with a perfect stranger, that is all for the best.

Congratulations to the marathoners from around the world! Maybe next year I can again volunteer in Central Park, but while being mobile so I can get more into the thick of things.

Or who knows? Maybe, just maybe, and this is a very remote maybe, I will actually try to run it one more time myself.