The Spectator's Report

This past weekend I traveled to the Vancouver Marathon. My plan was to run it but a late-week diagnosis of stress fractures in my leg sidelined me and put a serious crimp in my plan to submit a mile-by-mile race report for this month’s Real Running. Since my friend Cap’n Ron was planning to run, I decided at the last minute to tag along in a role completely foreign to me: spectator.

The thing is, I had no idea how to be a spectator. My inexplicably devoted partner has mastered the art, and while I knew I couldn’t hope to come close to matching her standard, I took some cues from her in preparation for the role.

As with any good role, that of spectator requires research and planning. I made sure to study the course map to look for likely viewing locations and areas where meeting up with Cap’n Ron would be easiest. You have to be strategic in this planning. Do you want to see your runner as many times as possible or at the most beneficial location? Or do you want to go the NASCAR way and camp out at mile 22 to watch the wheels come off as runners hit the wall?

I went with frequency. I marked my map for miles 7, 10, and 17 and did the math to figure out when Cap’n Ron would be at each marker. Math is hard, but I worked it out. There’s an app for that.

With my carefully packed bag – water, gel packs, dry clothes, camera, notebook, map of the city – I watched a marathon from the sidelines for the first time. As with most things in life, it’s the people you meet along the way that are the most interesting, and you just don’t notice them when you are running. Like a real journalist I took out my notebook and camera and got down to work.

Around the starting line there were mostly huge families in matching t-shirts out to cheer on cousin Bobby who was running his first marathon. “Run Bobby Run” indeed. This crowd watches their runner pass by and heads right back for the hospitality tent to wait for the finish and to drink coffee.

As I packed up and started across town to my first scheduled stop, I took the time to chat with Homeless Bill. That’s really what he called himself. Bill loves Marathon Sunday. As he casually walked along the second mile of the course stuffing discarded gloves, hats, and shirts into his bag, he told me that race day provides him with clothes for the entire year. I took Bill to Starbucks for a cuppa and a bite, and went on to Mile 7.

There I met Volunteer Woman. Zero connection to running or to the marathon. Just liked to “do stuff.” Her job? Stand in the rain and tell people to turn left and go up the hill. In the rain. For 5 hours. Back to Starbucks I went to bring Volunteer a warm up.

At mile 10 I took a shift handing out water with kids from a local elementary school. I retroactively apologize to every volunteer I have ever spilled water on. Sheesh. Those people get soaked! Kudos to Vancouver, by the way, for using filtered water and biodegradable cups.

At mile 17 a crowd had formed. While waiting for Cap’n Ron to come up the hill I met Larry. Larry and his wife Katherine are both marathoners, but they take turns at races. Katherine ran Los Angeles. Larry ran Boston. Katherine ran Vancouver…

I also met another kind of spectator: the confused local. Desiree wandered out of her apartment to see what the hubbub was about and ended up staying. “Is it ok to cheer for people you don’t know?” It is, Desiree. And us runners sort of count on it. “Are these runners fast?” Well…everything is relative, Desiree.

And of course there are the finish liners. Rooting for the downtrodden, the unlikely half-marathon finishers, and anyone in a costume. Completely ignoring the young man from Everett who smashed his PR by 14 minutes and finished at 2:59:58…

Congratulations to everyone who watched a marathon this month. Great work out there.

Final Lesson: I now believe strongly that anyone who runs more than one race a year should be required to volunteer for at least one more. All of you who skip the Seattle Marathon because it’s too cold or too close to Thanksgiving should still come out and sip a latte on the sidelines in Madison Park. Even if you don’t formally volunteer, take one weekend off and go out to the race to watch and support the runners. I think we should have a category for this on our PR lists: number of races observed.