8A tip for avoiding embarrassment while volunteering at the New York City Marathon: When you see Anthony Ramos three feet away from you, pausing to take a sip of water, do not shout, “Hamilton,” at him. He will give you a sassy side eye that haunts you for weeks to come. You will feel bad, and you will be reminded of this feeling every single day for the next week as marathon content overwhelms your feed.

Marathon day, known as the day when New York City comes together and displays its resilience and strength as a city, feels like a unique day. However, it is, in reality, simply New York City at its core. The marathon is not just a New York event, it is New York. The only real difference is that locals willingly throw themselves into the crowds, joining the tourists in the madness. New Yorkers, wacky in their own right, obviously only add to this chaos, whether they’re showing up to run in costumes, passing out shooters to runners or coloring in cardboard signs with cheeky phrases to hit on hot, shirtless runners.

There is nothing more New York than the runners themselves. Showcasing all walks of life, backgrounds and skill levels, New Yorkers (and those honorary New Yorkers for the day) show up. The energy of the crowds is palpable, as they wait to see some of the most impressive feats of athleticism one can watch for free. We eagerly wait to see the elites, who no one but really dedicated past cross-country kids actually know the names of (shoutout two-time Olympic marathon champion Eliud Kipchoge, casually jogging a marathon faster than I could run a half)and the paralympians, with more strength in their triceps than in my entire body. But wait, who gets to start first? The influencers, of course! In case anyone was confused as to why Lexi Watts was so far ahead — she’s fast, sure, but she’s not that fast; she started an hour earlier than the elites. And then, of course, the normal people headed out after that; just your everyday superhuman mothers, firefighters and insanely fit grandmas getting in a light 26 miles in before it gets too cold. They presumably crossed the finish line too at some point, but not until 4-5 p.m., at which point it’s practically dark out, and all the crowds really did wake up so early to spectate.

The spectators are a whole different ballgame. What could possibly be more New York than pushing and shoving through crowds, sprinting down the stairs to the subway and only standing still for at most 10 minutes before moving on to the next location (plus a coffee break or two)? All this to cheer for your suffering friend, running by for 30 seconds until blindly following their blinking bib number dot to the next touchpoint. Oh, but Connecticut WASPs, don’t you worry, while the runners get the pleasure of crossing into every borough, most of the cheering friends only make it to Brooklyn and Manhattan (it’s really just more convenient, right?).

Now, imagine the volunteers. Demographically, they’re about half students, half locals. What happens to us? We spend the day handing out water cup after water cup, 90% of which no one gets to drink, and instead seeps into our clothes, hair and sneakers. All the while you stand there, arm outstretched, hoping and praying that the runners are still able to judge the distance enough to avoid running into you. Now obviously, volunteers aren’t running the 26 miles – I’m sure that hurts more – but standing for that long, cheering until your throat is torn, that’s hard work.

Watching all the runners does strange things to your mind. You see people running in the eight-minute pace group coming up to you at mile 20, and you’re like, “yeah, I think I could do that” (I’m emphatically shaking my head no. No, I really can’t). Nevertheless, you leave inspired, desperately hoping to sign up for next year’s race. Granted, anyone who volunteers to work the marathon has likely thought about running one at some point in their life, but still, witnessing hundreds of people run by you, actually doing it, leaves you with the most intense forms of FOMO and motivation ever felt in your life.

The day ends, and it’s one of the best days of your year. If you’re not falling for the resilience and strength narrative, who even are you? Did you not see the mother pausing to hug her toddler on the sidelines? Or watch Hellen Obiri shatter the course record for women? The cheering crowds, the finish line tears, it’s all New York. This city’s genetic makeup is like no other; it attracts us all. Anyone can be a New Yorker for the day, no matter where you’re originally from, because at its heart, New York is an insane, contradictory place that’s not always perfect, but definitely provides us the strength to take on new challenges and cross our own finish lines.

Alina Broderick, FCRH ’26, is an English major from Hannacroix, New York.