New York Marathon Among the Chosen People, 2013
I went to New York City to support my friend, Imelda Ramirez, as she ran the New York Marathon for the first time. She was coming all the way out from California, alone. I wasn't going to let her be in that city by herself.
I figured I would look for her at two spots: in the southern section of Williamsburg, in Brooklyn, and later in the South Bronx. I chose the former because I thought a bunch of Lycra-clad runners coursing through the neighborhood populated by Hasidic Jews would make for a good contrast.
I missed Imelda in Brooklyn (I later did see her in the Bronx, and later still at the finish line). It was clear that the Hasids were not happy about the marathon disrupting their shtetl. Crossing the street with so many runners coming through was an issue and I listened as one old man complained loudly to a female police officer. She told him, you step in that street and collide with a runner, I'm arretsing you. He made a run for it anyway and managed to get across. When I said to her that he wasn't happy about the situation, she turned to me and said in that quintessential New York way, "Fuck him. They don't like the runners blocking the street, that's too fucking bad, because every High Holy Day they expect us to block the street for them. We all live here."
And then she went back to guarding the runners.
I figured I would look for her at two spots: in the southern section of Williamsburg, in Brooklyn, and later in the South Bronx. I chose the former because I thought a bunch of Lycra-clad runners coursing through the neighborhood populated by Hasidic Jews would make for a good contrast.
I missed Imelda in Brooklyn (I later did see her in the Bronx, and later still at the finish line). It was clear that the Hasids were not happy about the marathon disrupting their shtetl. Crossing the street with so many runners coming through was an issue and I listened as one old man complained loudly to a female police officer. She told him, you step in that street and collide with a runner, I'm arretsing you. He made a run for it anyway and managed to get across. When I said to her that he wasn't happy about the situation, she turned to me and said in that quintessential New York way, "Fuck him. They don't like the runners blocking the street, that's too fucking bad, because every High Holy Day they expect us to block the street for them. We all live here."
And then she went back to guarding the runners.
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