Volunteerism concepts and impacts

¶ … Picture a rosy dawn, on a recent fall day. I gather with friends and schoolmates in huddled groups. We're dressed in hooded sweats and jackets to ward off the pre-dawn chill. We're off to volunteer at the Top of Utah Marathon in Logan, an annual event that draws marathon runners from all over the world. The sunrise promised a beautiful day ahead, and illuminated fall colors of gold, red, and orange as we set up our drink and food station at mile-11 of the race. As my fellow volunteers and I cut up bananas and oranges, and carefully mixed Gatorade and filled cups only half-full for the runners, we joked, laughed, and enjoyed the scenery around us. Located in a canyon, our table was one of the first the runners would reach after the start of the race. We wondered if they'd be ready for a respite and a cool drink, or if they would thunder past on their way toward their goal, the finish line still miles away.

I can feel the anticipation build as we wait for the first runners to rush past our table. Who will be the leaders? Will they grab a drink and some fruit as they head up the canyon, or ignore us in their quest to reach the finish line? "Here they come," someone shouts, and the small crowd already gathered begins to cheer as the first shadowy shapes sprint into view. Out of the deep shadows of the canyon, runners emerge, moving faster than I had anticipated. The first reaches our table, quickly grabs a half-full cup, gulps, tosses it aside, and is gone before I can barely catch my breath. Others come in succession now, grabbing some fruit or a drink or both, and then dashing on, as if wildfire stalked their footsteps.

Then a lull, then a few more runners, this continued through the morning, until the last batch of runners had made their way past our table. As the race continued, we quickly replenished the fruit and drinks so no runners would go without their needed energy boost as they passed by. I realized there was something thrilling in watching these runners of all shapes and sizes on their quest for the finish line. Each one had a goal, whether it was to simply finish the race, or to finish in first place. Each one had trained - set out to make their bodies the best they could be to endure the punishment of 26 miles of pure physical movement and pain.

As the runners thinned out, we emptied trash receptacles, picked up empty cups, and cheered whenever runners came through our station. How could you not cheer these people who were working so hard on such a spectacular fall morning? They were giving the run their all, and they were determined to finish. Some of the runners stand out in my mind, like the petite blonde woman near the front of the pack, who wore a pink breast-cancer survivor shirt and flashed me such a grateful smile as she sped past, I could never forget the sparkle in her bright blue eyes. or. The wheelchair runner who flashed by so quickly, I thought for sure he was on the road to victory. I remember his hands, encased in sturdy gloves, never missing in the mesmerizing rhythm of churning wheel-pumping action as he whizzed by, never taking time to grab a drink as he went on his way.

These people humbled me as I stood beside the table and cheered until I thought my voice would desert me. I thought I had made a sacrifice by giving up a weekend day and getting up early to volunteer, but it was clear these were the people who had sacrificed. How long did they train each day? How many times did they go for a run when they really wanted to stay home and play with their kids? How did they manage to fit in training in busy lives filled with work, kids, and home responsibilities? I realized these were real heroes, even if they might not seem like it to some. These runners had a goal, knew what they had to do to achieve that goal, and did whatever it took to make it happen. I wondered if I'd ever been that determined about anything in my life. As much as I thought, I couldn't think of a thing that had motivated me quite that much, and that's when I realized just what the Top of Utah Marathon meant to me.

Sure, I did a "good deed" and volunteered to help with this event. (Something I'd urge everyone to do, by the way.) However, I realized I'd gained a lot more than just feeling smug because I'd gotten up early and done something "selfless." I realized that watching these motivated and determined people had motivated me. No, not to become a runner, I don't think that's my thing. But it motivated me to find something that I'm truly passionate about - something that would make me give up my personal time, my family, and my sometimes lazy ways to create passion and a feeling of fullness and goodness inside me.