Good Morning Runners!
As I grow older, I am becoming more and more aware of how sentimental I am becoming. I always like to think of myself as a classic cynical New Yorker, but I am the first one to make a pouty face at a dog walking by in the street or smile when a kid says something painfully true to their parent on the subway about a fellow passenger they just observed. This week came the announcement that Peter Ciaccia, the New York Road Runners President, was retiring. I don’t know Peter personally, but anyone who has run NYRR races has a relationship with him, so the news that he would be gone after the 2018 New York City Marathon brings a certain level of sadness for me.
Everyone remembers their first race. In fact, I remember my first couple of races. It was like the first day of school at a new school where I didn’t know anybody. All of these people with a variety of looks of intensity and happiness walking confidently in different directions and I would nervously approach bag check, bathrooms, and corrals, hoping I was doing the right thing. In the back of my head, I would wonder if I stuck out like a sore thumb. Standing in the corrals, all these people looked so comfortable, while a new runner feels overwhelmed and insecure. The veterans would casually discuss what their expectations were of the race and use all these words in the runner vernacular that I did not understand. I would stand there and hope no one would notice me.
There was, however, one calming influence that eventually became an institution for me and that was the voice of Peter Ciaccia. About five minutes before the start time when I was crowded into those corrals, feeling the insecurity of being an imposter, I would hear that New York accent (that sounds so much like mine) come on the microphone and say “Good Morning Runners!”. The crowd would shout back “Good Morning!” and Peter would almost always demand a louder and more enthusiastic greeting. Peter would then describe the course, make a comment or two about the weather, thank the volunteers and then he would start the race. Eventually when I would cross the finish line, one of the first people waiting there, including at the New York City Marathon, would be Peter Ciaccia. Sometimes he would smile and high five you and sometimes he would give you that knowing nod of approval and congratulate you.
I’ve now run 62 races with New York Road Runners since 2012. I think I only remember one race where Peter wasn’t there. At almost every other event, that familiar voice would come on the public address system and greet us. Peter always had the right words on those mornings, whether it was freezing cold, disgustingly hot, pouring rain or even after the Boston Marathon bombing, it always felt like he was speaking to all of us. The one consistency was that he was genuine. Genuine in his enthusiasm for running, his compassion for runners and his desire that running beinclusive, so we are welcome.
I will also admit Peter is a reminder for me of the history of running in New York City. If you read about it and watch some of the old documentaries about Fred Lebow and Ted Corbitt, you understand that running in New York City always existed but it wasn’t still celebrated or understood. In the sixties and seventies, it was weekend warriors, guys who worked their day jobs but found time to go running in Central Park and the West Side Highway when that wasn’t normal or safe. They braved the incredulous stares and muggers and literally paved the lanes for people to run in New York City (and I would argue everywhere). Peter is part of that evolution and process, and he is a reminder of how great New York City can be, when New York City is creating cultural institutions (as opposed to just buildings with terrible names on them). Peter Ciaccia is the primary example of New York City cool — hardworking, passionate and kind.
I am glad Peter made the announcement now because I now get Peter Ciaccia for my races through the Marathon. I will be careful to listen to that voice and shout back as enthusiastically as ever. And when I cross that finish line in November, I will be sure to look for him to say thank you for making this rookie feel like he belonged.
