Marathon runners are conditioned to run in all sorts of weather and terrain conditions. They wake early to beat the afternoon heat. It is a physically challenging hobby that is well worth the trill and rush. Now imagine this, the race is getting to work. The reword is a stack of papers, 40 e-mails, voice mail, and unfinished projects waiting for your completion. How thrilling? The type of metal you wanted after a nice relaxing weekend or weeknight with family and friends, the voice and opinions of disgruntled co-workers. Makes you want to lace up your running shoes and sign up, right?
There seems to be a mass of commuters that have created such a marathon running group. They rise early to the honking horns of taxis, the trains passing, and greetings (also know has profanities) of other commuters. The ritual is amazing to say the least. It all starts on the train platform. Who can inch the closest to the end of the platform without falling off? Who can predict the exact location of the train doors? It's an art to some, a science to others and luck of the draw for most. The train pulling into the station signals the start of the race. Pushing and shoving to slightly inch along the train doors begins which eventually mounts into more aggressive pushing to be the first one in the train. Oh, but that is not the end of the race. It is just the beginning. The reward? Maybe the seat of choice if you happen to be getting on at the first stop. If you don't place first you are still running. Running to get any seat. Which means you resort to literally walking thru others to get the open seat you spotted. Nobody is going to beat you to that seat! Not even the person in front of you. Walks pass them on the single person aisle space. Act like they are invisible. Wait; is there somebody in front of you? No, you don't see anything, only an open seat! Run to it like a mad person. Punish the person who so nicely got up for you to let you in a seat by taking your time to place you bags on the overhead compartment, take off your suit blazer and allow them to be plummeted by others on your team. It's only a game, right?
That was the warm-up for the upcoming transfers that will soon take place. Hearts racing, breathing auditable, they can't contain their excitement any more; it's two stops until the transfers begin. They have to take their places in front of the train doors. Only the seasoned of commuters know which side door is going to open. First time registrants are clueless and usually waiting anxiously at the opposite side door indicating their position in the race. One, two, three, doors open and commuters make mad dash towards turnstiles as they knock all those in their way. They need to be the first one on the next train or bus! The reward is the same but the obstacles are constantly changing. One day it might be a lost tourist looking at a map in front of the turnstile. The next it might be a person looking for their card to enter the turnstile. No matter the obstacle, their tactic remains the same. Ignore all those around and proceed to towards the goal! Push, shove, insert card behind others, and disregard those around, as long as you get thru the turnstile and transfer! The inching towards the bus or train doors remains the same. The guessing at its location is another constant. The search for the seat is always another variable. Which doors will open first? Where will the person in front of me grab a seat? Will I be fast enough to get a seat? Pregnant, handicap and elderly, do you really care? These variables are rank differently in value from player to player. Sweat has already broken and the game isn't over yet! Getting to the office is still as thrilling and exciting for these select commuters. It's the end of their stop and they are all lined up, ready to push they’re way out the doors, and up the stairs. Those that dare get in their way might be maimed. Escalators aren't for standing! No, not to them. They are fascinators to running up stairs. The combination helps them out of the train station, onto the street faster where they proceed to run. Yes, I said RUN. This is a serious race. The last one in to the office is a rotten egg. There is no time to look at traffic lights. Look both ways and if the cars are far enough run across the street as you pray nobody hits you. Close one! Continue running into the entrance of your office building with id badge in hand making run to the elevator an easy transition. Stick hand into elevator door before it closes on you, push your way into the elevator and you are the WINNER. The first one into the office where you are greeted with moans and groans about what you didn't do right, what you need to do, how life stinks, and what you need to be doing. Making it all worth the morning race.
For all those non-racers, we would like to know what do you do for a living? What is so compelling about your job that there is a group of you, running to work, maiming those that cross your path every day?