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The Brooklyn Half Marathon of 2023 is etched in my memory, not for the race itself, but for an incident that unfolded afterward, challenging my perceptions of humanity.
That day began as an intense test of my physical limits. After two rigorous rowing and biking sessions the previous evening, I had decided to forgo sleep, pushing my body to its extremes. The marathon was a culmination of this self-imposed stress test. As my mentor and I boarded the packed “F” subway train, filled with fellow runners, the atmosphere was one of accomplishment and camaraderie.
Our journey took an unexpected turn when, on a whim, we decided to disembark at Fort Hamilton Parkway to join a colleague for breakfast. As we alighted, a commotion from the adjacent compartment caught our attention. Shouts of “Call 911!” and “Someone went down!” filled the air. My initial thought was a grim one, fearing someone had fallen onto the tracks. But the reality was different, yet equally concerning. A fellow runner, a man in his late 50s or early 60s, lay prone on the compartment floor.
Without hesitation, I approached him. While he was pale and sweating, he had a pulse and was responsive. With the train halted, I helped him out, ensuring he was in a safer environment. Soon, local EMTs arrived, taking over his care. Throughout this, his wife’s panic was…
