First, there’s the scale of the event. The New York Marathon is bigger and better than ever! This year’s event was the largest marathon in history, with more than 55,000 finishers. And what a fantastic exploration of the great humanity that is New York City, and the great community that is 55,000 marathon runners from around the world. Every runner has their own story and traveled their own path to that starting line on the Verrazano Bridge. Some are first-timers and others wear their number of finishes like badges of honor. For me, this was New York number five. Most had some help along the way.
Now think about a federal trial judge’s caseload. Here in the bankruptcy court, we are busy, in the courtroom and in chambers. It’s the same across the way at the district court, where our colleagues preside over large and growing civil and criminal dockets. Lots of cases, lots of parties, many with counsel, some without. Among those self-represented parties, many are crossing the threshold of a federal courthouse for the first time. Even among the counsel, some are first-timers. And just like those runners, every case, claim, lawyer, and party has their own story. Hopefully, as a court, we are providing some help along the way.
Next, there’s the life experience. Back to the Verrazano Bridge. There’s a good bit of waiting with coffee and bagels in the famous Start Village. And of course, there have been weeks and months of preparation. Strangers become friends, and swap photos of race bib numbers. Then, when the next wave is called, we approach the starting line on the bridge. It’s not quite a bench or a podium in a courtroom, but it’s still a place like no other. When the national anthem is sung, there are also smiles, chills, even tears – I can’t explain why, but it has happened every time. Just like a courtroom before a hearing, you know that you are somewhere special. And then a cannon fires – a real cannon – and we are off! And you work your way through the miles, one mile at a time.
Now think about a good day of hearings on the bench. First, you prepare. And then you prepare some more. You plan for what you can reasonably anticipate, and you gird yourself a bit for the unexpected. If something unusual is on the calendar, you may have sought out some advice from a colleague. And then there is a rap on the door to the courtroom – “All Rise!” is announced, and you enter. No cannon, but you are off! Actually, you are on – on the record, living your oath, to render justice without respect to persons. And you work your way through the motions, case management conferences, and everything else, one matter at a time.
In addition, there’s the variables – predictable and unpredictable. At the New York Marathon this year, the weather was just about perfect. Temperatures were in the low 50s most of the way, only the occasional cloud and breeze made it feel a bit cool at times. But for something like this, it’s better to be a bit cool then to be a bit warm.
And oh my goodness, the spectators! Imagine a courtroom with a full gallery. From mile two or three in Brooklyn all the way to Central Park South and the big turn into Central Park, the crowds were extraordinary. They and their accoutrements, including bands, signs, cheers, snacks, and more, reflected the diversity and richness of each neighborhood through which we passed. Brooklyn is different than Queens, and one neighborhood in Brooklyn is different than the next. Queens is proudly Queens, and they tell you that as soon as you come off the bridge into the borough. And by the time you’ve crossed the Pulaski Bridge, you have already covered the first thirteen miles.
Manhattan is, well, Manhattan. The eerie quiet of the Queensboro Bridge gives way to a wall of sound – everyone describes it the same way – even before you are completely off the bridge. You hear the cheering, and suddenly, your steps are a little lighter and a little quicker. At least it seems that way.
And then there’s the Bronx. This is the last of the five boroughs on this five-borough adventure, it comes between Mile 19 and Mile 20 or so, and as you cross over the Willis Avenue Bridge, you’re hurting a little bit. But at least two things keep you going. First, the energy of the crowds is terrific. They are so supportive – on the steps of churches, at the intersections, along the blocks. It’s as if they know how much you need it, and they aren’t going to let you down. There are many unofficial aid stations, and people with big smiles pass out candy, orange slices, tissues, even bandages. Then you do a loop and head back over another bridge into Manhattan, and maybe you feel like you’re almost done.
Back to Manhattan! After seemingly countless blocks on Fifth Avenue, you finally reach the entrance to Central Park, at 86th Street. When you enter the park, you feel like you’re almost done. And you are, almost. Almost done is tantalizing and somewhat excruciating. People are everywhere, signs and smiles abound, landmarks are frequent. Happily, this is very familiar territory, with several swooping downhill curves. So again, you feel like you are almost done, and again, not quite.
It’s hard to describe how it feels to finish. It’s wonderful, of course, and it’s a huge relief. Your arms just sail up in the air, you can’t help it. Your time doesn’t matter, because everyone wins. The runners win, the volunteers win, the people who cheer for you win, even the people who are thinking that someday they might do this too also win.
When you are absolutely positively sure that you have crossed both of the finish mats and therefore recorded a finish time, you go from running to walking and maybe even just standing still for a moment. Half joking, I asked one of the volunteers if she was sure that we were done. She laughed, and assured me that yes, we were. You collect a great big medal, a great big poncho, and a recovery bag full of food that you are told to eat and drink. Nobody needs to be told twice.
Now let’s go back to court. Imagine a long day on the bench – a good long day, but with some variables too. Some hearings may go unexpectedly well – something you got just right in how you structured an argument, the right question at the right time, even a well-timed break to permit the lawyers to confer and resolve an issue or even the case. The spectators don’t cheer, but they do watch, and they can make a good day better, because they are seeing how the justice system can work – for everyone. And that’s special too. Have you ever been thanked by someone that you ruled against, just for giving them a chance to be heard? I have, and it doesn’t get much better than that. Call it courtroom magic.
There’s a kind of marathon magic too. Unusual and interesting things happen. They just do. Strangers become friends, friends become heroes, sometimes when you need them most. I’ve been cheered across the finish line with a broken shoulder (2023) and in a heat wave (2022). My times in those years weren’t my best, but I’m as proud of those finishes as I am of my personal record (4:16).
Finally, a postscript. You can do this. All of this. Yes, you. If I can, anyone can. You need to plan, and you need to be a little bit stubborn. You can become a judge and have a great day on the bench! And you can finish a marathon. You can run your own courtroom, run your own race, and be alert for your own courtroom and marathon magic. Maybe you’ll meet your hero, or your she-ro, at the finish. And maybe you will see them when you look in the mirror, too.