To many New Yorkers, the first Sunday in November means a chance to watch runners from all over the world chase their dreams in the New York City Marathon.
To Mamadou Cisse, it means having to close his normally bustling carwash and oil change spot, 138 Lube, which sits on the marathon’s route along 138th Street in the South Bronx.
“It’s good for New York,” he said of the race, “but unfortunate for us.”
Fifty blocks south, in Manhattan, Bruce Blecher, who owns CitiFloral flower shop on York Avenue, close to the race route on First Avenue, sounded more frustrated.
“It sucks — that’s my quote,” Mr. Blecher said. His main complaint is that the race is part of an onerous series of parades, street fairs and other events that plague the Upper East Side with street closures, making it difficult for deliveries and customers to reach his shop.
“These events hammer the small businesses,” he said. “It’s harder to make a living.”
The 26.2-mile race through the five boroughs is the quintessential New York athletic event, embodying the grit and glory of the city and bringing New Yorkers together in celebration.
Its many supporters love that, for a day, hundreds of blocks of traffic and car horns are replaced by more than 50,000 runners and their cheering fans. The race is broadcast worldwide and is a boon to many stores, bars and restaurants along the route.
But this is New York, after all, where grousing about nearly anything that happens is fair game, if not obligatory. So perhaps it is no surprise that a grumbling subset of New Yorkers see the race not as a joyous event, but as a disruption.
They point to the numerous road and bridge closures and the roughly 25 bus routes that are affected citywide.
For some drivers, the race is a 26.2-mile-long barricade bisecting neighborhoods and impeding parking. And only the most nimble pedestrians dare wade into the river of sweaty bodies to cross the street.
“They should think about changing the route every year to spread out the impact to everyone,” Mr. Blecher said. “Why not? It’s the same 26 miles, whatever route you use.”
The mere mention of the marathon prompts an eyeroll from Jose Melendez, 26, who delivers food by scooter from the many restaurants along Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg, one of a series of neighborhoods in Brooklyn and Queens where the race boxes in drivers along the East River.
“The marathon is just a total headache because so many streets are closed off,” he said. “So it’s not even worth working that day, which is too bad because Sunday’s a busy day for us.”
In Long Island City, Queens, street closures stymie numerous vehicular-dependent service businesses, including pushcart depots and trucking and yellow cab companies, said Fernando Peralta, who works at NYC Pushcart Garage.
Many vendors, who store their carts at the garage overnight after long days of selling food in Manhattan, forgo working on marathon day, Mr. Peralta said.
“You have to get here at 4 a.m. before the streets are shut,” he said. “But they can’t get back into the neighborhood till late Sunday night. They sleep in their trucks waiting for the streets to open again.”
Even pedestrians navigating street closures “have to go three blocks to travel one block,” he said.
Officials from New York Road Runners, which organizes the race, pointed out that the route through the heart of the city helps make the race one of the most accessible and inclusive sporting events in the world. They added that the marathon draws runners and fans from diverse backgrounds and has elite runners, novices and athletes with disabilities all sharing the same course.
Race officials said a 2019 study found that the race generated an estimated $427 million in economic impact for the city and that subway ridership spiked on race day. The race raised a record-breaking $61.3 million for charity last year, they said, and nearly 600 organizations will receive donations this year.
“I encourage anyone inconvenienced on marathon Sunday to think of all the work the runners have put in, and perhaps find a few minutes to cheer them on,” Rob Simmelkjaer, the Road Runners’ chief executive, said in a statement. “You’ll soon see why it’s the best day of the year in our great city.”
And Ydanis Rodriguez, commissioner of the city’s Department of Transportation, said the race’s central route helped lure an estimated 2.5 million spectators and made the streets “come alive with a spirit of camaraderie, unity and hope.”
In the second half of the race, runners head up First Avenue in Manhattan, loop through the South Bronx and then come down Fifth Avenue.
For Manhattanites who live east of First Avenue in a sliver of the Upper East Side boxed in by that leg of the race, “it does get a little old,” said Rosemary Pratt, one such resident.
“If you need anything on the other side, you’re stuck,” said Ms. Pratt, who arranges her day to shop and eat without crossing First Avenue. “You really can’t get out.”
In that same sliver lies Bailey’s Corner, a bar on York Avenue whose owner, Sean Cushing, said, “We have a love-hate relationship here with the marathon.”
He joked that his own tortured relationship with marathons derives from his father’s having run 39 of them and his wife’s having completed nine.
But the race is good for his bottom line, he said, because local drinkers become “a captive audience.”
The bar is a favorite of Detroit Lions football fans on Sundays, he said. Marathon fans inevitably wander in from First Avenue and crash the Lions viewing session, making for a bifurcated bar crowd: “We get the people who are trapped in the neighborhood.”
For Sarah Fearon, a real estate agent in Manhattan, race day means paltry turnouts for open houses, and a slew of rescheduled appointments with potential buyers who suddenly would rather watch the marathon.
(One pet peeve, she said, was runners who flaunt their completion of the race by wearing their medals for days. More than three days, she said, is bad form.)
For operators of the horse-drawn carriage rides in Central Park, the marathon “has become more and more of an imposition every year,” said Christina Hansen, a spokeswoman for the industry, which includes 68 carriage drivers working in and around the park.
“It would be fine if it was just marathon Sunday, this little civic holiday in New York, but it has turned into marathon season,” she said, noting that this year the park was closed to the carriages more than a week before the race. “The whole operation keeps growing, and it’s become harder and harder to work this time of year, which is one of our busiest.”
Like others who live near the marathon route, Al Harley, 77, plans his day around the race.
Mr. Harley, who lives in the East River Houses on First Avenue near 103rd Street, said he gets his shopping done by early morning. But he inevitably has to cross the race route, which requires dodging runners with the agility of a running back.
“Not everyone can do it; you have to know how to time it,” Mr. Harley said. “If you’re not in shape, forget it. I can still do it, but I have to time it perfectly.”
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