The forecast arrives on a Wednesday: thirty-six degrees on Sunday, with almost no wind. Frida, who has directed the city marathon for six years, reads it three times. Then she closes her laptop and goes for a walk.
天气预报是星期三到的：星期天三十六度，几乎无风。弗丽达已经担任城市马拉松的总负责人六年了，她把预报读了三遍。然后她合上笔记本电脑，出去散步。
She knows what those numbers mean. She has seen what happens to runners at thirty-two degrees. Thirty-six is far beyond what a medical tent can handle with six thousand people on the course.
她知道那些数字意味着什么。她见过三十二度时跑者的下场。三十六度，远远超出了医疗帐篷在六千人同时上路时所能应付的范围。
On Thursday morning, she announces that the full marathon will become a half, with a start one hour earlier. By lunchtime, the comments are arriving by the hundreds. "Months of training wasted." "You have robbed us." One runner writes that she should resign. Another claims everything would have been fine if the organizers were not so cautious.
星期四早上，她宣布全程马拉松改为半程，起跑时间提前一小时。到中午，评论已经成百地涌来。“几个月的训练白费了。”“你剥夺了我们的机会。”有位跑者写道，她应该辞职。另一个人声称，要是组织者不那么谨慎，一切都会好好的。
She reads them standing in the kitchen with a cold coffee. A sponsor calls to say that his company is "disappointed." The volunteer coordinator calls to say that three people have quit.
她站在厨房里，捧着一杯凉掉的咖啡读着这些。一位赞助商打来电话，说他的公司“很失望”。志愿者协调员打来电话，说有三个人退出了。
"If I'm wrong, I will apologize in public," Frida tells the coordinator. "I can do that. I could not do the other thing."
“如果我错了，我会公开道歉，”弗丽达对协调员说，“这个我做得到。另一种结果，我承受不起。”
On Sunday, the starting gun fires at seven, while the air is still pleasant. Frida stands at the finish line with a radio, a thermometer clipped to her vest and six hundred sponges soaking in ice water. Volunteers have built a misting arch from garden hoses at the ten-kilometer mark.
星期天，发令枪在七点响起，那时空气还很宜人。弗丽达站在终点线旁，带着对讲机，背心上夹着温度计，六百块海绵泡在冰水里。志愿者们用浇花的水管，在十公里处搭起了一座喷雾拱门。
By nine, it is thirty-one degrees, and the first finishers are crossing the line, red-faced but upright. They laugh when they reach the sponges. The medical tent is busy but calm, mostly cramps and dizziness. The doctors send most people to the shade with water and a stern look.
到九点，气温三十一度，第一批选手冲过了终点线，脸红红的，但仍直立着。他们一碰到海绵就笑了。医疗帐篷里很忙，但很平静，大多是抽筋和头晕。医生们让大多数人带着水，在阴凉处待着，还送上一个严厉的眼神。
Frida watches the thermometer climb while the last runners come in. Thirty-three. Thirty-four. She does the arithmetic she has been doing since Wednesday. At this hour, the full-marathon runners would have been near kilometer thirty, with twelve more kilometers of unshaded road ahead of them.
最后几名跑者进场的时候，弗丽达看着温度计一路往上爬。三十三。三十四。她又做了一遍从星期三起就一直在做的算术。在这个钟点，全程马拉松的跑者本该跑到三十公里附近，前方还有十二公里没有遮阴的路。
A man in a yellow vest walks toward the finish tent, a wet sponge on his neck and a medal in his hand. She recognizes him from the comment thread. He is the one who wrote that she should resign.
一个穿黄色背心的男人朝终点帐篷走来，脖子上搭着湿海绵，手里拿着奖牌。她从评论里认出了他。他就是那个写她应该辞职的人。
"I wanted to say something," he says. "I was furious on Thursday." He looks back down the road. "At the twelve-kilometer mark I passed three people sitting on the curb. And that was only the half."
“我想说几句，”他说，“星期四的时候，我气坏了。”他回头望了望来路。“在十二公里处，我经过三个坐在路边的人。而那还只是半程。”
He does not finish the sentence. Frida says only that she is glad he made it to the end. He nods, wipes his face and walks away.
他没有把话说完。弗丽达只说，她很高兴他坚持到了最后。他点点头，抹了把脸，走开了。
Meanwhile, the thermometer on her vest reads thirty-six. She lifts the radio to her mouth.
与此同时，她背心上的温度计显示三十六度。她把对讲机举到嘴边。
"All water points," she says. "Double the ice. The last runners are on their way in."
“所有补水点，”她说，“冰块加倍。最后一批跑者正在赶来。”
