Hand out water at marathon

You register through the race organiser's site weeks ahead, picking a slot you don't fully understand yet - mile eighteen, station four. The shift starts before sunrise, when tables are still being set up in the dark, breath fogging over stacks of paper cups (most races dropped plastic bottles years ago, easier to compost, less to trip on). Someone teaches you to pinch the cup at its base so it holds its shape, and when you finally hold your arm out and shout "water!", the first few runners miss anyway, the cup crumpling before their fingers close. Then a woman grabs one clean out of your hand without slowing down.