PIM

It seemed like such a great idea at the time. Training partner Dave Gajewski had told me that he’d talked to Mike George, and that Mike would be doing the Prague International Marathon (PIM). Mike had mentioned his plans to me months earlier, but I’d forgotten. That’s when the wheels began to turn. I’d be in Europe, and traveling from west to east that very weekend. In fact, I’d probably be flying right over Prague, if I didn’t decide to stop there anyway. So decide I did, and after some extremely complicated travel planning, I found myself trying desperately to get myself into the correct mindset on the day before the event.

It’s not just mental; the other half is physical. What was I thinking? That running 100K, immediately sitting on airplanes for the next 12 hours, putting up with jet lag whilst in Portugal and then trying to run a marathon in Prague a week later would be no big deal? Did I think I’d no longer be feeling the effects? Did I think, 100K one weekend and a marathon the next one – what’s the big deal? Unfortunately, the answer, evidently , is yes.

The event itself ought to be a big deal for all the participants. Prague is the most beautiful city on the planet, and I’d heard generally good stuff about the marathon. There are many who strongly believe that a marathon is a great way to see a city. What a fantastic idea: combine running a marathon and travel. I myself am not so sure, but I do know a bit about Prague, having been there twice. I think its fine to just walk around on my own time to see things at their own speed. But I suppose I signed up because I was most interested in the experience. The experience of running in this wonderland, the experience of running an international race, and the experience of doing something different and interesting in between work weeks.

But my heart, not to mention my legs, didn’t seem to be into it. That previous week in Portugal wasn’t a banner week of running for me. Even though Lisbon is great for running, I wasn’t able to do much at all. I was tired and sore, but mostly just didn’t have the gumption. Call it post-ultra depression. It’s interesting that poor Mike wouldn’t be able to do the PIM due to an injury. Here I am complaining, and he would only be able to watch.

Maybe a miracle would happen. Maybe I’d feel fine, run well, and thoroughly enjoy the experience. On the other hand, miracles are called that because they rarely happen.

Before the start, Old Town Square was buzzing with activity. Announcers making announcements in a variety of languages, the crazy Brazilians marching around, flaunting their half-nakedness (make that three-quarters), being made to line up in a narrow corral 35 minutes before the start. No liquids of any kind, except some that were for sale (where the heck was I going to have money, up my… oh never mind). Did I mention the porta-johns? I counted ten. That’s 10 for maybe 10,000 runners counting all the events. One per 1,000 – you gotta like those odds if you’re a porta-potty.

Prague is at her most beautiful when it’s bright and sunny, especially early and late in the day. This would be one of those days – not a cloud to be seen. Unfortunately, along with the sun came warm temperatures. It felt about like it was in the low 70s at the start, and maybe about 80 by the time I was coming to the finish. Enough for me to call it a scorcher.

I had met Mike and his family at the expo the day before, and we did dinner together. Call it a mini-Dead Encounter. I mentioned that I’d start running at about 8 minute per mile pace and just try to hold it. Mike said that they’d be on the course, cheering me on as I passed by several times. And so they were. After a spectacular but narrow start at the square, we took a few turns before going over the famous historical Charles Bridge. This was even more spectacular than the start. Mike somehow picked me out of the crowd during those early miles, as well as a few other times. It was great to have my own cheering section so far away from home.

The course is pretty flat. It runs almost entirely along the Vltava River; the only hills are the bridges and underpasses. So we began running north on one side before coming back south on the other and returning through Old Town. From there we went south along the river some more, turned back to the north at the half-way point, and then crossed a bridge and did the same thing on the other side. By mile 20 we were back to old town one more time, and then repeating the north part of the course before coming in for the finish.

The person who invented cobblestones was not a runner. In my humble opinion, the (say about 3 total) miles of these babies – mostly around Old Town, but other parts as well – were more of a factor than the heat, or any of the hills. We runners quite literally went through great lengths to avoid them when such a thing was possible at all.

I did begin at 8 minute pace, but many of the miles were just a bit faster. I was informed that there’d been about 4,000 marathoners last year, but maybe they exceeded that for 2008. The crowds never let up. And even though I ran a steady pace, many were passing me for much of the way. Many of these may have been relay runners however. I’m not sure where the half marathoners were.

Somehow, I managed to keep that pace the whole way. The one thing I didn’t want to do is to die, in any sense of the word. I’d been thinking that 8 minute pace would bring me in at about 3:30, so this wound up being a goal. After half-way (about 1:44), I was still on pace, but it seemed to be getting more difficult. By about 30k, the heat really began to get to me. By 20 miles (about 2:38), I saw Mike and family for the last time, and it was downright hot. But I wasn’t going to die. And die I didn’t. Suddenly no one was passing me anymore. I did the final 10k in 49 or 50 minutes; about the same as the first 10k. I finished in 3:28, pretty durn pleased with myself. I guess it was a miracle.

I never saw Mike and family this last time into Old Town. Now at 12:30pm, Old Town Square was absolutely filled to the brim with people. So many that I could not for the life of me get to the metro station. I wandered around for 45 minutes until I stumbled upon a different one. Yes, you guessed it. I had to get to the hotel and shower before heading to the airport. This time it was Bucharest or bust.