KOŠICE, SLOVAKIA, October 2, 2005—Selecting the starting pace for a marathon should not be a difficult calculation. A formula such as 1.25 times your half-marathon pace (in minutes per kilometer) plus or minus 0.5 (minutes per kilometer), depending upon the level of preparation, appears in most training guides. But in my experience, it is as difficult to calculate (and stick to) the proper starting pace as it is—anytime after 20 miles—to determine the finishing pace needed to meet an often steadily receding finishing time. Problems late in a race are well documented, but their genesis is frequently in prerace planning, which in my case is not very good. Having run more marathons than I can count on my fingers and blistered toes, I need only one thumb to count the number of races where I got the pace right (Chicago 2003, a 1:50/1:48 negative split). Despite this dismal record of prognostication, I yet again took leave of good running sense in the 2005 Košice Peace Marathon (KPM). However, before I describe and try to rationalize my latest lapse in logical thinking (and sound running practice), let me first give some background about the KPM, for I suspect that most runners have not heard much about this historic race (one exception being Hal Higdon, who, when I mentioned to him at the expo for the 2005 Grandma’s Marathon that I had signed up, quickly said something like, “Oh yeah, ran that twice in the ’60s!”).

Few marathons can offer a runner more tradition, in a country of great beauty, than the KPM. Set in eastern Slovakia, approximately equal distance from Krakow and Budapest, on a rough north-south line, Košice is a thousand-year-old city (first written record is from 1230) that annually hosts the world’s second-oldest marathon (established in 1924). While the KPM is relatively unknown today in the United States, the race, the city, and the region have much to offer a runner seeking a fast, flat course for a fall marathon. Košice’s location in the mountains of eastern Slovakia invites the visitor to travel from the country’s capital of Bratislava by train on a cross-country trip (Trnava, Trenčín, Žilina, Liptovský

Courtesy of Richard Magin

▲ The start of the 2005 Košice Peace Marathon, with the Cathedral of St. Elizabeth (1508) in the distance.

Mikuláš, Poprad, and Košice), a sort of brief Orient Express through a changing vista of villages, thick woods, mountains, and river valleys guarded by medieval hilltop castles. A tempting option on this trip is a stop in the High Tatras (Vysoké Tatry), with 25 peaks over 2,500 meters, for some vigorous prerace mountain training or some postrace sight-seeing and relaxation. Another good choice is a visit to the nearby Slovenský Raj National Park, with miles of marked hiking trails and many waterfalls. Once in Košice, a modern city of 250,000 people surrounding a charming historic center, the visiting runner and party will find excellent and reasonably priced accommodations (one option is a race-sponsored youth hostel), convenient public transportation, and a variety of musical, artistic, and culinary activities.

A SHORT HISTORY OF THE KPM The KPM, after its first two races, was set up as an out-and-back course to the nearby village of Seňa. This course was changed in 1989 to the current tight figure-eight or butterfly-wing course in and around the historic town center (staré mesto). Before the race, the visitor can get a sense of the race’s traditions from viewing the photographs of early races displayed in an exhibit at the State Scientific Library (10 Main Street, or as the Slovaks say Hlavná Ulica 10) or from reading the names of past winners inscribed on the base of the marathon runner

statue located in a small park (Námestie Maratónu Mieru) just past the 1K mark on the course. The complete history of the race is described in the book Košice Peace Marathon 1924-1999, which is available in English and is posted on the marathon’s Web site (www.kosicemarathon.com). Many well-known 20th-century marathon runners have participated in the KPM (two-time Olympic gold medalist Abebe Bikila, for example, won the KPM in 1961), but today the big names are more likely to be found at the big-city races in Europe and in the United States. In addition, a growing number of other Eastern European marathons (in Slovenia, Poland, Yugoslavia, and Russia, for example) also draw the attention of runners, with the 2005 Budapest Marathon being held on the same day as the KPM. Hence, the total field for the 2005 races was just over 1,000 runners, with 735 completing the half and 479 finishing the full marathon.

A feature of the KPM, in addition to its uncrowded field, is a course that uses the old city’s pedestrian-only main street (Hlavná) for both start and finish, so spectators can view runners at the start, 12K, 21K, 33K, and the finish without walking more than 100 meters. In between, the coffee shops, bookstores, and historic sights of the staré mesto will keep them busy. The current course is 21K long, so the half-marathon competitors run one lap while the full marathon runners go two laps (the start is combined). The 10:00 A.M. starting gun gives all runners ample time to get up and get ready for the race. Where else can a runner sit in a café within sight of the start/finish area until 15 minutes before the race? The temperature is typically cool in early October; this year it was 15 degrees Celsius (59 degrees Fahrenheit) and partly cloudy at the start with a light breeze—great running weather.

Water, sports drinks, and snacks (cookies, banana sections, sugar cubes, and lemon slices) are spaced every 5K along the course, with additional water stops with sponges situated between each refreshment stop. Both types of stops are well maintained by volunteers, and the local police secure every connecting road to keep the course free of autos (note, however, that the course closes at five hours so that penguin-like runners have to fend for themselves after 3:00 P.M.).

The crowd is pretty dense in the old town but thins out on the wings of the course, which passes through shaded parks as well as urban neighborhoods. The spectators are vocal and supportive, shouting, “Hop, hop, hop,” or “Tem-po, tem-po, tem-po.” Some spectators use a published program to find the names of runners, thus providing a personalized form of encouragement, “Go USA!”). The race has a small expo on Friday and Saturday, located underground in the town’s archaeological excavation (Dolná Brána), also near the start, while the Saturday evening pasta dinner was held a couple of miles away at the Hotel Ferrocentrum, where lots of music, beer, and good food maintain other Slovak traditions. The overall winners (in 2005, David Maiyo, Kenya, 2:16:07; and Edyta Lewandowska, Poland, 2:37:48) are presented with their trophies and prizes at an award

ceremony held in the town center at 12:30 P.M. and 1:00 P.M., respectively. Later ceremonies are held around 2:00 P.M. for the age-group winners. As you can see from this synopsis of the race, the day, and the course, there were no extenuating circumstances, such as getting lost or lack of good race support, to account for my not keeping on pace.

CAFFEINE-INDUCED PACING MADNESS Getting back to my pace problem, I had worked out a good plan (I thought), given my age (59) and level of training (35- to 40-mile weeks, long runs of 16 miles): run 55-minute 10Ks. I figured this pace, based on my two-week-old 25K time of 1:55 (let’s not talk about tapering or training properly for a marathon; that’s a different topic), by multiplying my 25K pace by 1.25 (to get 5.75 minutes per kilometer) and subtracting 0.25 minute per kilometer (because I felt good). Unfortunately, the morning of the race, while sipping coffee in the little café across from the start, I decided to round down the pace to five minutes per kilometer to make the math simpler on the metrically marked course—just check the clock for 10 minutes elapsed every two kilometers. Thus, I set 50 and 100 minutes for my new, caffeine-induced 10K and 20K goals. For some reason (or lack of), I do not remember proceeding with the estimates to get 30K and 40K times.

The 10:00 A.M. start is soon upon me, and a grand sight it is of the 15th-century Cathedral of St. Elizabeth in the foreground separating the out-and-back routes. After a small group of wheelchair and in-line skating competitors departs, the race begins with the bang of the starter’s pistol and lots of little pings as runners parade over the chip-rug timer.

Feeling good and being solidly placed in the middle of a pack of half-marathon runners (I know, I know), I move up Hlavná, past the cathedral, the singing fountain and the Štátne Divadlo (state theater and opera house), past the statue of the marathon runner at 1K, along Komenského Street, and out onto the right wing of the butterfly course, which takes the runners past the soccer stadium and through Anička Park on the banks of the river Hornád. Telling myself to keep cool in the shade, run easy, and stay on the pace, I go through 5K in around 25 minutes, and then we loop past the miniature golf course and back toward town. I now run down Štefánikova Street, past the train station (Železni�ná stanica), and along Jantárová Street to hit the 10K mark in 48 minutes! Oh, the euphoria of an unrealistic pace. But like the acrobatic motocross rider who hits the metal ramp too fast, these visions of glory can quickly spin out of control.

Heading back into town—now from the south—I run up Južná Avenue to hit the 12K mark on pace and then flow with the parade of runners past the finish area with the band playing. Next, I begin the left wing of the butterfly in and around the Košice neighborhood of Železníky. Running up Rastislavova Street and staying in

the shade of the park along Moyzesova Street, I strike up a conversation with a fellow from Belgium, who is also running his first KPM. We chat and cruise up and around the campus of the Technical University of Košice (where I am working for a semester teaching biomedical engineering under a Fulbright grant) and then turn down Komenského and Hlavná toward the main square (Hlavné Námestie).

Up ahead loom the spires of the cathedral, and just beyond sits a big blue arch labeled “U. S. Steel” (in recognition of the race’s main sponsor and Košice’s largest employer) that marks the half-marathon finish, which we hit together in 1:44. About this time, my Belgian friend remarks that he is right on pace for a 3:30 marathon. Two things happen here, pretty quickly: first, I finally get the idea that I am going too fast; and second, I am really hungry. I slow down, say good-bye to my new friend, and check the town clock, which says that it is almost noon. My 8:00 A.M. breakfast of toast, jam, and orange juice—supplemented with a block of Turkish nougat I purchased near the start line, no PowerBars being available—is all used up, and I begin to look for more street vendors, but guess what? I have another lap to do!

Courtesy of Richard Magin

▲

The author “warms up” before the race at the KPM flame and bronze statue. The names of all (male) winners are inscribed on the base (beginning in 1924).

Courtesy of Richard Magin

▲ The author coming to the finish, leading the 4-hour marathon pacing group.

THE REALIZATION OF POSSIBLE DOOM DESCENDS Going up Hlavná the second time, I have the same feeling of unease that I get when going to the dentist for a return visit after a bad checkup; this is going to hurt. Keeping a brave face, I now notice that the runners on Komenského are fewer in number and spaced farther apart; despite the camaraderie of training groups, marathons eventually come down to individual effort and a personal conversation with the little voice in the head that says, “Stop!” Entering the park loop for the second time, I am thrilled to find food: cookies, fruit, and a sports drink—at least I think that’s what it is. The drink comes in convenient but unlabeled red bottles and has a strange taste on the palate; however, this is not the time for swishing it around the tongue to sample the vintage, so I stuff my mouth with cookies and

Courtesy of Richard Magin

swallow the drink whole. Now, with food and fluid problems under control, I can try to get back on (or at least maintain) pace. Working harder now, I go through 25K and set my sights on 30K, from which I know there is only a half loop (10K or so) to the end—just keep running. I am, but I’m slowing down; runners are starting to pass me. As I am coming down Národná Street, I become aware of a large group of runners (for this stage of the race) overtaking me. I can also hear shouts of “Mickey! Mickey! Mickey!” from the crowd along the road, and I figure that some sort of Slovak promotion, with a runner wearing a Mickey Mouse costume, is coming by. Well, it quickly turns out that it is not Mickey Mouse (and the armed guards on bicycles are a hint) but in fact the prime minister of Slovakia, Mikuláš Dzurinda, a veteran runner with many marathons to his credit. This was his 15th KPM, which he will finish in 3:42:15. Also to his credit was his decision to run in the 2001 New York City Marathon as a show of support for the victims of the 9/11 attack.

Inspired by the spectators, I hang on running (slowly) for another 5K until Jantárová Street, where I finally run out of energy. A foolish pace has finally done me in. What had been a slow run now became a walk with guilt-induced spurts of slow jogging while runners better trained and with better pacing sense pass me more frequently. As some sage runner once said, a poor marathon finish not only hurts, it hurts longer! So now going slowly enough to notice every tree

▲ Slovak prime minister, Mikuláš Dzurinda (number 111), finishes his 15th KPM with a strong kick.

and road sign, I make my way up and around the final loop, eventually doing my walk/run again past the campus of the Technical University. Finally, I make the turn down the 2K straightaway to the finish and pick it up to a slow jog. I go down Hlavná, past the marathon statue for the fourth time that day, around the cathedral, and into the finish area in 3:57. My second half is almost 30 minutes slower than the first. At the finish, I collect my finisher’s medal, am greeted by my wife, Karen (she never asks why, just shows up to take me home), and sink onto a bench in the park at the town square to reflect on being deceived yet again by overoptimism and bad judgment.

As my wife and I wait for the number 7 tram to take us back to our apartment—I am not able to walk Hlavná for a fifth time that day—I look around. The sun is shining, the work crew is beginning to disassemble the spectator viewing stands, and a group of boys across the street are trying to dislodge something in a tree branch—perhaps a shirt or jacket tossed up there by a runner. The boys will soon have a memento of the day; I have mine, a finisher’s medal pressing heavily on my chest. In the end, it’s the finishing part that brings me back to run marathons; I just need to get better control of the starts. Overall, it was a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon in Košice, Slovakia. If you are also looking for a new start, you might try it sometime. The KPM is usually scheduled for the first Sunday in October.

And What I Learned From It 1. In planning your marathon pace, remember the advice that your high school teachers gave you for taking multiple-choice exams: don’t change your answer at the last minute.

2. When running in a new event or a familiar event in a new place, come prepared. We know not to go off into the woods on a long trail run without food and water, but sometimes we take it for granted that these essentials

will be available when we need them on a city course. 3. If the race starts after 8:00 A.M., eat a full breakfast. Turkish nougat is fine for topping the tank before a half-marathon, but it will not get you through a

full marathon. 4. When planning your race pace, work out the times for four equally spaced distances so that they can be easily remembered, and write them somewhere on your body. 5. Finishing the marathon is like finishing a competitive game of darts—at the end, to win, you must hit all the numbers.