A Really International Marathon

Team USA/Fort Wayne goes to Gera, Germany, to take on the world in the Elstertal Marathon.

here are international marathons, and then there is the Elstertal Marathon. Ty. Our little group from Fort Wayne, Indiana, could have traveled to Paris

or London or, more appropriately in this case, Berlin. Instead, we journeyed 5,000 miles to compete against 200 runners.

Why do this? Since when did less become more in the world of marathoning? What about the exhilaration of the masses and the photo ops of urban landmarks?

To this question, Team Fort Wayne—no, make that Team USA—replied, “Give us Gera! And bring on the Russians. And the Finns. And throw those East Germans into the race, too!”

As you may have guessed by now, the Elstertal Marathon in Gera, Germany, in August 2007 was anything but a typical international marathon experience for our group. The field was small and the host city was tiny, but this race had a certain resemblance to another marathon hosted by Germany in 1972.

Team: together everyone achieves … aw! Just forget it

We were an odd group, our team of runners from Fort Wayne—not exactly the “A” team, more like the “D” team. Or maybe the “F” team, as in “fun.” But, well, we were the best our city could muster for this trip.

Fort Wayne and Gera are sister cities. We share much, our little towns. With roots in industrial production and farming, we hooked up shortly after the reunification of Germany. Since that time, representatives have traveled across the Atlantic each year to experience each other’s way of life. For Hoosiers, it’s an excuse to drink German beer in Germany. For Gera’s citizens visiting Fort Wayne, it’s an annual excuse for us—you guessed it—to drink German beer with Germans.

Gera’s leaders take its sister-city program seriously. They were so happy when the Berlin Wall fell that they quickly signed up with nearly a dozen cities across the globe. Gera even has a sister city in Germany (Bitburg), albeit from former West Germany.

During the summer of 2007, the organizers thought they would invite teams of runners from all of Gera’s sister cities to compete in the Elstertal Marathon. It would be a friendly contest, to be sure, with each city’s first three finishers figuring in the scoring, lowest total time to win.

Phil Suelzer, Fort Wayne’s coordinator, began recruiting for this event well in advance. Unfortunately, none of our city’s finest (runners, that is) signed up. But what we got was an appropriate blend of our town: injured and healthy, young and old, experienced and inexperienced.

Headlining our team was yours truly, a 41-year-old 15-time marathoner, including the last seven Bostons. But a recurrent illness stemming from this year’s Boston and a career change over the summer greatly reduced my training. I was running simply for fun—and that aforementioned German beer.

We also had a 50-year-old grizzled ultramarathoner named Brad Compton. I found it interesting that Brad told us on the flight over that, three weeks earlier, he had finished a 100-mile trail race. So I was thinking, He’s not gonna go too fast.

Next was 69-year-old attorney Bill Harris. He has run many marathons in his lifetime, but none of them fast. In fact, his stated goal for this race was to “not embarrass my city.” Oh boy, we’re 0-for-3 so far.

We also had 22-year-old Garrett Bradtmuller, a soon-to-be-senior crosscountry runner for Indiana University-Purdue University Fort Wayne. He would be making his marathon debut. What he lacked in experience, he more than made up in enthusiasm. Of course, everyone has enthusiasm until he reaches mile 23 for the first time.

Finally, our hammer: Suelzer. Phil might be in his 50s and recently retired as a school psychologist, but he is by far the most decorated athlete of our group. An accomplished marathoner (sub-2:30 back in the day) and triathlete (a participant in the early days of the Hawaii Ironman), Phil was going to get it done for us— that is, until he tore his meniscus shortly before our trip. In the end, “Coach” Phil was a great video-photographer.

International intrigue

Team USA met its rivals the night before at a feast with an interesting menu. Instead of pasta, we were treated to a dish that consisted of pork roast encased in a potato paste. A side of sauerkraut topped it off. The wine and beer flowed, and I started to feel good about our chances and said so to anyone who would listen. By noon the next day, I realized it was just the beer talking.

I sat with the team from Kuopio, Finland. The team didn’t look so tough: middle aged, happy to drink beer and wine. We compared our training regimens. All five team members (four men and one woman) were triathletes. They made it clear that they were here for a party and that the marathon would just be a three-hour interruption.

Their ace, Ismo Kotijarvi, was the superintendent of the city’s sports facilities.

“He’s in great shape because he gets to run and swim while at work,” said Jukka Vanhanen in broken English. Vanhanen managed a liquor store, which didn’t give him the same advantage as Ismo but certainly didn’t hurt.

“You have a saying in America: Don’t take your work home with you. Right?” Vanhanen asked me. I answered affirmatively. “Well, my wife always calls and says bring home some wine. So, I bring my work home with me!”

Kuopio’s best athlete was the woman, Imke Hofling. She was nationally ranked in the triathlon and was training for the national championships. In very good English, Hofling said she would be taking it easy in the marathon.

Hofling, an orthopedic surgeon, was a native of Germany. Along with Finnish, German, and English, she also spoke Italian, French, and Russian. I wondered, but didn’t ask, what language she cursed in when she developed cramps late in a marathon.

Next to our table was seated the latearriving team from Rostov, Russia. Its 36hour bus ride must have been an ordeal, but within a few beers, the team members began

Author Brett Hess relaxes inside Gera Stadium.

to laugh and joke to their interpreter. They were a rough bunch, with a rather hard edge about them. Their top runners were a 20-something and two men in their late 50s. I imagined them running through snowstorms in Siberia and then drinking vodka afterward in the same volume that I consumed Propel. Hmm. I wonder how vodka mixes with Propel?

Also in attendance were the teams from Skiernewice, Poland, and Pskov, Russia. I fretted about not spending time with everyone, but the Finns were good company. We talked about Paavo Nurmi and Lasse Viren and Bill Rodgers and Frank Shorter. It was clear that they didn’t train like Paavo or Lasse, and I made it clear that I was no Bill or Frank.

The Finns told us tales of the woodlands and forests that Paavo trained in and how they haven’t changed much. After 30 minutes, I was ready to visit Kuopio.

Everything you would want in a course

On race morning my host, Henry Hafner, and I walked to the start. One thing to keep in mind about Gera and most German towns: you walk everywhere and don’t bat an eye about it. It was only two kilometers to the start from Henry’s apartment, and I figured that despite carrying all my gear, the walk would serve as a good warm-up.

The Elstertal Marathon would start and finish in Gera Stadium, a beautiful facility that seats over 15,000 people for professional soccer and European track meets. I couldn’t help but think of Shorter as I stood at the starting line. I was an American marathoner at the Zie/, or finish of an international marathon in Germany. The stadium wasn’t full, but there was plenty of excitement in the air.

Shorter’s victory in Munich in 1972 was my first Olympic memory. I had turned 7 years old that month, and learning about a man who could run an incomprehensible distance intrigued me. I remember asking my mother to time me as I ran around our block in central Fort Wayne. It was just over a quarter of a mile, and I don’t remember my time, but I couldn’t imagine running that loop 100 times.

Now here I was, standing among Russians and Poles and Finns and Germans. I was wearing the Stars and Stripes, racing against runners from around the world.

The race began with 300 meters on the track before heading out onto Gera’s version of a greenway. Not only was it a running and cycling path around town, but it connected towns.

The course has two separate out-and-backs. We headed west eight kilometers to the village of Bad Kostritz, famous for Késtritzer Beer. You beer connoisseurs might be aware of this dark lager. If not, then familiarize yourself with it. After running back past the stadium near the 16K mark, the course heads east toward the village of Wiinschendorf. There, at 29K, is the final turn-around.