Prague - A Czech Spring Marathon

After my disappointment with having to drop out of the Belfast Marathon at the beginning of the month, my desire to run in Prague had switched from a gentle run through this Central European Capital, to one in which I had ambitions of breaking the “magic” 4 hour barrier. My training had been going well since Connemara in March, and with the exception of the glitch around Belfast, I had been running injury free. The only problem I could foresee was that I had put back a few of the pounds I had shed over the winter training, and that I felt “heavy” – I had climbed back to around 189 lbs, well above my fighting weight.

We flew out to Prague on the Friday, arriving to beautiful sunshine, and a city that thrives on tourists. Abundant with picturesque buildings, everywhere you look, every side-street you go down, there seems to be another hidden gem of a church or 16th century mural depicting a religious scene, with a gaggle of camera shod tourists having the meaning of the architecture explained. Prague is a city steeped in history, some bloodier than others, and it would be fair to say that following the collapse of communism, they have embraced capitalism and are hungry for the tourist dollar, or in our case, euro!

We sat out on the Old Town Square, enjoying a beer in the evening sun, watching the world go by, and relaxing, before heading to dinner and an early night. Saturday morning saw me up and out for a light jog. Now, with some 10,000 people involved with the Marathon weekend, with an 8K and a 4K fun run in addition to the Marathon, I would have expected to see others out for a morning workout, maybe I ran in the wrong places, but my 15 minute sojourn around Wenceslas Square simply saw me receiving strange stares from a population heading to work, or maybe they were late night revellers returning to their hotels, but I saw no other runners – We did have the right weekend?

When we booked the trip, it had not been top of my agenda to notice that the FA Cup Final (Soccer) was to be played this weekend. This event only triggered on my radar when the team I follow, Liverpool FC, made it through to the final. A dilemma… I like to watch a Big Match with others. Usually in a bar, and enjoying a pint as I cheer, boo, go through all the emotions that are invoked in a major sporting event. But I had a race to run on Sunday, could I have a couple of beers and still run OK. – Well, I met up with a few other runners who were like minded in their desire to watch the match, and so in mid-afternoon, Steve, Andy and a Canadian-Italian, Vincenzo, along with Dee and myself were esconsed in Rocky O’Reilly’s Irish Bar to watch one of the Best Cup Finals in living memory. Suffice to say Liverpool won, and despite a couple of beers, and a plate of nacho’s, we were all in good spirit and ready to face the cobbles of Prague on the following morning. Maybe we would have been better taking a tip from our Canadian friend and enjoyed a baked potato or rice, but it was pasta we sought, and then an early night, so we retired early, looking forward to the race.

Just realised that you have scrolled through 4 paragraphs of my ramblings and hardly a word about running, but Sunday morning came, and at 8 we were in the Old Town Square trying to see where the Rain that had been forecast may be coming from. Instead we were “blessed” with sunshine, and whilst poncho’s were being handed out, it was warm enough for me to be hanging around in my running singlet, and looking forward to the race. Steve, Andy and myself were all looking for similar times, so we had arranged to run together, and lined up between the 3:30 and 4 hour pace teams. There were around 3000 running the full marathon, and at just after 9 the race was off, and we wound our way through the Old Town Square and were off.

We had been warned about the course. In some cases quite negatively. There were to be cobbles and tram lines, and we had been told that these were dangerous etc… Well, like any race, if you watch where you are putting your feet you should be OK, and I have to say that whilst they were there as we ran in the Old Town, they never caused me a problem at all – it may have been different if it had rained and the cobbles had been slippy, but hey were nowhere near the problems we had feared.

We were trying to run a reasonable pace, and with the fact that Europe is metric this was to be a 42.195 kilometre race, rather than a 26.2 mile race, if you understand what I mean. We were all used to running Mile pace, and with 26 clicks of the watch to indicate our progress. No mile markers, but 42 K markers seems more daunting, somehow it sounds further, but we found an advantage in that the markers came around a lot quicker, especially in the latter stages. I had worked out a 5Km split pace, and we were looking for 27:30 for the 8 spilts, and then take the last 2195 metres in our strides – at least that was the idea.

The first few kilometres is run through the Old and picturesque part of town, crossing the famous Charles Bridge very early on. Despite the crowds we were running steadily and the first 5K came upon us before we knew it, and we had run 27:50 from the start mat (it was a chipped race), and were enjoying the craic as we ran. Crowd support thinned out as soon as we had left the main square. A few interested bystanders, others perplexed at these be-shorted visitors running around en masse. It would be fair to say that the Praguvians were not as savvy regarding their Marathon as New Yorkers or Londoners, but those that were there clapped politely as we ran along, and with bands interspersed along the course it wasn’t too bad. No sheep or cows as in Connemara to moo or baa us along!

Even at this early stage of the race I could feel the sun on my body as I ran along. Each water station was treated with respect and fluid taken on, and the 10K marker came up in 54:29, a 26:39 second split. We were running easily, the pace was steady, and whilst we may have been picking it up slightly, it wasn’t noticeable at this stage. I kept doing my body check to see if the niggles were coming back to haunt me, but everything felt great and as we came back into the city at around 12K, things were looking good. Dee was able to catch us at this point, shouting out and managing to get a picture as we ran along – life was good.

After the first 1/3 of the race, the course heads out of town, and into the first of the “boring” bits. Now, every marathon, in order to make up the miles and not simply have us making numerous laps of a city centre (a logistical nightmare I would suggest), has to have some boring bits. Here was our first ordeal. Up to 15K, and a 25:58 split, well on target for out sub 4 at this stage, and it was now that the heat, probably in the 70’s by now (and only 10:30 in the morning), started to tell a little with me. I could see that my younger running colleagues were running strongly, so at some point before the 20K mark I told them I was going to drop back a little, or more realistically allow them to go on and I would ease back to the 27:30 pace I was seeking. They reluctantly let me slip back, and I must have been doing something right as my split for that 5 was exactly 27:30!

The turnaround took place just before the Half-Marathon point, and I saw Steve and Andy as they returned. They were only around 20 seconds ahead of me at that point, a gap that would widen over the second half. According to the official timing I reached half-way at 1:54:37, still within my target range of breaking 4, a 2:05 second half would bring me in. But by now I was feeling that heat sufficiently to make me walk through each water station, ensuring I was hydrating, swallowing each cup of water and energy drink. It is so easy when running along to slop water into your mouth and not actually take much in, for me, in this weather, I knew I needed to take the fluid on-board, and walking for 20 seconds or so to ensure sufficient went down was a small price to pay.

The run back into the city was non-descript and at around 23K we crossed the river again, and then we had the really boring bit! On the maps, and by descriptions we had heard, this was to be the challenge. Out and back along a dual-carriageway for 7K up, and 7K back. As we went onto this stretch, it was hard seeing the 38K marker on the other side of the road, and knowing that I had to run up and back – Very tempting to cross over the carriageway and cheat at this point – I wonder if some did? (They would be excluded as there was a check-mat at 33K). 25K was reached in 28:16 and whilst I was feeling mildly light-headed I was trying to do some calculations as to what was needed to bring me home under 4 hours.

At this point I realised that 3 x 30 minute 5K’s and a strong finish would still have me home under target, and that was my focus for each kilometre along this empty concrete stretch along the river. 6 minutes per kilometre, easy, a gentle run. It was getting harder, but I can still run that pace can’t I? The other runners around were all non-english speaking, so little encouragement was to be had from those around, and no spectators at this point, and 30K came up with a 30:25 split – OK, not too bad, only just outside my time plan now, I could still do it – Only 12 K left to go, keep on target, concentrate……

Now, after the race, Vincenzo, my Canadian-Italian friend complained about the wind on this stretch. I have to confess I cannot recall a breath of a breeze anywhere along this highway, and as I approached the turnaround I was buzzed to see Andy and Steve still running together, although by now they had gained a few minutes on me, but they looked strong and well able to break that 4 barrier. Turned around it was heading for home, but my quads and other leg muscles were starting to tell me that they were getting tired as well, and the heat was still prevalent as well. Each water station walk was harder to re-start from, and 35K saw a 33:00 split – Damn! 4 hours was out of the question now, I was fading, or could I run sub 6 for the last 7 K, would that bring me home still within 4? Now, I pride myself on my abilities with mental arithmetic, but by now I was struggling with 2+2, and I was adjusting my time to anywhere from 4 to 4:15, still trying to think straight, and looking ahead to see where the bridge for home was to be.

Each K post was getting further apart, and I was relieved that they were not Mile Markers as at least they came around. At the 38K post we veered away from those still heading out along the highway, they were still at 23K, I didn’t envy them at all. I was thinking – Only 5K to go – no! - less – 4195 meters, counting my strides, 79, 80, 81…. That’s the 195 gone, only 4000 left, ten laps of a track, easy running, I could do this, 4:15 was going to be broken, could I manage under 4:10, of course I could – There’s the 39 mark, oh no, 7 minutes plus for that kilometre, I can walk it that fast, dig in………..

The last water stop was ahead, then the 40K mark, and the bridge back towards the old town again and the spectacular finish in the Old Town Square, under the Old Town Hall and the Astronomical Clock. Dee would be waiting, Steve and Andy hopefully had finished – summon up one last bit of strength and drag yourself home, anyone can run 2 kilometres. Here it was I got a boost from three elderly Czech ladies, clapping along and encouraging me with cries of “Hop, Hop, Hop” – I trust that this was encouragement to run faster in Czech, rather than some attempt to have a laugh at my expense and get me hoping all the way home – They raised my spirits and as we crossed the river and headed for home, it was 35:22 for that last 5K, and I knew I could break 4:10.

Disaster nearly struck as I came off the bridge and turned left and the last kilometre along the river. Pedestrians were crossing the road between runners, but for some reason this idiot decided that he had the right of way and that some Irish inconvenience to his sight-seeing wasn’t going to stop him, and he stepped out directly in front of me. At this stage in a marathon, it is hard to make a sudden swerve, but easy to make a sudden swear! I yelled some expletive, just managed to avoid a direct hit, but I have to confess that my right fist did make an involuntary swipe at his back-pack and a finger was extended to express universal feelings to him. If he had been aggressive and tried to chase me, maybe I would have broke that 4 hours after all, but looking back now, I doubt he could have run for 10 seconds without falling over – Oh well, it takes all sorts.

As you read the above, so it passed the time for me as well – took my mind off my mathematics and thoughts of times, lucky not to have had a major accident and be scraped off the side-walk! 41K, wow, less distance than 3 laps of a track to go, I was nearly home. I turned the corner, the final long straight – The road lined with fences and banners indicating the sponsors, and finally a swell of a crowd, clapping, cheering, welcoming the runners home, a glance at my watch – In my mind I needed 80 seconds for that last 195 metres, where was the 42 mark – I could see it ahead, a glance at my watch – I could make it under 4:08 – A cry of YES! Erupted from my mouth, repeated three or four times, each one louder, and the crowd started to shout YES back, I dug in, passed fellow strugglers, summoning up that last ounce of strength in my tired limbs and “sprinted” for the line. I’d love to see a video of this “sprint” as it would probably more resemble a cart-horse plodding along, but it felt like a sprint, but I felt great, ecstatic, I crossed the line – 4:07:57 – A triumph where disaster could have been. 13 minutes faster than Connemara, that’s 30 seconds a mile better, or is that 20 seconds a kilometre, oh heck – I still can’t work that one out – who cares – I’m finished.

As soon as I had crossed the line I saw Dee, camera in hand, and she snapped me in my happy state – Smiling, no longer in pain, but I did want some water, and my medal – Makes it all worthwhile…… And most of all a kiss from my girl who was there for me at the end, now that really makes it worthwhile!

It was a little chaotic around the finish area. The surreal sight of tour guides still trying to explain the workings of the Astronomical Clock to oblivious visitors, more interested in the runners completing their task. I found the lads at our pre-arranged spot. Andy had managed a great run well inside the 4 hours, and Steve had suffered over the last few K, and just missed out on breaking 4, but set a PR and was happy. The race was over, we had all got around, were all happy, and it was time to look forward to a few Czech beers, after a shower at least! We enjoyed a meal, a few beers

No tales from Prague could be complete without mention of the local beer. Away from the main tourist traps, you can get some of the best beer in the world for 28Kr, which works out at around €1 per pint, or $1:25, or only 65 pence sterling! – Heard from Steve that he managed to find a pint for 15Kr – So, if you like a beer, and REAL Budweiser (not that lousy watery brew that stole the name in the US) – Prague is worth a visit. Not to mention that is is a beautiful city, and that they have a great Marathon to boot.

Sadly, all good trips have to come to an end, and after a day on Monday sight-seeing and relaxing in the Spring Sun – Sun I welcomed on Monday far more than on Sunday, it was home to Dublin, and thoughts of where to go from here in my running. Dublin Marathon in October will be next, with many a stepping stone in-between. A week back in the sun, this time of Spain, beckons from Saturday. My runners will be in my bag, but only for gentle jogs along the shore – Relax and unwind, ready to face the summer on the roads of Ireland as I prepare for my next race, looking back and reflecting on a great time in Prague, and despite failing to break 4 hours, learning a lot and enjoying a new M45 Personal Best -