Running Through Skopje
Balkan
Marathon
Training
Guide
By Mike Szymanski
The Lead-up
I would like to report that training for a marathon in the Balkans consists of a
dedicated training schedule, a regimented diet, and mental discipline; however, I
cannot. The above are not only difficult to put into practice while remaining true
to living a Balkan lifestyle and making progress on Peace Corps missions two &
three, but may even be hindrances to marathon success.
To rewind a bit, before arriving for Macedonia I never had much interest
in propelling my body 26.2 miles in one burst of activity. In reality, I first fancied the idea of running a marathon after running the half-marathon last year. I
thought, “Maybe I’ll try to run the entire thing next year.” However, somewhere
between last year and our language IST, I totally forgot about this ambition and
I just went on living a Balkan lifestyle, not particularly filled with running and
more filled with other types of activity.
At the time of the language IST in Ohrid, I realized that the Skopje Marathon
was only a few weeks away. Now, a sensible option would have been to hold
out for a marathon that would have given a bit more time for training; however,
bolstered by the MAK 12 year of jubilee and my desire to make Skopje my first
marathon, I decided to give it a go. It was at this time that I subscribed to a strict
training routine of boza drinking, eating Stipska pastrimilija, and participating in
fast oro dancing whenever possible.
The Marathon
As for the marathon itself, it was all a bit of a blur, primarily because I lost my
right contact the morning of the race. But who knows, maybe this was just the
type of disorientation that I needed in order to keep moving pravo. However, I
do remember a few things from the race:
1. It was hot.
2. The image of Erin Gibbs, rushing out of McDonald’s at the midway
point, to scream some words of encouragement.
3. I will NEVER forget getting to the finish line, greeted with a screaming
crowd of PCVs that had waited a couple extra hours to cheer me on at the
end. This is easily one of my favorite memories in Macedonia! Thanks to
everyone!!!
The Aftermath
As for the aftermath. The day after the Marathon, I was being passed on the street
by babas. Given my condition, which consisted of a slow shuffling of the feet,
walking proved difficult. The babas’ look of pity for me as they blazed past was
humbling to say the least. Thursday was the first day I walked with any type
of normality. To anyone considering running the Skopje Marathon next year, I
would say it’s a must. What the heck, it’s Jubilee!
8 - pauza
Running the 5K ?
By Jordan Calhoun
Before the gun fires, most of us ask ourselves the same question— why am I doing this? Five kilometers, twenty kilometers, forty kilometers, it doesn’t matter, the
question buzzes in and out of our ears like
a gnat. Overweight, under-trained, borderline hung-over— why am I doing this? But
that’s before the gun fires.
On a Sunday morning, fifteen Peace
Corps Macedonia volunteers showed up to
Skopje’s center in their running shoes. Some
had experience running races before, while
many were to cross a finish line for their
first time. We had spoken, in passing, about
the Skopje Marathon for months, but now
we were actually expected to run, one foot
in front of the other, for ungodly lengths of
time. It was our judgment day, and the sun
presided over us as we went to the starting
line of over 400 people thinking the same
thoughts. Then the single gunshot rang over
the music of hundreds of earphones.
I was a wuss, myself. I mean, I’ve run
several five kilometer races, I’m young, and
I’m in good shape, but I still didn’t sign up
for the half-marathon like Steven Barkdoll,
Amber Holliday, Jillian Schuster, and Kristen Halseth. And there’s no way I would
sign up to glide like Mike Szymanski for
26.2 miles. Make no mistake, I’m no Vince
Drader. But after twenty-one minutes and
fifty nine seconds, I knew why I had run.
After I caught my breath, I joined every PCV that stuck around to cheer on the
others. The finish line, within seconds, morphed each Peace Corps runner into a Peace
Corps cheerleader. We screamed as Jillian
finished the race second place, female. We
screamed as our LCFs Despina, Mirjana,
and Ana finished the half marathon. We
got McDonald’s ice cream—in true American fashion—returned to the race, and
screamed our lungs out as Mike, after forty
kilometers, 26.2 miles of pain, sweat, and
sun, crossed the finish line of the Skopje
Marathon.
Before the gun fires, most of us ask ourselves the same questions—why am I doing this? Five kilometers, twenty kilometers, forty kilometers, it doesn’t matter. But
that’s before the gun fires. After we crossed
the finish line, even if ineffable, we all have
our answers.