You. And you don't even have to run like Pheidipides. Athens is racing to a glorious finish in time for the August Olympics. Bob Payne finds renewed excitement in a European capital that was too long neglected

The smallest country to take on the Olympic challenge since Finland did so in 1952, and one with perhaps the most entrenched government bureaucracy in Europe, Greece is striving hard to live up to the promises it made in its winning bid to host the Games. The Greeks themselves admit that they are legendary procrastinators, and there are projects that may not be finished in time, especially a critical electrical tram line that is supposed to connect central Athens to outlying event sites. Or it may turn out that the Greeks, spurred into action by international criticism, will ultimately pull off an event that will, in the words of one organizer, reintroduce a modernized Athens to the rest of the world.

But no matter what happens, whether the transportation projects, hotel renovations, and general refurbishing get done in time or not, one thing is certain: A major beneficiary of this summer's Games, for decades to come, will be the visitor—even visitors like me. In twenty-five years of returning time and again, I have grown to love the city not only in spite of its chaos but also because of it.

"We are building a completely new city," one official told me. That may be overstating the case, but there is no doubt that changes being made to Athens in the name of the Olympics—changes that at times have made the city look and sound like one huge construction zone over the past three years—are on a scale usually associated only with rebuilding after a war.

The first change returning visitors will notice may bring tears to the eyes—tears of joy, for a change. The old, woefully inadequate Hellinikon airport, with its stuffy, cigarette smoke–filled arrivals hall, has been replaced by the state-of-the-art Eleftherios Venizelos International, seventeen miles southeast of the city. Opened in March 2001 and named after a seven-term prime minister (renowned enough to appear on one of the fifty-cent euro coins), the four-story glass and steel facility can handle as many as six hundred flights a day—or sixteen million passengers a year, with the capability of expanding to fifty million. Planners hope it will become a transport hub for southern Europe.

I've flown into the new airport twice now, once a few weeks after it opened and again just recently. I immediately noticed how smoothly everything ran. Had I landed in Switzerland by mistake? No, this was Athens—Athens as an Olympic sprinter. A sprinter, the lover of the old city in me was secretly pleased to see, who realizes halfway around the track that officials are still setting up the finish line.