The race started 05:00 Saturday morning in the middle of no-where. I had woken up in a sofa at my sisters apartment just three hours before and gotten on a taxi van with several other runners to the start. The nervousness and uncertainty had vanished, just leaving an unsettled stomach. I met up with Matthew, a Canadian living in Drammen, and we were fidgeting with our gear and wondering what to pack, what to wear and what to leave in the drop bag. I left the the trousers and was still undecided about my jacket. A Belgian guy, Wouter, strolled around in short, minimal tights and a short sleeved shirt and I guess that was the cue for leaving my jacket as well (I'd regret that later).
We gathered up, counted down and set off into the night. Straight from the start there was a long, steep climb that everybody hiked up. I was a bit worried since I felt a strain on my back that early, and wondered if I had trained too little with the back pack that was now heavier(yes). Thankfully it flattened out and I felt that the race finally started. It wasn't as bad going through the muddy trail in the night as I had feared. I felt good, the pace was just a bit slower than what I felt was manageable and there was a sense of companionship with a lot of easy chatter. I also enjoyed the light from the guy behind me as my headlight was really weak.
We cruised past the two first checkpoints easily without getting lost or any big mishaps(I think I fell only once). There was a long, slight ascent where some hiked and some ran. I felt like running it as I knew there were plenty of steeper climbs just ahead. Matthew, having the flu(!), was just hiking and he wished me luck as I set off. Reaching the climb on the narrow and technical trail I felt really uncomfortable again. Hiking was a lot harder on me and I felt faint, just 5-6 km into the race. I had some logistical problems with getting out the gel with the handheld water bottle and the map in one hand, trying to unscrew the cap of the gel with my other hand and my teeth while moving on increasingly muddier trails in the dark. I wasn't looking forward to repeating that complicated maneuver every hour. Suddenly Matthew trudged past and I felt compelled to pick up the pace.
Checkpoint 3, 7 km from start
The worst mud eased off at the third checkpoint and I followed a long line of bobbing lights down to a lake, farts and burps breaking the serene silence unashamedly and the sweet smell of energy gel filling the fresh predawn air.
I caught up with Matthew again and we kept a good pace towards the fourth checkpoint.
"How's your flu, Matt?"
"Fine. Your stomach?"
"Ok, I guess, I burp a lot."
"It's better to let out some gas, both ends."
"Yeah, about that, I'm worried about the other end.. getting more out than I bargained for."
"Well, you wont be first to squat down, or the only one."
Keeping to the topic I fell ass-first into the mud, sliding a meter and needing help getting up again. We reached the checkpoint, almost 10 km into the race and starting on a climb south-west. A lady(Miriam, I think her name is) had caught up with us and we were witnessing a spectacular view as first sunlight broke through the early morning fog. We were traversing a ridge to it's highest point at 688 meters. We had a little short rest, getting in some food, taking in the view and having quick map check. This was new territory for me, as I hadn't run this far on my recces (brit. slang for reconnaissance). I told Matthew that the worst of the muddy trails were over, of course it was bold statement considering I only knew about 1/4 of the course. He smiled wryly. "We'll see about that."
The trail winded down and we ran as a group, staying with the Miriam and an older guy from Trønderlag, that seemed proficient with the map. After not seeing a blue trail marker for a while we realized that we were lost and had to back track. A little later we did a map check again and Miriam and the Trønder set off, Matthew and I weren't so sure about their decision. We followed another trail for a few hundred meters before we realized it was completely wrong. We met a Red Cross woman who affirmed that the two others were right all along. As we got to the gravel road we stopped by an ambulance. He told us that a runner in the race had fallen, getting a root in his eye.
Checkpoint 6, 16 km from start.
The gravel road was a blessing and we actually ran for a few k's. We got to the checkpoint where a guy who was taking pictures surprised us when he told us that we were in the middle of the pack. Only twelve others had passed. I was certain we were a trailing in the back of the pack. He also said that the guy who had injured himself was taken care off, and that he apparently could see with his hurt eye.
We climbed up a long and slender ridge that gave us the best view of the day. Though I struggled every time we were forced to walk, for some reason that drained me of energy and I felt better again as soon as I got to run again. Matthew had a pretty fierce pace when hiking I just couldn't keep up with, and I felt that I was slowing him down every time I led on.
Checkpoint 7, 20 km.
We finally caught the two runners again, the Couple, as I dubbed them, and decided to hang on to them as they were better with maps than us. We locked in as a group and set off on a long and fast downhill. Miriam and I were pulling away on every descent and every runable flat just to get caught as soon as we had to hike. Matthew and the Trønder pulled away on the long hikes and climbs. This happened for some time.
We got lost for a little bit, and had to explore to get back on the trail, when Massimo, a young Italian living in Norway, caught us. I was surprised that he was behind us and not in front, but I guess he had a more sensible race plan(which isn't much, as I had none) and a more sustainable pace.
"Have you fallen in a stream?" He asked, running behind me.
"No, why?" I felt the back of my shorts, completely drenched.
"Maybe your camelbak is leaking."
"Shit." I had filled my camelbak with energy drink, and I could feel the bottom of the pack dripping.
"I'll have to discard it at the next checkpoint."
Checkpoint 8, 24 km.
I got the bladder out, took a long swig and emptied it on the ground before I stuffed back in. I had a few mouthful of burritos and watched as Massimo went off and then Matthew. He said he'd just keep walking to get a little ahead as he wasn't in the best shape. Miriam and the Trønder had a longer rest and I stayed with them. The Trønder told us that it was wet, boggy and probably muddy terrain ahead. Great.
"This is just ridiculous!" Matthew scrambled up some boulders in a stream.
"You've heard of Barkleys?" I grunted an affirmative and looked up the "trail" - rocks, boulders, mud, water.
"It's like that, a hard course just to be hard so few as possible can finish."
We had fallen back some and were getting fed up by the unrelenting difficult terrain. As we were forced to hike almost all the time, my energy level was getting really low, and to have a goal to strive for I was waiting to get to the checkpoint before having something to eat. The slog from checkpoint 8 to 9 was the first real low point. We crossed in to a nature reserve, which explained why the trail was almost nonexistent. A couple of swedes with walking poles passed us. Eventually we caught Miriam again and I felt better as we got more runable terrain. Getting a little boost in energy as we caught the swedes. The Trønder caught us again, which was a bit deflating since he was just walking, having to give up running a while back. Matthew thought it was curious how Miriam always was pushing on and getting a little lead just for the Trønder to catch her later, every time. I think Matthew decided to follow that tactic too, but I just couldn't keep up with just walking so I had to follow Miriam.
Checkpoint 9-12
I can't remember Checkpoint 9, but some ways in between there and 10 another couple caught up from behind. We were chatting away and I felt pretty good. The woman, Ninette seemed to be well prepared and talked about the next cut off time at checkpoint 11. We seemed to be making decent progress, but not great. I taggled along and I saw Matt for the last time, he wasn't looking too well.
I guess we kept a good pace and we must have been chatting a lot because I can't really remember much of the course until we got to checkpoint 11 with some time left to the cut off time. Ninette and the other guy I had been running with set of immediately, but my energy level was at bottom again and I needed to eat something solid. The problem with the burritos was that they were packed in the main compartment so I had to unstrap the back pack, zipper it up, throw down the waterbottle and the map before I could fish up the half eaten burrito. It was a hassle to do this every time I craved some solid food, as I'm not too fond of the gels and I had to conserve my energy bars that I had in the easy-to-reach belt-pockets.
The swedes came in, checked out and zoomed off while I was munching on my precious burrito. After drinking up the last of the water I decided to tuck away the waterbottle in the pack as soon I had refilled it in the next stream.
Somehow I overtook the swedes at a small stream, where we all filled up water. They stayed for a bit and I set off running for the most part. They eventually caught up when we hit a long, gradual ascent and we had a map check at a cross road where I could see Ninette and the other guy running down the wrong way. We shouted they were running the wrong way, but they didn't hear us(this happend alot, by the way, there always was a good spirit and sense of sportsmanship during the whole race). The swedes left me for dead, but I found comfort in a roll of Mentos I had forgotten in one of the side pockets.
Ninette and the tall guy zoomed past me before the top of the hill and the 12th checkpoint, encouraging me to keep up, but I just couldn't hike any faster and I wished them good luck. From the top of the hill and down to a lake I realized I could just slide the mapbook between my back and the backpack. I guess I slapped my forehead and let out a "D'oh!" because it really felt better having both of your hands free.
Another low point hit along the lake, apart from having to squat low in some bush and wiping my butt with some leafs, which was a relief rather than low point. I had been running along the rim of the lake getting to the 13th checkpoint taking a breath while emptying my shoes for the nth time of dirt and gravel. Just when I set off the Trønder walked up asking if the checkpoint was nearby. I was surprised and nodded and pointed down. As I ran a bit I realized he had taken an almost parallel route along the lake, on a gravel road! I guess it is a gray area thing wether or not that was cheating. He might have missed the trail, and I felt cheated that I hadn't seen that and taken that route as well. I decided to get a gap on him in the little piece of road that was left and ran hard until I had to turn into the wild again.
Now the weather turned nasty and I really could have used that jacket. It hailed at one point, and I was getting wet and cold. I also got unreasonably angry with the map for "lying" about the distance, realizing that I had scanned and printed different sections of the map with different scales and resolutions. There was no way I could deduce the distances from landmark to landmark on the different sheets. I sacrificed accuracy for compactness.
Checkpoint 14, 50 km.
The course here went south in a narrow valley along, and sometimes on, a stream. The checkpoint was on top of a hill 630 meters high. The demoralizing thing about it was that you took of the main trail and had to climb up to the top heading back north again, tag the top and head back down again. It was a 200 meter climb from the valley floor up to the top. Just before the left turn to the checkpoint, I heard the Trønder closing in. I was pretty deflated when he strode passed me and only groaned when he asked me how I was doing. When I started on the climb to the top I met Ninette and the tall guy heading down. They looked rudely alive and fresh. I kept swearing and cursing, wondering why they put this unnecessary detour up this hill, it made no sense!
Finally I got to the top and I enjoyed my last burrito, getting some much needed warmth from the sun that suddenly broke through. Talking about breaking through, a guy just broke through the brush from the north, checked in and asked me if this was the way down. I watched him head down with my mouth open. Is everybody cutting corners? I checked the map and I saw he had no reason to come from that direction. Even if he was lost, that would be a stretch to claim to just have stumbled upon the checkpoint. But who is checking, anyway. It was all runnable from here so I kept going.
Checkpoint 15, 53 km
The sun was starting to dip when I broke out of the forest and into a cluster of cabins and farms along a big lake. I guess I got distracted be the livestock looking vacantly at me so I missed a turn and ran 20 minutes on what felt like beautifully smooth and straight gravel road in the wrong diretion. A map check, a sigh and a slightly slower run back before I hit the right crossroad down to a little bridge that also was the checkpoint. I had been worrying about cut off times and found that I had little more than an hour to get to the next checkpoint. Which was 5 km away. I kept telling myself that I could do it, that I can do 10 K easily in an hour and so on to egg me on, but inside I knew it was hopeless. A friend of mine who was supposed to pick me up at the finish still hadn't answered me and confirmed and I was out of Mentos, both things worried and upset me. I gave it a go, but the 5 k to the checkpoint was just improbably long. The sun went down, it got a lot colder and the trails just got muddier and muddier. At least I didn't have to look at the map as much since the footprints of the earlier runners were clear. At this point I didn't enjoy the spectacular views along the ridge I was cresting as I was cursing, moping and shouting out in frustration.
A signpost indicating 3 km to Kikut (the checkpoint)
RODNEY: WHAT!! How can it 3 km left, I've run straight through this muddy shithole for like 4km!! No way it's 3 km left!! It's impossible!! F***** beep beep beep
SIGNPOST: Hey, dude, I'm just doing my job, man...
RODNEY: Sorry, I know it's not your fault, but f****...
I was losing my mind, feeling I should be closing in on the checkpoint, but never getting there. I was probably just a few minutes off when I turned left in an opening in the terrain, seeing grass beat down by what I assumed were earlier runners. I got to the top of a little hill and ran in to, some big antennas and a radiotower? I looked on the map and it didn't show any masts or towers in this area. The sense of relief turned to anxiety as I decided to backtrack, and yes, I'd turned too soon. Faeniforpultemøkkahelvete!
DNF(did not finish)
I finally got to signpost that pointed to the checkpoint, but I ignored it and went instead down another trail that should lead to a cluster of cabins along a gravel road. According to the race organizers(whom I hated intensely at this point) it was the easiest way to civilization if you had to drop out or missed the cut off at this point. I missed it by 20-30 minutes. Though I was out and my legs felt fine, albeit a bit raw and sore, I only considered to finish the distance only for a second. I could have, but didn't feel motivated to do so - the ridiculous amount of mud and waterlogged trails had killed off the last shred of trail running enjoyment I had. So I had to consider my way back to civilization. I knew the last 10 km of the route of the 20 left, but I really didn't want to go through that again, now in darkness with my useless headlight. Besides, I was really cold and starting to get hungry. There was a gravel road going all the way to suburbs of Oslo, but I really didn't have an idea of how, when and where I could get a bus. And I had gotten lost again. The little trail down to the gravel road was taking ages and I consider for moment what kind of injury would justify a rescue party and how I could inflict it.
I sent a text to the race director that I missed my cut off and had dropped out, and tried to call my pick up again. No answer. Shit! I called Matthew, he had dropped out ages ago and was back in Drammen. I got down to some houses and saw that there were cars and light. Thank God! I knocked on the door and made myself look pathetic, which really wasn't hard. I blamed a sprained ankle and asked if they could help me get back to Oslo. They were understandably reluctant, as they were preparing some dinner, but they gave me some hot chocolate while the older gentleman decided.
"What the hell, I need to tank up the car anyway."
On the way down I asked if they got bothered a lot by idiots like me.
"Yeah, you wouldn't believe," he said while smiling slyly. I guess I should have felt guilty, but I was cold, hungry, tired and beyond care.
Postscript
In the end I felt a lot less disappointed about not finishing than I thought I would. Yes yes, a great achievement getting so far and all that, but this is the first time I haven't finished a race or reached a specific goal I've set for myself. I'm surprised by not really feeling anything. I did give it all I had, I really don't see how I could have done much differently physically. The only thing that stuck out was the preparation, and here I got a ton of stuff to tweak before the next race. The gear, i.e. hydration systems, backpacks, food, shoes, needs to be changed or fixed for the next time. The training wasn't specific enough either.
- The backpack had too small pockets on the hip, or too few of them. They were perfect and accessible, but could only hold so many gels and energybars. It was really a hassle to get to the stuff in the main compartment.
- The handheld waterbottle is great for faster, easier courses with aid-stations and when you don't need a back pack, it complicated things when I needed two free hands getting stuff in the pack. The bladder was useless - I carried a lot of weight for a long time for nothing in the end.
- Less gel, more bars, I guess. Or the gels were fine, it was just the clumsy arrangement with the previous points that complicated things. I wasn't eating often enough at the start which seems to have played havoc with my energy level throughout.
- I love the shoes, my trusty MT 101's, but they are pretty worn and a hole in mesh above the toes let the left shoe fill with mud and gravel all the time and I had to stop and empty them several times. One of the toes is pretty bruised up after having pebbles gnawing on it. The lugs underneath where too worn down so I slipped a lot. And the heel caps cut into to my achilles heel, though it wasn't too bad.
- The mapbook I made was in the end pretty useless. I really should have just bought the map and covered it in plastic.
And finally, training in the same environment as the race. The two training sessions I did on the course were essential for getting that far, but it was nowhere near enough for finishing. It was really wet and muddy, I've repeated that a lot for a reason. My local training routes are on drier and wider, more accessible trails, which there were virtually none of in the race.
In the end, I can't say I underestimated the race, because I knew it would be hard, but I had prepared too little and too late. The winner finished in 12 hours and 22 minutes and 15 of 26 finished, so it was a slightly ambitious ultra debut for me.
Matthew and I complained that this wasn't really a Ultra Race more than it was an adventure, since we really weren't running that much and just slogged through in uncharted territory, and I think that we swore that we wouldn't do this race again. But I got to a point in the end after dropping out that I promised myself to beat this course one day, just out sheer vengeance for all the suffering it had caused me that long day. One thing is for certain, though, I've just gotten started with ultras.
Very impressive, Rodney! And very well written, I can almost smell the mud and sweat!!
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