SFTR 100: Ankle breaker (EN)
Ankle breaker — slang name for cross over in basketball when attacking player quickly changing directions forcing defending player to lose balance and fall over. Looks like the defender is breaking ankles
It was very rainy and chill in Stranda this year. Race directors said that if 2021 was one of the warmest of all time, 2022 was going to be one of the coldest. For the whole week was pouring rain. It was the main reason why the distance was shortened from 94.5k to ~88k. It would be wrong to say difficulty decreased proportionally, — some of the most technically difficult sections were cut. Therefore it was much simpler. But still, extremely hard I’d say running ahead.
But how hard was it? Often, when telling friends about my passion, hear in response — “I can’t even imagine how to run such distance”, “I just can’t get it in my head” etc. The most accurate comparison — comparing working hours. For example, a race 16 hours long is approximately equal to 2 working days of intensive labour, not in standby mode. And it doesn’t matter — physical or intelligent labour.
TLDR:
Start
02:00. Starting slowly, no need to hurry. Relying mostly on my previous experience — I understand, that I have a helluva lot of time to catch on to everyone who has pushed from the start. Meanwhile, a complete mess is under my feet — boggy slippery ground without any traction. Ground greedily soaked every piece of rain. Without poles it wouldn’t be impossible to climb, but much much harder. In such a slow manner, I’m sloshing the first climb to the Liavarden hill (850m) with a group of 3 runners. Now I need to slosh down this hill. Boggy, funny. One or two times falling on my arse. Luckily, the soft ground was under it, not sharp rocks. After the hill, was a few kilometers downhill on a nice gravel road. Using poles, running down rather fast, but feeling effortless. Overtaking Norwegian runner on this road. Asking him:
- Running loop for the first time?
- No, the second.
- So, isn’t I running too fast at the beginning of the race?
- No, keep your comfortable tempo.
Climbing the next 600m to the Duklidalen lake to the first checkpoint and aid station. Right after this aid station, I’m starting to climb to the Blahornet (1478) — 600 meters of climbing on 2k of distance. So it isn’t running. Something between hiking and scrambling. The last 300m of this climb are very technical — rocks under my feet are rolling in all possible directions so my feet are doing the same. It is difficult to keep balance. Climbed the peak finally — it’s time to run down the same rocks. After rocks, Norwegian alpine grassland started — soft grass with hidden sharp rocks and streams. So I need to be very focused to avoid rolling my ankles. But still, I’m rolling them slightly several times when my feet are finding such hidden rocks. Therefore I’m running down and swearing from time to time. From the joy of course. Like when you’re eating very spicy tom yum.
Next aid station. Around 25k behind. Eating, taking gels and flapjacks, which I’ve baked in advance in case gels would be rejected by my stomach. Realizing that I don’t want to chew it at all. It is very difficult while you’re running. Therefore giving it away to the photographer I met on the course. I hope it made his day a little bit sweeter.
Photographer was waiting for runners as well as ascending to Starhornet (1309) and descent was waiting for me. Difficult, as usual. On the ascend meeting the guy who was running the fourth. So now I’m fourth. 200m before the top of Starhornet losing the balance and breaking the tip of one of my poles. “This is very bad”, thinking in my head. Ok, let’s see how long the pole can survive without the tip. Now I’m running downhill. So I don’t need to worry about it. Together with my fellow runner, I’ve “collected” on the climb, we’re running down very fast, overtaking the third guy who was struggling a little on this slippery descent.
Next aid station. I’m taking gels, eating some sandwiches, and departing. Guys which I’ve managed to overtake on the previous section were still preparing themselves for the upcoming section. This section was shortened — the climb to Slogen was removed. Therefore, this section has become much more runnable. At this moment of the race, I became a little overexcited about the progress I’ve made since the start. So I’m deciding to switch gears and increase the gap between me and 3rd and 4th places. *Retrospectively I understand it was a mistake because I switched from my internal metrics (do I eat enough, do I run slow enough) to external metrics (gap from other racers)*. Rain and cold wind are also making me run faster not to keep myself warm. Pole without the tip works well. It has become shorter a bit though.
Arriving at the next aid station at Myrsætra soaking wet. I had a plan to rest there more, eat warm soup, and change wet clothes. Dry longsleeve boosted my morale and mood. After departing from the aid station nearly 500m rolling the ankle again. Noticeable this time. It felt like I rolled it about 90 degrees from its normal position. Therefore I’m swearing loudly this time and scaring 2 hikers in front of me so they decided to let me pass them. Passing them and saying “sorry”. After 300m pole without tip got completely broken. The cord connecting its parts has been torn down. Ok, let’s see for how long I can survive with one pole.
This section is starting with alpine grassland. It is more difficult to climb it with only one pole. But easier than without poles. In this section, the course wasn’t marked with course flags. So I’m checking the course on the watch more often to see if I’m on track. This section had no peaks to climb. You need to climb to the lake, traverse through its northern shore and run down along the river to the next village. In reality, it was extremely difficult. The course wasn’t marked as I said. I’m constantly losing track. Sometimes it is difficult to understand where should I go on terrain while following the race course. Should I climb or go traverse? Should cross the river? Several times I’m taking out the phone and checking the course with the map. It’s slowing me down. The highlight of this section was the lake traverse. “Path” along the lake’s shoreline was a slope with a 20–30 degree incline, full of rocks covered with old snow with crust on top. It was very easy for me to slip and slide down right into the lake with deadly cold water. So I’m moving extremely slowly helping myself with my hand instead of the broken pole.
After this traverse, I was fed with stress instead of food. So I’m running down completely wasted. On the way down meeting with somebody from the race crew running up the hill with course flags. He asked smth like: “How was it? Was it unsafe?”. I replied with anger: “Yes, it is very unsafe up there”. Later on the descent, 2 guys are overtaking me. Among them, if I’m not mistaken, was the Norwegian runner I had small talk with at the beginning of the race. Thinking “I’ve switched gears too early”.
At the next aid station (Brunstad) I’m trying to recover and become alive after this tough section. Without succeeding in that, I’m departing to the next section hoping for the best.
The next section is relatively short, but with a big climb. It is not as technical as the previous climbs. But after 13 hours in the race, it can’t be easy. Feeling very sleepy. Blaming myself for not taking with me anything with caffeine or taking it at the aid station. Ok. I have to endure it. Climbing with one pole is becoming very difficult. I can’t find the rhythm. Pulse is raising up so I have to stop for pause from time to time. Closer to the end of ascending my ankles are giving up. Or rather they are boycotting. Before that moment they were balancing me patiently on this boggy ground with rocks and streams. But now they’re saying to me “Dude, screw you. It’s enough for us. Figure out with this mess without us!”. Seems like ankles were that last drop which crashed me finally. I understand that I can endure it to the finish line with zero ankles. But I don’t see the reason why I should do it and take a risk of having an injury.
At the last (for me) aid station I’m telling the race crew that my race is over.
I’m sitting at the aid station in a chair, eating soup, and drinking coffee. Ankles screaming out of pain. Brains are cooked after 16 hours of operating with the max level of concentration. The thought flies into my head: “What is the point of inflicting so much pain on yourself?” When you cross the finish line, it is easy to find an answer. After quitting 10k before the finish it is very hard to find any. So it hurts to tears inside.
In the end, I want to share a little of cheap motivational philosophy. On the one hand, it hurts that the race finished for me without a finish. But this adventure gave me a lot of experience, and emotions — positive and negative. With the right attitude, all these traumatizing experiences can be the point of growth. As Nietzsche said, “When you pick up a cigarette butt, you are looking at the length of the cigarette butt, not the type of tobacco.”
