Arctic running reflections

Spoiler alert: I am alive, mainly well and have returned from the Arctic with all of my digits and almost full use of my body! So that’s a basic box ticked.

Without hyperbole, the last week has been one the most eventful and impactful of my life.

For those with a short attention span or a busy schedule here’s the nightlight reel: An epic train journey in a heavily extended 22 hour “sleeper train” - an ironic term if I have ever heard one - being at one with nature (literally) getting a frozen penis at minus 20 in 40 mile an hour winds (sorry mum - too much information) and dealing with the trots in the Arctic wilds with nothing but snow for toiletries; no internet, no phone, epic ice beards - if I do say so myself - inconvenient seemingly instant water and snack freezes, constant shovelling of unwelcome rehydrated ready meals, snow, snow and more snow, the most incredible landscapes I have ever seen from the northern lights to frozen lakes, mountains and forests, crazy weather changes ranging from calm and sunshine to severe and wind swept in minutes with corresponding onion-like-shedding and adding of layer; incredible people - both fellow runners, our amazing medics and organisers as well as our inspirational, Macgyver-like, home-made knife wielding, terrifyingly speedy snowmobile riding Sami hosts; seemingly endless days filled with hours of walking and running in those God-damn-snowshoes and heavy backpack, day or night with long periods of solitude and nothing but the sounds of moving feet and my breath; ever-present, varying and roaming pain throughout my body with a constant low hum of aching limbs and back in protest at the sudden onslaught of exertion I was inflicting on my unexpecting body. Ok, so that was more of a rambly synopsis than a highlight reel but I feel like I got my money’s worth and my feet agree.

The last week is a bit of a blur but here is what I remember that is in some way noteworthy.

Shortly before the race I had the dawning realisation that I had really screwed up as I saw 30 pairs of identical super lightweight white racing snowshoes and there was mine - big, black and shovel-like, three times the size and weight, sticking out like a sore thumb. Was this is a stroke of genius - a maverick move setting me up for surprise success? Sadly not. But they were heavily discounted so every cloud.

From the off, other runners eased past through the snow whilst I waded through proverbial snow treacle, spending the next 3 days - believe me, time is NOT linear - slow motion grinding like a lurching, ungainly snowshoe-dwelling sloth. The suffering was unrelenting and I slipped further and further behind the pack, slowly chipping away at my waning confidence and finishing each day late into the evening utterly shattered. This was much to the amusement of our race organisers who happily told me what a fundamental error I had made.

This one is for my kids, who love a bit of toilet humour. Dignity is a concept I left in the uk and having the runs on one of my Arctic runs I left my mark on the Arctic circle - literally. It turns out that snow makes for adequate impromptu toilet paper. Yes, a little chilly at minus 20 but one could argue refreshing and certainly in abundance so high on convenience, which was quite helpful considering the frequency of my “rest breaks”.

A point of note is just how severe the conditions were - some snow was knee deep and progress could be painfully slow, which was energy sapping and soul destroying. It also meant that the cold got to people more easily with a total of 10 out of the 31 competitors not competing the full distance.

After day 3, a lovely Irish chap named John succumbed to the cold following 2 days of agony after submerging his feet into icy cold water on day 1. Normally a strong athlete, he was a shadow of his former self stumbling along the trail and after a quick incoherent chat I saw he was done. Incidentally, it looked like he had been in a freezer for a week and he had icicles hanging from his eyelids like stalactites (or stalagmites??).

I saw John that evening; now fully recovered after a few hours in the warmth and knowing my sentiments towards my snowshoes he was kind enough to lend me his TCL racing snowshoes for the rest of the race. Yes, the shiny white ones everyone else had! How much of a difference could they make? Turns out, quite a bit and I was flying after that, smiling to myself on the 65km long stage like a Cheshire Cat passing confused runners who were wondering what the sloth had eaten for breakfast.

So here are some lessons I learned and perhaps some top tips for all of those aspiring Arctic runners - form an orderly queue:

Firstly, you can buy items that aren’t heavily discounted. That’s ok. Arguably more importantly, be prepared to adapt and accept whatever comes your way. Get lemons - make lemonade; bring inappropriate snowshoes - own it. Like Jose Mourinho, I was not one from the bottle and my snowshoes got noticed. Yes, it was bloody hard work and I looked like a numpty but I was still smiling and taking it all in and with that suffering comes humbleness and growth. It also made me really appreciate the good bits and as I had my new found freedom to move, the feeling was exhilarating with a natural high that will be with me for weeks.

It also turns out that wearing thin Lycra cycling trousers on an Arctic mountain for a day is not a good idea. Who would have thought. Needless to say the whole lower half of my body (yes the WHOLE lower half of my body) was not amused and for a heart stopping moment I feared lasting damage in my most valuable of places!

You know what I was asked more than anything in this experience? “Why do you smile so much?” Well, the answer to that is longer than your waning attention span - but the short answer is that to experience some thing like this - raw, brutal, real - fully connecting with nature and the elements, quickly forming a community with a sense of purpose and unity with inspiring, like-minded and ever supportive individuals is a privilege and something to cherish. The pain is fleeting but the memories will be with me for a lifetime. In desperate need of a reset and in an attempt to break out of Groundhog Day I got off the covid-merry-go-round for a proverbial heartbeat and tried to take in every moment.

For those of you that strongly dislike a cliche then perhaps now is the time to stop reading but I suspect that ship has sailed.

This was a time to heal and reconnect with life - like putting my numb hands over the fire in the evening after a day of icy, bone chilling suffering in the Arctic wilds, I can feel the life slowly seeping back into me.

A timely reminder that life isn’t about money and things, status or the daily grind. I appreciate I am stating the bleeding obvious and perhaps I am a slow learner in life but how quickly I can forget that real contentment comes from the fundamentals; nature, movement, community, connection and shared experiences. Ok, so perhaps an ultra marathon in the Arctic circle isn’t entirely necessary to tick those boxes but I believe a sprinkle of pain and discomfort completes the perfect recipe and that struggle only makes the other ingredients of life taste that bit sweeter.

And why not, we should end this with a quote from Baloo from Jungle Book because let’s face it - a fictitious, talking, blue bear has this covered; it’s mother nature’s recipes that bring the bare necessities of life.

#beyondtheultimate #iceultra #runningmotivation