Cold and Wet and Laughing

One of my friends has pointed out that so far I have mostly posted about running so far. This is true, so to add some variety to my blog I am going to instead start this post by recounting my first orienteering experience. As I hinted in my last post, I participated in an orienteering race called Hug og Hei held in Bymarka (a big park area full of marshes, lakes, streams, woods, ridges, and hills west of the Trondheim city center. This particular race has two rounds: the first is around 18km and the second is an additional 12km if you connect all of the points with straight lines, but the actual routes would be much longer due to the terrain.

Before the race I wasn't sure how I could possibly cover that much distance on terrible terrain, but luckily I would be running with some friends (pictured below). We decided it would be easier if we went as a group of five so that we wouldn't have to do the navigation all on our own. The day before, Paulo decided to motivate us/shatter our confidence with this video. I still cringe every time I watch it, but we joked about the video periodically during the race.

Vanja, me, Paulo, Hilde, and Andi looking fresh before the start. Please note the majestic lighting.

The start was essentially a mass of people sprinting down the same trail heading for the first point. Slowly the crowd split off depending on each person's opinion/guess of which route would be the best. The pace was fairly unrealistic for a several hour race, and we slowed down significantly before we made it to the first point. I had no idea what I was getting myself into in terms of the terrain. Initially our strategy was to stay on the drier trails. I say they were drier but not dry because Trondheim had received plenty of rain that week, and the best footing available was trails thick with mud. By the middle of the race we had pretty much given up on avoiding mud, water, and other obstacles. We cut across the marshes, scurried up and down ridges, and marched through streams. This wouldn't have been an issue except that the weather was not exactly ideal. There was frost on the ground at the start of the race, and during the race we received everything from sun, to rain, to snow. Gotta love the predictably unpredictable weather in Trondheim.

Cutting across marshy fields was the worst. It felt like running on a thick sponge saturated with icy cold water, with an extra layer of standing water on top. Our feet would numb and then thaw with every crossing, and the unsupportive footing was exhausting. Along one section I think gravity was broken because we were running/crawling up a long steep slope that was essentially a marsh. Yet the water was not running downhill. I feel that I cannot do the course justice with my descriptions, so I'll stop there.

We ran/walked/climbed/crawled for over five hours, and when we got back to the base station the official said, "I am so sorry, but you have not finished the first section in time to start the second section." We all laughed, thankful that we didn't have the option to continue with the second round. We estimated that the route we had taken was roughly 25-30km long, and we were quite satisfied.

Apparently October has been a good month for getting wet. My college running coach Dave would sometimes tell our team that if you are going to do something stupid, you should make sure you aren't the only one. I took his advice a little over a week ago when I decided I wanted to go swimming in the lake up in Estenstadmarka (a wooded area with a bunch of trails near my place). I knew of a few friends who had jumped into the lake earlier in the season. I suggested the idea to my running club as a sort of ice bath after a little road race many of us were doing over the weekend. The direct quote from the team trainer Halvor was, "I'll join out of sympathy for your naive idea that the bathing outside now won't kill you." Keep in mind that it is October now and the water in the lake was probably 10 degrees C (50 degrees F) or colder. Even so, I found two more victims/friends who were willing to join the excursion.

On a cool and windy Saturday afternoon, the four of us trudged up the steep and muddy paths leading to the lake, set our outer clothes along the shore, and charged into the lake. An icy sensation swept over my body immediately. We started swimming out into the deeper area, but I only made it roughly 15 meters before my feet were numb, at which point I decided to stop. By that point I could no longer touch the bottom, and we all started to hurry back to shore. As I dried off, my nervous system could no long distinguish whether my skin was blazing or freezing. We snapped a few photos (which I still need to upload) to document our accomplishment/stupidity. Every picture shows us shivering while simultaneously smiling idiotically. Apparently this is our idea of fun, and somehow I'd like to think that Dave would approve.