The days of total darkness 300km inside the Arctic Circle where the sun doesn't show itself for a whole month.
Introduction
I was lucky enough to meet Alison when I joined my local running club ‘Stamford Striders’, she was the first person to welcome me. So some four years later it was with great sadness that I heard of the passing of Alison Regan via the club website mail shot. That name ‘Alison Regan’ probably means very little most people but to anyone who met her she was special, friendly and mad about running. Married with children she was as ordinary as each of us but in a special way. What affected me most about the loss of Alison, bearing in mind I’d not seen her or her husband Jim for some time, was that she was about my age and was struck down with a rapid illness over only a few months. As I sat and pondered what had happened I suddenly became very aware that I was so lucky to be alive and that I should stop putting off those things that I had for so long. We never know when the end is coming. The result was a short list of accomplishments I wanted to achieve and signing up to the Arctic Night - Half Marathon in Tromso. And so, this is where this story really began.
As Tromso is such a long way north I had decided to make a trip of it and planned to do some Telemark Skiing while there to. Having had the idea I then needed to ensure I wouldn't back out and I’ve personally found that telling everyone what ‘the plan is’ doesn't give me any room to wriggle out of it or to quietly forget. That was all a few months back and as I sat in Oslo airport awaiting my transfer to Tromso and watching the sun set for the last time for a week, it all became a reality. At this time of year Tromos is bathed in darkness 24/7 and not until the week after I return home will the sun show itself; even then its only up for 11 minutes!
Arrival in the Arctic
As my flight descended in to the island of Tromso and its windswept airport, I knew from the turbulence alone that the whole experience would be exactly what I was expecting and so much looking forward to; that feeling of taking risks but also of being alive. After collecting the baggage and my companion, Simon, we got a taxi to our hotel in the centre of town - no mean feat with 210cm skis in tow...
After a very quick unpack and deciding that we had earned the fact, we headed to the nearest bar and found O’leary’s, a sports bar showing ski jumping competitions and ably staffed by “Ollie” a Brit from, would you believe it - Kettering. After several beers at a ridiculous price and all our money later we headed for home. feeling alike we were ready to face that Arctic and all it could throw at us... The temperature being a chilly minus 8.
Fast-foward 6 hours to a rather barmy 0900 hours as we awoke, the temperature was a crazy PLUS 1 and forecast to rise to an almost bearable PLUS 2. BUT we had to contend with rain and as the windchill was taking the temperature way below zero as soon as it fell, it was turning to ice. “What are you planning on running in” I asked over breakfast and and together Simon and I discussed and decided that we should at least consider getting spikes for our shoes. A quick walk (icy waddle) along the high street and we found ourselves at an outdoor chop where we almost walked straight into a display selling over show running spikes, ‘Jackpot’. Eyeing the price we quickly mused the prospect of leaving them till later but as we considered that prospect there was another couple of Brits asking the same questions we had considered, “Hi, we are from the UK and running tomorrow, do you happen to have spikes that could... Blah Blah Blah!” and then another couple and then another... We had to buy them or risk losing them, so as we departed being wished lots of luck and many Kroner lighter in the pocket, we were at least equipped for the icy and worsening conditions under foot.
Content, we set off for the sight-seeing and touristy bit and the inevitable cost, again ending the day at O’Leary’s bar... Race preparation at it’s best, to which any Stamford Strider can attest. We saw in the new day with a Gin and Tonic and for me a realisation that Alison Regan’s death had affected me in many ways but mostly that I was now going to live life to the fullest. We really do have no idea when it will end and should always bear that in mind!
Arctic Night Half Marathon
As the big day dawned and we headed for breakfast we were becoming aware of the weather and all that it entailed. Almost everyone we saw we now suspiciously eyes as potential runners and as we devoured our hearty breakfast we got our plan of action together. We headed straight out to the registration at the town hall and collected our race pack with numbers but we drew the line at spending £50 on a glow in the dark Northern Lights race T-shirt... The race wasn't due to start till 1500 hours but it was already getting gloomy and dark as we headed back to our hotel for more hydration, preparation and in Simons case a little nap.
As the start time of 1500 hours neared we pinned on numbers and checked we had enough of everything with us, clothing, spikes and the obligatory gels... We walked up the street to the gathering crowd of similarly dressed runners and prepared to meet the challenge. There was just one large starting pen and as the gun went off there were slow runners in front of fast and even walkers in the throng. As I found space and fought for position I crossed the line and started my Garmin watch. The race had begun and as we ran through the streets, the gathered crowd cheering us on, it was snowing and all seemed good.
We’re Off
The streets darkened as we neared the edge of town and up through housing where families were standing in the front of their houses cheering and ringing bells and the atmosphere was so friendly. Large , what I can only describe as tea lights, lit the path and before I really took stock I was at the first water stop. It was sleeting and the hailing by this time and id taken my hat off as I was quite warm but the hard cold rain soon had my hood coming up.
As I said hi and briefly chatted to everyone who I past and to everyone who past me, it was going to be the friendliest Half Marathon I’d ever run but certainly not the fastest. Around the 5 mile point the front runner came back towards me and was running at a great pace; he must have been about 2 miles ahead of me. The next thing to come into view was the airport where I knew there was a few switch backs and another water stop but more importantly a chance to see where Simon my colleague was in the group. After the first switch back I caught sight of him and he was running very well considering it was his first half marathon.
Now on the homeward leg I braced myself as the wind bit hard and the snow and sleet bounced off my face. Through half closed eyes and gritted teach I pushed on trying desperately to keep up with a pair of local runners who were doing very well and about my pace. I stayed with them for around 5 miles but as we cam back into town I could feel I had a blister on a toe and my thigh, soaked and numb with cold, were also telling me they’d had enough. My pace slowed a little for the last mile but I didn’t care, the crowds were chearing and the final few hundred meters was again lit up with candles like a small runway with it slights on, ready to welcome home the runners. I crossed the line, stopped my watch, shook the hand of the guy putting a medal around my neck and then the Red Cross were wrapping me up like an oven ready chicken! I joined all the others who had finished for a drink and banana around a roaring brazier and finally looked at the time, two hours and just under three minutes. Without doubt the slowest Half Marathon I’d ever run but in the conditions I had experienced and for the whole atmosphere - the most memorable.
A Moment of Thought
Not forgetting that it was the loss of a friend that had galvanised me into action and made this a reality, I retired to the bar for a well earned drink and to show off my medal - whilst thinking of the next excursion I intend to undertake. We never know when our time will come and I urge everyone to make the most of every day. That rainy day we put things off ‘til may never arrive! We are all here for a finite period of time and I really don’t want to be that person who looks back with regret that I didn’t try hard enough or simply didnt get round to doing ‘this or that’. I am grateful to Alison for being the inspiration and I’m sorry for Jim, her husband, and everyone who knew or simply met her now that she is gone.
As I spend the next few days Nordic skiing around the area and the snow is falling I wonder what else I will now be challenged to face and how much more of life I will live.
