Rockman Swimrun 2025 race report
Can I post a race report for a non-Adorkable race to the Team Adorkable blog? I'm going to say yes, because the other half of Team Adorkable was the whole reason that a half-Adorkable team signed up for this race in the first place.
It all began in .. I have no idea when. Fall 2024, I guess. When Trista told Anna and me, "I'm going over to Norway to do Race Director and course-marking things for Rockman 2025, you guys should come do the race."
Anna and I have raced together as a threesome with Trista, but never as a team of two. As a sign of how much we knew that we would be compatible, and more importantly how we just do whatever Trista tells us to, we pretty much immediately said, "Oh, okay." And registered.
Team It's Okay, She's Not a Lesbian entered the chat.
I'm not even going to try to explain that name. It's funny if you know the story, and funniest if you know the WHOLE multi-level story. To give it some context, though, Amy is not a lesbian. Anna is a lesbian. Now you're prepared for when I start mentioning Kim, Anna's wife. (And Matt, Amy's husband.)
Anna lives in Michigan and I live in Texas, which means we couldn't train together, but we both followed the Envol Startline Ready plan for Rockman, and so our training was (mostly) identical. Even though we weren't able to do workouts together, we'd check in with each other after nearly every workout, touching base, complaining, commiserating, praising. We both had a bit of a slow start initially, with Anna rehabbing an ankle injury and me having back to back illnesses that forced me to take a frustrating amount of downtime.
But eventually we were both in good shape, and because we're both the valedictorians of rule following, we followed our schedule very closely for the most part, and did nearly all of the assigned training as assigned. When we were able. We felt good about our training, but we also felt TIRED. By the time the race came around, we were both pretty on the edge of burnout, and ready for the race to just BE here.
I won't go on about this, but this is the first thing I've trained for where I really think I'm feeling my age. I turned 50 in February, and things just feel harder. Slower, sorer, dumber. Is this perimenopause? Who the hell knows. Maybe I'm just slow and dumb!
Aaanyway, the point is, we did the training. Anna couldn't get in as much technical trail as was assigned, because it just wasn't available, and we both did less trail in general than was assigned, because we are early-morning runners, and trail running in the dark isn't always feasible for women.
But we showed up in Norway as ready as we we could be, excited to go on our first real adventure together as a team! This would be Anna's first Rockman, and I couldn't wait to show her around the course, assuming I remembered anything at all about the course. (Unlikely. Though I did re-read my race report from 2023, which helped.)
We did a little shakeout run the day we arrived, which predictably felt TERRIBLE after a full night and day of plane travel. The next day we did a very short shakeout swim just in bathing suits, to get a feel for the water temp, and to know that it would feel LESS cold than that once we were fully kitted up. We also jumped off the diving board at that swim, to demystify jumping off things in our gear, in anticipation of our ferry jump.
And then the day before the race, we went back out to the same place that we did our shakeout swimrun in 2023, and did a little tether/drafting test.
Because here's one notable thing about Team It's Okay, She's Not a Lesbian (aka Team IOSNaL, really rolls off the tongue): Our team does not contain A Swimmer. We can obviously both swim. One could even argue that we're good swimmers. But we both have a rich history of being the WEAKER swimmer in our respective teams, and neither of us have any real experience leading swims/sighting. Which is exciting when you sign up for a race that involves swimming in/across a Norwegian fjord!
The good news is that Anna had been doing a TON of swimming, particularly during the time she was running less to rehab her ankle, and was swimming with a great group of really fast swimmers who were pushing her out of her comfort zone into paces she'd never swum before. Great news for Amy, who was just swimming the same paces she always did, and could now be assured that Anna was the faster swimmer, therefore the leader for all swims. I mean, fine, I was willing to trade off.
But that brings us to another notable thing about Team IOSNaL: Anna has not historically loved cold water. She struggled That Year That the Water at Swimrun NC Was Really Fucking Cold, and I think that absolutely had gotten into her head. However instead of just freaking out, she did something about it. Anna started doing cold baths in her bathtub (you can do that in Michigan; in Texas the tap water is generally like 80 degrees, so no amount of ice is going to cool that down), regularly sitting up to her shoulders in 48 degree water for 20-30 minutes. And she was fine.
But she also then tended to get into a hot shower immediately afterward, which, despite us petitioning RD Trista for, evidently would not be available at every swim exit at Rockman. Rude.
So since Anna and I were roughly the same speed swimming, that meant that the person in the back likely wouldn't be working very hard, and so would probably be colder. That meant that to keep Anna warm, it was probably advisable that she lead the swims, at least the longer ones, so she could push the pace if she needed in order to stay warm.
Oh, the sacrifices I have to make to keep my partner happy and healthy.
Because it looked like keeping warm might be a struggle on race day. A few weeks out, the extended forecast looked like it would basically be raining for the next few weeks, straight through race day. But when we arrived in Stavanger, we had several beautiful days, sunny and perfect. We got some rain the day before the race. And then all that forecast weather finally hit on the day of the race. We woke up to grey skies, fog, and rain, and that's what we got for the entire day. Spoiler.
Anna knew from the beginning that she was going to dress warm, because she runs cold. That wasn't a hard decision for her. I had no idea what I was going to wear. I wasn't really concerned about the cold, but then I got very concerned about my LACK of concern, and erred in the other direction.
Ultimately the water temp and the fact that it would be rainy and overcast all day is what made my costume decisions: I wore the ARK Orno X, arm sleeves, BlueSeventy gloves, the ARK thermal Kangaroo top, ARK Kangaroo bra, gococo regular knee-high compression socks, Adidas Terrex Speed Ultras (yes, I had saved a pair for this race, since they are discontinued and I haven't found a new swimrun shoe yet), and the ARK Halo headband (for one swim). And, of course, Anna and I both wore our beloved Snake & Pig goggles.
This is only the second time I've dressed this warmly for a swimrun, the first time being our very first swimrun, Lake James 2018. I have owned the thermal Kangaroo top for a while, but hadn't ever even tried it on, and I did not plan to wear it. But then I tried it on before leaving for Norway, and it was really comfortable, and I knew we might be in the water longer this year without a collegiate swimmer to cheat off of, so I decided to wear it. I'd also never worn the ARK Halo headband, but it's so small and easy to store, I figured why not. I normally don't wear gloves unless it's really cold, but my gloves aren't very thick, so I can wear them even if it's not supersupersuper cold. And I'll just go ahead and say I wore those gloves the entire day. That's maybe my new pro tip for this race: wear gloves. You end up using your hands almost as much as you use your feet, catching yourself on trees, clambering over rocks, clinging to chains. I remember how much my hands hurt by the end of the race in 2023, and this year it was SO much easier to navigate with the gloves on. I'm not sure whether that advice holds up if it's really warm, but again, these gloves are so minimal, I could maybe wear them even in non-cold conditions. Maybe. Maybe not. But definitely if it's cold, gloves are SO helpful.
Anna wore nearly the same things I did, except she wore a neoprene cap under her race cap instead of the Halo, she wore wool underwear, wool socks (these were hardcore thick wool socks, I couldn't even wear them for our shakeout run without wanting to die), and she wore both the regular Kangaroo top and the thermal. She was going to wear the Zone3 top instead of the ARK thermal, but in our shakeout swimrun, which was less than 30 minutes, the Zone3 irritated her neck to the point where it was red and splotchy, and we figured that probably wouldn't get BETTER over many more hours.
Okay, okay, I'm almost to the actual race report! Two more notes first:
- I would be remiss if I didn't mention that Anna and Kim's checked bag didn't make it all the way to Stavanger with them, and was stranded in Amsterdam. Fortunately both of us were paranoid enough to pack nearly everything we needed to do the race in our carry-on bags, but (a) notably her nutrition for the race was in her checked bag, and (b) even though it was reassuring that most of the race stuff was there, not having your suitcase make it takes a TOLL, man. Anna had her race stuff, Kim had her photography stuff, but neither of them had a change of clothes! Or toothbrushes! Or the stuff that Kim planned to wear out on the wet, muddy course during the race! We went to the running store and had a little tasting session and panic buy of a whole lot of random Norwegian gels (nothing new on race day!), and then to an outdoor store in a mall to get hiking pants, shoes, a rain jacket, a tshirt, and some underwear for Kim. The silver lining of the situation was that Kim had wanted these pants for years, and finally had an excuse to buy them, and also knew that it was likely that KLM would reimburse her for them eventually. Free pants that you really wanted anyway? Score! But the even MORE silver lining is that the random shoes that Kim ended up buying ended up being her favorite shoes ever. Kim Loves These Shoes. And Kim being so happy made everyone else happier. Ultimately after almost two days and many airport journeys, they were reunited with their bag in time for Anna to have her known-good nutrition with her during the race, and for Kim to not need to ruin her new favorite shoes by spending all day hiking through mud with them on race day.
- In 2025, Thor brought back the trail run as an event, and Matt signed up for that race! He's an amazing volunteer and an amazing supporter/cheerleader, but nothing makes me happier than when we both get to be out there doing stupid things in nature. The trail race started and ended at Basecamp, though, so Matt bid us farewell late Friday afternoon and drove out to Basecamp to spend the night there.
Which brings us to race morning! Didn't really sleep at all. That's become pretty standard for me at this point, the night before a race. I feel like near the end of my Ironman racing days, I finally managed to find a calm the night before races, but I'm probably misremembering. At least I know I can do hard things on little sleep, though.
I woke up before my 3am alarm, ate the pb&j sandwich I'd made the night before, got dressed, and was ready with time to spare in order to do my wordle and other daily games, and do enough duolingo lessons to continue my streak. Just never know what the day will bring with a race this long and difficult, so best to get those things out of the way first.
Anna came to collect me at 4:10am, and we failed to cram all the stuff we intended to into our "each team can take one small bag to the ferry, which we'll transport to the finish line" bag. Fortunately we could offload extra stuff onto Kim. Sorry, Kim.
And then off the three of us went into the dark and already-raining morning. It was a short walk from the hotel to the ferry, and a lot of people were wearing trash bags or ponchos, but we hadn't even talked about that, and we were just going to get even wetter pretty soon anyway.
Unfortunately there was a hiccup with the ferry, and it took a while to get people loaded in, so we got a lot of standing-in-the-rain time, where everyone just sort of huddled together for warmth. We did get to chat a little bit with Trista, who we really hadn't had the opportunity to spend time with at all so far, since she was busy with course marking and race directing duties.
And then finally we piled onto the ferry and started the ~90 minute journey to the 'start line'. Except the ferry IS the start line, but first we had to travel to Flørli, where we'd do our jump off the ferry to begin the race.
The ferry this year was smaller than in 2023, and we were definitely packed in much tighter. There were also fewer bathrooms, so we got in line pretty early just to get that out of the way. My stomach felt pretty settled, fortunately. I even managed to eat another half sandwich, and got Anna to eat some of the other half.
The remainder of the time was spent trying to figure out where to cram 21 gels (and one pack of ClifBloks) in my wetsuit and other various pockets. I managed it somehow. It's the damn soft flask that takes up the most room and is the most uncomfortable.
Marcus came through and made some announcements at some point, talking about how the folks who hoped to podium or be at the front should line up at the front of the ferry, and those who were slower should be at the back. We knew where we belonged.
And then suddenly I heard someone say that the race was starting in 10 minutes. I found this fact alarming, even though I was pretty much completely ready to go, and in fact wanted to go ahead and start. But now it all felt very real, all of a sudden. Anna wasn't near me when I heard those words, so I had to find her and say, "Anna, I have some words for you. <dramatic pause> The race starts in 10 minutes." It sounded very solemn and official, and I have no idea why I said it like that.
Two lines formed, one on each side of the ferry, and Anna and I just kept scooting back further in our line. Eventually we made it back into the section of people who tried to outdo each other by stating how slow they were going to go, and we knew we'd found our people. We couldn't see how far we had until we got out the door, and we couldn't see how close 'out the door' was to 'off the ferry', so we just lingered and chatted nervously with the people around us, slowly scooching toward the front of the ferry.
Eventually we made it to the door, and then we could see that 'out the door' was very close indeed to 'off the ferry'.
As we'd formed up in line a few minutes ago, someone held up a hiking pole and asked if it belonged to anyone. Odds seemed low that a swimrunner had a hiking pole, but Anna knew that Kim had brought one, so she said it was probably Kim's, and took possession of it. She carried it all the way through the line, and once we were outside, and saw Kim, Anna called out, "Kim, is this your hiking pole?" And Kim replied, "Yeah. I'm not getting off the ferry here." And that story is completely pointless, but it made me laugh so much at the time. Honestly I don't even know what Anna did with the hiking pole at that point, since Kim was actively taking photos. But she didn't have it a minute later, when it was our turn to step up onto the platform!
This part happened SO fast, I'm glad Kim was there to document it so I have a better idea of how it actually happened.
One last team hug, in case it was the last time we liked each other. (Kidding!)
Then the team ahead of us jumped, and we stepped up to the platform, and gave Marcus a hug.
Marcus told us we could go, and then Anna said, "Wait, I'm not done acquiring satellites," which I love. And then I pointed out we had to start our watches, and THEN hit split, because swimrun mode, despite its name, defaults to starting with a run, like 99.9% of swimruns. So we hit start, we hit split, we counted to 3, and then we both jumped off a ferry into a Norwegian fjord, like a bunch of idiots!
As I jumped, I thought, "Oh no, that jump was so PRACTICAL. I didn't do anything fun. Even though I KNOW there's a professional photographer right there."
But on the plus side, when I hit the water, everything stayed in place. Goggles still on face, paddles still on hands, buoy still between legs. That's not a foregone conclusion, so it's notable and to be celebrated.
I surfaced, glanced over at Anna, and it looked like had gotten in unscathed, too. Yes! Nailed it, in front of the professional photographer! Except, oh wait, there's Anna's buoy. Ha. ALMOST nailed it.
Fortunately she got her buoy back between her legs and under control with no problem, while I just sat and laughed because I am a supportive partner. We had a plan to move off to the left of the platform if we needed some time to re-group, so we were out of the way and not blocking the next jumpers, but we managed to get our shit together quick enough that we could just start swimming.
Rockman 2025 had officially begun!
In 2023, I believe Trista and I jumped off the ferry untethered, then met up to tether for the swim. Anna and I decided to jump off already tethered, and that seems to have been what most people did, and then Anna would lead the first swim from ferry to shore.
Except we started off side by side, and then we just.. stayed side by side. We were swimming the same pace, we were settling in, we were having a lovely time, and so I just stayed there next to Anna instead of dropping back and getting in her draft.
Plus I was too distracted by JELLYFISH.
In 2023 (is that already annoying? look, I'm probably going to compare the two races a lot, okay? sorry in advance) (not sorry) I feel like I spent a LOT of time looking for jellyfish, and I saw very few jellyfish. Part of it was probably that I was always the swimmer in the back, and so they'd see one swimmer and drift away before I showed up. I did see a few then, and they were magical and I loved them, but they were rare.
2025 was All Jellyfish All the Time. My motto is: I love jellyfish, right up until the moment that I get stung by a jellyfish, and then I reserve the right to reconsider my stance. And every jellyfish we encountered during our race was incredibly polite, minding their own business, so I don't need to update my motto yet!
Unnecessary addendum unless you just really like jellyfish like me: I felt like the jellyfish at World Champs were all kinda blorby. You could see a lot of round blobs floating around, and you knew they were jellyfish. But the fjord jellyfish we saw during the race were maybe 50% blorby and 50% just amazing, fully-articulated, tentacular, mantle-fluttery visions. It felt like swimming in an aquarium. Just stunning and so amazing.
Okay, sorry, got distracted. Which is what I did any time I saw a jellyfish during the race. I'd find myself briefly going the wrong direction as my head followed the jellyfish around to the side, or even under me. Serious athlete vibes.
Anna and I surfaced for a brief team meeting about how amazing the jellyfish were, and then settled in for a fjord swim of unknown length. Probably longer than the 300 yards we did in 2023, probably not the 1000ish yards Marcus was hoping for, just based on eyeballing it, but somewhere in the middle.
It was mostly a really good first swim for me. The good: my core stayed toasty warm from the thermal Kangaroo top, the aforementioned jellyfish, the salt water wasn't bothering me, the water was very flat, which I hoped would persist through our future fjord crossing, and we swam a pretty solid line straight to the yellow buoy marking the swim exit. The bad: I had forgotten that gloves + paddles is complicated. The gloves made my middle fingers, the one finger that holds the paddle on, bulky enough that they juuuust barely fits through the strap. Which means those fingers weren't super firmly through the strap, and so my fingers kept coming out of the straps, making the paddles flop around. Not ideal. Every time it happened, I would have to pause for a second to cram my paddle back on my hand (it was mostly just the right paddle that I was struggling with), which I could only really accomplish by jamming my paddle into my stomach repeatedly, since I couldn't use my OTHER hand to help, since it had a paddle of its own, which was mostly cooperating, and I didn't want to compromise that. I made a mental note to try to make sure to thoroughly get my paddles on my hands before the next swims, or at LEAST for the fjord crossing.
The best news is I think I mostly got away with all of that without Anna knowing my struggles, so did it really even happen? Well, now she knows. (Okay, also I told her after the swim.)
As we swam up to the swim exit, I remember just feeling very calm. Usually in a swimrun, I start feeling anxious the night before, very anxious the morning of, and then after the first run and swim, the anxiety bleeds away and I remember why I love this sport so much. I'm not sure why, but I felt that love and loss of anxiety almost as soon as we started swimming in the first swim. I think because with such a big race, there's SO much anxiety tied up in "this is such a huge undertaking, it's going to be hard, and I haven't even STARTED it yet!" Now it had started, and I could wrap my head around DOING the race instead of FEARING the race. It was really nice to be doing a chill(y) swim in a Norwegian fjord with one of my very best friends, to begin a day of pure adventuring.
I saw the volunteers at the swim exit there and remembered how much they helped me out of the water in 2023, and how much I appreciated them, and it made me smile. It also made me remember from my 2023 race report that I commented on how I swam up on Trista's legs, which were clearly unshaven, and how Anna had told me she made sure she shaved her legs pre-race after re-reading my race report. It's not all fun and games partnering with Amy, my friends. You have to consider that everything you do or don't do might end up in the race report! So much stress. I assume.
The swim exit volunteers hang back and provide whatever assistance you need, letting you do your thing if you can, or helping if you need. I looked up and said "Halp" and they immediately held out their hands and pulled me to my feet and out of the water. Full-service volunteers, so much appreciated.
Yay, done with the first swim! And both of us still functional, not too cold, feeling good! As we started a little jag to run toward the stairs, suddenly there was Thor! With a phone! I thought at first he was taking video of us, but then I realized that the screen contained not just us, but several squares of people, and he was doing a little group chat with Trista and with Marcus and Kim! It felt so good to see them all, and let them know we were doing well, despite the fact that we had literally seen two of them 13 minutes ago, and could potentially see them if we turned around and looked at the ferry through the fog. Whatever. It was a fun boost!
I'm going to claim that this little video chat party lasted until we got to the stairs, because otherwise I have to admit that we got to the stairs and I realized I had done EXACTLY the same thing I did last time, spelled out as a mistake in my 2023 race report, which was I hit the stairs having done NOTHING to prepare for an hour+ of climbing stairs. I learned NOTHING. I'm not even sure I had managed to get my buoy onto my back by that point. Just a disaster. Again.
So once again I spent the first ~15 minutes just trying to to take my swim cap and goggles off, realizing I needed to stow my paddles first, trying to clip my paddles to my race belt while not falling off the stairs, getting my cap and goggles off, trying to figure out where to stow those that I wasn't going to lose them, but could access them easily at the top, carrying the tether and trying to wind it up small so I could stow it somewhere safe, etc, all while breathing hard as my body realizes that despite hours and hours of hill training and stair training, it is somehow SHOCKED to find itself suddenly climbing stairs.
I did eventually get everything sorted, and I didn't fall off the stairs doing it.
At Anna's request, I went first on the stairs. She wasn't sure if she would have any heights issues on the stairs, and figured it be easier to just follow someone and stare ahead of her to focus on me. Trista had asked me to lead on the stairs, too, so I'd like to point out that while I have never been a leader in swims, I'm 2 for 2 on leading the Flørli stairs! I am a stairmaster, if you will.
And then we climbed a lot of stairs.
The stairs were mostly as I remembered them. I think if it were just 4444(ish) identical stairs, this section would be a lot less tolerable. But they generously made the stairs completely unhinged, changing heights, changing widths, changing sides, changing "railing", removing railing, fairly often, so you're always having to pay attention and stay on your toes.
This part really drove home how far back we were. I think we'd passed at least one team on the swim (even if that's not provably true, I choose to believe it is), but now we were pretty far back from the next team up. Initially there were other teams visible in front of us, but slowly they pulled further ahead, and eventually it was just us looking forward/upward. And there were a few teams behind us, but we pulled enough ahead of them eventually that we couldn't see anyone behind us either. Just a couple risk-averse old ladies alone climbing up some stairs! As one does.
We paused for a second a few times to look behind us, but honestly there was no view at all. It was so foggy, the fjord was invisible. Which was a little sad, because the views are so beautiful out there. But you get what race day gives you, and what it gave us was no views.
We did eventually creep up on a male team, and then we ended up passing them when one of them "ducked off into the woods", which wasn't a thing I figured you could even DO on the stairs. But I guess there's some little picnic areas perched on the side of the cliff?
Anna, the appointed (by me, just now) spokesperson for our awkward and introverted team, chatted them up a bit when we were near them, and found out that they were from Helsinki. I, being the more awkward member of our team, immediately got excited to test out my duolingo-learned Finnish, and I said, "Minulla on sininen käärme!" And he said "What?" And I repeated it. And he said "You have a blue.. what?" And I said "käärme" and he said "What?" and I said "... snake?" And then he said "käärme", which in my head sounded like exactly how I'd said it, but undoubtedly was not. And that was the last time they talked to us. Welcome to my life.
Other than that riveting story, the only other notable thing that happened on the stairs happened when we got to the first "non-stair" section.
Near the top, maybe in the 4000s (some significant numbers are marked on the stairs, so you have some idea where you are, although often there's two signs for the same number, dozens of steps apart; puzzling), it flattens out a bit, turning from "you could use your hands on the stairs in front of you, it's so steep" to "this is a long and relatively flattish 2x4 with some crossbeams nailed in place at a distance just slightly longer than Amy is capable of taking a single stride". (Rude.)
The first time we hit one of those sections, I was excited, because that means we're making Significant Progress toward the top, and because it gives the tired legs a break from endless weird, tiny stairs. I put my foot down on the first 2x4, and immediately my feet came out from under me, and in a full cartoon physics moment, I was suddenly laying on my stomach on the 2x4. Fortunately it's 2 2x4s next to each other, so I was in no danger of falling off the sides, but it was certainly startling! In typical Amy fashion, I yelled out "I'm fine!" slightly before I actually hit the ground, and in my defense, because Trista always complains that I can't KNOW I'm fine before I actually hit the ground, I WAS fine. Just a little surprised. But I immediately popped back up and said, "Uh, it's slippery here!" In case that wasn't painfully obvious.
Anna said it looked for all the world like I decided to just bust out a burpee at the top of the Flørli stairs. That's how I roll, friends. This race is too easy, let's throw in some core work.
Needless to say, I was very careful to only put my feet on the (way too widely-spaced for Amys) crossbeams after that, but honestly nowhere else was that slippery. I found the slippery step. Lucky me.
We gave a little celebratory shout when we hit the stair that said 4444.. then continued to climb, because we weren't at the top yet. But eventually the stairs do end, and then we were officially on a Norwegian tourist trail! That means we were following the established trail that is always marked for tourists, denoted by little red Ts painted on rocks and trees. It's like a fun little puzzle sometimes, trying to find the next red T, but it means you can't ever zone out and just follow a trail. Always gotta be scanning ahead!
Actually this first bit at the top took us off the tourist trail a bit, as denoted by additional red and yellow flares, because Norwegian tourists probably aren't super keen to trek THROUGH some of the lakes at the top, but that's exactly what we had to do. Those flares took us to the edge of a tiny lake, and our second swim!
As we had navigated our way from the top of the stairs to the first lake, we had started pulling things out of our pockets and preparing to swim again. Overall this went well, except this is where Anna discovered that while it's difficult but achievable to put on a neoprene swimcap when you are dry and calm, it's nigh impossible when you are wet, sweaty, and tired. We had a nice chat with the volunteer at the swim entrance while Anna worked through this process. We thanked him for being up here in the middle of nowhere, especially still being there for those of us at the back, and he assured us he had NO idea what he was signing up for when he volunteered. The volunteers up top had to really work to get up to their positions (there's no elevator alternative to those 4444 stairs), then they had to just sit there exposed above the treeline sometimes pointing across a lake. We were SO appreciative of all volunteers, but these guys were super young and adorable and clearly cold.
Anna got all her various hats on, our volunteer pointed to the volunteer across the (tiny) lake that we should aim for, and we waded into the water! Our volunteer did mention the water was allegedly pretty cold. And it was. Notably colder than the fjord. (I have no substantive or accurate data on water temps during the race, but before the race I think I heard 58ish for the fjord, 53ish for the lakes up top; I could be making that up entirely, but based on my experiences, I think that's probably close to accurate.)
I opted not to put the Halo back on for these swims, even knowing they were colder, because they were so short it just didn't feel worth it (especially watching Anna struggle with her extra head neoprene). I also didn't bother with the tether, because the swims were so short. Which meant we swam side by side again! Trista is too fast for me to swim side by side with, so these were my first real experiences with side by side swimming. It's fun! Swim buddies!
This swim, in contrast to the fjord swim, was face-bitingly cold. Not prohibitively, but notably. But also this swim was delicious. These lakes up top are very pure with very little touristy run-off, so are drinkable. Drinking while swimming is something I've really only experienced during Rockman races, and it's as delicious as it is disconcerting. We spend so much time trying to AVOID taking in water while swimming, it's hard to flip that switch.
We aimed for the volunteer at the swim exit, who was wearing all black, which wasn't all that helpful for visibility. Amusingly, the BACKs of the lower legs of his pants were super high-vis, but he spent most of his time facing us, so they were no-vis.
We climbed out of that swim, and the volunteer said a lot of words about where to go, which I not only didn't really follow, but also maybe completely misunderstood. I led us off to the left, which is what I thought he had said, but we didn't see any markings. Meanwhile the Finnish team had gotten into that first lake swim right behind us, and when they came out, they did a better job of understanding directions, and went straight ahead. They very kindly called out to us and said we were going the wrong way, so we course corrected back over. Whew. Crisis narrowly averted.
Also a random guy who I assume was a volunteer was walking around with no shirt on, which seems very cold. Maybe he was switching shirts? I don't know. I found it odd, but also maybe it was a hallucination.
ETA: Anna says that this was the volunteer at the swim entrance, who had told us that he left his warm clothes at the swim exit. He had walked around the lake faster than we swam across it, gotten his clothes, and was presumably taking off his outer layer to put on a warm base layer. Thanks, Anna! Mystery solved! No hallucinations!
It was hard to tell exactly where the swim entrance was for the next lake swim, but fortunately at this point the Finnish team was still just ahead of us, so we just lemminged down the same path they had taken, down to the swim entrance for the second lake. Since we hadn't taken off any of our gear and weren't tethering, this transition was MUCH more efficient, and we were into the water pretty quickly. But not before the adorable volunteer at that swim entrance told us that he was proud of us. Which sure, he was probably like "Holy crap, these old ladies are so far behind everyone else, but somehow still determined to keep going", but.. we were! We were determined to keep going! So we decided it was a compliment and smiled through our second short, cold lake swim.
The exit from that swim clearly at some earlier point had an aid station, or at least a bowl of candy, because even though there was no bowl of candy on offer for us, the ground was COVERED with discarded candy. I guess if we'd wanted candy of our own, we could have picked up one of the dozens of pieces littering the ground, but I guess if so many people had rejected them, maybe they weren't worth scavenging.
And then we stripped off our swim caps and goggles, stowed our paddles, and settled in for the world's longest 0.5 mile run!
The night before the race, Anna and I went through the course description and wrote all the legs on Anna's paddle, so we'd always know what was to come during the race. I was reading it out while she wrote it down, and when I called out Run 2 at 0.5 miles, that felt right. But then Run 3 ALSO said 0.5 miles, which definitely felt wrong. But that's what it said, so that's what we wrote down! I think that Run 3 was the original Run 3, before Swim 4 was removed, and I can believe that it was 0.5 miles to run from one lake to another. But having done this race before, I knew it absolutely was not 0.5 miles from Swim 3, through a mountain valley, through some offroad field sections, down a really steep trail, and then over a fence, through the village, and down to the fjord.
So we spent the entire 4.32 miles that was Run 3 talking about how long this 0.5 mile run was. Because we find ourselves funny.
This next section was one of my favorite parts in 2023, and it was still amazing, but again, the fog. Just no views to be had the whole day. It was pleasantly spooky and eerie, but not the Sound of Music vibes I remembered. Also NO SHEEP. This was where I remembered the first sheep being, but I guess they either sleep in on foggy days, or we just couldn't see them for the fog.
I think we were the most chatty through this run section, swapping stories the whole time, just enjoying each other's company and the easy gravel road running. Once you leave the easy trail, things get a little sketchier, and the rain had made it even more sketchy than that.
This is where we truly started embracing our Risk Averse Old Ladies personae. I promised Kim that Anna and I would be smart, and she trusted me enough to feel comfortable and know that I would always err on the side of safety. Anna led this section, and we kept a really solid pace through a bunch of middling rocks and streams and endless mud puddles. You often had three choices of paths, possibly all three offering mud of unknown depths. You could try to hop out of the path/rut, but the vegetation was inconsistent, and you were more likely to turn an ankle up there. It's a lot of spur of the moment route decisions, and it's truly exhausting mentally. Mincing your way through an environment that seems like it's trying to vex you at every step.
This section had one of my favorite moments, though. You know how when you do something, you walk away with a few mental snapshots that really stand out? Ones that your memory keeps going back to? Before we started the big downhill, we had to cross a pretty swollen and aggressive stream. Really big rocks, so much water it was hard to tell where the rocks were, and rapids you couldn't be sure weren't going to sweep your feet out from under you. Anna stepped into the water and started navigating, and the footing was uncertain, and the water was pushing, so I reached a hand out from behind her, just to give her something firm to anchor to, even if it was behind her. And for the next couple minutes, we forded that stream holding hands, acting as a counter-balance for each other to get across this beautiful but intimidating deluge. It was nice to feel some support and safety in a big scary environment. And just so you know, it's fine. Kim had given me a well-defined list of things that were acceptable, and friendly hand-holding was a-okay.
Then the big intense downhill started. This section intimidated me in 2023 when it was dry. It was SO dry then that the dirt was really loose, and we did a lot of sliding down the hill out of control, catching ourselves on trees to get our feet back under us. This was exactly that again, except now we were sliding on mud and slick rocks.
I had a couple mild and non-catastrophic falls in this section, and I think Anna had her first fall, but it was all just feet coming out from under you and sitting down gently. We went slow and checked our footing carefully as we descended.
As we neared the bottom, inexplicably another team appeared behind us! We didn't think anyone was back there, and we had no idea where they came from. They were young, too, and we kept saying "Yeah, but where did they come from?!" I think we finally settled on maybe they were runners and not necessarily swimmers, and so it had taken them a while to catch up from the swims. Regardless, it was nice to see other people and be reminded that we weren't alone out there!
We finally made it to one of my favorite landmarks, the little tiny a-frame two-step step ladder that means you're getting really close to the fjord again. Just have to run through the little cluster of houses and buildings, and that's all grass! Super easy! Except OH MY GOD, I think I fell three times during that short section. It was SO frustrating! There was so much water on the ground, the grass basically in standing water, and it was enough of a downhill that your feet just came right out from under you.
Another snapshot moment from this race, on the other end of the sentimentality spectrum. I'm running through the grass, chasing after Anna, and suddenly my feet come out from under me, I land on my ass, and then I slide a solid 7 feet directly into a little two-stone cairn that is set on the grass just so that a red and yellow blaze could be tied to it, so we'd know that was the right way to go. I hit that cairn like a bowling ball hitting pins, and knocked the whole thing apart. Immediately I was like "I'm so sorry, Trista! You went to all this effort to gather stones and tie them together and make a nice route for us, and I'm just blatantly destroying all your efforts!" I did then try to stack them back together so that is there WAS anyone else behind us, they'd see the marker.
The absolutely best part of this whole thing is that Anna had no idea all this was going on. I think I yelled something like "I'm a disaster!" afterward, and she turned around to see me stacking some rocks.
I felt really clumsy and incompetent about this whole section right up until they released the teaser video for Rockman 2025 a few days after the race, and according to that video, EVERYONE fell during this section. It was like a blooper reel from America's Funniest Home Videos. I felt much better after that. Not just me!
We made it the rest of the way down to the fjord without incident.
And then holy shit, it was time to swim across a fjord!
But first we spent some time at the first aid station we'd come to, 3.5 hours into the race. We refilled our flasks, which we'd drained, and even refilled or drank from streams a few times. We were doing well on nutrition and hydration. We had some of the electrolyte drink, which based on color and taste, I would never suspect had any electrolytes in it. I scanned the aid station table, and the only things really on offer were little granola bars, so I grabbed two of those for some time in the nebulous future and crammed them into my Kangaroo top.
Anna did a much better job with her neoprene cap this time, but unfortunately somehow the cords for her earplugs had gotten alllllll tangled between her two caps. She wasn't making much headway on untangling, so I stepped in to save the day, and I couldn't make heads or tails of what was going on there. It didn't help that I wasn't sure how these earplugs worked, and I was afraid I was going to break something. Ultimately we basically unraveled the whole thing and started over again, which was much more successful. But I knew Trista would be proud of what a shitshow we were.
While we were working through all of this, a boat came up to the dock. I was doing stuff, so not paying much attention, but suddenly there was a lot of yelling and a lot of profanity. I honestly had no idea what was going on, except the guy in the boat was clearly very angry about something, possibly involving an athlete, possibly involving hypothermia, and his ire was directed at the volunteer at the aid station. Like.. a lot of profanity. The aid station volunteer told him to tone it down, and I said it wasn't anything we hadn't heard before.
Unbeknownst to me, but unfortunately beknownst to Anna who was clearly paying better attention, someone had been pulled from the race for being hypothermic and brought back over in the boat. He was ultimately fine, but poor Anna, who is already a little uncomfortable with the thought of swimming over a mile in the cold fjord waters, now has a concrete example of what might happen during said swim.
The plan had been for Anna to lead this swim, but as we prepped, she turned to me and asked if I would lead it. At the time I didn't really understand why, but I didn't need a why; if she wanted me to lead it, I was happy to lead it!
That DID mean that suddenly I had to start caring about where we were going and whether I could see. I mean, I was going to care about those things anyway, but when drafting off of Trista, I generally don't make TOO much effort to fully clear my goggles, because I'm just staring straight down at a tether. If she needs me to help see where we're going, I can typically see well enough to provide a reality check. But it's a whole different ball game when I'm in the lead! Theoretically! Untested up to this point!
First we had to get a safety buoy, which would be attached to Anna's waist, since she would be in the back. Then we had to figure out where we were going. I have to say that having done this race before, even if not leading the swim then, was hugely reassuring on this swim. I knew roughly where we were going. Even if I couldn't see it.
Because it was FOGGY, y'all.
In 2023 we swam to the building with the red roof. This year there was no building with the red roof. There was just fog. But there WAS a waterfall! And it turns out, it has to be foggier than it was to obscure a whole-ass waterfall. Granted, the waterfall was basically just a white smear in a landscape of grey, but it was sufficiently visible to aim for, knowing that the red-roofed building would eventually appear just to the left of it.
I put my goggles on my face, and didn't feel great about my vision right off the bat. Anna and I knew one of our team problems might be vision. Neither of us has good vision. We get by. But sighting in open water swimming sometimes involves seeing little tiny things from far away, and neither of us excel at that. One of my issues is that I can only effectively see out of one eye. I didn't really NEED depth perception for this swim, but it meant that my right goggle needed to be as clear as possible, and it really wasn't. And honestly when I put it up to my face, I couldn't tell if the goggle itself was fogged up, or whether it was just that the whole world was fogged up. I tried clearing it with my finger, but my finger was covered by a glove that was covered in a lot of miscellaneous dirt and debris. I tried on my own a few times, and finally I took my goggles to the volunteer and said, "Hey, uh, would you mind rubbing your finger on the right side of my goggles? Just.. yeah. No, just the right side. Thanks!" Put my goggles back on. It.. wasn't appreciably better. So must just be foggy! It's fine! I can see the waterfall! LFG!
We stood up on the wall, counted down, and jumped in to swim across a fjord! Anna just jumped right on in. Again, I still had no idea that she was freaked out about the swim, and I'm so proud of how she just got right in, knowing that now.
And then we swam. I remembered from 2023 that it felt like you weren't getting anywhere for a very long time, and that was true again. And it didn't help that visibility was so low. It just felt very.. hemmed in. Like we were in a little bubble. And I was once again sad about the lack of panoramic views. Not just for us, but for everyone out racing. It was still amazing, but to not have that full fjord view...
Overall this swim was uneventful. I felt some pressure to be leading, and was pleased that I seemed to be heading pretty directly toward the waterfall, only very rarely having to course correct at all. I do remember thinking "Man, I'm glad Anna doesn't know how little I can see out here..." But it didn't MATTER, because it was FINE. She doesn't need to know.
I was listening/feeling for my watch vibrating, because that would mean we'd gone 500 yards. A bit after that, we'd be roughly halfway across, and I wanted to stop and spin around and appreciate that we were half across a Norwegian fjord, which is an amazing feeling even when visibility is low. Way spookier when visibility is low, even.
When I judged we were roughly halfway, I sat up and we gazed around and celebrated. And Anna told me I was doing such a good job. And that I was such a strong swimmer. And she was proud of me. And I have to say, at that moment I learned that my primary love language is being told I'm a strong swimmer in the middle of a Norwegian fjord. If she wanted me to be properly motivated to lead out the rest of the swim, she chose the right method. I put my head back down with a big smile on my face.
Plus there were still a lot of jellyfish. Did I say hi to them out loud, under water? Only me and the jellyfish know for sure.
We did have one technical difficulty in the second half. I mentioned my gloves had been problematic with my paddles in swim one. I had managed to really cram my paddles on for this swim, and hadn't had any problems, but now it was Anna's turn. Evidently her paddle straps are loose enough that wearing gloves can cause her paddle straps to come out completely. For the swims so far, she had managed to tighten them again while swimming, but this time one had come out completely. She didn't LOSE the strap, but those straps are pretty hard to feed back through the paddle holes in any circumstances. It's even harder with gloves on. It's even harder with gloves on in the middle of a really cold Norwegian fjord while wearing goggles.
While she worked on that, I decided this shouldn't take long, so I'd just hang out horizontal, instead of making the effort to sit up. Which was sorta fun, in that there was evidently enough current that after a few seconds, I was spun around and then facing Anna. While still tethered to her. And then, because I was holding my feet up so I didn't kick Anna, and because the water was cold, my right glute suddenly started to cramp up. And I was trying to paddle my way back to pointing the correct direction without kicking Anna or hitting her with my paddle, while trying to stretch out my leg to release my glute, still without kicking Anna, and fortunately Anna then managed to get her strap back in place, and we carried on!
At this point we were close enough that I could actually see the building with the red roof, and I started aiming for that instead of the waterfall. I was very conscious of the fact that in 2023, the last quarter or so of this swim is when things started to get a little squirrely, where it got super choppy from the wind, and the current really started to pull hard to the left. So I was waiting for chop or current, but.. it was actually really smooth and flat. Yay!
Having done this before gave me a ton of confidence finishing the swim, because if you don't know, it's really unclear where you actually get out of the water. But I knew where the ladder was, and could head straight for the left side of the pier. The volunteer was great, and every time he'd see me come up to sight, he'd point with big arms to where the ladder was, but it felt good to already know and not be wondering what it looked like.
And then we got to the ladder, climbed out, and had swum a mile across a Norwegian fjord! It's just a really cool thing to be able to say you did.
Evidently Anna had some trouble getting the safety buoy unhooked, because her gloves mean she can't feel anything, but honestly I can't say for sure, because we looked out to appreciate what we'd just accomplished, and there was a SEAL out in the fjord! I'd say I wish that guy had come to swim next to us, but honestly he could have been right there next to me, and I wouldn't have seen him, between the fog and my foggy goggles and my terrible vision. Don't tell Anna how little I could see out there, okay?
And then we climbed.
This part is rough. You're just out of the cold water, where you were horizontal for half an hour. Your legs don't work. Your brain doesn't work. It's uphill. And it's on big human-sized chunks of broken rock. Hands and feet clambering. Again, thank you, gloves.
This isn't part of the tourist trail (it might be too much to ask to make the tourist trail go across the fjord), so it was marked with ribbons, and they did a great job marking it, but at the same time, it's really hard to find ribbons in that kind of environment. Could be right! Could be left! Could be up! They did the markers in switchbacks so it was less Straight Up, but sometimes the ribbon was almost hidden behind a rock if you were looking from a bad angle, so it was a lot of clamber-pause-scan-crawl-abort-scan-find-clamber. I don't think anyone would have cared if you just chose your own line, the ribbons are really just to help you figure out where you're ultimately headed, but I'm not the kind of person who leaves a trail or cuts a course, even if it's completely meaningless and unnecessary. Love me, love my unrepentant rule following.
So we zigged and zagged and climbed up to the tree line, and then.. no ribbon. Looked right, looked left, looked up, no ribbons, but oddly.. two young people with umbrellas? This isn't a place where tourists go. This is a boulder field on the edge of a farmer's land, there is no reason for two tourists with umbrellas to be there. But then they started waving and indicating we should go toward them. And, I mean, who are we to argue? Why would they wish us ill? So we headed toward them, saw a ribbon that they were sorta blocking our view of, and then we were into the trees and off the rocks! Still mystified as to who these umbrellaed individuals were. Also evidently it was raining. It rained all day, but often it was just so grey and persistent that you stopped noticing after a while, until you see a non-racer with an umbrella.
More climbing through the trees until we got to the grassy fields around the farmer's house, where we FINALLY SAW SHEEP!, and then finally up to the farmer's driveway. Where there were WAFFLES.
Two biggest disappointments in my swimrun career:
1. Finishing the Pig Swim at World Championships in 2022 and not getting the KitKat we anticipated. First the Pig Swim was flat and smooth, then we were handed some non-KitKat, non-delicious generic chocolate bar. Just.. brutal stuff.
2. Swimming across a fjord, climbing up a boulder field, getting to the tent at the top, and discovering that the farmer had lost power, and there were no waffles for us at Rockman 2023.
Part of me was convinced we were going to get up there, and they would be packing up their waffle supplies and have no more available. But no! Waffles! Freshly made! Delicious! And they smelled SO GOOD. And cups of WARM water, which was really welcome after that swim.
We ate a few waffles and ingested some warm water, and as we did that, the Mystery of the Umbrella People (next on Alfred Hitchcock Presents) was solved. When we'd gotten to the swim entrance for the fjord swim, the young team that had passed us just before that swim were still there. In fact, we ended up starting our swim before them, I believe. These umbrella people were evidently waiting for that team! That's commitment to seeing your friends on the course.
Anna said "I'm going to grab one more waffle", so I grabbed one as well, and then just as we were leaving, they put out a fresh batch, so Anna grabbed a second one. We started down the road, and a few steps in, Anna dropped one of her waffles. I'm no kind of germaphobe, and especially in a race where everything is just disgusting and you're swimming through water of unknown quality, running through mud, etc, you just can't care about stuff like dropping your food on the ground. So I think we were both about to just pick that waffle up, blow it off, and call it good, and then we looked down to find it had fallen DIRECTLY on a pile of sheep poop. Yeeeah. Even I have my limits. So she picked it up carefully, ran it over to the trash bag, and grabbed a replacement waffle. But man, what a sad moment that was, as we both stared down at this poop waffle.
Okay! After hours and hours of power hiking and crawling and sliding, now we had 4 miles of actual runnable terrain! I know a lot of people hate road running, but I don't, and it was just so nice to actually get to move a bit. And maybe make up some time. (Other than the cattleguards, where we verrrry carefully minced across them while clinging to the fence.)
As we ran out of the farm area, we passed by my car! I mean, it wasn't MY car, but it was the same model and color as the car we just bought (leased), which is super exciting! We haven't seen many of them in the US, but they seem to already be much more prevalent in Norway. (It's a white Volvo EX30. I realize you don't care, and why even include this in the race report, but honestly if you're still reading at this point, you're clearly in for the long haul, and you get what you get.)
Brace yourself for a moderate tonal shift in this part of the race report! Sort of. I mean, .. well, here, let's just wade in.
First, for the first time in the race, we looked at our total time, because the next swim entrance was also the first time cut-off. It's nearly impossible to calculate times for the various sections to figure out whether you can make it or not. Everything takes longer than it should for the number of miles it is, because it is so difficult. The stairs are basically 1 mile, but take 1 hour. So there's little point in looking before this, but now we were on an easy road, with nothing better to do.
I honestly don't remember what time it was when we looked, but maybe around 11:30am? (Anna confirms, it was 11:36am.) And the next cut-off was at 1pm. At first I thought that was achievable, but I later came to realize that's because I hadn't paid enough attention to how this course different from the 2023 course. I honestly thought it was the same. That's on me.
In 2023, we ran down this road to the fjord and we jumped in for a swim where the short course people started their race. I thought that's where we were going. But this year, because short course was a whole different course, this run actually led directly into the seaside sprint, with no swim between them.
Once I realized that we still had the seaside sprint before the cut-off, I realized it was possible we wouldn't make the cut-off. And honestly I couldn't be too bummed out about it, because there was nothing I could point to and say "I regret this, it is why we won't make the cut-off". The only thing we could point to was being very cautious and careful, and I'm not going to regret that. And if getting through this really ridiculous and dangerous course with no injuries is what takes us out, it was worth it. Getting out unscathed was not a foregone conclusion.
So we were both still optimistic, but for the first time, we realized it wasn't impossible we'd bump up against a cut-off.
This is also the section where I learned that Anna wasn't feeling well. And hadn't been feeling well all day. Not like actively ill, but she woke up feeling not great, not right, and had been spending the entire day just hoping things would turn around. Which is valid! Often they do! And it turns out so far they hadn't. And so she felt like she should let me know. Somewhat belatedly. I completely understood, though. Sometimes if you don't speak something into being, it doesn't be. But it still was, and she was feeling bad enough now that it was impacting her ability to run. We never got to "just about to vomit", but we threw in a few walk breaks when things got particularly iffy.
She has had stomach issues in the past in long races, so she'd packed some of her trusted magic bullets: Nerds Gummy Clusters.
I hated that Anna wasn't feeling great, but, I mean, I can't hate running downhill through lush greenery with raging waterfalls on either side snacking on Nerds Gummy Clusters with one of my very best friends.
She was mostly able to keep running, but we had a little come to jesus talk where I said that it would be delightful if we ended up making the cut-off, but also that taking a few walk breaks was not going to make or break that time at this point. I would rather her be able to settle her stomach and continue to move rather than end up vomiting or having to stop completely.
Honestly I was just very okay with whatever happened at that point.
Little datapoint about this race, for those who haven't done it or don't know it:
At, say, a road marathon, if you decide you're done, or you don't make a time cut-off, they will pick you up in a car and drive you to the finish line. If you don't make a time cut-off at Rockman, they will take you on a boat down the fjord as far as they can, and then you will get out and hike your way back to Basecamp, which is probably going to take you at least 2.5 hours, and is the same sort of muddy, rivery, slippery, rocky nonsense that you've been traversing all day. There's no "we'll just drop you off at the finish line". The only other way to get out is by helicopter, or be in such a bad state that they take you by boat all the way to somewhere that can access a hospital.
Missing a time cut-off does NOT mean your adventure is over. It just means you won't show up in the results with a time. But the adventure isn't done with you! Which is reassuring, as long as you're not just COMPLETELY over the whole thing at that point, and want to be back and warm and dry and still.
So even if we didn't make this time cut-off, we knew we still got to continue our journey together and enjoy the day. Neither of us have fiercely competitive personalities, so we didn't have a lot of ego tied up in this.
Okay. Getting ahead of myself. We were still moving well down this road, eventually taking infrequent walk breaks. Just doing whatever was in front of us, and letting the future take care of itself, as it is wont to do.
We had company out there, though! Our young friends passed us again, and this time one of the umbrella people was with them! She was running alongside them, having ditched her umbrella, and cheering them on.
Eventually we came upon My Car again on the side of the road (see? it WAS a relevant part of the story!), and that's where umbrella guy was, and he jumped in to run with them, as well.
When they were somewhat ahead of us, one of the racers dropped their swimcap, and we yelled out to them to let them know. They sent umbrella guy back to pick it up, and he chatted with us for a second, saying they were out there supporting his brother, who was really struggling. Then he dashed to catch up with the group.
Just after that, the road curves sharply to the left, but there was a car parked at the end, and a little aid station set up. And some trail markers leading off the road and into the woods on the right. This is where I got really confused, because I still didn't realize the course was different from 2023, and I did NOT remember this part.
But then I realized this was the start of the seaside sprint! Which was going to take us... a while.
I remember in 2023 that I felt bad for a lot of the seaside sprint, because I felt like I was really holding Trista back. She's a great technical trail runner, and I am not. Short legs + risk averse. I like technical trail running, but it is not my forte. Fortunately it's not Anna's either! So we slogged through that whole mess together at the same cautious pace and had a delightful time.
This section isn't really describable. It's just tough. Made extra tough by being rainy and wet. Lots of hopping up on rocks, hopping down off rocks, climbing onto boulders, one waterfall crossing where it felt a LOT like we were going to be washed out into the fjord if we stepped wrong into the unseeable torrent of water. So challenging, but so fun.
The umbrella people notably turned around at the raging waterfall. Their commitment to supporting his brother evidently didn't extend to "getting entirely soaking wet fording a waterfall". Those guys had a TREK to get back to the road, several miles up where they'd parked their (my) car. Good on them, and they provided a boost for us as they cheered for us on their way back.
To give you an idea of how ridiculous this section is, at one point, our young friends ahead of us stopped and waited for us to catch up, and yelled down from some rocks saying they weren't sure this was the right way. Sometimes when we haven't seen a red T for a while, we second guess ourselves, but we had JUST seen a T, and were pretty sure this was right. We yelled, "Do you see a red T?" and they confirmed they did, but that it really seemed super technical and challenging to go that way. We're like "Yep! That sounds right!"
Then once again, they were just ahead of us when we got to a section with a smooth rock face that we had to traverse, with a series of chains affixed to the rock so you could cling and inch your way across and not slide down into the fjord. They turned around and said, "Really, this way?" This time we had no doubts. "Absolutely, that's the right way." We figured Marcus would be so pleased that this was so technical people doubted it could even be the correct course.
And I'd just like to reiterate, as much as this section makes Marcus blissfully happy, this is A NORWEGIAN TOURIST TRAIL. This is there for your everyday hiker to navigate and enjoy at any time.
Eventually as we were tramping our way through a particularly treesy/rootsy section, we saw a little dock ahead of us, and then two women up on the trail above us. They called out "Are you okay?" Okay, these must be volunteers. I yelled back, "We're great! We're having a fabulous time, we're just really slow!" And one yelled back, "Okay, I think we take you by boat, though" and we yelled back, "Yep, we know!"
It was 1:30pm. We'd missed the 1pm cut-off by 30 minutes.
It was death by a thousand cuts. There was no part that I look and and say "Yes, that's where we went wrong." It was starting at 6:38am instead of 6:30am. It was a couple minutes wrangling swimcaps and clearing goggles. It was stepping down the slick rock ledges deliberately instead of jumping. It was scanning the horizon for red Ts. Over the course of almost 7 hours, those moments added up, and unfortunately they put us over the time limit that the race directors put in place for our safety and the safety of the volunteers out on the course.
We hiked down to the dock where the next swim, the long cliffside fjord swim, would have started, and there were our young friends! We knew if we had missed it by a full 30 minutes, they must have been pulled, as well. We gave them high fives and told them they did a great job out there, and said their umbrella friends were great to be out there with them for so long. Turns out these guys were from South Africa, and this was their very first swimrun. What a course to try as your first.
We had volunteers and safety people trying to explain to us why we couldn't go on, and we very quickly reassured everyone that we knew the time cutoffs, we knew we weren't going to be allowed to go on, we weren't in any way going to fight them on it, and that we'd had an amazing day, such a fun time, and were sad but accepting that our race (for time) was at an end. We were ready to get on a boat.
Then Thor came up! It was great to see him, and great to know that he knew we were being pulled, that he knew we were not only okay, but great, and that he could pass that on to Trista and Marcus, who could pass that on to Kim and Matt when they saw them. We didn't want anyone to wonder if we were okay or wonder where we were.
Also we got Thor to snap a photo with our favorite young South African team!
Oh, but wait, I promised you earlier that we'd come back to an earlier picture later. Let's look again at this pre-race photo with Trista! LOOK THROUGH THE WINDOW. It's our friends, before we even knew they were our friends! I was looking through photos after the race, and was to tickled when I saw them in that morning photo!
And then it was on to a little zippy rubbery boat to be transported down the fjord to the base of the cliff below Preikestolen. Guys, I'm not kidding, getting down into that boat was one of the hardest things I did all day, in a day of hard things! I'm real short and that boat was really far down in the water, and there were giant tires between me and there. But I got down into the boat without embarrassing myself or falling into the fjord, so I consider it a win.
I'm not sure how long this boat trip was, but it felt VERY long, and it was VERY cold. They wrapped a blanket around us, but it kinda fluttered around and threatened to fly off. We couldn't really look around because the spray was so intense in our eyes. They tried to point out when we were under Preikestolen, but it hadn't gotten any LESS foggy over the course of the day, and we couldn't see anything at all. We marveled at how long it had taken us by boat to traverse that section that we would have done on foot if we hadn't been pulled.
In addition to being cold, this ride was BUMPY. The captain (are you a captain if you're driving a Zodiac-style boat?) was clearly trying to go as fast as possible, but then we'd hit chop, and everyone would go bouncing all over the place, and he'd realize maybe he needed to dial it back again. Then the whole process would start over. We'd been warned to hold onto the cord that went around the edge of the boat, and I had both hands tightly wrapped up in there. I later learned that Anna was only holding on with one hand, so she could hold the blanket with the other. Which I feel gives some insight into her priorities.
Overall, this boat ride was probably the coldest, scariest, most uncomfortable part of our whole day, which is saying a lot on a day like this!, but also a notable and interesting part of our overall adventure, and I'd glad we lived through it! We appreciated all the safety folks and volunteers so much, and we made sure to tell them that excessively.
And then we were back down at the other end of the fjord, our race over but our next adventure about to begin!
Getting out of the boat was much easier than getting in, surprisingly, mostly because someone grabbed my arm and helped pull me up.
And then one of the safety guys called out from the boat, "It's a short easy hike." Which I snorted at, because I was fully aware that none of those things was true, and I said, "Yeah, right!" and he said, "No, really." And either he has the most amazing straight-faced dry sense of humor I've ever seen, or Norwegians are SERIOUSLY just built different, because with that, the boat pulled away, leaving us and our South African friends to make our way back to civilization.
When we knew it was a possibility we wouldn't make the 1pm time cut-off, we decided if that happened, and we both felt okay, we'd go ahead and go out to Preikestolen on the way back to the finish line. We had no other obligations, we weren't expected to be back for hours anyway, and that was a part we were sad we were going to miss by getting cut off, and we were going right by it, so why not?
And we felt just fine, other than obviously having very tired legs already. It helps cut the sting of getting pulled a little that we did get 7 hours of racing in. We may not have a finish time, but we still did more in 7 hours, in technical, difficult, cold terrain, than many people do.. ever. So our bodies definitely felt that.
The amazing news is that we no longer had any time cut-offs looming over us! We didn't have to try to run if it was runnable. None of this was runnable anyway, but even if it had been, we wouldn't have! We didn't have to.
That was the running (pun not intended) joke: Marking the course was absolutely the best way to experience this course, because there's no time pressure, you don't have to rush, or run, you can just enjoy being out on this amazing course at your own pace. That's the dream, for those of us who aren't fast or competitive. And now we got to just chat and look around and be utter tourists. AND we got to mostly skip the whole last section of the race, which contained the parts I had least enjoyed the last time we did the race. I do wish that we could have done the third fjord swim and the run section from there to the crossroads, then out and back to Preikestolen. THAT would be my perfect race. But this was very nearly that, without the cliffside swim, and so I was as satisfied as one can be, while still having a DNF.
Since we were down at fjord-level and we had to make it up to cliff-level, our path was pretty obviously straight up for a long time. It was fun to know that this was exactly where Kim had been dropped off 7ish hours ago, and she had to make her way up the same trail. We really hoped that it had been less wet for her at that time, because our trail was pretty much like climbing up through a river, and we were concerned about all of Kim's fancy camera equipment. (Sounds like it was pretty much just as wet for her, but her camera was fine.)
We climbed and chatted and snacked (because we knew we still had hours to go; just because our race was over doesn't mean our need for calories went away). I busted out those granola bars, and we shared the remaining Nerd Gummy Clusters. We were both in very good spirits, having a great time.
We got to a split in the trail, and chose the route to go to Preikestolen, hoping we were going the right way. And then we got to a really pretty little bridge and lake, and saw blue and white ribbons. That meant we'd found our way onto the trail run course! (Which is the same as the short course swimrun course, but without the swims.) It was really fun to see this part of the course that we wouldn't have gotten to see if we'd been properly doing the long course course.
And then RIGHT after that, we saw someone ahead, and it was KIM!
Our original tentative plan/hope was that Kim would be able to be at the crossroads when we went through. Once we were pulled, we had no idea what would happen to that plan. We'd told Thor that our plan was to go out and back to Preikestolen, and we knew he'd pass that on to people if he could, but we didn't know when that would be. So to suddenly just come across Kim in the middle of nowhere was SUCH a boost! And I could tell it really turned Anna's day around, too. These two have the most amazing relationship, and even though we were both okay with how our day had ended up, it was still hard to really deal with it, so we weren't going to do that until later. And then Anna's favorite person suddenly just appears, and it doesn't get any better than that.
Once Kim heard where we were being taken and our plan, she threw her gross wet clothes and muddy shoes back on and headed back out the way she'd come in that morning, hoping to find us. There were so many ways we could have missed each other (mostly involving Anna and I going the wrong way, which was probably pretty likely), but amazingly it all worked out perfectly.
We told Kim our plan to go out to Preikestolen, she said she was on board, turned around to join us, and suddenly our little motley gang was a gang of three! (Going to maturely avoid all "threesome with lesbians" jokes, because HI, ANNA'S MOM! Thank you always for being so supportive! And please thank Jim for the cookies, they're amazing!)
We continued on the trail/short course course, getting to experience all the misery they had, except at a much more leisurely pace. Including the one waterfall crossing that was so intense, Marcus very nearly changed the course mid-race to remove it. (It was pretty fun, actually, but also I can see why it might be considered a little hazardous.)
This whole section was all the things that I remember hating from the last section of Rockman 2023. It's not really a trail in some places, more a rut or a suggestion of a trail. It turns into mud at even the mention of water, and this had been full-on watery all day. It's impossible to tell whether the unavoidable mud in front of you is one inch deep or up to your hip until you step in. Ask me how I know. It's a shame Kim didn't get a picture of that one. And when it wasn't a mud pit, the trail was just completely underwater, and you didn't know WHAT was under there.
Which is all super miserable, but mostly when you have time limits and are stressed and trying to hurry. While it was dirty and sometimes annoying, it was SO much more pleasant to just hike slowly through this kind of stuff. Plus we ended up going against the direction of the course for a bit, and so each time a racer or team would appear, we'd step off the trail and let them by, and get a little rest. Highly recommend the DNF/leisurely stroll option for your mental health.
Eventually we made it to the tourist trail for Preikstolen, and then it was just a long, slow slog through the crossroads and then out toward the overlook. The good part of this was that we got to see some the teams coming back in, many of whom we knew, and we could cheer for them. It was getting near the 5pm crossroads cut-off, and it looked like everyone we saw was going to make it, even if some of them looked DONE. (And they did!)
The bad part was that we were all tired, both our step-uppers and our step-downers, and we weren't moving fast, and it was cold out there when you weren't moving fast, and it was just increasingly and unrelentingly foggy. We couldn't even see the trail ahead of us, which didn't bode well for visibility at the actual overlook.
Eventually we had a team meeting where we decided that going out another ~2k just to see nothing, and then have to come all the way back, just wasn't worth it. And so we turned around and started back! Anna had done such a good job of not being cold all day, and it would be silly to court hypothermia this late, after the race was already over.
That last bit back through the crossroads and all the way down the tourist trail back to basecamp was slow and painful, but we got through it and were still happy and smiling the whole time. We had a KwikLunsj break, because Kim had grabbed some for us when she came out to meet us. Amazing.
We continued to be incredibly cautious, because this would be an extra dumb time to fall and need to be helicoptered out. And we finished out our very-long-if-not-always-official adventure for the day.
~7 hours of racing, ~4 hours of hiking, 4444 stairs, one cold and jellyfishy fjord crossing, one poop waffle, an injury-free seaside sprint, free boat ride, and a fun if ultimately unsuccessful trip almost all the way to Preikestolen! I'd call that a rich, full day in Norway.
We still had to go up those stupid stairs at the end, and we still got a beautiful commemorative wooden plaque, even though we tried to refuse it. Thor pointed out that it didn't say Finisher, so we couldn't legally turn it down.
Oddly enough, despite having done a completely different race/course and starting at a completely different time and place, Matt came running across the finish line minutes after us.
And thus (mostly) ends perhaps the longest DNF report ever.
Now we have to spend some time figuring out how we feel about the whole thing. I can only speak for myself, but I'm going to ask Anna if she wants to write up her feelings once she gets home and has time to process, too.
I am actually really okay with the whole thing. As I said, I got to do almost all the parts I love, and got to mostly skip the parts I didn't as much care for. And it sounds like those parts at the end were even more miserable than they had been in 2023. It got colder, it got foggier, and they actually ended up pulling the last swim at one point, because it was so foggy as to be unsafe. People finished and were just completely wrecked.
And of course, because we do stupid endurance sports on purpose, it does sting a little to NOT be completely wrecked, and see everyone else so miserable. WE should be miserable! But I think we achieved enough misery to be satisfied, and enjoy not having completely crossed that line.
But I also know that this DNF is maybe very different for me than it is for Anna. This is Anna's FIRST DNF. No matter what the race or circumstance, it is going to be hard to accept your first DNF. I have a few, some intentional and at least one not, so I have already done that first-time processing.
And I also have a Rockman finish under my belt, so it is probably easier for me to accept NOT finishing this time. It still hurts and I'm sad, but I can appreciate that it is somewhat different for me.
At the end of the day, though, what I wanted out of this race, other than a finish, was a day of romping in Norway, swimming through lakes and fjords, slogging up too many stairs, hopping over rocks, sinking into waist-deep mud, clambering over boulders, drinking from pristine waterfalls, waving to jellyfish, and sharing stories and jokes, with one Anna Moss. She was already one of my closest friends, and now she and I share a bond closer than friendship. And we'll always have that, even if we don't have an official finish time.
Anna's 2-week-after reflections on her Rockman experience:
"Thoughts on DNF. I don't like it. I can't help but see it as a failure because we didn't finish. But I also know this is a course that not everyone finishes and a course that must be respected. I keep thinking back to where we could have gone faster and made up time (most notably I should have practiced transitions with gloves) but it really was, as you said, death by a thousand cuts. We could have shaved a tiny bit of time in several places. Maybe it would have been enough. Maybe not. What I know for sure, though, is that it was a spectacular day. There's no question that we had the most fun of anyone out there. (We definitely could have saved time by not laughing as much.) I'm so grateful I got to experience such a beautiful location with one of my very best friends."
I hope that we have many more swimruns and adventures together in the future. I feel like my relationship with Kim leveled up, too, so hopefully she still trusts me to not get her wife killed out in nature! Mosses and Bushes take on Switzerland, maybe? (I know, I KNOW, you need a break, Anna. Fine. I can wait.)
Meanwhile I think next year I'll just show up a few days before the race and help them mark the course, whether they want me there or not!
So many thanks to Anna for a stellar day, Kim and Matt for their support the whole weekend, Thor and all the volunteers and safety people for putting on such a great race. Marcus for all he did for the race before, during, and after, and for being a great coach to get us prepared for this race. And Trista for everything she did before, during, and after the race, PLUS being the reason Anna and I were there in the first place. Still unclear whether she's actually broken up with me, but I THINK reading this report will trigger enough FOMO/jealousy that she'll come back and race with me again someday. ❤
You people are beyond amazing. Tres incroyable!
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