The ultimate proof

’The ultimate proof of human capacity’.

One water race has a slogan which is too good to be taken seriously, as though a PR agency had been brainstorming. This slogan for One Water Race could easily be taken with a pinch of salt, but after 60 hours of following the non-stop racing I have changed my mind, it is simply facts on the table.

The date is August 20^th and the sun has just risen over Arholma in the northern Stockholm archipelago.  The morning dew is still clinging to the grass and a group of aluminium boats are swaying by the dock.  The clock has just passed 6am and there is a hive of activity on the island.

People wearing orange vests are scurrying about, shuttling bags and boxes between various sites on the island, and to the boats in the marina. In the background people are jogging, the wetsuits and blue vests setting them apart from the rest.  

These are the competitors, the ones who, in an hour’s time will plunge into the chilly 16 degree water and embark on a gruelling journey, running southbound.  The feverish preparations by the orange-vested crew are all for them.  

As I walk around, I can’t help but wonder what thoughts race through their minds.  What motivates someone to undertake such a daunting challenge?

For most of us, the idea of setting off on a 40-50 min run is daunting enough.  We often pace around, feeling a tinge of apprehension about the difficulty and whether we’ll make it.  Summoning the motivation and courage to take that first step can be a feat in itself.   

These remarkable athletes will not only be running but also swimming a staggering 250 kilometres, approximately 200 kilometres of running and 50 kilometres of swimming, depending on which route they choose.

For roughly two and a half days they will remain in constant motion, pausing only briefly for nutrition and navigation.  

In the sport of swimrun, a designated course exists, but for the racers in One Water Race, an additional parameter awaits them.  

Here there is no course to follow, no digital tools for support.  With the help of a paper map and compass they must make their way from Arholma in the north, to Landsort in the south, as quickly as humanly possible.

The teams consist of four persons (including at least one female); three of whom swim and run and one that plays a vital role as team support; planning which route the team should take, preparing food and energy drinks at the various checkpoints and guaranteeing their safety and wellbeing, from the comfort of their own safety boat.  

The mood at Arholma is quiet, warm but somewhat tense.

People are chitchatting, laughing, hugging, and wishing each other good luck; both athletes and members of the race organisation.

One Water Race is not only the toughest challenge from a racer’s perspective, but also the race is incredibly challenging logistically for the race organisation.  

Seven teams in constant movement: checkpoints, support boats, medics, personnel working shifts are being transported between islands.  A livestream runs from start to finish, filmed by runners shadowing the teams as well as drones.  As you can imagine, there are challenges for everyone operating in this area, wearing both orange and blue vests.

Before the race start, the Governor of Stockholm, Anna Kinberg Batra, appears and says a few words about the beauty of the archipelago and how impressed she is with the participants.  

The start goes from the ‘battery’ on northern Arholma.  The view is spectacular. The sun is shining, and the air is starting to warm.  

But there is still 250 kilometres distance to cover until Landsort is reached.

The sound of the start takes place, and the teams are now allowed to open their maps.  They huddle up in small formations, and compasses, pens and measuring tools abound.

Once the first section of the journey is mapped and planned the teams disappear into the woods.

 All non-racers dash back to the boats, whilst the racers endure a few kilometres of running south across Arholma’s rugged terrain.  

I land my drone and attempt to hurry down to one of the boats.  I like to think of myself in good physical shape with good balance, yet still I almost roll my ankle four times on the way to the boat.  Such is the terrain these competitors are facing.  

I jump onto one of the boats.  It is Team 3’s support boat – the American team.

I greet Kirsten Smith.  She is fairly stressed as she is planning the route in section one for her team.  The second and third sections are received as the race progresses.

She is scurrying around in the boat, measuring, drawing, thinking, communicating with the boat captain – instructing him where to head. 

25 mins later we are gently rocking by a cliff.  We are alone.

Where are the others?

Kristen scratches her head, sweat starting to drip.

With a laugh she declares, ‘Apologies in advance, but soon I won’t be smelling like roses anymore.’

No teams appear.  We stare at the cliff edge, and it stares back at us.  Kristen stares at her map.

The radio sounds.

‘Team 3!  Do you have contact with your team?’

‘No’

‘Ok. Over.’

It is race headquarters, wondering if Kristen has contact with her team.

The team support for each team, Kristen in this case, must show their teammates a green flag – for safety reasons – before they can enter the water and start a swim.  

The team are now stood on the cliff, waiting, and not the cliff we are looking at; a different one.  The question is which one?  They have no means of communicating with each other.  The racers only carry a tracking sensor, which transmits to a low-definition map located inside each team boat.

We find them relatively quickly.  Kristen thought that shorter swims didn’t require a green flag and therefore had positioned herself further away from her team. 

The shaky start for Team 3 made me realise the complexity of this competition.  Not only are the teams expected to perform at the edge of what is physically possible, but they need to function as a team and not get frustrated with individual mistakes. That can be a daunting task after two sleep-deprived days.

The Americans once again find their rhythm whilst Kristen draws new routes.

I look at the time, it is just after 11am.  Time for me to head home. 

Yes, you read this correctly.

Over the years I have covered my races with Sportbladet, but this one is impossible to follow from start to finish without a pause.  My plan is to spend a day at home and then return.  Picking the kids up from nursery is one of my activities on the agenda.  

I reach the mainland by Kapellskär about the same time as last year’s winners – Team 7 with Adriel Young, Daniel Hansson, Johan Hasselmark and Kristin Larsson.  They are in the lead by approximately 15 minutes, and on the live-map I can see that they are nearing land after a swim, not too far from where I am stood.   So, I turn onto a gravel road and wait for them.

An older couple stop and ask what is taking place and once I have finished explaining the objectives of the race, the lady, who is holding a Svenska Dagbladet newspaper in her hand, looks at me.

‘Horrendous, why would anyone want to do that?’ she asks.

It is a very relevant and interesting question.

‘But we will stay and support then’, she says as she positions herself next to me.

A few minutes later, Team 7 arrive.  The team happily wave and quickly disappear into the forest again.

I jump into a car and drive along the country road.

In the distance I can see them running.  I have never felt so cruel as when I overtake them in the car, roll down the window and take a few camera shots whilst passing.

I start to speed up and head off whilst thinking to myself, this is totally insane.

At home, things are back to normal.  The kids get picked up and dinner is being prepared.  

My wife and I are watching a series whilst I pick up my mobile to look at the live map.  They are swimming and running, swimming and running…

Team 7 has had to retire.  Kristin Larsson was battling a cold and after 90 kilometres her body had simply had enough.  Who runs and swims 90 kilometres with a cold?  What mental resolve.  I just about make it to work with a ‘man cold’.

I go to bed, wake up the next morning, eat breakfast and take the kids to nursery.

’Dad, what are you going to do today?’

’I am going to continue following those people that are running and swimming.’

’For how long can you swim and run exactly?’

’That is a good question darling; that is probably what they are about to find out.’

The answer will eventually come, but not yet.  Now they have been out for nearly an entire day.

Only in the afternoon I start to head back out to the archipelago, this time with my own boat so that I can easily make my way between the teams without being in the way.

Team support for the American team, Kristen, was very open when I left Team 3’s boat. With a smile she lets out.

’I’m not going to lie but it is very nice being alone with the captain.’

A nice way of saying ’See you later, don’t worry if you can’t come back’  

The teams have now arrived at Kymendö.  

I meet up with the leading Team 2 from Australia and feel ashamed when being asked how I’m feeling and if I had a good night’s rest.  

I slept for eight hours. 

The teams have not slept, and the race organisers have slept for about an hour at hostels, or on Briggen, which acts as floating race HQ.  Most people I bump into are in a very cheerful mood.

The sun is slowing setting and I meet up with Team 4 from Sweden, which consists of Alexander Koller, Fredrik Nilzen, Marika Wagner and Robert Hanning.

We meet on an islet somewhere outside of Kymendö where checkpoint 7 is located and team support Robert has prepared some food.

Not exactly a Michelin star dinner.

Sandwiches, hot liquid, noodles, energy bars and gels are being inhaled.  Magdalena Ribbing would be turning in her grave if she had witnessed this consumption of fast food.  Noodles in plastic cups are being ingested, with hands being used as utensils.  Fistful after fistful is being pushed in mouth until mouths are completely full.  One of the biggest challenges is ensuring energy levels are not fully depleted.  It is safe to say quite a few calories are burned during the race days.

The pit stop lasts for about 10 minutes whilst Robert illustrates upcoming routes and is motivating the troops.

And then back into the water.

There are no bath ladders and beaches. Instead, algae, seagrass, sharp stones and mud that awaits them when entering the water.  

Hesitation is not an option as the common call rings out:

‘Keep moving! Keep moving!’

It is vital to constantly be in motion, even if at times progress appears to be slow.

The sun sets.  It does not just get dark but rather pitch-black.  The only visible reference are the lanterns on the boats and the small headlamps blinking in the woods between the trees.  

The teams are entering their second consecutive night without sleep.

If any team slips more than 8 hours behind the leading team, than their race is over.  Team 2 is motoring on in impressive fashion whilst some of the other teams slip too far behind and do not meet the required cut off times.  

Sleep hits me in the face.  Is it acceptable to feel tired?

We dock at Utö and sleep for two hours on the floor of the boat.  Meanwhile Team 2 and the others battle on as though it’s business as usual.  

I wake up to the sound of a deer bleating; a fitting alarm clock.

The time is 04:00 and we are still enveloped in total darkness.  We locate Team 2, who have dusted off the entire island of Utö during the time I’ve spent sleeping.  It is in this moment everything is starting to feel unreal.  

I have been home and spent an entire day living a family life and working for 12 hours.  These racers have just been doing the same thing.

Running, swimming, eating.

It is surreal, it should not be possible.

I jump on land to follow through the forest on one of the islands.

The flashlights guide us through terrain which is barely walkable, everything incredibly dense.

We fall and glide on the moss.

‘Slippery!’ somebody shouts.

Seconds later I go sliding down a part of a cliff, cutting my arm and leg in the process.

I think to myself that I’m a tad clumsy as I’ve slept too little.  It is incomprehensible how the others can maintain focus this whole time.  They have rested for 30 minutes in two days, been constantly wet and in motion.  It is first when seeing it with my own eyes that I gain such incredible respect for what they are enduring. 

It is easier to look at the data and shrug the shoulders and think what a tough challenge this is, but to experience first hand a glimpse of what they do is something else altogether.  Feel the terrain, the cold, the mosquitos, the slippery moss, and the darkness sucking any remaining energy left.  That is when you realise it is difficult to imagine anything worse.

All other common race types people usually fall for, Vasaloppet, Vätternrundan, triathlon, even an ironman; they all feel like a kids’ race in comparison.  

One Water Race promotes this event with a big, bold slogan: ‘The ultimate proof of human capacity’.

And the fact remains, it probably is.  I cannot think of anyone I know who could take this on.  Not even half of it.

I look at the map, there is still a long way to go until Landsort.

I had planned on picking the kids up from kindergarten at 16:00.  There is no chance of that happening.

 I’m starting to wonder whether the new, slightly longer and tougher course for this year is a mistake.

It is going to be too difficult, and nobody will make it.

I change my plans again.

Back to Stockholm.  Repack, recharge, solve the family puzzle of logistics. 

The kids cannot quite comprehend the situation.  Are they still running?  We have been in school two days now, do they never need to sleep?

I have no good answers as I am myself wondering.  What type of people are these?

Back to Nynäshamn, the time is just after 17:00.  The sun is on its way down, again, for the third time.  Only three teams remain, two of which are fighting against the cut-off times.

I meet up with Team 2 at a checkpoint outside of Nåttarö.  It’s as if there is no end.

Noodles are being mass-consumed again; the map is out.

Vaseline soothing the blisters.

’Keep on moving!’  They are.

Another team gets taken off the course after a mandatory health control.   The medic deems that one of the athletes can’t differentiate between up and down, right and left, so no green light is given to take on the long swim over to Nynäshamn.  

Over 55 hours have passed since I stood at Arholma.  Normal people on land have managed to endure half a working week during the time these human machines have ‘kept moving’.

Incredible.  Now it is visible, the lighthouse on Landsort.

Lightly sun-bleached, the lighthouse stands majestically blinking out over the sea, which has now become rather violent.  We manage to force our way into the marina after having to zigzag between the powerful, rolling waves.  

Team 2 are swimming a few kilometres behind us.

Ahead at the finish line a few locals are gathering by the lighthouse to witness the completion of the race.  The evening is simply breathtaking, as though the archipelago is trying to transmit the last of the desperately needed energy for the team to make it all the way to the finish.  

Just before 19:00, 60 hours after the start went, the racers battle their way up a final climb leading to the lighthouse.  

The three Australians are cheered on by their supporting teammate.

Eight hands collectively touch the green wooden door. The time stops.

59 hours, 59 minutes and 17 seconds.

I get shivers.  They made it!

Totally unbelievable!

Team 2, who currently just bagged a first prize reward of 100,000 USD, catch their breath, embrace each other and are deservedly and wholeheartedly congratulated all around.

I take a seat next to Rob Preston from Team 2, who is sat trying to remove his shoes and race equipment.  

How does it feel?

’Incredibly challenging.  We are so happy that we returned this year after finishing second last year.’

What motivates you to do this?

’We love challenges and if you get the chance to do this challenge in this setting in the Stockholm archipelago then it is a no-brainer for us.  One Water Race is an incredible competition, which continues to push us in reaching new levels all the time. 

How do you keep the motivation up?

’It is challenging.  It’s important we keep spurring each other on throughout the race.   During the final leg of the long swim it felt as though we were being blown backwards and that we would never reach the end of it.  We keep together and remind ourselves we’ll get there.’

How far can you push yourselves?

’To be totally honest, this is probably the limit.  I felt as though I took and pushed myself to a new level.’

What was the biggest challenge?

’The cold and the wind were the two biggest challenging factors.’

How do you recover from something like this?

’A good breakfast tomorrow.   At some point a beer or two perhaps.  It will probably take a month before all the energy is restored again.  Keep eating and sleeping until the body feels fully energised.’ 

Is this good for the body?

’Probably not, being without sleep this long is not ideal.  But I have gotten good at it and found the sport which allows me to maximise on this characteristic and to push my limits.’

How did it feel to cross the finish line?

’I’m so happy and relieved we made it and that we avoided making any costly mistakes.  We enjoyed each other’s company and presence.  We had a really nice time here.  It’s a challenge to keep together and have a good spirit in the group when racing under these conditions, there being no sleep and having depleted energy levels.  Not getting frustrated with each other or saying the wrong things.  I’m proud of us for sticking together so well.’  

Rob taking his shoes of. His feet looks like they have checked out 24 hours ago, at least. All white. Swollen.

Rob removes his shoes.  The feet look as though they checked out about a day earlier.  Pale, white. Swollen.  

’They are a bit sore but totally okay.  ‘It’s worse with the thighs’, Rob says and shows the painful blisters that have formed there. 

I think to myself that you wouldn’t want to wake with his body tomorrow.

Sadly, the last team remaining in the competition was also forced to retire due to not reaching the final cut off time.

In the end, only one out of seven teams crossed the finish line.  

Perhaps One Water Race has found the limit, it seems to be a gruelling 256,852 metres in 59 hours, 59 minutes and 17 seconds.

Or has it?