Norseman Odyssey
The day started with a jolt as a scream pierced the silent night, followed by more screams echoing through the house. It was 2:15 am, far too early for anyone to be awake. Mair cautiously opened the door to the room and peered out into the dimly lit hallway, only to leap back in shock and slam the door shut, emitting another bone-chilling scream. A bat was fluttering crazily around the hall, sending everyone into a panic.
Tori, one of my trusted support team members, swiftly grabbed a towel and managed to capture the frenzied bat before releasing it back into the night. As the adrenaline from the unexpected wake-up call began to wear off, we gathered our equipment and made our way down to transition 1 by the cool fjord, with the looming shadows of the mountains casting an eerie atmosphere over the scene. The day had certainly started with a bang, but we were ready to tackle whatever challenges lay ahead.
Ellie, my reliable support runner, proved to be a true asset. Together, we meticulously set up, ensuring we were equipped for any weather conditions that may come our way – whether it be cold, wet, windy, or mild. With every possibility covered, we were ready to face whatever challenges awaited us as we made our way towards the ferry, determined to conquer the day ahead.
The Ferry
As the boarding process for the ferry commenced, I exchanged a brief farewell with my team, each member radiating a mix of excitement and nerves. It was a moment that felt surreal, with 12 years of waiting finally leading up to this hour-long journey to the starting point of the swim alongside 280 other anxious athletes.
Amidst the flurry of activity on the ferry, I observed the diverse reactions of my fellow competitors: some huddled in corners seeking shelter from the chilly breeze, others engaging in lively conversations to mask their anticipation, and a few focused on stretching and warming up to distract themselves from the impending jump into the water. Taking a moment to simply people-watch, I found myself amused by the contrasting ways in which individuals responded to the unique situation we were all about to embark on.
With just 20 minutes remaining before the pivotal plunge into the cold fjord, the organizers unleashed the fire hoses, dousing willing athletes with icy water. The intention behind this unconventional pre-swim ritual was to chill the skin, prompting the blood to surge towards the surface in preparation for the shock of the impending jump into the frigid waters. As each participant braced themselves under the streams of cold water, a sense of camaraderie and shared anticipation filled the air, uniting us in readiness for the challenging feat ahead.
As the moment to jump arrived, the command echoed in my mind, “Don’t think, find a gap in the water, and go.” With a quick inhale, I took the plunge, feeling the rush of cool water enveloping me as I dropped 2.5 meters down before resurfacing and commencing a leisurely float to the surface. There was no turning back now.
The easy 400-meter swim to the kayak-lined start provided a brief respite before the adrenaline of the race truly kicked in. As I waited for the official start, a sense of calm settled over me despite the creeping cold seeping into my wetsuit. With each passing minute, my anticipation grew.
The Swim
With a resounding “hoot,” the ferry horn marked the official start of the race, signaling the beginning of the chaotic swim leg. The water churned with a flurry of swimmer limbs, creating a frenzied atmosphere that required nearly 200 meters before space finally opened up, allowing me to settle into my stroke and regain my focus on technique.
As I navigated through the cool waters, my mantra echoed in my mind: “technique over intensity, focus, focus, focus.” With unwavering determination, I honed in on my form, pushing aside any distractions to maintain a steady pace towards the next phase of the race.
The remainder of the swim proved uneventful, with the cold water no longer a concern as my training and preparation guided me smoothly towards the shore. After 1 hour and 11 minutes of relentless effort, I found myself scrambling over the shore rocks towards Transition 1, pleasantly surprised to discover that I held the 49th position out of 280 competitors – a remarkable achievement for a 62-year-old athlete.
As I exited Transition, a spirited call of “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie” rang out, led by Mair and Tori, their voices rising above the din of the crowd with eager enthusiasm. The familiar chant, a symbol of camaraderie and support, echoed in my ears, filling me with a renewed sense of determination.
Ellie, my dedicated support, was right there at Transition to lend a hand as I emerged from the water. With her assistance, I swiftly shed the wetsuit and slipped into a warm thermal vest to combat the lingering chill. Despite Ellie’s help, the struggle of zipping up the bike jersey with my trembling hands and pulling on the arm sleeves with damp arms made for a less-than-smooth transition – a valuable lesson for future races.
Despite the minor challenges in Transition, I quickly flicked the light on and pushed off into the next leg of the race, fully aware of the daunting ride that lay ahead. With 25 years of triathlon experience under my belt, I braced myself for what promised to be one of the most demanding cycling stages in my athletic history.
The Ride
Navigating through the winding streets of Eidfjord town, I caught sight of Mair’s beaming face, filled with pride as she cheered me on with unwavering support before I hit the open road. The initial 5 kilometers offered a relatively flat terrain, interspersed with unique bike tunnels that added to the distinctive Norseman experience. However, the true challenge lay ahead as the road began to ascend, with a grueling gradient of 5 to 7% spanning 30 kilometers.
The relentless climb took me from sea level to a staggering elevation of 1250 meters, presenting a test of endurance and mental fortitude unlike any other. As anticipated due to my swim position, a steady stream of younger athletes swiftly overtook me along the ascent. Nevertheless, I remained unfazed by the passing competitors, recognizing that this was only a snapshot in the grand scheme of the race.
Reaching the first support zone at the 20-kilometer mark, I found my dedicated crew prepared and waiting with warmth, essential nutrition, and the mandatory boxing kangaroo mascot—a familiar touch of home amidst the rugged Norseman terrain. Despite the temptations of the offerings, I felt in a good rhythm and declined any immediate assistance, fueled instead by the unwavering encouragement of my team and the resounding chant of “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie” that reverberated through the air.
At the 40-kilometer mark, I conquered the initial ascent and began the exhilarating 50-kilometer descent, a welcome change after the demanding climb. The route predominantly consisted of long downhill stretches punctuated by occasional short inclines, offering a mix of speed and challenges. I vividly remember hurtling through town, exceeding the 50-kph speed limit as the wind rushed past me, the thrill of the descent fueling my adrenaline.
Throughout this fast-paced section, my support crew continued to shine, strategically positioning themselves near the hilltops to provide crucial nutrition and unwavering encouragement. Their unwavering support was a beacon of motivation as I navigated the rapid descents, pushing the limits of speed and endurance. Despite a brief moment where the pace caught them off guard, my dedicated team stayed one step ahead, ensuring I was well-supported every step of the way.
The stretch from 30 to 90 kilometers unfolded as the mesmerizing Hardangervidda mountain plateau, the largest of its kind in Europe, offering a feast for the eyes with its unparalleled scenic beauty. As we moved through this picturesque landscape, I was treated to breathtaking views of tranquil lakes, pristine snow fields glistening in the sunlight, and bridges spanning over rushing white water streams. The symphony of nature surrounding me included cascading waterfalls that added a touch of wonder to the already enchanting scenery.
Despite the physical and mental demands of the race, the temptation to pause and immerse myself in the beauty of my surroundings was undeniable. The allure of taking a moment to drink in the sights and sounds of this unique terrain tugged at my senses, reminding me of the sheer magnificence of the Norseman course and the privilege of racing in such an awe-inspiring setting.
As I approached the 95-kilometer mark, the onset of the second round of climbs loomed on the horizon, signaling a shift in the race dynamics
The next phase of the race presented four formidable climbs, each with its own unique challenges. The first three climbs spanned approximately 6 kilometers each, with gradients averaging between 5 to 7%, demanding sustained effort and focus to conquer.
The final ascent was the “beast” of the sector with gradients ranging predominantly between 5 to 7%, this climb included sections of intense steepness, with pinch points reaching a grueling 13%. The unforgiving terrain would pose a physical and mental test, requiring a strategic approach to navigate the steeper segments while conserving energy for the demanding final stretch.
The first climb was a test of my endurance, with the fatigue slowly building in my quadriceps. As I tackled the second climb, the challenge intensified, more cyclists breezing past me as my speed dropped to a mere 8 km/h. It was then that Ellie joined me, running alongside and urging me forward, yet doubts about finishing started to creep in for the first time.
The third climb mirrored the previous ones, but halfway up, I made a strategic decision to walk, ensuring that I would reach the top. The fourth climb was a relentless battle, each pedal stroke feeling like a struggle. As I neared the top, facing a daunting hairpin bend with a steep incline of over 10%, I dismounted and continued on foot. It was at this moment that I let go of my goal of earning a Black T-Shirt, shifting my focus to the new target of a White T-Shirt.
At 142 km, I found myself isolated as the support vehicles were unable to follow due to the lack of layby space. The next 48 km became a solitary journey, with only the sound of my breath and the wind to keep me company.
The following 10 km presented a new challenge with a 3% gradient and a fierce headwind, creating a grueling uphill battle. Despite the tough conditions, I started to catch up to the cyclists ahead, discovering a newfound strength within myself when not faced with steep inclines.
At 152 km, the terrain changed as I began the exhilarating descent. Speeding down the hill at an average of 48 km/h, reaching a thrilling maximum of 65 km/h, I navigated sharp hairpin bends with precision. Passing five more cyclists on the descent, I arrived at T2 with a sense of renewed energy, my legs feeling surprisingly strong.
At T2, I seized a moment of solitude as the support crew caught up, using the time to mentally prepare for the marathon that lay ahead. With Ellie by my side, I swiftly changed into my running gear, swapping out my shirt and shoes before grabbing a bottle filled with a refreshing mix of half coke, half water, and a salt tablet. With determination in my stride, I set off, ready to conquer the next leg of the adventure.
The Run
The first 25 km of the run greeted me with a picturesque route, weaving along the lakeside, past a lively stream, and framed by the majestic cliffs and mountains looming in the distance. Setting my pace at a steady 6:30 per km, I embraced the rhythm of the run, punctuating every 2 km with a brief walk break to recharge. The accumulating weight of the journey began to press down on my shoulders, urging me to dig deep and find that reservoir of grit within.
As I hit the 6 km mark, a realization dawned on me – this leg of the race demanded more than just physical stamina; it called for unwavering mental fortitude. The diluted coke concoction in my bottle proved to be a lifesaver, offering a boost of energy and focus amidst the growing strain. I made a conscious choice to silence the doubts creeping into my mind, fixing my gaze on maintaining an average pace of 7 minutes per km, seamlessly alternating between strides and walks.
Around the 16 km milestone, an unwelcome wave of nausea threatened to derail my momentum, prompting a swift adjustment in my nutrition strategy. Opting to rely solely on water to soothe my stomach, I pushed through the discomfort, determined to weather this storm. It wasn’t until I reached 18 km that the queasiness subsided enough for me to reach for my trusted caffeine tablets, igniting a newfound spark of vitality within.
The stretch from 18 km to 25 km is a blur in my memory, a relentless grind where each step felt heavier than the last. With my eyes fixed on the path ahead, I battled against the fatigue that threatened to engulf me, drawing resilience from the very core of my being. Each heartbeat was a testament to my unwavering determination, propelling me forward into the unknown depths of my endurance.
Despite the trials and tribulations, I pressed on, each footfall echoing a silent promise to see this journey through to its conclusion. The path ahead may have been arduous, but deep within me burned a flicker of unwavering resolve, a beacon guiding me through the darkest of moments. And as the kilometers blurred into a tapestry of sweat and sheer willpower, I knew that no challenge was too great, no obstacle too daunting to overcome on this epic adventure.
Zombie Hill
At the 25 km mark, the stage was set for the final showdown – Zombie Hill, a notorious ascent renowned for its grueling 7.5 km journey with a daunting 10% gradient, virtually begging for a strategic approach involving plenty of walking. It was at this juncture that the opportunity arose to enlist the help of a support runner, and alongside me appeared Ellie, my companion for the arduous climb to the summit.
As we embarked on the relentless ascent, conversations ebbed and flowed between us, weaving a tapestry of light-hearted banter and profound reflections that delved into the depths of worldly dilemmas. Though the specifics of our dialogue may have faded into obscurity, the shared camaraderie served as a beacon of distraction, alleviating the strain on my protesting legs. With each step forging ahead, the daunting incline of Zombie Hill gradually slipped away beneath our feet, culminating in a triumphant arrival at the control point well within the allotted cutoff time, securing a solid 199th position out of 280 fellow runners.
The Finish
The weight of time constraints lifted from our shoulders, we basked in the liberation of the outbound 10 km stretch, alternating between brisk walking and occasional jogging, savoring the freedom granted by this newfound leniency. Upon reaching the turnaround point, a surge of determination coursed through our veins, propelling us to transition into a sustained jog for the final 5 km stretch towards the eagerly awaited finish line.
Crossing the threshold of 16 hours and 41 minutes, the jubilant conclusion of our grueling endeavor greeted us, accompanied by a sense of accomplishment that transcended mere numerical rankings. With a respectable placement of 202nd out of 280 participants, as a 62 year old, the journey we had embarked upon, fraught with challenges and triumphs, culminated in a testament to our unwavering perseverance and indomitable spirit.
As the echoes of the race faded into the night, the memories etched in the annals of our shared experience served as a reminder of the bond forged through adversity, the resilience kindled in the crucible of perseverance, and the victory savored in the face of insurmountable odds. With my support group of Mair, Tori and Ellie we stood at the finish line, bathed in the glow of a hard-earned achievement, we knew that this journey, with all its twists and turns, had transformed us in ways both seen and unseen, shaping us into champions of our own narrative, a testament to the unyielding power of the human spirit.
The Wrap up
A massive shoutout to my rockstar support team whose unwavering spirit and dedication were the driving force behind my journey to the finish line. From keeping me on track with perfectly timed stops to delivering the essential motivation and even the occasional kick in the rear, their commitment was unparalleled.
Mair, the master coordinator, drew from her Ultraman and xtri Himalaya expertise to ensure every pit stop was precisely where and when it needed to be. Whether I needed a nutrition boost, a pep talk, or a swift kick to push through, she was there every step of the way.
Tori, the fearless driver extraordinaire, fearlessly maneuvered our vehicle on treacherously narrow roads, defying all odds to provide crucial support at key moments along the course. Not only did she expertly handle media duties and cameras, but she found the perfect spots to offer her unwavering encouragement.
Ellie, the powerhouse, dashed up those daunting late climbs and conquered the infamous Zombie Hill with an infectious smile and unyielding positivity. Her sheer joy and relentless energy were like a beacon of light, all while she made sure I had the fuel I needed, even if it meant chasing me down for a specific request.
Together, this well-oiled machine roared with chants of “Aussie, Aussie, Aussie” and proudly sported the boxing kangaroo insignia, a symbol of our strength and unity.
Black & White
Stepping into the realm of Norseman was a dream over a decade in the making. While my initial goal of earning the coveted black t-shirt as a top-160 finisher eluded me on those grueling bike climbs, crossing the finish line in crisp white fills me with immense pride. Both run courses were 42.2 km, the white was a lower profile for the last 5 km.
Norseman isn’t just another race; it’s the ultimate test of endurance and tenacity. Securing the white shirt feels like coming in second in a high-stakes lottery and marks the pinnacle of my 25-year triathlon career, fulfilling every ambition I ever held.
Will there be more adventures on the horizon? Undoubtedly. But for now, every moment feels like a cherished bonus in an already extraordinary journey.
Do things that scare you, that you have 50% chance of success, But won’t kill you. #DoEpicShit
