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Beitmyren

We're talking about a loooong race here... If you think you know what you're good for, that you're aware of your limits for how far you can go, and without sleeping, you should continue reading now. Offroad Finnmark is definitely the race for testing this. One of my own goals was just that: to test my physical capacity under the duress of minimal sleep. Sure, I will also freely admit that the prize sum of 75 grand was tempting.

My closest friends know me, I guess, as rather meticulous, and fairly detailed in the way I make plans before competitions, etc. This one clearly seemed to be a race in which such qualities would matter. To my mind, tactical planning would be decisive for ending up as winner. One of my first aims was to make an aggressive start, giving my rivals something to think about. Since the race demanded 3 x 2 hours of compulsory stops (1 media stop, 2 medical controls) it went without saying that sleep was something that appeared to be prioritized. In my plan, however, the 13 checkpoints wouldn't see much of me; I would only stop for the bare essentials. To the palpable frustration of the checkpoint staff, we barged in at the checkpoints, devoured our meals, and replenished our pockets and bottles in the least possible time. We didn't spend more than between 9 and 35 min. the checkpoints.

The first stretch: 19 cycling hours, 216 km, 4340 altitude meters: Alta - Sørstraumen -Reisavann - Kautokeino.

We made it through this part to the first compulsory stop in 19 hours. I will never forget the first night. This stretch gave us the most incredibly nature experiences and (as events would show) the best terrain. Imagine passing through endless undulating plains as far as the eye can see, on paths and gravel roads, seeing rivers and beauteous mountain lakes bathed in sunlight. And at3 a.m...

I didn't really foresee, then, what the rest of the race would be like. Everything seemed easy, even the rockiest paths were not a problem (yet...). We arrived in Kautokeino in record time and barely tired (we thought). We planned for a 3-hour stop and tried to sleep 2 hours. That proved difficult; I was hardly able to get 30 minutes of sleep. I was dying to move on.

 

The second stretch: 15 cycling hours, 194 km, 2090 altitude meters.

Kautokeino - Masi - Sousjavre - Mollisjok - Ravnastua - Karasjok. We gradually encounter new kinds of terrain and need to engage in new modes of cycling; soon, we have to spend countless hours walking. Across marshes and creeks, on rocky paths and roads which cause what I've feared the most, saddle sores. In the course of this stretch we need to cross the infamous Hundvidda. People have warned us of its slow cycling pace and its abundance in rocks. The first half begins well; we ride on nice, if technically demanding, paths. This is where I experience one of my absolutely lowest points, falling into a marsh by midnight. If it hadn't been able to hang on to the bicycle I honestly don't know how deep I might have sunk; I didn't, as it were, hit bottom. Soaked from top to toe isn't the thing to be when the clock strikes 1 a.m. and temperature predictions say around 0°C, and with 5-6 cycling hours remaining. But a strong faith and high-speed cycling eventually dries one up. But God knows I spent two hours freezing, badly. At the first medical check the doctor praises our impeccably high spirits, our physical shape and, not least, our unbelievably aggressive approach. Our tactics are putting the arranger's logistic planning in total disarray; we're about 24 hours ahead of schedule. We make plans for another series of 3-hour stops and 2 hours of sleep. This time I get 1,5 hours of sleep.

The third stretch: 24,5 cycling hours, 158 km, 2850 altitude meters

Karasjok - Valjok - Skoganvarre - Bojobæski - Jotka

This stretch would provide me with the most unforgettable memories. I was to discover facets of myself that I've never seen before. The reason why we used this much time before the next compulsory stop (a medical check) was twofold. First, the arranger had underestimated the time to be used between the stretches, and second, we now started to feel the impact of the effort, and our average speed dropped. But we needed to persist in our tactical game. I don't think many people thought we would be able to ride such long distances without sleeping, even less this far into the race. I was unflinching in my communication with the boys. We can make this is we really focus and stay firm. Deep inside, however, I wasn't really sure. But being steadfast in my belief in our tactics, and daring to say so in order to persuade the others, helped quench my own insecurity. I never shared my doubts with them.

We spent the night in one of the most evil pieces of mountain tundra I've ever seen. It seemed endless. Here, limits were set by one's own inner motivation only. My legs were actually quite fresh, but I was so wasted and worn out that simply putting one foot ahead of the other, pressing one leg down and then the other one, had become a pain and a nightmare. To this day I don't really know or comprehend how I managed to keep it going through the 6-7 last hours of this stretch. I was exhausted like never before. I had heard about people deprived of sleep who start hallucinating. Now this happened to me. I saw people, reindeer, foxes, bears, and so on. I didn't tell the others about this, but on one particular occasion I couldn't resist disclosing one of my visions. We were fantasizing about how delightful it would be to find a gravel road that could provide smooth transportation to the next checkpoint. The result is that I see a caravan, and I tell this loud and clear to the boys; there's no comment from them. The object I'm seeing is just a big rock. Afterwards it turns out that the other boys had similar visions along the way, but that they didn't dare talk about them either. We arrive at the last checkpoint in this stretch. There, my eyes catch sight of a bag of small chocolates (cf. the picture and the blue bag). Without a clear notion of what good food for us would be in the situation we're in we devour this bag of chocolate, stuff a couple of sandwiches in our pockets and fill the bottles. With the blood sugar level rocketing, we feel ready for the last bit before the next compulsory stop; a mere 3 hours of cycling doesn't seem like much in our circumstances. We arrive at the medical control after 24,5 cycling hours. We can't wait to dig into the eggs and bacon that we've ordered. The bacon appears to have been fried in at least half a kilo of butter. I sleep 2,5 hours, with a nice glossy shine on my lips. When somebody wakes me I have no clue about where on earth I am. It takes me 5-10 minutes to get my act together and put on the cycling dress. We're ready for the shortest stretch.

 

The final stretch: 7 hours and 50 minutes of cycling, 79 km, 1810 altitude meters Jotka - Gargia - Alta

Everything is much easier now. After all, I've slept 2,5 hours. We cycle well overall and our tactical plan has turned out to be a success. We left the last checkpoint 40 min before the next team rolled in. And they need to stay there for two hours. From that angle, we're in control. But a lot of things can still happen; we need to stay in full focus. This stretch has a few mighty climbs. We spend 45 minutes ascending from the Alta dam, a distance of about 1, 5 km. This bit is clearly not about cycling, but carrying bicycles. When we've reached the treeless mountain plains breathtaking mountainous vistas open up for us. We're going in auto-pilot mode now. After hours of cycling across the tundra, the paths and, eventually, the roads get better. We can even feel the speed create a fresh breeze in our faces. Thundering away at 30-40 km/h is a joy.

We arrive in downtown Alta on Wednesday evening.

-          78 hours, 32 minutes or

-          3 days, 6 hours, 32 minutes

 

The first night after the race.

After the medical check, I slept well on the first night, after undergoing a treatment consisting of Voltaren and two glasses of wine. I felt the need to insert a couple of earplugs before falling to sleep, but I nodded off before I had plugged them in. They were still in my hand when I woke up 8 hours later.

Reading the local papers after the race was great fun. They were full of questions such as "when will they cave in?", "when will they need to get some sleep?" In a way we did actually cave in, but we never gave away the first spot. The fact that our times in the last stretches were among the worst is a fact that we can live with. The first team to get back to Alta wins, right? We did.

What was the final outcome, then, as far as I'm concerned? My teammate Geir Thune had to quit when he became ill, catching a fever. We were in the lead at that point, but it was early on. I was allowed to continue with the PF/KTM boys who ended up winning the entire race. In that way, I got to try out my tactical ides, which the PF/KTM boys had planned to the smallest detail, just like myself.

I've experienced Finnmarksvidda at its best, including the midnight sun, the reindeer, the Sámi, and surprisingly few mosquitoes. It only rained in the last hour of the race. But you shouldn't get the false impression that we often enjoyed dry feet. Mine were wet 3 days in a row; I have no idea how many rivers and marshes we crossed. In the most sinister rivers and marshes I was scared senseless. In particular, there was one marsh in which my feet sank 15-20 cm at every stride; the arranger told us to adjust the GPS to 50 meter zoom in order to ensure the most accurate and safest passage possible through this site. The rivers were more merciful; they only reached to your thighs.

So, do I feel like doing this again?

During the race, the answer was NO; a day and a half later, YES!

On Thursday evening/night I was sipping fine red wine and reminiscing about the race in the company of Espen Kronborg (the obstinate Dane who finally talked the arrangers into letting him compete on his own). We were both somewhat annoyed at the fact that neither of us was included in the final result list, due to this being a team competition and all. We eventually concluded that we needed to do this again, TOGETHER. Our plan was to announce this at the banquet. Thus, let it be said: Espen Kronborg and I will compete next year as a team. Our experiences from this year's race will help us refine our tactical preparation even further, and is likely to make us the favorites; yes, to my mind we'll be practically unbeatable (I will never lose faith in my ability to win competitions at a regular basis).

Do you dare challenge us???

There was no shortage of applause in the banquet when we announced this.

I'm both looking forward to it and fearing it. But as a year passes one is likely to overlook the bad times and instead remember the beautiful scenery, and focus on the goal of making it in less than 3 days.

So here I am, little more than a week after the race. I don't feel like training; my body and mind are worn out; my hands and fingers are still numb, as are my feet and toes. My knees are fine, but the Achilles tendons are not. My physiotherapist says they'll be O.K, though. Walking around in carbon soles for 8-10 hours is just not a great idea.

I was hugely impressed by my Merida Ninety-Six full carbon disc. There were no accidents or problems with it during the race. Gunnar Aschjem, of the winning team PF/KTM cycled two thirds of the race on this Merida Ninety-Six, as both the full-suspension bikes carried by KTM fell apart in the course of the race. As for myself, I had to replace the brake pads once, but the Avid brakes made this easy. At times it occurred to me that I should have let out a bit of air from the back suspension, especially when the pace was as low as it sometimes was. I cycled with just below 100 psi during the entire race. 70 psi in the back suspension would probably have helped a little bit at low speed. That said, I had a very comfortable ride on my Merida Ninety-Six full carbon disc.

Another advantage with my bike that I should mention was its light weight, 10,3 kg; this helped a great deal when I had to push or carry it.

Gjøvik, July 30, 2009

Jan Olav Beitmyren