„Is it getting better, or do you feel the same?“
(U2, “One”)
It will probably remain a difficult relationship that we have, Norseman and I.
I am experienced enough now to measure everything and just end it up, but things are not that simple. I had promised to take a third and final attempt to gain the Black Shirt for climbing up to Gaustatoppen. Otherwise I would finally accept that this race is too big for me and find myself satisfied with three White Shirts from that day on. That was the plan, seemed to be quite sensible. In my head. But it´s not all about the head.
Rewind. Sunday, 04 August 2013.
After two and a half hours of climbing, with aching legs and tired, I reach Gaustatoppen, together with my support crew, Susanne and Lukas. It is Sunday, correct, the day after the race. Yesterday I missed the cutoff time for the third time and finished on the white shirt track. 18:25 hours did it take, I can not imagine one single minute less, recalling the single stages of the race.
So how should I have been able to manage this, provided that I had reached the Table Of Destiny, the checkpoint at km 32.5 of the run course, the point at which the decision is made between black and white, just one and a half hours earlier? In what state would I have found myself that I could have dealt with this? It is this perception that we are here for, to cope with the trauma, actually my trauma, never to have been here. And the truth can be painful: in order to survive the rest of the black shirt route from 32.5 km, it takes a lot more than just making it to the checkpoint by any means. Under those circumstances even the white route hurts. No, it surely takes more, more than I will very likely ever be able to give. The tragic thing is the fact that between the recognition and its acceptance there does not necessarily has to be any logical link. This takes us back to the beginning: It´s not all about the head.
Rewind another day. Saturday 03 August 2013, race day, about half past six in the morning.
After 1:23h self-measured race-time, I am already back ashore, only 800 meters before I had been in sorrow to be the last in the water. Later on the official timing says 1:27h, still one of my best swim- splits on this distance. So far the day started off well. Previously, about half past three, I had noted with some satisfaction that the atrocious weather forecast had not or at least not completely become true. A mild morning, correct so far, but the announced rain had held off. After checking in on the ferry, the journey out into the darkness turned out to be quite entertaining. On the day before, Lukas had been granted permission to go on board as a photographer and is with me now. So at 10 minutes of five I found myself standing under the opened bow door with heavy palpitation, ready to jump into the black. Everything went very fast then. Before I had been able to realize that I had jumped, I already had to struggle back up to the water surface and then quickly find my way to the starting line, which is defined by a row of kayaks. Having just arrived there, I had already heard the start signal, given by the ship's horn, dampened by water, neoprene hood and swimming cap, but unmistakable, and then I simply swam, always trying to find decent orientation this time with a minimum of detours in the open water and breaking dawn. Seems to have worked, like I said earlier, I am more than satisfied with myself and the ongoing race. Transition 1 is once more tedious and time-killing, those several layers of insulation take their toll. Apart from that, I am not sure what to wear on the bike, I can neither assess weather nor current temperature. In this state, in T1, you can be glad to be able to distinguish top from bottom. So I waist a lot of time but eventually grab my bike and set off for the rest of the day, unimpressed and I in good spirits. At this point, I do not yet have the slightest guess of how long this was going to take…
To be continued...
