Running the Midnattsloppet
I’m walking stiffly today after running the 10K Midnattsloppet through the streets of Stockholm last night. My legs are sore and my body sort of aches, but I have the same pleasant, satisfied and manly dumb feeling I always have after a good workout where my testosterone gets to rage properly.I’ve never run a race before, at least not as an adult. Running as a sport or even just a form of exercise has always seemed simplistic and boring, part of a warm-up to someting greater and more interesting. "Ok, I've done my laps. Now let's get the game started!"
I started running when I came to Stockholm because it was easy to fit into my schedule (running every morning before work) regardless of what country, home or hotel I'm staying in and a way to ensure some sustained heart activity during the initial desk jockey phase of my job here. As well, it's a completely self-reliant sport when training alone and that's something I wanted.
I started small, with just 2K or 3K every other day and have built up my endurance to the point where I could complete 10K (what the Swedes call a "Swedish Mile") without - I hoped - expiring, asphyxiating, dying, decomposing or stumbling on my last legs into a Scandinavian canal and drowning in a fetid pool of sweat and sewage before finishing the race. A reasonable aspiration, if ever there was one...
Of course, "race" is an interesting term to use for this event. While many participants were indeed racing each other to be the fastest, I was racing only myself. I had two goals: 1) to actually finish the 10k, even if it meant walking or crawling across the finish line, without causing permanent or long-lasting damage to myself; and 2) to try and do it in less than an hour, even though I knew a "competitive time" was about 35 minutes and the winners would come in at about 30 minutes. Twice the first-place finisher's time seemed reasonable to me.
For those of you out of the know, the Midnattsloppet is an annual summer tradition here in Stockholm. It’s a crazy 10-kilometre race through the streets of the Södermalm neighbourhood at night while about 200K people pack the streets and party to live bands, dancers and an assortment of other colourful performers.
It’s a colourful storm of frenzied entertainment that practically swallows a huge stream of 13,000 sweaty runners pounding the pavement in endless breathless succession.
I was amid a pack of hundreds eager to burst from the starting gates. The energy was building, nervous anticipation was starting to bead on the back of necks, and many were running in place. The buzzer sounded, the gate opened, and everyone burst forth in a steady jog?!? I laughed at this unexpected pacing, but then realized of course how important it was.
Obviously nobody wanted to run over - or be run over by - their fellow runners, and the difference in a long race like this is not measured in progress over short distances. Being inside a pack of focused people mostly moving at the same pace, though concentrating in smaller packs of like-pace-minded people was fascinating, like watching traffic patterns in slow motion.
I felt I stayed very consistent in my pacing for about the first 5K, but I was moving faster than I usually did because I was moving generally with the crowd. I wasn't listening to any music, but paced myself with some internal beatz oddly syncopated with my breathing and stride. At about 6K, however, I started feeling the weight of that pace and needed to slow down. At about 8K I was hurting as I approached what appeared to be a mammoth hill but found inspiration and light at its head.
Among the more surreal experiences in my life, I now have to add kilometre 8 of the Midnattsloppet, where I ran up a hill that symbolized defeat and found myself on a path lined with hundreds of candles and a 30-voice gospel choir singing in front of their white church encouraging us to reach higher and step further. It was enlightening and motivating, and sincerely helped me to complete the race.
I was SO happy to have finished the event, for me. It was a first, but definitely not a last. I realize I haven't written much about my mental state during this experience, but I won't bother spilling drivel today. :)
One neat thing I did was pay an extra 100 Kronor for an electronic timer that recorded my times for each kilometre I ran. Here they are:
| KM | Total Time | KM Time | Time BehindLeader |
| 1 | 05:43+ | 05:43+ | 02:48 |
| 2 | 11:33+ | 05:50+ | 02:52 |
| 3 | 16:59+ | 05:26+ | 02:29 |
| 4 | 22:35+ | 05:36+ | 02:39 |
| 5 | 28:22+ | 05:47+ | 02:49 |
| 6 | 35:11+ | 06:49+ | 03:32 |
| 7 | 41:39+ | 06:28+ | 03:26 |
| 8 | 47:35+ | 05:56+ | 02:49 |
| 9 | 54:19+ | 06:44+ | 03:33 |
| 10 | 59:55+ | 05:36+ | 02:41 |
| 30:17 |
The only real notable part is that I met both of my goals: finishing alive, and 5 seconds short of my 1-hour goal! Yay me!
And according to the official results, I finished in a 9-way tie for 6764th place of 9450 finishers with a time of 59:55, with first-place finishing in 30:21 and last-place finishing in 1:49:06. Next year, I'll try to do better.
