13 Sep, 2009
Written by Jonas Colting
The fourth edition of ”Island to Island” saw a record 60 teams migrating out into the Stockholm archipelago for this oddball event that by all means can be described as a triathlon. But a unique triathlon at that with some 40 different segments and a bikeride that´s not even half the distance of all the running combined.
This is truly a race that the founding fathers of triathlon would have loved with it´s grassroot feel and unpredictability. The Tom Warrens, Scott Tinleys, John Collins and every other guy named Scott that were the pillars on which the sport was built would highly approve of it!
Race day treated the competitors to picture perfect conditions with overcast skies and no wind at all making the ocean a mirror flat body, perfect in which to spend the majority of the day. Hadn´t it been for the cold! It was so cold that when I hit the first swim just after six in the morning my tongue went numb with the rest of my head. It was like a massive overdose of soft ice cream in my mouth. Except it wasn´t sweet. I was swimming next to Björn Andersson who was partnering up with another friend of ours and halfway through that swim of 1600 metres we both stopped to comment on how refreshing the water was. Neither of us could form syllables so trying to speak most have sounded like two sea lions grunting which isn´t a very far-fetched image both being clad in wetsuits and various paraphernalia specific to this race.
As my usual partner in crime, Pasi Salonen, was injured I teamed up with long time friend and multisport phenomena Martin Flinta. Martin´s been one of the best triathletes in Sweden for 15 years and have raced successfully in adventure races all over the world and every so often over the years we would team up for some random adventure that more often than not would have a questionable outcome. So far we´ve been lost in a 100 k footrace in the mountains north of the Arctic Circle, going to South Africa for training camp that mostly ended with us trying to hitch rides to the best body surfing spots with fewer sharks than elsewhere and nearly getting killed in Tunisia while riding through the desert roads where big oil trucks would scream past us. Our common track record fore-boded an adventurous day!
Somehow it seems like the tales of past misery and suffering at this event had spread widely as this years race had attracted quite a few foreign teams and the organizers early on had to cap the entry at 60 teams, leaving several teams on the waiting list. I was particularly happy to see my friend Jeff Shilt who had brought his brother John as part of a birthday celebration. “Dr J” was well prepared training wise but had no idea how far removed this race was from the normal cookie cutter shape and form that make up most triathlons today. But he was about to find out!
“Island to Island” covers roughly 64 kilometres from Sandhamn to Utö and the 20 islands offer 38 k of running and a 16 k bikeride and consequently the 20 swims between islands add up to 10 k of swimming. When doing the math it doesn´t look so bad but these aren´t the normal and fast-moving kilometres that one usually encounters. Some islands offer terrain where a 10 minute kilometre is a challenge and being that participants swim in their running shoes and fanny packs one need to add at least 50 percent to normal swim splits. Oh, I forgot, you also run in your wetsuit! With 40 some transitions there are huge chunks of time to be saved by not changing gear; a philosophy that a triathlete truly can appreciate!
After surviving the first few islands consisting of mostly slippery rocks or bushwhacking nature we were happy to hit the more pleasant islands with gravel roads and trails meandering through forests and fields, some of which had cows in them. As I have a deeply rooted scepticism toward livestock I gave them a wide berth and kept thinking “good beef, good beef”
Me and Martin caught the lead around three hours but could feel the chasing teams breathing down our neck and I struggled to keep up with him when he pushed the throttle going through the dense forest. I didn´t sport my best Davy Crockett-spirit and wasn´t able to negotiate the vicious undervegetation with its various deceiptful traps quite as fast as my merry partner who kept track of the coursemarkers. I would always hear me though as I uttered various curses and threats under my huffed breathing as I stumbled about.
Halfway through we hit the ballbreaker of the day; the 1400 metre swim that felt longer than all the other swims combined. I´m so lucky that Martin is slightly slower than I am in the water since it gave me a legitimate reason to flip over on my back and float whenever I couldn´t lift my arms anymore. Which happened numerous times I might add. My only consolation was that the cold water aided the recovery of the massive dose of damage I was inflicting upon myself.
Every aidstation was a highlight and after this particular swim we were given a Twix-bar which lifted our spirits and urged us on to yet another long swim shortly there after.
This went on and on and all I was looking forward too was the biking and lo and behold, there they were! It was a blessing to jump on this sturdy piece with a granny basket and three gears. I even reached down to grab the basket for some impromptu aero positioning while spinning out of control. We hammered the bike and my legs were screaming uncle as we were trying to really get out of sight and out of mind from our pursuers that allegedly were just behind us.
Running of the bike was not pretty and we were both getting seriously tired and feeling homesick. Imagine the relief when we hear we´re some 20 minutes up on second as we reached the last islands. Oh joyous feel of victory! And it meant we didn´t have to kill ourselves trying to sprint across what has to be the least running friendly environment I´ve ever seen save the lava fields of Hawaii. That is, the actual fields of lava and not the road running through it
Our final island offered 2 k of easy running to the finish but our common effort hit us and we jogged vigilantly as the TV-team were shooting us, at least trying to resemble a worthy pace. The last 400 metres are uphill to the finish line and we soaked up every step and even in an odd way felt sorry that it was all done and completed.
Nooooo! The hell we felt sorry! We were more than happy that it was over and even though this is an awesome race through and through it offered just about as much suffering as I could muster over one day. Makes me think the teams finishing hours after us are even tougher than us!
