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I Skied 54 Kilometres at 40 and Finished Behind a 71-Year-Old

A long-distance ski race taught me that pacing, not fitness, is what most of us are missing.

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The start pen smelled of klister and coffee. Around me stood about four thousand people in tight suits, most of them older than me, many of them visibly calmer. I had trained for eleven weeks, mostly on dark weekday evenings under the floodlit loop near our hospital, and I felt ready in the way you feel ready before an exam you have only half studied for.

Seven hours and twelve minutes later I crossed the finish line. Twenty minutes before me, a man of 71 had crossed it, eaten a waffle, and was already chatting with his grandchildren when I came stumbling past. I know because I asked him afterwards how he did it. His answer was one word: slowly.

The first ten kilometres decide everything

Long ski races start with a climb, and the climb is where most amateurs ruin their day. The crowd is loud, the snow is fresh, and everyone around you is passing someone. I went up the first hill with my heart rate at 172 beats per minute. My planned ceiling was 155.

The man of 71, I later learned, had walked part of that climb. Not double-poled, not skated, walked, with his skis in the track and his poles planted calmly. He lost maybe four minutes there. I lost about forty over the rest of the race, because by kilometre 30 my legs had nothing left and I was shuffling on the flats.

As a physiotherapist I know the theory. Burn your carbohydrate stores too early and the body has to lean more heavily on fat, which is a slower fuel. Knowing it and feeling it in a crowd of four thousand are very different things.

Skier holding a cup of warm blueberry soup at a feed station
Skier holding a cup of warm blueberry soup at a feed station

What the feed stations are really for

There are feed stations roughly every 10 kilometres, with warm sports drink, blueberry soup and buns. I skipped the first one because I felt fine and did not want to lose time. That was mistake number two.

The rule the experienced skiers follow is simple: drink and eat before you need it. At minus eight degrees you do not feel thirsty, but you are breathing out a surprising amount of water in that dry air. By the third station I was drinking three cups at a time and still feeling flat.

Skier reaching the finish area in late afternoon light
Skier reaching the finish area in late afternoon light

Things I would do differently

  • Start in a later wave, even if my seeding allowed an earlier one, so the crowd does not pull me along.
  • Set a hard heart rate cap for the first hour and actually obey it.
  • Eat something at every single station, even if it is only half a bun.
  • Test the wax on the morning of the race instead of trusting the forecast from two days earlier.

Why I am going back

Despite the cramps, the finish was one of the best moments of my year. Volunteers rang cowbells, a child handed me a paper cup of warm juice, and my wife was waiting with dry socks. I have already signed up again. My goal is not a faster time. My goal is to finish behind nobody over 70, and I suspect that will be harder than it sounds.

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Written byHenrik Aas

Physiotherapist in Trondheim. I ski long distances slowly and write about how bodies cope with cold, effort and snow.

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