Another good ol fashioned Air Force experience completed. On a beautiful Trondheim autumn day (and there are not many of them mind you) I weigh down my backpack with sand to about 11.4 kg. I board a perfectly good bus on a ride that consists of establishing possible route strategies with my seat neighbour. The race was on. Trudging through the slush and snow, up and down in the terrain, feels good. It is nice to get out once a the while and really feel the hate build up.
Having a very steep incline at the end of the course was especially pleasing. I tried to follow the Major as long as I could but found myself in the woods (luckily not in the dark) with nothing but silence around me. It is always more comforting to hear the bewildered footsteps of a fellow runner so you at least know you are in the ball park and not by, as I thought, the ticket counter. Eventually I began to notice the many possible shortcuts I "could have" taken. Must be true what the warfare theorists say, "war favours the bold".
I found it a really nice touch that the last stretch before the incline ski hill was basically flat and downhill which gave me a false sense of accomplishment and dare I say superiority. After Tine, who I thought I had left far behind, passed me at the top of Gråkallen, I knew that in a march like this neither the down hill slopes nor the flat stretches are your friend, they are Tine's! Well played, well played indeed!
Having a very steep incline at the end of the course was especially pleasing. I tried to follow the Major as long as I could but found myself in the woods (luckily not in the dark) with nothing but silence around me. It is always more comforting to hear the bewildered footsteps of a fellow runner so you at least know you are in the ball park and not by, as I thought, the ticket counter. Eventually I began to notice the many possible shortcuts I "could have" taken. Must be true what the warfare theorists say, "war favours the bold".
I found it a really nice touch that the last stretch before the incline ski hill was basically flat and downhill which gave me a false sense of accomplishment and dare I say superiority. After Tine, who I thought I had left far behind, passed me at the top of Gråkallen, I knew that in a march like this neither the down hill slopes nor the flat stretches are your friend, they are Tine's! Well played, well played indeed!
