Completing the Vasaloppet is an amazing feat that requires a lifetime of training. My young cousin Anton recently completed a race that was 0.5% the distance of the Loppet, and I was there to see the whole thing!
This is what training consists of in Sweden. Wear as many layers as you can, go uphill, and ski at elevation (800ft).
Anton and his traning partner: his older sister Jenny.
Young children skiing in Sweden is as common as playing soccer or football in the States. I have seen kids skiing out in the mountains with their parents enough times to think that the invention of fika (tea time) was to ensure that the kids would continue skiing along with the adults, like holding a carrot in front of a mule.
Anton on the other hand did not need any extra motivation to compete in his first ski race. For two days he had been firing himself up to compete in the big race by running in place, running up and down the stairs, practicing his game face, and waxing his skis with car wax (not an acceptable alternative to ski wax). On race day he was dressed in a tight wool sweater and some nylon pants. He wanted to look fast and perform without overheating. He had himself a pair of hand-me-down purple lace up ski boots and small white skis. His poles were taped together from repeated roughhousing.
All the kids lined up to begin the race with characteristic Swedish obedience. The race judge was standing at the front of the start line checking attendance. He caught my attention because he kept asking for the same name repeatedly.
“Gustavson? Gustavson? Anton Gustavson...”
He was asking for my seven year old cousin Anton, and if I had to guess he was busy fighting with his mother over the thickness of his gloves and how they would affect his performance in the race.
The kids lining up for the start of the race.
Anton moved to the back of the line and raised his ski pole with a greedy little smile to show the judge that he had arrived. His tongue was sticking through his teeth and he was pushing his abdomen outward toward the judge. His hat slid over his face covering his eyes: obviously a result of fighting with his mother as she pulled off his warm jacket.
The back of the line, behind all of the smallest children, was where he was waiting for the start. His competition stood at the front of the line. At the start line, there stood a small well-built boy in a one piece who had a devilish look in his eyes. I saw the kid warming up before the race with long strides and aggressive pushing from his poles. His legs would stretch outward to receive the most glide from his skis. The kid looked good, certainly better and more efficient than Anton, who had a shorter stride despite his height advantage.
The race seemed to start suddenly since I was only paying attention to my unorganized cousin. The fast kid in the front sped off with his long strides to get a ten meter head start from the rest of the pack. Behind him were all of the younger children who ski slowly and carefully since their coordination has not established itself within their ski legs. Anton moved at a snails pace in the back of the pack. He had no idea that he was allowed to pass the younger children. After moving for five meters he stopped because his mother kindly let him know that he could pass the young skiers. He took the opportunity to pass immediately and rushed past me and my camera. His face was blank and cold, his cheeks barely beginning to blush.
The start of the race.
He moved past the camera, planting his poles in the deep snow on the side of the track. After several meters, he fell into the soft snow, plunging his left leg into a hole. At this point the fast kid was sixty meters ahead of the entire pack, including Anton who was barely getting around the peloton.
After rising from the snow, Anton steamed ahead of the pack. I scrambled to catch him at the next point and got there just in time to see that the fast kid was maintaining his lead. The skiers passed quickly and I missed the photo opportunity. I chose to run to the next viewing area at the four-hundred meter mark.
I prepared the camera with enough time to catch the fast kid from afar. Anton still lagged behind at sixty meters but there was a small downhill section. The fast kid slowed in the turn at the bottom of the downhill where the fatigue on his face began to show. It seemed that he planned on sprinting the five hundred meter race, and after hearing the raised intensity in the crowd, began to regret his decision. Anton was closing the gap.
Anton passed the camera with long strides, copying the fast kid's form. The gap between the two narrowed to twenty meters as they approached the last one hundred meters of the race. From this point it was a straight shot to the finish.
The fast kid felt Anton behind when he closed to five meters. The fast kid quickened and replaced his good form with a that of running with skis on. Just as Anton's breath began warming the back of the fast kid's neck, the speedster fell backwards, flailing with his poles in the air. The two racers got hung up as the fast kid sprawled on the track. At first it seemed that Anton was going to help him up, but he was only struggling to get around the fast kid.
Anton passed the flattened fast kid and took the lead with only two hundred meters to the finish line. However, it was not over yet, because the fast kid got up and began to demolish the small gap Anton had over him. The speedster in second was clearly going to pass Anton, the new leader. Anton remained consistent and strong but there was no way he would be able to move quicker than the passing skier. Just when it seemed that the lead would again switch, the fast kid plunged face first into the hard packed snow. The fast kid struggled to get up as Anton regained an even larger lead, and finish first.
I talked to Anton after the race, and he did not have much to say. All he said was, “I went skiing. I won!"
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