200 kilometers of running. 50 kilometers of swimming. Nothing but map and compass. 60 hours of adventure. That’s what we knew going in. But the truth is: nothing can fully prepare you for what lies ahead in the One Water Race.
The Start – where nerves take hold
The countdown thundered through the air:
10, 9, 8…
We drew long, deliberate breaths, trying to steady our racing hearts – a technique that would serve us well later, though we hoped not to need it so soon.
3, 2, 1! Maps flew open, adrenaline surged. In the chaos, we nearly missed the very first checkpoint – but Rickard’s sharp eye saved the day. Quick sketches, a fast bearing, and we were off. The race had truly begun.
Early Checkpoints – momentum builds
The first control came easily. Then a choice: land or water?
We picked land, avoiding the bite of the cold sea. The gamble paid off.
When we finally slipped into the water for our first swim, a small mix-up was quickly corrected. Spirits were high, pace steady, teamwork flowing.
On Blidö, navigation faltered briefly, but checkpoint 3 restored body and mind. Energy surged, the brain clicked back into gear. Running toward checkpoint 4, we found rhythm – songs, laughter, and the joy of moving as one.
Darkness Descends – the adventure deepens
Checkpoint 4 offered a fork: 5a or 5b. The decision was easy: 5b. Perfect timing with the falling night.
Then came the moment etched forever in memory: a 2.5-kilometer swim through darkness.
With nerves buzzing, we slid into black water. The world narrowed to the rhythm of our strokes, the sound of our breath, the endless surface stretching ahead. Then, almost suddenly – solid ground: Möja. A brief fumble with direction, then trail locked in, and spirits soared.
Hemö – when the mind begins to fray
Checkpoint 7 plunged us into Hemö’s deep woods. Here, fatigue struck hardest. The compass wavered, thoughts scrambled – only stubbornness kept us moving.
A short swim later we aimed for checkpoint 8. Doubt gnawed: Were we even on the right path? Pace slowed, minds second-guessing.
Checkpoint 9 brought salvation. Breakfast, and a 20-minute power nap that felt like a whole night’s rest. We woke recharged, almost reborn, and set sights on checkpoint 10.
Runmarö – the ending we never expected
By the time we reached Runmarö, everything seemed under control. We refueled, adjusted gear, and set off with confidence.
Then – disaster.
Just 400 meters down the trail the ground erupted. A swarm of wasps burst out, striking without warning. Marcus was stung. Normally just painful – but for him, dangerously life-threatening.
There was no choice: an emergency call, an ambulance helicopter.
In a flash, the race was over.
Reflections
Not the ending we imagined. But one we will never forget.
An adventure cut short, yet a memory burned deep – a reminder that in the One Water Race, anything can happen.
