Note: we’re sharing the account of the 2020 Vasaloppet from Craftsbury masters’ skier, Peter Harris of Newport, VT. Big thanks to Peter and congratulations!

I was about done.

I had been on my skis in these non-existent, squirrel-y tracks for over seven hours. My shoulders and triceps were shot from non-stop double poling, I was getting unsteady on my feet, and then I finally saw it…the 1k to go sign. I smiled to myself…this was the sign I had been looking for all day, when I had passed 88 other of these signs. I was going to make it.

People were still passing me, I was passing a few, there were always skiers around me. I struggled up over Anders Auckland hill…really just a bump over an overpass, but with the warming day my skis no longer kicked, I tried to find enough to double pole with integrity down main street Mora, lined with cheering fans. I crossed the line and in my foggy head heard Wezie shouting my name. I struggled to get over to her but was being ushered away by the finishing personnel. I stopped and just stood and couldn’t stop smiling.
I had done it…90 kilometers from Salen to Mora Sweden in the 2020 Vasaloppet in 7 hours and 20 minutes.

The day had started so long ago - 11 hours exactly. I was use to the WorldLoppet routine: up at four, sit on a dark bus with foreign languages around me. Luckily I had Bryce with me so we could chat a bit between dozing. The road was snow covered and the snow was falling hard.

Sweden had a terrible winter and there had been no natural snow for two months. The organizers in a super human effort had snowed much of the 90k course to have it ready for race week. The morning of the race it was snowing a new 6 inches. We knew what that would do to the tracks, but we were still hopeful.

The start area was huge, with people milling about. Most had placed their skis in the start area to mark their start. We were in the fourth wave (out of 11 or so), so we put our skis down, and proceeded to kill the two hours til the start by getting ready, dancing with the exercise leaders to ABBA, chatting with some fellow skiers, but mostly just waiting. There was not enough indoor space for 13,000 skiers so we were just outside as the sky gradually lightened, and then the helicopter hovered overhead, preparing to take the start pictures.

I heard no gun, but people started to move. Everyone starts at once in the Vasaloppet, and after the opening field, you cross a road and climb a 2k hill. It was a total traffic jam, about 50 skiers wide, but we were able to keep moving at a moderate walk all the way up the hill. That was a relief for me, because I did not want to have to ski that hill hard and blow up before even 2k into the race.

At the top of the hill the double poling began, and it became clear what the skiing would be like. There were about 4 or 5 manmade tracks created by the 2000 skiers ahead of me, but the tracks were terrible and hard to ski well in. My skis had good kick but were a bit draggy. I skied past people up hill, but was getting passed on the downs. That is always a bummer and I struggled to not let it get me down. However, for most of the day, until the end, at least my skis were kicking fine.

In this race you are ALWAYS skiing with about 50 people around you, and many of them are the same for much of the race. Would pass a few, then get passed by a few more. I actually have the data from the tracking app. At the first feed I was in place 3198, then by Oxberg at 62 K I was in place 2840, then lost 100 places to finish at 2946. By the end, I hate to say it, but I no longer cared. I just wanted to finish.

I was always looking forward to the feeds. Energy drink, blueberry soup, and occasional roll; after all, I had to ski through the lunch hour! Just to stop moving for half a minute or so was a relief, then back at it. There was so much flat double poling. The downs were a relief, and even the short uphills were a nice change of muscle groups.

It was so nice to make it to Eldris, the final feed, because we had skied the last leg and I knew it: mostly flat and gradual down with only one climb. With 3k to go I heard people cheering me by name. It was Mats and Helena, the owners of the apartment we were staying in who had come out to support us. SO nice to hear support after laboring in obscurity for 7 hours. Then finally to see the spire of the Mora church. What a relief!

The after is the most uncomfortable part: chilled to the bone, herded like cattle onto buses to a gym and back with dry clothes on, get diplomas, get medals engraved, then finally home to soak in the hot tub with a beer.

Just don’t ask me to bend over and pick anything up.