On Saturday night my city got dressed up in pink. Or at least about 40 000 of us did, in order to take part in the yearly Stockholm Midnight Run. The T-shirt is the starting bib, and this year it was pink. Like it or not, without the T-shirt – no start.
With the injuries I’ve had over the last 10 months and considering the bad shape I’m in I wasn’t even sure that I would take part in the race. But when suddenly a couple of free spaces showed up in my start group (2a) a week ago, I decided to give it a try.
Was I prepared? Not at all. Did I enjoy it? Hell yes!
Or to be honest, the run itself was actually a battle. The first two kilometres I was just frustrated that there were too many pink backs in my way that I couldn’t pass, even if my legs had much more to give. Around 7 km in I was seriously questioning what the hell I was doing and started to think that maybe I had the slow speed and all those pink backs in the beginning to thank for the fact that I could still run. When the last horrible hill piled up infront of me I looked down and visualised my favourite bridge, Västerbron, instead of the long climb I was actually doing. That helped me pass several runners even though I’m really rather bad at uphill running. On the finishing stretch I was tired, my legs were heavy, my foot was hurting and the illuminated finishing line seemed to move away from me even though I was fighting to get closer to it.
But hey! I did it. And I passed the line at 48 minutes and 37 seconds. Not fantastic, but better than last year’s 49.22. And I ended up in 82:nd place in my age group where 1870 runners started and in place 657 of all the 14009 women who finished the race. Not bad for a lazy, injured lady, who drank a bottle of wine the night before the run.
And if you drink a bottle the night before, you definetely have to do it again the night after. And since it was already night when we were done, we had no time to lose.
Gather the gang, jump on the shuttle buss for the runners and as quickly as possible get home for a swim in the sea and some Cava and cheese, until the sun came up and told us it was time to go to bed.
Next race coming up in almost exatly one month. In my old hometown Borås this time. To travel 450 km to run 10 and then travel 450 back, there must be something I like about this running thing…