The Stockholm Near-Miss

This feeling, when you are at the gate to board your flight to Stockholm, all excited about running the marathon the next day, and then you hear the words: without a negative PCR test, you can’t board. It is almost like you want to turn around and check if they are talking to someone else. Hey, I am double vaccinated, you want to shout. Everywhere I checked, the rules said that’s enough. Then it slowly sinks in. No matter how unfair or stupid or what else: this flight is not for you. Because, well, Sweden thinks while the NHS vaccine is apparently good enough, the documentation of it is not trusted. I learned this later, when in hindsight my friends did the research, just for moral support to show how silly everything is. Still, at the gate, I only knew I can rely on the friendly but determined airport staff and what they tell me.

“What about my German passport?”
“Do you have an antigen test?” (Note, as a Brit I would have needed a PCR test, which takes up to 12 hours for the result)
“No, but can’t I get this here at the airport?”
“Yes, but we need to escort you out first.” (Once the boarding had finished.)

I grabbed my phone and searched for alternative flights. There were two from Heathrow that evening. So, in theory, and if it won’t break the bank, I could still make it. My German friends, who just had arrived in Stockholm, had offered to collect my race number anyway, which needed to be done by 9 pm. So no issue there.
Once I was escorted out (together with another poor soul, who was equally shell shocked), I made my way to the Gatwick test centre. Just to be told, I need first to book and pay online. Back to my phone and the booking process. Endless data fields to fill in, which cumulated in a mandatory field for the flight number. So, I could only take the test with a booked flight? Just insane. I had to book the flight now, to book a test, which, if it came out positive, wouldn’t allow me to board it?

One of those moments, where you want to kill, but you don’t quite know who.

I went through the flight booking process. It wasn’t as easy as it sounds, because the price could triple and quadrupled, depending on the airline and travel agent and whether you need to check in luggage, which I needed. Eventually, £200 poorer (bargain under those circumstances), but with a flight number, I could complete the form for booking an antigen test. A friendly guy shoved test sticks up my nose (too far and too painful) and while I waited for getting the test results in 30 minutes on my phone, I went on my way from Gatwick to Heathrow airport. By that time my phone was almost flat, but it did hold long enough for me to check-in, make it through security and crash into a seat at the waiting area Heathrow Terminal 2, next to a power plug. The test was negative. The rest of the journey was a breeze and I really managed to check into my hotel by 10:30 pm (30 minutes before they closed reception), met my friends at their hotel at 11 pm, got my race number, had free tea and biscuits at their hotel lobby, and fell into my bed around midnight.

So it was very welcomed that the Stockholm Marathon only started at 11 am. And what a start it was. Sweden’s anthem was played, hyped-up runners everywhere, dramatic music, pyro (!!!!) effects. It was great. I started an Instagram live feed, and 3 people even watched! Then off we went! Game plan: Following the 4:15 pacemakers. Last-minute change: Following the 4:00 pacemakers as long as we (running bro Michael and I) could. Bad plans, because the pacemakers were all over the place. Some started at 11, others at 11:10. For half of the race the 4 hours ones were ahead of the 3:45s, doing a solid below 5:30 min/km. It turned out to be too fast.

Despite feeling good until km 28 or so, the crash that followed was severe. First, I did not walk, but my “running” was slower than the guys who walked around me. Until km 39, which was the point, when I felt nothing was left and I walked. Pathetic! Only 3 km left! After 1.5 km I tried again and the legs worked better.

It actually felt really good again. So I could enter the Stockholm Olympic Stadium, where the finish was, strong, in a good mood, and even live on Instagram. It was such a blast to cross the finish line this way. Finishing marathons in stadiums is always great, and even more when they are Olympic ones. The one in Stockholm is from 1912! What a treat!

Again, I felt so blessed and humbled that I was able to do and finish this one. I almost missed it, due to not being left on a flight. That’s a new one. Yet, my marathon streak of not having a single DNS (did not start) or DNF (did not finish) remains miraculously unbroken. It’s not down to me, but to things that are outside my control to work out and friends being there to help at the right place and the right time.

The flight back was almost a repeat. I could not get my boarding pass online, so I needed to go to the check-in. A lady from the airline told me I could not enter the UK, without a valid test, no matter vaccination status. This contradicted my latest research from the night before. However, the mandatory traveller locator form, which needed to be filled in before entering the UK, did not recognise the scan of my vaccination QR-code and advised for manual verification at check-in. There was a long queue for me to join to get this done. At least it seemed to be the same for everyone. But it was only 90 minutes to my flight and I was worried, it won’t be quick enough. Eventually the queue stopped moving, because the conveyer belt broke down together with the system to print out the boarding passes. Everyone around me was stressed, the guys who needed to board the Munich flight (same time as the London flight), were asked to come foward for fast track, but not us. I was a nervous wreck. But it all worked out, and I am on the plane typing this. Assuming it will land and I will exit, I will blog this little record of my story how I almost missed the Stockholm marathon. Crazy, the things you do for marathon medals.

Added notes from the London Underground: My luggage did not arrive. Another first. And in my suitcase is the medal! Will I get it back? Was it all in vain? Plus, the Piccadilly Line is down and I have to take detours, which will easily add an hour to my journey…. Breathe in – breathe out. A lesson I never grow tired of learning.