Jul 19, 6:02 PM

A marathon on ice that refused to stay in place

Twenty-three runners from seven countries raced at the geographic North Pole, then watched the course disappear with the sea ice.

A marathon on ice that refused to stay in place

If you want a setting that makes ordinary marathons look almost timid, the geographic North Pole will do. Twenty-three runners from seven countries arrived there for races on drifting sea ice, an event organisers grandly labelled the world’s coolest marathon. The description is not exactly subtle, but then subtlety was never the point.

The competitors came aboard the French polar vessel Le Commandant Charcot and stepped off onto a 1,055 metre loop laid out on the ice below. They ran in thermal gear and life vests, which is a sensible enough compromise when the course itself is floating away under your feet. Armed guards kept watch around the perimeter for polar bears, because even the most ambitious sporting calendar has to make room for basic survival.

The winners were clear enough. Denmark’s Rikke Dam took the women’s title in 6:54:02, while Wang Shengxian of China won the men’s race in 3:52:22. Organisers said the course disappeared with the ice just hours after the races ended, which gives the whole affair a rather neat, if slightly absurd, sense of urgency.

There is a certain modern logic to this kind of event. Standard marathons are everywhere; a race at the North Pole is harder to fake, harder to repeat and, on paper at least, harder to forget. Norway appears in the story only as the place from which the ship departed, a reminder that the route to the top of the world still runs through ordinary geography before it reaches the headline-grabbing part.

What lingers is the contrast between human planning and Arctic indifference. The organisers assembled the vessel, the loop, the safety kit and the guards. The ice then did what ice does: it moved, shifted and finally went on its way. For the runners, that may have been the attraction. For everyone else, it is a tidy lesson in how little control people actually have when they decide to turn the planet’s most inhospitable corner into a sporting venue.

Written by Thorben Thiede thorben.thiede@alpineweekly.com