Karlstad GP

All right. Now hold it right there.  If you are reading this right now and you didn’t read the two posts before this one, then stop what you’re doing. Go back. Read about running in Ireland. Then come back and read this one.  Well you don’t actually have to if you don’t want to. That’s only if A.) you want to read them in order and B.) have 8 hours to read at work. Because lets face it.  The majority of people reading this are probably reading them at work to put off actually having to work.  And we all know(or at least if you’ve been reading) how long they are.  Your choice.  Anyways.  I give this warning because I posted this and the previous two all today.  So you might have missed it.  I’m just looking out for your best interests here.  The reason I’m so backed up(or at least was)? I’m lazy.  I had plenty of time to write. But I didn’t. Oh well.  Enjoy reading on the company dime!

The turnover from Dublin to Karlstad was fairly quick, so I really don’t have much to say about those few days. Other than I ran. Cause that’s what I do. So now that we’re caught up. Onto the travel.  Karlstad was the final meet in the Swedish GP series. (I ran in Sollentuna to start my season).  This meet was paying for my hotel and such, so instead of riding down with Martin, I decided to use it to my advantage and went down the day before. Do a little exploring.  Instead of the usual train, I took a bus to Karlstad.  What was awesome about this bus you might ask? Wifi. And not the spotty stuff we have on the Megabus. No. This was quality.  I got to watch Netflix. On the bus! (In case you were curious I watched Dexter. I love Dexter. As weird as that is.)  It was like a 5 hour ride, but with Dexter. It went by in no time.  Upon arriving in Karlstad, I figured I could be a man and find the hotel on my own.  I didn’t bother asking for directions. Why would I? Like I said. I’m a man.  After about a half hour of getting no where I caved in and asked someone selling strawberries where to go.  She asked what hotel. I said Scandic. Turns out there were 3 of them in the city. And I had no idea what one I was staying in.  After telling her I was running in the meet the following day, she guessed that I was probably staying on the one just outside of downtown.  Good enough for me! On I went. 

After about a 20 min walk, I passed the track and figured I was probably somewhat close.  Though still had no idea where I was going.  Whatever. I’m a man.  I’ll just pretend I didn’t ask for directions earlier.  The walk itself was along a river, so it made it at least interesting. I figured, if I don’t find the hotel, I’ll just stay on the beach! Luckily I found it.  The beach would have been cool, but the idea of sand in my shorts while I run does not seem fun to me. As soon as I walk in, one of the workers for the meet asked if I was Mitchell. So I puffed my chest out and said “Hell Yeah I’m Mitchell!” Just kidding. If I puffed out my chest you wouldn’t even be able to tell.  I politely said yes.  Turns out she came to the bus station to pick me up, but because the bus was early I missed her. Whoops! Oh well. The walk was cool.  I grabbed my athlete packet and headed off to the room. 

My roommate wasn’t there yet, so I figured I’d claim the window bed.  Sucks to suck! From there I went exploring around Karlstad.  It was a nice little small city with a main street sorta similar to Burlington, because it had shops and cafes, but not because Church Street rules and is in America! Oh. And they have Ben and Jerrys. Karlstad. Get a Ben and Jerry’s and then we’ll talk.  Actually. No. Please still talk to me. You’re pretty cool.  The meet was advertised everywhere in the city.  Which was a super cool feeling. Remember how I said Sweden takes track seriously. This just helped support that.  I checked out some monuments and buildings.  Don’t know anything about them because I can’t read Swedish, and walked around this peninsula type park where people were swimming.  All in all it was a nice day out so I sat in the water for a bit and did some thinking.  I wrote that solely because it sounds like a movie.  Though I did sit in the water. And I probably did thought. I’m sure the thoughting wasn’t anything important. 

Outside the hotel

On a post in town.

Across Main Street.

Not sure why they have a statue of Thomas Edison.

 

Or Harriet Tubman.

After my walk, my roommates weren’t in yet, so I premeeted at the track and grabbed my dinner.  The Brooks Beasts group was at this meet as well, so I ate with Caz, Deb and their coach.  Dinner was yet again awesome. Chicken, fish, veggies, the greatest bread I’ve ever had in my life, potatoes, rice, goodness.  Just awesome. These meets do shit right.

The night before the actual meet, the meet sponsors and exhibition hammer throw contest in town. Whats cool about this you might ask? They throw across a river.  Seriously. Coolest thing I have ever seen. A river. Hammer throw. Big dudes huckin stuff. Everyone lines the bridge and both banks to watch. It’s pretty incredible.  I’m pretty sure there were more fans here than at the Adidas Grand Prix in NYC this past year. As I write that I want to cry. Oh well. I was at this. And it ruled.  Heres a video I made of the contest. Note to Coach Wisser. We’re doing this. Hammer throw across the Winooski at the home meet next year.  End note to coach Wisser. 

At some point this will be a video. But for now. Heres a picture.

After the competition I went back to my room to watch Anchorman. Because why not. Anchorman rules! And the second one comes out this year. I for sure will be midnight premiering that one.  While I was watching my roommate arrived. Andrew Nixon. He was from Canada. Solid. I love Canada.  Turns out we also had a third roommate.  And only 2 beds.  Time to get cozy. Hope you boys are ready to party.  The third roommate ended up being Anthony Romaniw. The Canadian I met in Dublin who went to Dartmouth. Hell yeah! We chatted it up a bit, and I found out he hit the B standard in Dublin. Which meant he’d most likely make the World Championships in Moscow. Super rad! We planned out the bed situation and came to the conclusion we could just ask for a cot.  Too bad. I was ready to party. So, Nixon went to ask about the cot. And turns out they didn’t have one. Instead. They had this bed that just magically pulled out of the wall. Where it came from, I have no idea. But it was definitely some real Harry Potter shit goin on with it. 

The next morning, I was up before the other two, so I quietly snuck out and had breakfast. I’ve mentioned it before, and I’ll mention it again. Sweden hotels do breakfast right. Seriously. Magical.  Eventually the boys got up, so we spent the day hanging out. Listened to music. Watch dumb videos. Talked about running. Girls. Life. I dunno. Typical shit. After a few hours it was time for me to head to the track.

Day before meet day

Yet another day before meet day.

Meet day.

As you can see from the actual meet day photo. The weather wasn’t so great. Just before my race the storm clouds started to emerge and the wind picked up.  Oh well. The show must go on! I did the usual. Check in. Head out onto the track. Set my blocks.(I was in the outside lane. Rough). And wait the absurd amount of time the Swedish take to get through the commands.  Eventually the gun went off. And so did I.  I was running a great race.  I felt flawless through 7 hurdles.  I was handedly in 3^rd.  Gaining on second. If I keep this up, I’ll for sure pass him.  Then came the wind.  Going into 8, I hit the head wind and had to stutter over hurdle 8. Killing all my momentum.  I fought through and crossed the line.  I’d gotten third.  Solid. Or so I thought.  Upon checking the results. I actually got 4^th.  The guy in lane 1. Caught me. Tied my time of 53.11 and out leaned me to take 3^rd.  I lost by a lean. A GOSH DANG LEAN! I was pretty mad.  Super frustrating.  When I am a coach none of my athletes will ever lose on a lean. We’ll work on it everyday. I’ll have them stand behind the line and I’ll just push them over.  Not really because that would probably get me fired. But seriously. Everyone is going to learn to lean.

The rest of the night I got to watch. And even though my running personally hasn’t gone how I would have liked it to, its still allowed me to see some of the best track in the world and meet some awesome people.  So I’ll for sure take that any day. The meet itself was packed all around the track. Which I still can’t fathom.  It was a Tuesday night. And it was raining. Yet people still were out to watch. Incredible.  I have to figure out Europe’s secret. I know it has one.  Because there’s no way all these meets have been real.

After the meet, I had yet another awesome dinner.  From there I met back up with my Canadian friends and we planned out the night.  We started at the bar in the hotel where I met the rest of the Canadian running group.  Like true Canadians they were super friendly.  And I got to talk Jays baseball. YES! I love the Blue Jays! Except the talking was more depressing than exciting, because per usual they aren’t doing so hot. I’m calling comeback city.  You’ll see. You’ll see. (if they don’t Ima lose a serious bet with Alex. And I’m not really looking forward to that one).  We then headed downtown to see what was happening on a Tuesday night in Karlstad. Nothing. Because it was a Tuesday. And even though no one was out, the walk through downtown was super awesome.  We did come across one bar where the Brooks Beasts group was hanging out.  Caz had a few Swedish friends he met at World Junior Championships a few years ago, so they joined as well.  Not sure how we got on the conversation( I think because I said I was living in Sweden for the summer), but eventually it came up that I knew a little Swedish.  So the girl I was talking with asked me to speak a little.  Ladies and Gentleman. Here’s my chance. Time to man up baby!  So I started with “Jag lar mig svenska, men de tar svart.” which means I’m learning Swedish but its hard.  I then followed it with “Snygga skosnoren, vill du hangla?” which means. Nice shoelaces. Want to make out? BOOM! Too bad she didn’t understand what I was trying to say.  So I said it again. 5 more times.  Eventually I said the English translation and she corrected my Swedish and laughed.  Boom there it is. Got a laugh. Success in my book.  Mitchell Switzer. Slayin chicks on all continents. 

The next morning I had the incredible breakfast and then bid my Canadian friends adieu.  I proceeded to take the ride to the bus station, rather than walk, and had a good talk about Swedish track and field with the meet volunteer who drove me.  She was pretty amazed that American Track and Field isn’t similar given how awesome we are as a country in the sport.  It just depressed me even more.  Oh well I guess.  On the bus I went.  I figured a few episodes of Dexter and then I’ll be home.  How wrong I was.  When I stepped on the bus, the bus driver started speaking to me.  Embarrassed I said I didn’t speak Swedish and I apologized. Turns out he just wanted to know where I was heading. So I told him.  I sat down in my seat and out of no where pops up this older gentleman(to which I find out later he’s 75).  This guy was probably the coolest guy I have met in all of my travels.  He heard me speak English and got excited.  He just wanted to speak to someone in English. So speak we did. For 3.5 hours. He told me all these awesome stories from running in the NYC and Boston Marathons, to how he taught himself English, to how his granddaughter is going to school in the USA but somehow doesn’t know where yet, to how he likes to travel, to how he likes to drink, to how he once mooned George Bush. Seriously. This dude was awesome! He was pumped I ran and that I was traveling now. He said he wished he had traveled more when he was younger.  So he just does it now! I dunno he just had a boat load of stories. All of them awesome.  It was a good way to end the trip. So on that note. Stay golden, Ponyboy.