Stage 4 was really something.

I had my long stretches that felt like New York City streets, the ones that allow me to open up my pace, and then there were the hiking rocks and roots that are not my forte. The course took me to the very top of the most beautiful mountain for the last 5 miles. Vast distances, long into the distance, and a wind that could whip you off your feet. It was magnificent. I was very much alone up there. Not lonely. Beautifully alone.

And then there were the reindeer, checking me out, allowing me to get up close. Beautiful creatures.

As I came down I remarked to myself that it wasn’t so bad. One of the doctors passed me on his way back to check on runners and said it was only half a mile to camp. Easy, I said. What he neglected to tell me was that the very last bit was straight downhill with loose rocks, probably one of the most terrifying things I’ve done in the whole race. One step, baby step, slowly at a time making my way down. There were points where I just wanted to stop. But you just keep going, especially when you think about being able to take off your shoes and lay flat on the ground.

My strength returned with another one of the volunteers, Jun from South Korea, who accompanied me and filled me in on the reindeer and the vegetable soup awaiting us. It was really a wonderful moment and I felt so strong coming in.

And then Doctor Ivy asked to speak with me on the side.

I noticed many people wearing masks so I knew something was up. He pulled me aside to let me know that COVID had hit the camp. Many participants having to leave immediately. My tent was OK. And then he handed me his phone and said an emergency message had come in from Rob.

I just started screaming. We knew Siggy, my father-in-law, Rob’s father, was going to go. We had only hoped he would be with us longer. But not this week. I wanted to tell him about this wonderful adventure. I knew he wanted to hear about it. He was the one who told me: Go to Lapland, and take me with you.

I managed to find a quiet spot in a staff tent and called Rob. That’s probably the hardest thing. Not being there for him. Within 30 seconds, it was obvious that I needed to make my way home as quickly as I could.

When I finally asked Rob: is dad still with us? He told me Siggy had passed about half an hour ago. Half an hour before we spoke. Which was when I encountered the reindeer at the top of the mountain, did the most terrifying descent, and felt so strong and good coming through the finish line.

I hope he got to see some of that.

I especially hope there’s no more pain. No more tiredness. I hope he feels light and strong and full of light.