Next weekend is Finland’s biggest mass-participation sports event, the Jukola Relay. Women’s teams of four (Venlas) and men’s teams of seven compete in orienteering, with the runners’ times combined for the team result. The event brings together around 20,000 participants and 30,000 spectators, from elite athletes to everyday hobbyist and first time orienteers.
Two globally unvisited tiles await the brave
This year, Jukola takes place in Kotka, and it’s especially exciting for tile hunters: within the competition area there are two tiles where no one has ever been. It will be fascinating to see who claims them first. Will someone deliberately head straight for these tiles, or will they just happen to fall along a leg between controls?
Three of Wandrio’s founders are running in the Kotka Jukola Relay. Here are our founder Risto’s thoughts on this exceptional and unique event:
Risto’s experience in Jukola
Thirteen Jukolas behind me, and every year the same pattern repeats.
Before the race I have the same conversation with myself: I don’t need to stay with every pack, I trust my own navigation, my own pace is enough. Good. That should settle it.
Then the start comes, and all that wisdom instantly disappears.
Jukola does that to me. I get over-aroused, the pace creeps too high, and at some point I realise I’m running faster than I should. But the controls keep coming. The pack is good. You’d never dare orienteer this fast on your own. It feels great. It feels sustainable.
Then my head starts to fog.
Something feels off. That marsh looks too small. The slope next to it is too steep. But no, we must be here. Keep this bearing and the control will appear.
It doesn’t. It’s not my control. I’ve been following the wrong group.
I stare at the map. Nothing makes sense. Time slips away. I spot some orienteers and dash towards them. Still not my control.
Gradually my heart rate drops. More oxygen reaches my brain. My thinking clears, and now I know where I am. I find the control.
All that hard running was wasted. My legs are full of lactic acid for nothing. There are still five kilometres to go. How many places did I just lose? The team will be disappointed.
I ran three hundred metres without concentrating. Bad initial bearing. For hell’s sake.
Now focus.
I reset. Empty my mind. I find my own pace again. The controls come smoothly. The loudspeaker from the arena starts to carry through the forest.
Last control punched. All out. Finish punch. Map from the stand to my teammate. Chip check, that final moment of suspense: did I really punch all the right controls? Valid run. I don’t have to go cry at the wall.
Now it’s time for the sauna. Activity saved, new tiles added to the Wandrio map. New memories created.
Next year it will surely go better.
That’s orienteering at its best: a fusion of mind and body, where you can’t let either one take full control.
