Second time in Sweden. First time at Vasaloppet. First time with professional skis borrowed from a friend (I have far worse). Sun, blue sky, beautiful weather, both poles complete after climbing Smågan, the world is beautiful. 33rd kilometer, what’s a beautiful number (I was born on 3rd March, so 3/3), only 57 km to Mora. And suddenly: I’m standing at the edge of the track with the binding torn from the ski.

It broke off on its own on a gentle incline, no fault of others. I can accept that the end of the world will come one day, but why did it have to happen now? God, is that probably because I don’t believe in you? I wanted to go to Vasaloppet only once in my life, finish it and not try my luck again and go somewhere else, to another race. And now I won’t finish it. After a minute of cursing, I am calming down. I refuse to give up. As if on a scooter, I reach the first cottages on one ski and ask a guy if he has a drill and 3 screws. He doesn’t have it. He say *maybe a service in Risberg*. *Wait, a service? How far is it? 2 km!* Wow! Hundreds or maybe thousands of skiers are ahead of me, but I don’t care now. I keep running on one ski. I’m running to my actual mål (= finish), to a service center in Risberg.

An Angel welcomes me here. She has the same nice smile as Czech skier Katerina Smutná, who won Vasaloppet 2016. (Btw, *Smutná* means *Sad*, what is total opposite of her mentality).

I ask the Angel if she or her helpers have a drill. She answers with a question. She asks me how much I have. I say *cash 500 Swedish crowns and more on the card*. The Angel says that she did not mean money, but my kilograms and centimeters. I wonder why she wants to know it, but I say *81 kg and 186 cm*. The Angel explains to me that she will lend me skis here. Free of charge. My defective ones will get a sticker with my number 7189 and go to Mora. I will get others and all I need to do is to bring them to Mora.

I take MADSHUS RaceSpeed skis. They are beautiful, my Angel’s helpers even waxed them for me.

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[* https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52741887516_ef757ee85e.jpg *]

*My Angel´s helpers*

At this point, I’d be happy with a century-old model with straps, which I could wax myself with a candle, but I have top material now. **I HAVE A PAIR OF SKIS, DO YOU UNDERSTAND IT?**

Completely intoxicated by the avalanche of happiness, I ask if I can take a picture of my Angel and she answers me *well, wouldn’t you rather have a photo of you and your skis?*. Finally we take both photos, how else..

Now my life is very simple: I simply have to reach the finish, especially since I have to return skis there. I feel great when I have two skis instead of one. I am again one of many interchangeable competitors and not a one-legged phantasm. How little is sometimes enough to be happy, right? I look at my watch. I’m going to have a terrible time. I will have a time over 10 hours. I will be one of the lasts. But I won’t finish at the 33rd km near Risberg. The world is again so nice… Mora is here. A track illuminated by candles and torches, a finish, a medal, a crowded street. Ski return house. I’m having a great time, but the saddest moment of the day is coming. Now I have to do a completely crazy thing: I will return the angelic skis that brought me here.

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[* https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/52742317755_bd87871153.jpg *]

*…the circle has closed: I return the borrowed skis*

**Tack så mycket!** Thank you so much! To everyone – to the skis, the Fortune, the Angel, the helpers, but especially to those who invented that spare skis can be rented at the race! Thank you very much and goodbye. It has been beautiful, but I won’t try it again. I might not be so lucky again… Adjö!

*Remark: I realize, the Angels are genderless, but my „personal“ Angel has been a lady, so for that reason I use a pronoun she/her*