‘Running on water’
Marathoners drawn to deep, ice-covered Siberian lake for annual challenge
LAKE BAIKAL, Russia — The ice rumbled and then shook underfoot. No one had warned Véronique Messina about that.
Messina, a French speech therapist working in Cambodia, came to Lake Baikal in distant Siberia to run a marathon across its frozen surface. She ventured onto the ice for her first trial run just a day before the race.
“I am afraid of water to begin with, and you can see that you are running on water,” she said.
The booms and tremors rippling across the ice as it shifts — sometimes called the “Baikal Symphony” — proved an even worse surprise.
“It was horrible,” said Messina, 40. “The ice was shaking. I was shaking. Each time it cracked, I think I ran twice as fast.”
Marathon runners often use races to explore the world, and every March, the Baikal Ice Marathon attracts a small group to the lake, which is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Many runners said testing their limits drew them to Baikal, the Earth’s largest, deepest body of fresh water, 2,700 miles east of Moscow.
“My 30th birthday is later this month so I wanted to do something crazy,” said Sabrina Kwong, a Hong Kong banker, adding nervously, “I signed up before thinking how extreme it would be.”
The ice and the weather ensure that no two races are identical.
The Baikalsky Nature Reserve on the eastern shore is 23.2 miles from Listvyanka, the main tourist village on the western side, 3 miles short of a marathon’s official 26.2 miles. To add those miles, the headache is identifying a smooth, meandering path devoid of cracks or impassable berms of broken ice.
Aleksey P. Nikiforov, 58, who founded the race in 2005, scouts the ice repeatedly for weeks before the race. He tests the thickness with a trusty Soviet hand drill; 17 inches can support a tank.
This year, the ice was about 27 inches thick. Thundering like distant cannon fire, random cracks cleave open and slam shut in the frozen, floating crust.
Cracks present more of a danger of a runner twisting an ankle than falling through, although one year, such a large hole opened that runners avoided the water by scrambling across three small, parked hovercraft. Last year, a fierce, glacial wind blew up from nowhere, reducing visibility to a few yards. Disoriented runners stumbled off the route marked by short red flags. Some got frostbite. Nikiforov reluctantly canceled the race for the first time and evacuated everyone.
Race day this year, March 2, started with a 55-minute ride on 10 small hovercraft across the lake to the starting point. Competing were 97 men and 30 women from 23 countries, including the United States.
At one point, the sun emerged, and at 26 degrees — balmy for Siberia in March — one Russian runner stripped to just shorts. Spotting him, Nikiforov leapt from his hovercraft.
“You will either lose your testicles on your own, or we will help you!” he bellowed in Russian. “The rules have to be tough; this is Baikal,” he muttered.
The recommended wardrobe included a balaclava; face tape; goggles or glasses; a light, windproof jacket and pants; two layers of thin thermal underwear and heavy gloves. Snap-on crampons or running shoes with spikes were also critical.
Messina set off with some trepidation. She soon found herself solo.
“It was also beautiful,” she said, “You are alone on Baikal, it is your race, you are alone with yourself.”
The race ended with little fanfare. Anton Dolgov, 44, a wiry Moscow IT executive, won in 3:05:05 hours.
Messina was the sixth woman across, at 4:30:54.
“I did it, I ran on water!” she said triumphantly, describing the overall experience as like being an astronaut exploring another planet. “I was just so happy to be there!”