Run for Love: A Journey Through Sweden’s High Coast

 

Sweden has always held a special place in my heart, and after several unforgettable experiences in this incredible country, Run for Love has added yet another memory I’ll cherish forever.

 

In September 2023, I had the privilege of participating Tribe Run for Love 5, a 225km trail run along the stunning Swedish High Coast.

 

The Run for Love events were created to support the Tribe Foundation, which is committed to fighting human trafficking and ending modern slavery. Since its inception in 2013, the foundation has raised £2 million and supported nearly 800 survivors. It’s incredibly humbling to play a small part in this important cause—raising awareness, supporting frontline projects, and being part of a community that’s making a real impact.

 

But let’s talk about the run itself…

 

Varied. Tough. Technical. Stunning. Just a few words that could barely capture the challenges and beauty of Day 1. The morning began with thick fog at Hornoberget, creating an eerie, almost post-apocalyptic scene. As I crossed a bridge, the fog was so dense I could only see halfway across, adding to the dramatic atmosphere and like a scene out of The Walking Dead.

 

The first checkpoint led to a steep climb up to Sanderverken, where we were rewarded with panoramic views above the clouds. The fog parted, revealing a breathtaking landscape that made every challenging step worthwhile. The next section was rugged—narrow trails, loose rocks, tree roots, and treacherous coastal paths meant there was a lot of walking. But it was hard to mind when surrounded by such beauty.

 

After some road running that let my legs stretch out, I was met with more steep climbs through the countryside, leading to a rather urgent moment in the woods. Thankfully, I stumbled upon a wooden toilet in the middle of the forest—hallelujah!

The run through the woods was one of my favorite parts of the day. The trail was compact and runnable, with sunlight filtering through the pine trees, and glimpses of lakes in the distance. The last stretch saw more road and trail running, eventually bringing us to our campsite in Batista.

 

After a much-needed hot shower, I got my tent set up and prepped for Day 2, all while watching other runners finish. Tomorrow was predicted to be wet…

 

54km

1600m elevation of climbing

 

Day 2 was a monster. Brutal doesn’t even begin to cover it. We were tackling 46km from Barsta to Norrfallsvikens, with over 1500m of elevation gain—basically, running the height of The Shard five times over.

 

We started in pouring rain, but the trails were runnable for the first section, and I felt strong despite the weather. But things took a turn when I twisted my ankle on a narrow, rocky trail. I paused for a moment by a lakeside beach, contemplating whether to call it a day. After a few minutes of reflection, I decided to push through the pain, aiming for the second checkpoint before making any final decisions.

But the route became even more treacherous. The rain intensified, the rocks and tree roots turned slick, and streams of water ran across the trail. It felt like wandering through an enchanted forest, albeit one that was out to break you.

 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I hit the road and was able to run a little again. Passing a cinnamon bun factory was pure torture—smelling those freshly baked buns but unable to indulge.

 

From checkpoint two onward, things went from bad to worse. My GPX kept telling me I was off course, no matter which route I took. I wandered in the rain, unsure of where I was going. Luckily, a few fellow runners caught up and after a while helped me get back on track. We made a steep climb up Högklinten, hoping for sweeping views of the stacked beaches, but the fog gave us nothing but mist.

 

On the descent, I tripped again—this time over a hidden tree root as we navigated a steep, rocky path.

 

The last stretch of the day wasn’t much easier, with more rocky, ankle-breaking terrain and a confusing route that had me heading in the wrong direction once again. But in the end, I found my way to the campsite, battered and bruised.

 

Just as I was beginning to settle in, the sun finally broke through, offering a calm end to the day. After some much-needed recovery—pizzas, a sauna, roasted marshmallows around the campfire—I was treated to a stunning view of the Northern Lights, a perfect end to a tough day.

 

46km

1500m elevation of climbing