THE LONG WAY
BETWEEN THE LIGHTS

Words by Lasse Finstad
Photos by Jacob Staerk

“Fyr til Fyr” is more than a marathon — it’s a journey across wind-swept cliffs, open heath, and the quiet drama of Norway’s coastal edge.

I

It’s a line drawn across what felt like the edge of the world. From one lighthouse to the next, over cliffs, heathland, and through moments of silence you don’t find in everyday life. It’s long enough to forget why you started, but just short enough to make you believe in finishing.

We started early. Feet crunching into mud and gravel, heads low against the coastal wind. No fireworks. Just motion. The first hours blurred — rhythm came easy, and the group moved as one: focused, quiet. I don’t remember many words, just the sound of shoes, breathing, gulls, and distant cheering.

But races don’t stay easy. Somewhere past the halfway point, the sun broke through and the trail turned technical. Legs got tired. Minds faltered. That’s when the organization showed its strength. Volunteers stood like lighthouses themselves — calm voices cheering, cold drinks, clear direction. No drama. Just structure. And it mattered.

We weren’t just moving as individuals. We were part of something built with care. The course was clearly marked. Checkpoints arrived just when they were needed. The people there didn’t just hand out supplies — they handed out motivation. And when things got hard, that made the difference.

A group of runners participating in a trail race on a grassy hillside with a lake and mountains in the background, under a cloudy sky.
A group of hikers climbing a grassy hill near a body of water.
Group of five trail runners, including children and an adult male, running through grassy terrain with hills in the background.

II

And things did get hard. Stumbling. Doubt. Uncertainty. But also — laughter, shared effort, runners pulling each other forward. Strangers becoming friends for a few hours on the trail — and after the trail, too.

The final stretch to the last lighthouse was stripped bare — wind, salt, sun — nothing left to hide behind. Hoping for a glimpse of a puffin. You don’t finish a race like Fyr til Fyr with a sprint. You finish it by holding on. By finding something steady inside.

This isn’t a story about chasing a personal best. It’s a story about shared effort — runners, volunteers, organizers — all committed to the same strange, beautiful idea: that this kind of challenge is worth doing. And that doing it together makes it unforgettable.

The best performance of the day? The aid stations, the volunteers, and the organization. Thank you for making the race what it was — and hopefully what it will always be.

A man running on a trail in a green hilly landscape, wearing a blue cap, blue shirt, black shorts, and a yellow and blue vest, carrying a backpack.
A man running along a grassy trail on a hillside overlooking a body of water, with mountains in the background, wearing a red sports bra, shorts, sunglasses, and a prosthetic leg.
Two men cheerfully shake hands after a race, one is muddy and holding a green bottle, wearing running gear, the other in a navy shirt and shorts, both smiling.

SHARE

OTHER STORIES