I’d never heard of Nordic Race before we signed up. On paper, it looked like a CrossFitter’s wet dream and a family dad’s nightmare. I pictured pumped-up men in bare chests climbing over burning cars while the crowd hurled protein bars at them. Instead, it turned into a day of surprises — and the constant fear of having the “bracelet of shame” cut off my wrist.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
Six stars
Nordic Race is, in reality, a mix of sports event, festival and team-building exercise. In our case: 5 km, 18 obstacles and a huge setup on Refshaleøen. Officially, it’s called “Copenhagen Urban”. Unofficially, it feels like a circular gladiator arena, where you can measure how much body and mind can take while spectators stand in the middle of the circle cheering you on.
Honestly, I hadn’t expected it to be for everyone. I imagined a hellscape of elite athletes in compression leggings leaving us in the dust. But the first thing we said to each other when we arrived was: “This would be insanely fun to do with five or six friends.” Suddenly, it looked like a party, not just a fitness regime.
We arrived in the morning, nervous about whether we’d make it through. I was on a team with my co-editor, and neither of us was exactly in the best shape of our lives. But we’d been invited along, and we thought: why not?
The first thing that struck us was the scale. 800–1,000 participants, plus spectators. The atmosphere was almost like a local festival: music, stalls, people of all ages. We quickly found the stand where we were handed our bib number, chip — and most importantly: the bracelet. The “bracelet of shame”. A plastic band that gets cut off if you can’t clear an obstacle. At first we laughed and said “fuck that bullshit”. But we knew full well we’d fight to keep it.
First encounter with the course
We were team 11. During the briefing, we could already see how mixed the field was. There were 12-year-olds standing next to us, people who looked like casual weekend exercisers — and then there were huge muscle-bound men with upper arms that could probably trigger earthquakes. It was both reassuring and intimidating. If the little ones could do it, then surely we could too. Or die trying.
The instructions were vague: “Have fun, look out for each other.” Then we got started.
First obstacle: crawl under a net and down into a puddle. We quickly realised you could actually wriggle through without getting too wet. And yes, why get filthy just for show? We saved our energy.
Then came a climbing wall. Easy enough. Onward.
We had to carry heavy stones. Walk across wobbling beams. Throw medicine balls three metres up. Hang from rope ladders. Do monkey bars until our fingers burned. Every obstacle had officials ready to cut your bracelet if you failed.
It was actually brilliant. Suddenly, the bracelet became a sport in itself. The further we got, the more it mattered. It was no longer “fuck that bullshit”. It was “we must not lose this thing at any cost”.
The surprise
I thought Nordic Race was for hardcore CrossFit types. But I was wrong. It was surprisingly inclusive. There were all kinds of people: old, young, office workers, students. Some were fast as gazelles, others took their time. It felt like one of those rare events where everyone can actually take part.
And yes, it was hard. I felt like a mix of Tarzan and a man who had signed up for something by mistake. But it was fun. We laughed, we cheered each other on, and we sweated across bodies, levels and generations.
The downside
There’s no sugarcoating it: it’s brutal too. I had a moment where I thought: “If I fall now, it’s the emergency room.” And yes — that’s exactly where it ended up. We had to stop after obstacle 16. Our race came to an abrupt end with a trip in an ambulance. That’s, of course, part of the deal. The organisers had it under control — help was there immediately. But it put a full stop on our debut.
Everything around it
One thing Nordic Race deserves credit for is the curation. Inside the middle of the circle, spectators could buy pancakes, experience sauna infusion sessions and soak up the atmosphere. There was Joe & The Juice and other small experiences that made it more than just a race. It was a whole day out, where both participants and companions could get something from it.
It’s smart: you keep people hanging around, you turn it into an event experience, not just sport.
The afterthought
I left with scraped knees and the urge to come back. Because yes, we were stopped before the finish, but I can say with certainty: I’d very much like to complete the whole course another time.
Nordic Race is not brilliant. It’s not beautiful. It’s not perfect either. But it is fun, hard and inclusive. It is “at your own risk” in its purest form. And it’s a seriously great opportunity to take friends or family out on a sunny day and show that there’s still a bit of fire left in the body.
Maybe this is the most honest thing I can say: I expected hell. I got a party.
Reflection
Nordic Race isn’t just for the elite. It isn’t for the faint of heart either. It’s for anyone who dares to get dirty, sweat a little and maybe lose a bracelet along the way. I came home tired, bruised and happy. And I know I wasn’t the only one.
