Phtoto: Helena Lindnord – AleSocci-GreenPixel_Ecomotion_2013-0353, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=140698198
Mikael Lindnord was an adventure racer by heart. Since 1997, he had thrown himself into one of the world’s most punishing endurance sports — a mix of mountain biking, trail running, kayaking, climbing, swimming, and sometimes crawling through jungle mud. The winner is the team which makes the distance of 600 – 800km in the fastest time. Top teams usually take between 4.5 – 6.5 days and sleep in the range of only 6 hours across the whole race. It’s brutal. It’s tough. It’s beautiful.
And for Mikael, it was his life. By 2010, he had led the first Swedish team to win a major event on the global stage in Costa Rica. But the years that followed weren’t easy. Injuries, setbacks, close calls — the kind of things that wear even the toughest racers down. All of this while age was catching up, as he was approaching his 40s. So, when the 2014 World Championship in Ecuador came around, it was more than just another race. It was Mikael’s farewell tour. One last shot. He was ranked sixth in the world, but he had a dream to leave the sport on top — as world champion. He was all in.
The race didn’t start well, as the team struggled to adapt to the conditions. But four days in, Mikael’s team had clawed their way into the top three. Spirits were high. At one of the mandatory two-hour rest stops — a rare moment of calm — the team sat down to refuel. They had brought a small taste of home: Swedish meatballs. As Mikael unwrapped his meal, he noticed a dog standing just a few metres away. Scruffy. Thin. Limping. You didn’t need to be a vet to see this dog had been through something.
Mikael felt it instantly — a pinch in the heart. He gave the dog a few meatballs to eat …
Photo by Helena Lindnord – Mikael Lindnord and the straydog Arthur in Ecuador, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=140395127
The meatballs vanished in seconds and even all the gravy on the pack was licked completely clean. Mikael smiled, but soon it was time to move on. The race clock doesn’t stop for tender moments. The team packed up and continued.
Several miles later, Mikael glanced to the side — and froze. The dog was still there. Following them.
Through jungle, heat, and mud, the dog kept pace. Never too far behind – Mikael even started talking to him. “Are you sure you want to keep going?” The dog didn’t answer — but he didn’t stop either.
As night fell, Mikael gave him a name: Arthur. Like the king. “Even if he was wounded and really damaged,” Michael later said, “he still had this aura about him. Like a king.”
From that point on, they were five team members. And that changed everything. They helped Arthur through thick mud, hoisted him over logs, shared what food they had. He looked frail, but he kept going. Always going.
By day five, they reached the final transition: a brutal 34-mile kayak paddle to the finish line. Still in a strong position, Mikael looked at Arthur and joked, “So, what’s your plan now?” But sadly, the organisers got there first: “No dogs allowed in kayaks! Too risky for everyone involved!”
That meant Mikael had to say goodbye to his Arthur. It was tough. Really tough, after all the difficulties they had been through together.
Then Arthur stood on the shore, watching his team disappear across the water. Mikael didn’t turn around. It was too hard. But soon he heard a big splash. Arthur had jumped in. Desperate to follow, doing everything he could to stay with his team. He wasn’t a strong swimmer. With each splash of his paws, it became clear he wouldn’t make it.
And now Mikael had to choose: the race… or the dog?
He decided to turn around.
Photo: Krister Göransson
They pulled Arthur into the kayak. Hid him from the organisers and knew the podium finish was gone. But none of that mattered anymore. They crossed the finish line in 12th place. All five together.
Why am I telling this story?
Mikael had one goal: to win his final race. But life had other plans. Something unexpected happened—and it demanded a choice. He could have looked away. He could have kept paddling. But he didn’t. He chose what mattered more.
In our own lives, we often chase our goals with tunnel vision. Success. Promotion. Status. Progress. We get consumed. But what if —just like Arthur— something appears along the way that deserves our attention more? Something more human. More meaningful.
Maybe it’s our health? A relationship? A good deed? Or simply the need to slow down?
So here’s a simple question:
Is there something in your life you’re chasing hard right now — and is there a chance that, in doing so, you’re missing something even more important?
What might be your “Arthur”?
Whatever it is, don’t ignore the splash — winning might not be the real priority after all.
Maybe what really matters isn’t the finish line — but what (or who) we find along the way.
Until then – happy paddling,
Joerg
P.S. The story is beautifully described in the book Arthur – The Dog Who Crossed the Jungle to Find a Home, and in the movie Arthur the King. If you want to know what happened to Arthur and Mikael after the race (no spoilers), you can read more here.
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