Murten-Fribourg, the race where clandestine runners blazed a trail

Morat-Fribourg is, first and foremost, a legendary race. A route between two Swiss towns, a popular event—hilly and deeply rooted in Fribourg’s history. It commemorates the victory of the Confederates over Charles the Bold in 1476 and recounts the tale of the messenger who supposedly ran from Morat to Fribourg, a linden branch in his hand, to announce the victory before collapsing upon his arrival. As is often the case with great races, there is the history, the legend, and then what the runners make of it.

The first edition open to runners took place in the 1930s. Initially reserved for a few participants, Morat-Fribourg gradually became one of the great Swiss classics. Since 1996, it has been run over 17.170 km, with a demanding, hilly course that passes through Courgevaux, Courtepin, La Sonnaz, and Granges-Paccot before reaching Fribourg.

But for Spiridon, Morat-Fribourg is not just an old Swiss classic. It is a place of memory. A place of struggle. A place where popular running joined a broader fight: that of openness, equality, and the freedom to run.

In the early 1970s, women were still not allowed to participate officially. Some ran anyway. They slipped into the event, sometimes without a race number, sometimes under a man's name. They did not ask for permission. They ran. And this simple act became political.

At that time, running was not yet the open space we know today. Long-distance running remained supervised, controlled, and sometimes prohibited for women. Running long distances, running on roads, running with men: all of this still seemed inconceivable to some officials.

It was in this context that Morat-Fribourg became one of those places where the lines began to blur.

In 1975, one scene perfectly summarizes the spirit of that era. Odette Vetter took to the starting line of Morat-Fribourg even though women were still not officially authorized to run the event. She ran under a false name—that of her husband, Joseph Vetter, who accompanied her on the road.

Both were "Spiridonians." They are seen in Spiridon gear, wearing the jersey that became the rallying cry for a generation of free runners: SPIRIDON, with the little figure drawn by Karel Matejovsky. It was not just a uniform. It was a way of saying that running should belong to everyone.

The scene was even immortalized by the RTS in a 1975 report. It clearly shows the disconnect of the time: Morat-Fribourg was still a male bastion, women were joining in clandestinely, and the race director was not in favor of their participation. But Odette and Joseph were there, in the midst of the runners. At the start.

This report says a lot.

A woman running anyway.
A husband running by her side.
A rule being bypassed.
A Spiridon jersey as a rallying sign.
And this very simple idea: running should be open to one and all.

Odette Vetter would later recount sprinting as she neared the finish line for fear of being stopped. Today, this statement might seem almost unreal. But less than fifty years ago, running a popular race as a woman could still be considered a transgression.

Two years later, in 1977, women and juniors were finally officially authorized to participate in Morat-Fribourg. That year, Marijke Moser (pictured in Spiridon gear) became the first female winner of the women's event. The race then took on a new dimension.

This is why Morat-Fribourg occupies a special place in the history of running.

Morat-Fribourg is a race of memory, but also a race of emancipation. A race where the linden branch tells an ancient legend, and where the clandestine runners of the 1970s tell another victory: that of the right for all of us to run together.

That, too, is the Spiridon spirit.

Run with us, everyone.