Running in Iceland: Two Stories
#1 The Thingvellir-Laugavartn Route
I’ve been running in Iceland for three weeks. The wind usually peaks around twenty miles an hour. It comes and goes. The temperature hovers at 45 degrees. The rain also comes and goes.
Yesterday, my running plan called for its long run of the week. Sixteen miles was the diagnosis. The weather forecast showed some rain in the Bláskógabyggð valley. I told the hosts at my residency I would return in two hours.
I began the run. The second and third mile of the old Laugarvatn-Thingvellir road are 500 feet uphill. I made it up the hill. I was winded. I looked across the plateau and saw clouds coming. I decided it was in my interest to turn back and run down in the valley where there is less rain. By the time I made it back to the residency, a blizzard had begun. I decided to end my run.
Over the next two hours, the sky disappeared. The house started to shake in the wind. The houses here are made of sheet metal. I was not sure how many gusts they could take. Eventually, the rain and the wind stopped. The skies cleared. The mountains were crested in snow. It was September 14th.
Today, I needed to return to my running plan. I put on my leggings again, grabbed two gels, and set out around noon. The forecast did not call for rain. I reached the same hill I had reached the day before, around three miles into the run. The sky poked through the gray in spots, so I decided to continue onwards. I crossed a stream around four miles. The stream was higher than normal, as the valley had warmed since the snowfall. A quarter of the way through the run, the wind gained speed. It was blowing in the opposite direction I was running. I tried to breathe, but the wind did not let me do so. The wind continued, and then sleet fell. The sleet seemed preferable to rain, as it bounced off me. I worried about pneumonia.
I had heard that the trolls turn into boulders when they die, or when they show themselves in the light. As I hit mile five, I encountered the next large uphill. Around 700 feet gain over the next ¾ mile. I saw a troll. I cursed him by the name of this region’s devil, Kollumkilli. I yelled his name into the wind. I couldn’t hear myself. I could hear only the wind. The wind increased in speed. The hill increased in slope. I kept cursing his name with the breath that I had left. Kollumkilli! Kollumkilli! Ahhh. By the end of the hill, I had run out of breath, and could no longer use my tongue to make sounds. Only gasps were leaving my mouth. At 6.5 miles I rounded a bend, and more uphill faced me. I made out Thingvellir’s lake in the distance. I had seen enough. I worried more uphill would ruin the next ten miles. I gave up on this part of the challenge. The mountain, and its troll, had defeated me.
I turned around and jogged down the hill, unable to sprint. I ate a gel in hopes of fending off pneumonia and gaining sugars.
To show that he could control the weather, Kollumkilli cleared the skies. The sun hit my neck. The wind propelled me against my back. I ran back across the stream. I ran back across the valley. For twenty minutes there was no wind or rain in the highlands. As I ran down the first hill, it began to gale again. Hail coming from the horizon. The wind at many directions. I ran back through Laugarvatn, past the residency, with five miles remaining of the sixteen. As I passed the Rune + Crafts shop near Highway 337, a rainbow appeared. It had both its bottoms. Soon, a second rainbow appeared. I turned around at 14 miles, and ran back to the residency.
I hit sixteen miles. I had heard nothing for the first eight miles except the wind. Over the last eight miles, I was in the company of cars and humans and sunshine.
I do not know if I was cursed by a troll or mountain god, or I had taken a devil’s name in vain, but I know that Iceland is no place to call things what they are not. You do not dress up here. This is no place for adjectives, superlatives, exaggeration, hyperbole, or metaphor. And even if you were to deploy such device, no one would hear you over the wind.
#2 The Laugarvatn 10k+
THERE IS NOTHING HEAVENLY ABOUT DISTANCE RUNNING ON A TRACK 1 DOWN I SET OUT TO RUN 8 MILES AS FAST AS I CAN 2 DOWN I KNOW IT WILL RAIN AND I FEAR BEING FAR FROM SHELTER 3 DOWN I HAVE RUN 8 MILES BELOW 7 MINUTES A FEW TIMES 4 DOWN I HOPE THIS WILL BE ONE OF THOSE TIMES 5 DOWN I COUNT EACH LAP OUT LOUD THIS IS MY VOICE 6 DOWN I HOVER AROUND THE SAME SPEED 7 DOWN I PICK UP MY PACE ON LAST LAP OF EACH MILE TO KEEP PACE UP 8 DOWN I CHASTISE MYSELF ON THE FIRST LAP OF EACH MILE FOR BEING WINDED 9 DOWN MY MIND SLIPS AWAY 10 DOWN 11 DOWN I DO NOT KNOW IF I AM RUNNING FAST OR SLOW 12 DOWN THE RAIN HOLDS OFF 13 DOWN I AM NOT SURE HOW MY BODY IS RESPONDING TO THE STRESS 14 DOWN THE WIND ATTACKS ME HEAD-ON EACH EAST HALF OF THE TRACK 15 DOWN I FEEL FANTASTIC 16 DOWN
I START MY COUNT OVER I HEAR MY VOICE EVEN LOUDER 1 DOWN AND I GET FASTER 2 DOWN DREAMS OF NEGATIVE SLIPTS 3 DOWN I EAT A GEL 4 DOWN I FOCUS ON MY BREATH 5 DOWN THE PUDDLE AT THE SOUTH END REFLECTS THE MOUNTAIN 6 DOWN I START RUNNING AT MY 10K SPEED 7 DOWN I HAVE ONLY TWO MILES LEFT 8 DOWN
I START OVER AGAIN 1 DOWN INSTEAD OF 10K PACE I DROP TO 5K 2 DOWN AND THE RAIN COMES THAT THICK ICELANDIC RAIN THAT IS NOT WARM OR COLD BUT MIGHT BE SWEAT ON YOUR FACE 3 DOWN SPRINTING 4 DOWN THE SUN PEAKS OUT WHILE THE RAIN GETS MORE INTENSE 5 DOWN THESE ARE THE HEAVENS OPENING I CAN’T BREATHE IN 6 DOWN THE RAIN FLOODS MY MOUTH AND NOSE WITH EACH GULP 7 DOWN RUNNING ON FUMES RUNNING REALLY RUNNING 8 DOWN THAT WAS IT 16 8 AND 8 32 LAPS TOTAL 8 MILES DOWN NEW PERSONAL BEST GOOD DAY MARSHALL
