Backtracking a bit

I have yet to tell you about my last day in Iceland. I had saved my second organized tour for my last full day as I didn't want to do too much walking in the days before the race. Unlike my wonderful 8-person trip to the nature reserve, however, the "Golden Circle" tour is one that loads a large tour bus to capacity and takes you to the most famous "highlights" near Reykjavik, translation: tourist traps. It didn't help that was rainy and cold.

The first stop on the tour, the Hveragerði greenhouse village, which is supposed to show you how much of Iceland's produce is grown, was not even a real greenhouse that produces fruits and plants for locals. It is a made-for-tourists version of a greenhouse, which is conveniently located at the back of a large tourist shop. The next stop, the Kerið volcanic crater, was nice enough, but you are given just ten minutes (not enough time to walk all the way around the crater rim) to walk to the crater and photograph it, along with five other busloads of people who you just saw in the greenhouse gift shop. I will admit, the Gullfoss waterfall was quite pretty, see photo above. The Geysir hot spring area, however, was the most disappointing. After hyping up the famous Geysir (for which all others are named, as "geysir" is one of the few Icelandic words that has permeated other languages), the tour guide tells you - as you are arriving at the hot spring area - that it only spouts twice a day. "But, you will be able to see a smaller geysir that goes off every five minutes." The only semi-redeeming part of the trip was the last stop at Þingvellir National Park. Not only were we given a full hour to walk around, but it was quite beautiful.

Advice: if you ever go to Iceland, DON'T GO on the Golden Circle tour. If you must see any of the above attractions, rent a car and go on your own, but, honestly, aside from maybe the waterfall, you're not missing anything.

The only thing that made the tour at all tolerable was that I met three Japanese tourists (all traveling alone). We formed a small posse and walked around together chatting, as well as ate lunch together at the overpriced restaurant at Geysir (offerings included burgers, fries, and mystery meat stew). We even met up later that night, after the tour, and had a delicious seafood dinner together, which was the perfect way to end my trip. The younger of the two men (see photo above) had also run the marathon, in a little over three hours, which he said was "slow" for him. He runs about one marathon a month, and said he was once considering going pro but then decided against it. He's even thinking about doing the Marathon des Sables, which makes him way more hardcore than I will ever be.

I left Iceland the next day, Monday, feeling ready to go home but that I'd had a wonderful week. I took advantage of my nine hour layover in London to go into the city and have lunch with Dave's aunt and uncle and tea with one of my mother's best friends.

If you want to see more of my photos of the Golden Circle, click here.

I hate Heathrow

Air travel these days is not as easy as it used to be, we all know this, we've all heard the horror stories. I have come to expect less and be more patient, and I like to think that I have adapted well to the current situation and have not had too much to complain about... until Heathrow. I used to think of Heathrow as one of the nicest airports, having spent a very happy 12 hour layover there on my way back from my semester abroad in Kenya. It has nice shops and a glorious seafood bar, and it's filled with charming Brits, what's not to like?

I have never been treated as poorly at immigration than I was this trip during the two occasions I had the pleasure of passing through London. Both times I was grilled by immigration officers, made to feel like a social pariah for traveling alone/a potential drug mule due to all my Brazil stamps/an idiot American for getting in the wrong line - the one for British citizens - despite a lack of any signs to differentiate. I have never been asked so many questions while trying to cross a border.

And don't even get me started about the "one carry on only" policy. I mean, all everyone does anyway is cram all their crap into one bag, creating an overflowing mess, only to take it all out again, divided into two neatly filled bags, when they get to the other side.

The icing on the giant cake that is my hatred for Heathrow, however, is their inability to give you one simple (and vital) piece of information: your gate number. Is it too much to ask that when you check in your boarding pass has - in addition to your flight number and seat number - what every other respectable airport provides: a small number, sometimes followed by a letter, that tells you where you need to be in an hour or so when your flight starts boarding? Does that really require so much extra effort? Instead, they make you wait until about 30 minutes before your flight, when your gate finally flashes on the monitors (half of which were out of service yesterday) in the waiting area.

Last night, having gotten to the airport a little more than two hours before my flight like the responsible person I am, combined with the speed of checking my bag thanks to the fact that I'd checked in online and printed my boarding pass, I had about an hour to wander the airport, waiting. After I'd been in every store twice and looked at useless things I would never want, my gate finally appeared, so I went and sat there. And sat there. And sat there. The flight was clearly delayed, so I took out a magazine and started to read. Five minutes later, I hear my name being called over the airport PA, saying that I am the last passenger yet to board my flight. Thoroughly confused, my heart starting to race, I go to the desk at gate 8 (where I have been for the last 15-20 minutes) and learn that I have been waiting at the gate for the TAM flight to São Paulo, whereas I was on the BA flight. (This is where I must take some responsibility. Yes, I should have checked the flight number, but, really, how was I to know that there were two flights to São Paulo that leave at virtually the same time. Furthermore, if my gate had been PRINTED ON MY BOARDING PASS, I wouldn't have had to look for my gate on the monitors in the first place, thus, I still place most of the blame on Heathrow.)

The woman behind the TAM counter kindly informs me, "You're about to miss your flight, and the gate is far away." I take off in a mad dash towards gate 22 (which is several very long corridors away), my still-slightly-sore-from-the-marathon legs pumping faster than they have in a while despite the fact that I am wearing a coat and carrying a heavy leather bag as well as have a duty free shopping bag hanging off my shoulder. I am that person running through the airport. That person I only see in movies; that person who is getting scared looks from the children she almost knocks over; that irresponsible person who is holding up an entire plane full of people, that person I hate. I arrive at gate 22 just as they are about to close the doors and begin to apologize profusely. "You need to be more careful and check the flight number," the gate attendant scolds me as she scans my boarding pass. Only once I'm safely on board and stowing my luggage does the adrenaline wear off and I realize that I am sweaty and panting and that my lungs are burning. As I take my seat I begin to cough uncontrollably, leading to the inevitable "Great, we've got a cougher among us who's going to infect us all," glares from the passengers around me. I want to scream, "I just ran a marathon, yeah, more than your lazy ass has run in your entire life, and now I just sprinted through Heathrow, so give me a break," but instead I sit and fume. And cough. And cough. Finally, I get up and ask a flight attendant for a glass of water, but it doesn't help. I continue to cough during taxi and take off, I continue to be that passenger, until, finally, my breathing normalizes and I am able to drift off to sleep.

Thank you

I awoke this morning feeling sore but content, my room still smelling of Kiehl's "Klaus Heidegger's All-Sport Muscle Rub." Both post-race yesterday and this morning my body has felt much better than it felt after Rio, when I could barely move.

I have been in training for 20 weeks straight. I have run training runs in São Paulo, Rio, New York, San Francisco, Rome, Florence, and Harigmont (Belgium). It's been fun at times, tiring at others, and while I was somewhat disappointed after the race in Rio, yesterday was the perfect way to end these five months of running. I can honestly say that what made the difference - what I thought about during those last 10km yesterday - is all the support I have received from friends and family. Yesterday marked the first marathon I've run where I didn't have anyone waiting for me at the finish line, but I never felt alone. So, thank you to everyone who emailed me, sent me positive vibes, or at any time has taken an interest in my running and asked me about it.

While I'm very ready to hang up my Asics for the next few months and focus on other things, I know that when November rolls around I'll be ready to dust them off and start training for the next continent.

So many thanks, Anri.

4:09:45

My second fastest marathon, to date.
Four continents down, three to go.

More later. For now, rest.

Carbs

Today I am taking it easy in my room, reading, catching up on email and the Times online, and eating peanut butter sandwiches. Later today I will head to the Laugardalsholl sports hall to pick up my race packet and partake in the complimentary pasta dinner.

I had read somewhere that over 3,000 people ran the Reykjavik marathon last year, so I was expecting a decent sized crowd. After researching further, however, it turns out that about two thirds of the 3,483 runners who crossed the 2006 finish line were taking part in the 10k. Only 414 people completed the full marathon with another 879 completing the half. So, really, it's going to be a small race, which excites me. Luckily the 10k starts an hour later than the marathon and so there's only going to be about 1,300 of us at the start, unless numbers this year have, for some reason, skyrocketed. And, they have anyone who intends to run the race in over 5 hours start an hour early, which further ensures fewer people at the start. All of this is great news as one of my pet peeves is congestion at the start of a race. Also, this means that after the half way point - my favorite point in races where the full and half marathons share a course - it's really going to be nice and roomy on the road.

Ready or not...

A whole lotta nothin'

This morning's whale watch was a bust. The only whales I saw were the ones on the poster pictured above that was displayed on board. But, I did get to wear a nifty one-piece suit (it was freezing outside on the boat). My eyes are closed in the photo, but I couldn't bring myself to ask the nice man who took it to try again, and, actually, I think it accurately captures how I felt during most of the trip (the photo is taken midway through the three-hour ride when I gave up on looking for whales and decided to sit downstairs where it was warmer).

(The first two photos are of Reykjavik harbor.)

Þórsmörk

Today I took a day trip to Þórsmörk (pronounced Thorsmork) Nature Reserve, about three hours outside of Reykjavik. It was quite a beautiful drive with volcanic terrain and farmland all around as well as several mountains, volcanoes, and glaciers. I'll let the photos do the talking.

Above: waterfall on the way to Þórsmörk, me in front of a glacier, view inside the reserve

Get excited

A billboard in the center of town for this weekend's marathon.

Waking up in Reykjavik

It is always slightly disorienting to arrive somewhere new at night, especially when your flight lands at 10:45pm and the sun has yet to fully set. By the time I cleared customs and was on the bus to my hotel, however, it was fully dark out and so I wasn't able to get much of a feel for my surroundings. I awoke this morning to the very forceful sun, seeping its way through the curtains above my small single bed. After a quick breakfast, I set out to explore. The minute I stepped outside, the cool air kissed my cheeks and my lungs were a little overwhelmed as to what to do with such clean air. Then, when I turned the corner two blocks down and saw the city, the water, and the mountains simultaneously unfurl before me, I knew I had made the right choice to come all this way. An hour or so later I went for a run along the water (my very last before the marathon) and continued to soak in the gorgeousness of my surroundings. Thus far, I have discovered (all within walking distance of my hotel) a delightful little bakery, a vegetarian restaurant where I plan to dine this evening, and two natural food stores. And, I bought myself a ticket to go whale watching on Thursday morning.

I have fallen in love with Reykjavik.

Overheard

...while waiting to board my flight from Amsterdam to London.

3ish-year-old English girl with the cutest British accent: I want my chocolate!
Father: You have to wait until you're on the plane.
Girl: But I want it! But I want it! But I want it!
Father: If you keep shouting, they won't let you on the plane.
Girl: Why not?
Father: Because they don't want noisy people.

If only this were really true (with exceptions made, of course, for cute little English girls).

Falcon what?

Our schedule for the family reunion was entirely in Dutch, most of which Dave was able to translate for me. However, there was one item on yesterday's itinerary - sandwiched between mass and lunch - that Dave couldn't understand. I asked one of Dave's cousins at breakfast and she looked at me and matter-of-factly translated, "falconry." I must admit, while I may have heard the word before, I didn't really know what falconry entailed. Dave's definition was, "something medieval kings and queens did for entertainment, involving falcons." I'm not a lover of birds, in fact I find them to be quite disagreeable, so when we arrived at the lawn behind the castle to find about a dozen falcons, owls, etc. perched on metal stands, I can't say I was jumping for joy. But, it did put a smile on my face when Dave exclaimed excitedly, "that one's a peregrine falcon!" (The peregrine is Dave's favorite animal.) After an hour spent divided between four stations explaining various elements of falconry (all of which was in Dutch, so I wandered in and out, taking care of my nephew for a while as well), the real fun began. There was a "demonstration" where volunteers could have a falcon land on their leather glove-clad arm, which, I'm guessing, was one of the highlights of Dave's weekend.

Cows and wildflowers before breakfast

Yesterday afternoon, after much speculation and fanfare, we finally arrived at the site of our family reunion: Chateau Jemeppe in Harigmont, Belgium (do click on the link as the photos are much nicer than any I would be able to take). We have taken over the entire castle and have been eating and drinking like kings and queens since last night.

This morning I set out for my last long training run - 12 miles - until November. For the first hour I was simply circling around, getting the lay of the town a little. I first tried to run on the main road for a bit, but as it is virtually shoulderless and Belgians seem to like to drive like they're on the Autobahn, I quickly ducked onto the smaller surrounding streets. Finally, for the second hour of my run, I discovered the most amazing gently-paved road. After a long uphill with dense woods on either side, the trees gave way to cow pastures and fields of wildflowers for as far as the eye could see. It felt like I was running on the top of the world, and at times I didn't know where my sweat ended and the morning mist, which enveloped everything, began. It was so quiet that approaching cars (only five of which passed me once I found my road) sounded like jet engines at take-off, and, once, I was quite startled by the sound of a cow passing gas. I must have been equally startling to the animals as many a grazing horse or cow stopped munching to look up and stare at me as I ran by. I also saw some cotton tails running away from me and had to, at times, watch my step so as to avoid squashing a snail or slug.

After this morning's glorious run I can safely say: I am SO ready for Reykjavik.

God Bless America

I am not particularly patriotic. I have never flown the US flag outside my home, or even had a flag sticker in my window. I have never teared up while listening to the national anthem. But I am, here and now, declaring my true love and devotion to America for one very simple reason: ease of online airline booking. Yes, in the past few weeks I have come to know how the websites/call centers of several other countries' airlines operate, and I am happy to say that US airlines rein supreme, for you can be sure that when you finish your transaction online, that a booking has, in fact, been made. Below are a few of my tales of woe.

Air Deccan - By far the worst of all my online experiences, due to recent credit card fraud in India, Air Deccan does not accept any foreign credit card bookings on their site. After calling several US-based travel agents I quickly discovered that none book Air Deccan, and thus went to my last resort: emailing an Indian friend from college to see if he knew anyone who had an Indian credit card and could help me. Turns out he did, and his friend Raj - my knight in shining armor - was so generous as to book the flight for me, using his local credit card, from Mumbai where he lives and works. Total time to book flight, including a call to Bangalore to talk to an Air Deccan representative, as well as calls to travel agents, and emails exchanged with Raj: 10 days.

South African Airways - SAA's website makes you specify a country of residence when you start out, and from that information, only offers departure cities from within that country. So, in an attempt to book a flight from Tanzania to South Africa I had to select "Africa" as my country (yes, I know, it is not a country, but that is the only option on their country list aside from "South Africa" for the continent). Then, after I put in my departure and arrival cities, my flight was not only quoted in Tanzanian shillings, but my only payment option was to go into an SAA office in Tanzania within 72 hours. Well, I don't live in Tanzania, so I had to call the SAA helpline in Johannesburg and talk with the very friendly representative who was able to book my flight over the phone. The next day, I received an email requesting me to call back as my credit card had not gone through. Upon calling, I learned that the reason the transaction didn't go through was that it takes a few days for flights quoted in US dollars to be converted to Rand, but I was "in the queue" for my card to be charged and I should call back in a few days to make sure the transaction had gone through (no, they could not send me a confirmation email). So, today, from Belgium, I called them back to confirm. Total time to book flight: 5 days.

LAN - After completing what I thought was a successful online booking in one go, I was about to give Chilean airlines a thumbs up. But, it was too good to be true, and the next day I received a phone call with, again, credit card processing troubles. This reservation had been made with Dave's card so I wasn't able to answer the questions the woman was asking me so I had to give her Dave's number, which she called a bit later and he was able to sort things out. Total time to book flight: 2 days.

TAM - Nothing in Brazil is ever simple and using TAM frequent flier miles, I've learned, is not worth the trouble. Forget "online" all together as you cannot book a flight with miles on TAM online. So, I called the toll free number and the very nice man who helped me found the right flights for me and took all my information. Just when I was about to wrap things up, he informs me that my reservation will only be good for three months. Well, seeing as I was booking a flight in March '08 and it's only August '07, I wish he had told me this earlier. He assures me that it's fine, I just need to call back in early October and extend my reservation another three months. I must keep doing this every three months until I am less than three months away from the flight time. Then, will they book the ticket for me automatically, no. I must go to a TAM store (conveniently located all over Sao Paulo) and have the ticket issued in person. Then, and only then, can I choose seats. Total time to book flight: months.

For the record, I have used the websites of American Airlines, United, and Delta to book many a flight and from those experiences, average total time to book a flight: less than 10 minutes.

Ready, Set, Bloks

Yesterday I ran what was probably my best 20-mile training run to date. The three plus hours just seemed to glide by in the sunny, but breezy, 24 degree (75°F) heat. I finished the run feeling very good, feeling that if I had to, I could have run 6.2 more miles just fine. With the Reykjavik marathon a mere two weeks away, I am feeling more ready than ever. I could easily attribute my performance to the fact that I have been training for the past 20 weeks, non-stop, including running the marathon in Rio, or to the fact that I have been trying to watch what I eat since returning from Italy, but really, I think it was the Bloks...

When you're running for hours at time, your body needs more than just water and Gatorade. Some people eat bananas while running, others energy bars, others still rely on candies like gummy bears and jelly beans. I have always been a user of energy gels (both PowerBar Gel and Clif Shot). I find the gels easy to digest while running, but awful to consume. I always dread the moment during my run when it's time to tear open a packet of gel and force myself to squeeze the goo into my mouth, feeling it squish around while I chew as little as possible and try to swallow it away. Inevitably, the gel coats your tongue and the sticky sweet taste lingers in your mouth no matter how much water to take in right after.

Last month, when I arrived in Italy, my mother had a few surprises for me. In addition to cookies from my favorite macrobiotic restaurant in New York, she had brought with her an assortment of colorful plastic bags filled with what looked to me like candy. It turned out they were Shot Bloks, Clif Bar's newest energy product. Each 33-calorie Blok (six of which come per pack) is a chewy treat that actually tastes good while you're chewing it and sits well after you swallow.

Yesterday, I found myself, for the very first time, looking forward, each hour, to the time when I could reach into my pocket for some more Bloks. I'm hooked.

Would you like a window or aisle seat?

My father recently said to me that in my next job, I should be a travel agent. This week, I have been just that. I have not been able to post for a while as I have been booking flights to Delhi, Mendoza, and Johannesburg; calling hotels and travel agents in Bangalore, Buenos Aires, and Bahia; running back and forth between my apartment and the Indian consulate; and spending countless hours on hotels.com, sidestep.com, and tripadvisor.com. As of this afternoon, however, I think that I have made it through the brunt of the booking, and now I can sit back and start to get excited about all the traveling I am going to do in the next eight months. Here's what I've been simultaneously planning/tying up loose ends for:

mid-August: Holland, Belgium, and Iceland (for the marathon!)
late August to early September: Orcas Island, Washington
mid-September to mid-October: India
late October: Japan
mid-November: Fernando de Noronha, Brasil

early February 2008: Carnaval - We're going to Machu Picchu!
early March 2008: Tanzania (for the Kilimanjaro marathon!) and South Africa
late March 2008: Mendoza, Argentina (for Dave's brother's wedding)

World, here I come.