Running in Reykjavik

After we finished recording late last month, I had the pleasure of heading home to beautiful Hawaii, racking up the frequent flier miles as I went. As such, I had a return journey to Boston longer than those of my fellow Dins. My itinerary: a van to the Honolulu airport, plane to LAX and red-eye to Boston, and a T-ride into Cambridge where I desperately tried to adjust to the time delay as I spent some quality time with my sister in Somerville. We had a fantastic performance in Annenberg Hall as our US sendoff - a receptive crowd, generous honorarium, and delicious three-course meal (highlight: lobster tail). But soon we hauled our luggage to the T, boarded a Megabus at South Station, and piled into Sam Schoenberg's house around 5am, resting as much we could in the little darkness we had left. In the morning, we performed Din Clown Car, cramming twelve bodies and all our luggage into a 14-passenger van to JFK. Our driver was so flabbergasted he took a picture of us after we got to the terminal. And finally, the flight to Keflavik and van to our homey hostel (the wise viking driver brought a generous trailer for all our stuff).

But as much as I love hopping from one airport to the next, there is one form of transportation I love above all others: running. Having fulfilled my pedestrian dream of completing the Boston Marathon this April, I have set my sights on a new goal: run in every city on tour. Before crashing on my bed last night, I made plans with Kirk and Brett to grab some pre-exercise breakfast at 8:30am, then run into the city to check out some sights.

Although Iceland's weather has not lived up to its frigid name, the island met us with a bit of a drizzle as we headed out this morning. With only a slight idea of where to go, Brett, Kirk and I navigated mostly by landmarks, as the architecturally unique "Pearl" stands on a hill less than a mile from our hostel.

We took a look inside, as well as atop the observation deck (where Kirk felt the need to do a lap around the dome itself). With the town of Reykjavik clear below us, we decided to descend into Iceland's capital.

Even at 10am on a Saturday morning, there were few people on the streets and hardly any signs of life. We trotted down whatever road looked "main-street-y-ish" as I so eloquently put it. Seeing a large stone church in the distance, we decided to make our way over, after which we would return home.

The Lutheran church, with a statue of Leif Erickson in front, struck me as of the most elegantly simple and holy places I have ever seen. Here we spotted a few fellow tourists, some speaking French, others English or Icelandic. Inside we warmed up, the temperature not rising as the day progressed. There we saw an enormous organ, the only sign of overt affluence amidst the minimalist interior.

Ready for a warm shower, we headed back the way we came. Cutting through a park we had originally run past, we noticed a rather fun looking jungle gym that begged for some of those hilarious Din antics.




Back at the hostel, we finished our workout with situps and push-up ladders, at last rewarding ourselves with hot showers. We took trains, planes, cars, and buses to get to Iceland. We may be thousands of miles from home in a place new to all of us, but on this volcanic rock I feel more at home than ever running with the best of friends.