I Made It!

I finally made it to Iceland as scheduled very early on Sunday morning. Unfortunately my bags were not so lucky. Even though they got a full day head start, they didn't make it until monday afternoon. So for the first day and a half I was wearing clothes donated by Silja, her mom and her younger sister. But that did not stop us getting stuck into all out tourist activities. After my early arrival on Sunday, I took a nap for a couple of hours then Silja took me on a tour of her town.

We dropped by the house of the President of Iceland. It was so cool, you are actually allowed park and walk around the grounds of his home. There is no security guard waiting to pull a gun or strip search you , no CIA, nothing. Weird, I can't think of any other country
that allows you get so close to the President.

Then we went to check out the local Viking village before we swung by Silja's mom's house for some homemade pizza complete with Dorrito's on top. Don't knock it till you've tried it. It was delicious. I also got to try her mom's homemade tequila. No joke, her mom makes her own tequila. I'm not a big tequila drinker, but it wasn't bad. It did definitely warm up my insides.

Monday we packed up our bikini's and headed off to the Blu Lagoon. This place was amazing. All the water pours up from miles down in the earth and is so blue, like a toothpaste type blue and its salty and hot, hot, hot. You could see the steam rising from the lagoon from miles away. Thats what the picture above is.

Here we are in the lagoon. The water, the lava rocks and the view was just amazing. The weather is a little cold right now, so it's weird to think that a country which can be so cold, produces these natural sources of such heat.

There is Silja putting some of the natural mud on her face, which is apparently great for the skin.

And since I'm a sucker for anything that will make my skin fabulous, I lashed it on too.

Ok, it looks funny now, but wait till you see me in a few days. I will be 16 all over again.

Monday was also the birthday of Silja's dad. So we swung by his house that evening for some yummy Icelandic fish soup, lots and lots of desserts and plenty of wine. Her dad has this wolf skin that he got as a gift a couple of years ago, so myself and Silja decided to have some fun with it. Like the uber rich ladies we are so ment to be.

See, I'm just ment to be a lady that wears fur. Just joking PETA.

Complete Disaster

I’m supposed to be en-route to Iceland right now. But where am I? Back at my house in Atlanta. The whole morning was a nightmare. I missed the first part of my flight from Atlanta to New York, not because my alarm did not go off, not because of traffic, not because of long lines at security, but because of a gate change.

Honestly, I am so completely frustrated right now. I was at the airport in plenty of time. Got checked in within minutes. Was through security in no time and all. Stopped off to grab some breakfast. Checked the information board to make sure the gate on my boarding pass, matched the one being announced. Then made my way to the “correct” gate.

I’m sitting there with a lot of time to spare, so I start reading my magazine. As it gets close to the time I should be boarding, I am looking up constantly to see if the staff is readying everything for a fast boarding process and an on time departure. They are not really, so I figure there is a short delay. Then I notice the inbound aircraft has just arrived and all the passengers are disembarking. Which means it will be another while before they tidy the plane and start our boarding. At this point my usual drill would be to get up, check the sign at my gate to confirm I am getting on the right flight. But I didn’t. I told myself to “relax, your fine, just wait to be called”. Eventually they did call but they were looking for all passenger headed for New Orleans to step forward. What?? Wait a second here. No, no, I’m going to New York, NOT New Orleans. I instantly panic. I run up to the counter and ask what happened to the New York flight. Dude casually informs me that it was moved to another gate. Are you shitting me??? Where? What gate? Tell me now? He tells me the gate and I immediately begin my sprint. I’m freaking out. Please be delayed, please be delayed, is all I’m repeating. But wouldn’t you know, the damn flight left on time, without me. Nightmare. Complete nightmare.

I now have to get to a help desk to try and get the next available flight to New York so I can try and make my connection to Iceland, but I know it’s a long shot. The desk can’t help me cos I booked it through an on-line company, so I need to call them directly. I do and when I tell you I was on the phone for just under 2 hours, trying to sort the whole mess out, I am not kidding. 2 hours. All flights to New York for the rest of the day are full and even if I could get to New York, the other flight to Iceland today, is sold out. The best they can do is book me for the following day, Saturday and on Saturdays there is only one flight to Iceland from New York and that’s in the evening, meaning I will not get to Iceland until Sunday morning. I am so mad. I’m mad at myself for not checking the sign at the gate and I’m mad as hell at the airlines or airport or who ever is responsible for announcing the gate change information. I am so mad. But mad will not solve anything, so I’m trying my best to relax. The situation is what it is; there is nothing I can do. But I’m not convinced. And I’m not calming down anytime soon. So as it stands right now, I am re-booked to be on the flight tomorrow. I will have missed 2 days of my trip cos of this fiasco, but at least I’m still going. It’s just so annoying. What else is annoying is that I don’t know where my bags are. I am hoping they are on their way to Iceland and waiting for me to get there. I expressed my concern to the Delta attendant and he seemed to be very calm and confidant that they will arrive on the flight I was suppose to be one and will be waiting patiently for my arrival. I hope he’s right, cos I managed to pack most of my wardrobe in those bags. So fingers crossed. Surely I am due a break at this point.

Catfight

Poor little Fintan has had a rough time of it lately. Last week saw yet another trip to the vet. Why? Cos he got in a catfight. For the past month or so there has been an awful bully of a cat roaming around our hood. He has tried to get into it with Fintan on 3 other occasions, but luckily I was around to step in, rescue my cat and chase the other bastard away.

However, I was working last Sunday and Husband was in charge. I had briefed him about the situation with what we think is a Stray Cat, cos he has no collar. He was told that when Fintan is outside, to keep an eye and ear out for any sign of this bully. At one point he went out to check on Fintan and saw that Stray Cat had once again shown up. The 2 cats were apparently locked into a staring competition for a while. But soon Fintan had had enough and decided to chase Stray Cat off his property. But Stray Cat was literally not going without the fight he had shown up for. So he stopped mid chase, turned around and began to chase Fintan. Fintan unfortunately did not make it to safe ground before Stray Cat rugby tackled him from behind and they got into fisty cuffs.

This situation is a huge example of how men and women think and act completely different. Husband is standing watching the whole show unfold. Things had to get pretty ugly before he stepped in and rescued Fintan. I was so mad. If it were me, things would not have got that far. I would have intervened during the staring competition. Stray Cat would have been chased away violently and Fintan would have been brought to a safe area. But no, Husband was of the opinion that Fintan needed this so he could sharpen his fighting skills and killer instincts and learn never to turn his back on his competitor. As a result of Husband's inaction, Stray Cat almost managed to take a big chunk out of Fintan’s arse. So once again, it was back to the vet for some wound cleaning and a stitching.

To add insult to injury the vet had to shave a patch of his fur so they could stitch him up. Fintan now has the shame of walking around with a chunk of his bare arse on display.
But at least he can own it. "Work it kitty".

Let The Games Begin

The 2008 Beijing Olympic Games is officially OPEN. Here is the US we are 12hrs behind China and I knew the ceremony began at 8pm (China time) so that meant 8am (US time). I got up at the crack of dawn to get my training session done (if your wondering why I’m still training, I’ll fill you in a little later, but I do have a good reason) so I could be back at the house to watch the show unfold.

But alas, showing it live so early in the morning was too “inconvenient” for the powers that be here in the US, so they will air a pre-recorded version at 8pm tonight. I was so pissed, especially since I was getting text messages from friends back in Ireland asking if I was watching. How come Europe has no problem showing it live?? Hmmmm???


Anyway, I know my attitude it a bit unsportsmanly but I just love watching the Opening Ceremonies. Even when I was a little girl, I would sit staring at the TV with an open mouth watching, waiting to see the Irish flag being marched into the stadium and all the Irish athletes from the various sports in tow. “There we are, there we are” I would shout out proudly to my mam and dad as I pointed over enthusiastically at the screen and waited for them to confirm that they were seeing it too. At that age I just hoped and wished that someday I too would have the honor of walking behind my flag at the Opening Ceremony of an Olympic Games.

Then in 2000, my moment came. I was at the Olympics. I remember the excitement and the nerves and the anticipation of waiting, waiting, waiting outside the Stadium in Sydney, for our turn to walk. It felt like hours and actually, I think it was. But it was worth every second. It was like nothing I ever experienced or felt before. So completely overwhelming. Seeing that packed out stadium, spotting Irish flags being waved frantically throughout the crowd. Hearing people shout out your country and your name. Getting text message from family and friends back home telling you that they saw you on TV and you looked great. It’s huge. In that moment it makes all the years of struggle and sacrifice, lactic, sweat and tears both on the training track and the competition arena, worth it. So very worth it.

That’s part of the reason I love to watch the opening ceremonies, cos I just know how exciting it is for all those athletes who have finally realized their dream of making an Olympics. They have reached the pinnacle of achievement in their sport and nothing can top that.
So best of luck to all my friends flying the flag for Ireland in Beijing. Especially my best friend Derval O’ Rourke who will be running the 100m hurdles Sunday week. I'll be watching, from Iceland, and I'll be cheering

Derval in Action.

The Land of Fire and Ice

I am so frigging excited right now. Husband heads off to Beijing on Saturday and while initially I’d been feeling a little left out of the whole Olympic party, I actually ended up with one of the best consolation prizes ever. I’M GOING TO ICELAND.

Can you believe it?? As my dedicated blog readers know, one of my best friends is Silja, who is Icelandic. And due to the fact that she is one of the most consistent “commenters” on the blog, some might be tempted to think she was my ONLY best friend. But that is not actually the case. I have no idea why my Irish entourage of BFF’s suddenly find themselves at a loss for words when they know their comments will be out there for the world read, but that’s neither here nor there right now, cos I’M GOING TO ICELAND.

Unfortunately Silja did not end up making the Icelandic Olympic Team, but more than that, she has made one of the hardest decisions all of us athletes face in our careers and that is the decision to retire. Yes, Silja is hanging up her spikes. For all those athletes out there who ever found themselves faced with making such a decision, you know how draining, emotional, soul wrenching and depressing the whole process can be. Part of me is kind of glad I wasn’t a blogger 2 years ago, when I found myself at the same point in my own athletic career, cos there would have been some scary looking blogs going on at that time. But Silja has made her bitter/sweet decision and it wasn’t easy.

We were talking on the phone the day after she decided to retire and out of the blue Silja said, “hey, why don’t you come to Iceland while Husband is in Beijing?” After pondering the offer for a few minutes, I thought, “why not?” and immediately we were both online checking out flights. Next thing you know, I’m booked and I’m headed for Iceland. Just like that.

I can’t wait to get there. I’m excited to see my friend and even more excited about exploring her country. I was just on the National Geographic website, I know, am such a geek, but I wanted to get some idea of what I might be in for once I’m there and here is a bit of what was mentioned:

“With its extreme landscapes—thundering waterfalls, raging glacial rivers, vast sand deserts, and simmering hot springs—Iceland has long attracted the more daring travel set.”

That’s me, the “daring travel set”. I was a little thrown by the mention of “vast sand deserts”, can that be right?? Maybe Silja would like to comment. Perhaps that’s the “Fire” part of Fire and Ice description? But I always thought that was in reference to volcanos. Oh well. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Friday week I leave and honestly, it can’t come quick enough. Who needs hot, sticky, polluted Beijing when you can have active volcano’s, geysers, mineral springs, glaciers and of course, a best friend to share it with. Bring it on. All of it. I'm so ready.

Road Frust'rage

The other day I was in such a hurry to get to where I was going. I wasn’t officially late, but if I didn’t keep the foot to the floor I was at serious risk. I was under pressure and I was driving like a girl under pressure. There was none of this slowing down and preparing to stop crap as the light went from green to amber. It was more of an accelerator type situation. I just could not afford to spare the extra few minutes waiting for my turn in the traffic light rotation. I really, really had to be somewhere. So as I’m pegging it up the road I begin to search the radio stations. I need music, but not any kind of music. I need music that is up beat, energetic and fast. Something that matches the frantic hurry I am in right now. I get Leona Lewis and her “Bleeding Love”. No, this is too damn slow and soppy. Next was Rihanna with her “Take a Bow”. Again, too damn slow, soppy and brings back way too many memories of cheating ex boyfriends. Bastards. All of them. Finally we come across Mr. Timberlake and “Sexy Back”. Oh my god, perfect. Full volume please so I can bounce and shake along with the song, but yet have my own awful tone deaf voice drowned out in the process.

Now everything is moving along well. I’m making great time and should be at my destination mere seconds after I’m suppose to be. That is until I make a left and find myself behind grandma. Not good. I thought it was a joke first and that maybe she just needed some time to get her speed up. But speed never happened for grandma. I’m not kidding when I tell you that we ranged from 25-27 miles per hour. There were a couple of down hill situations that pushed us up to about a 32, but this just made grandma waaaaay too nervous and so there was constant braking to help her regain control and ease her back down to her comfort zone of 25-27. I am getting really frustrated. I’m on the verge of raging. We’re going to be on this road for a while and the thoughts of doing this the whole way, is sending me over the edge.

I become aware that I am driving very close to the rear of her car. Somehow I am of the opinion that this will suddenly encourage a big surge forward on her part or maybe I think I can just tip her bumper slightly in an effort to nudge her on. Then I realize that this maybe scaring her slightly and as I’ve picked up from our downhill experiences, scaring grandma makes her brake and we absolutely do not want that. So I’m enduring. I’m enduring as best I can. I know there is a “Stop” sign not too far ahead and my hope once we get there, is that she is going a different way. However, once we arrive at the sign, the road beyond, the road I want to be on, is closed and there is a detour off to the left. Grandma indicates her intention to go left, so I immediately change my plan and head off to the right. I don’t care that it’s slightly longer. I don’t care that traffic volume is more. I just care about getting away from grandma.

However, grandma did end up having the last laugh, cos I got stuck at red light after red light and traffic upon traffic, resulting in a very late arrival at my final destination.

Final score: Grandma 1 : Shinks 0

I'm Married Again

Husband is back in town, yippee. It’s been 3 weeks since we’ve been in the same space together and before that, you may remember, I was in Ireland for 3 weeks, while he was at the US Olympic Trials. Once we both got back to Atlanta, we saw each other for about 3 or 4 days before he took off again. So that’s how much we seen of each other in the last 6 weeks, 3 or 4 days. So when he rolled up yesterday, it felt like some sort of reintroduction was necessary; “Hi, my name is Karen and you must beeeeee????, Oh that’s right, your my husband. How have you been?

But now he’s back and all mine for the next 9 days, sort of, before he heads off to the Olympics in Beijing. I say he’s “sort of” mine cos while he’s actually present in body, he is not in mind. These 9 days before his Olympic departure will have him mostly stuck up in his office dealing with athlete logistics, negotiating contracts, mapping out racing schedules and discussing appearance fees for those still competing after the Games, as well as last minute drama’s and panic attacks from some of his more higher maintenance clients. So not a lot of opportunities for date night.

Now I also have the challenge of surrendering my single behavior ways which I slip back into during his absence and learn to function as a couple again. But then in 9 days time, I must unlearn to function as a couple and slot back into flying solo. It’s all very confusing and yo-yo like and to a more mentally stable person, this kind of routine could just wreck your head. Luckily I am not very mentally stable so the imbalance throws me off for a while, but does not cripple me. There's a lot to be said for being "special".