As I was sipping my 4th Glenfiddich 12 from the tiny airline bottle (I pretend I am a giant whenever i hold those bottles), it hit me. What the fuck am I doing? I am supposed to run a full, trail marathon in 7 days.
Why am I in an airplane, drinking Scotch?
I made a new friend, Ellen K, who was introduced to me as a crazy (in a very admirable way) person on Christmas eve, 2015. One of the first things she asked me to do was to go check this site out (Fire & Ice). I did, that night, and thought – whoa! I must do this!
Off to a vegan yoga retreat 2 days later, where I was surrounded by beautiful ladies, I run my big mouth, announcing my plans to run 250 KM, in 6 days, with all the required living supplies on my back, in the northern part of Iceland (yeah, the country) through unbelievably tough terrains that includes a (active)volcano.
Fuck! Now I have to do it!
Back on mainland, signed up for core training with a personal trainer, and a nutrition consultant, in a sad attempt to minimize the (likely)scenario of me running to my death in Iceland.
4 months later, I have not lost a single pound, my body fat % is the same as when I started the training and my gut still enters a room a couple of seconds before my body. I needed to do something to break out of the rut. What do we, as “westerners” do?
Go to India.
Now you know why.
I did not run that marathon.
But I am running that multi-stage ultra in Iceland, late summer 2016. Hence this long story.