Keeping the Stress in Travel

I wonder when I'll stop having these bouts of anxiety. So this time it hit me somewhere over Canada about the time "Deadpool 2" ended and I had to go in search of something else to watch. With my attention freed up for the first time in a few hours, I had nothing else to think about. What in the f*** was I doing going to Iceland? To run? For a brief moment I doubted my actual sanity. What had I been thinking? Of course the pre-flight graphic on the video screen that touted Iceland as the third windiest place in the world - something I hadn't realized nor researched (much like the seven mountains in Bergen) - made me pucker a little but the thought - the actual thought - that I'd somehow f***ed up didn't occur to me until much later. More than I can even recollect ran across my addled brain - in no particular order -

• You checked a bag?!? What in the f*** did you do that for? What if it doesn't show up? What if the collection of the bag slows you down? Didn't your experience in Toronto teach you anything? (My flight to the states got delayed and I chose to stay in Canada rather than wait on a flight that may or may not have left that night. I had to go through customs twice and then move heaven and earth to find out what United/Air Canada had done with my bag overnight. It. Was. A. Mess. That I vowed never to repeat. Until the pretty Icelandair rep offered me a complementary checked bag. F***ing pretty women. Anywho, the point was moot by the time I started stressing about it. My suitcase was either on the plane or it wasn't (My running gear was safely in my carry-on in the overhead bin, FYI). Regardless, I stressed until I pulled it off the belt at Keflavik. 

• How are you getting from the airport to your hotel? It's not right down the road and there's no T-Bana. Let's not forget I'd done my research; I just didn't finalize the purchase of a ticket. Shuttle buses - lots of them - make runs - lots of them - from the airport to Reykjavik. And get this - my hotel would be one of the stops. What was I worried for? What if I couldn't find the buses? What if I got on the wrong one? God knows I needn't have stressed. The Flybus counter - the vendor I'd researched - was blatantly obvious in the terminal. As for getting on the wrong bus... They all go to Reykjavik. 

• How was I going to spend the day between the shuttle dropping me off at my hotel and  my room being available? And what if the hotel didn't have luggage storage? I'd end up toting my f***ing suitcase through Reykjavik for literally hours. Regardless of bag in tow or not, I was going to have a good six-ish hours to kill. Alright, look, kinda my bad on this one. I'm usually a better planner. Generally, I spend a few minutes the night before planning my tomorrow. I failed to do that. It's not like the plane out of MSP wasn't delayed more than an hour giving me plenty of time to pull my book out and high-light a few things. But no... I figured I'd wing it. Which sounded really good until "Deadpool 2" ended. Then I was like, "Sh** balls! What am I going to do?" Arguably I'd made a plan a couple months before when I'd read - diligently, I might add - the Reykjavik guide book I'd bought. In Vegas. In May. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Nonetheless, I quickly figured it out in my hotel lobby and passed a decent day at the Settlement Exhibition and the National Museum. Ask me a question about origins of Iceland and its history and I'll probably come close to getting it right (Seriously, don't ask. I paid attention but not enough to win an Icelandic history-bee). If the wind hadn't frozen my face, I might have tacked on another museum or two before running for the warmth of my hotel. 

• The race on Saturday morning. Where's the starting line? And how I'm going to get there? Once upon a time - months ago, mind you - I looked it up on Google Maps. Where I think the starting line is is a hike from my hotel. If it wasn't a half marathon, I'd run there.What's a few more miles when you're only doing a 5k or 10k? I'm not sure of much, but I know for dead certain that I will not be running there on Saturday morning. I still haven't rectified this one. It's only Thursday so I still have a little time. I considered renting a car....but my budget is already on it's way to being f***ed (I'm currently drinking a shockingly small and shockingly expensive cup of coffee...and that's just one example of the excess I've already encountered in the past not even eight hours since we landed). Renting a car isn't going to happen. Public transportation? You mean like a bus? Oh lord... Hang on a sec.

• Buses... I am seriously not good at them. The whole find-the-right-stop-and-route-number-then-do-it-all-over-again-when-you-need-to-transfer thing...yeah...it's a bit overwhelming and anxiety provoking. Sure, if I gave it a try I'd learn the ins-and-outs and my confidence would grow (Once upon a time I didn't know how to navigate the T-Bana in Stockholm and now I can pretty much do it in my sleep). That's just not going to happen before Saturday. Before a race I have a ton of things I'm already borderline panicked about - weather, muscle cramps, a breakfast malfunction, etc. I don't need to add bus riding to that list. I've got twenty-four hours to nail it down. I know I don't sound too worried, but as soon as I get done writing this, I'll probably end up in the fetal position. 

• It's going to be f***ing cold. Not like middle-of-winter-blizzard-conditions-in-Antarctica cold, but colder than I'd felt in like....well....maybe...ever. Ok, at least since that crazy windy day in Copenhagen last March or the day I nearly slid down one of Bergen's seven mountains at the beginning of April. Since then I'd been running, walking, playing tennis, living in hot soup. Warm, humid conditions day and night. Granted there are places in the world hotter and more humid so I could have been more ill-prepared, but f*** me...... I thought about what I'd packed (in my checked bag) and realized I was going to be woefully underdressed (If the bag didn't appear, I was going to be beyond f***ed). I was right on this one. Today in Reykjavik it's 34F with 17mph winds resulting in a windchills around 23F. I don't think I could have packed appropriate clothing....because I don't own appropriate clothing. Perhaps that's why I'm writing at a coffee place rather than hiking around the city. Christ on a popsicle stick....

• What if no one speaks English? Turns out this one is absolutely ridiculous. I know all my travels have been to countries that pride themselves on their English fluency, but Iceland - at least the part of Reykjavik I've been do - is even more chock full of English speakers. In fact, between tourists and service professionals, I've heard very little Islandic and a helluva lot of English. So much so that I've got my music on extra loud as I write this. 

But I love travel. I do. I promise I do. Even in near-winter conditions. The stress is part of what I love. It's like climbing when you inch along the wall hoping you reach the next hold before you barn-door and fall eight feet to the mat. It's the thrill and the challenge that keeps me almost not coming back. In the end, I always do. I always go again, stress a little, fall a little, and inch my way toward actual confidence. Travel works the same. Iceland was a new destination and I usually try not to start my travels somewhere new. I like to ease into the anxiety by going someplace I've been before. That's why I've been to Copenhagen a bunch of times. It's well within my comfort zone (Well, that and it's a comparatively cheap entry point into Europe). 

W all know how much I LOVE my comfort zone.  This trip I left it somewhere in downtown Minneapolis which is why I spent far too long stressing out over Canada  and the North Atlantic last night. Not surprisingly,  it's all worked out so far. Like it always seems to. Meaning I spend A LOT of time stressing for absolutely no reason. 

Of course, Saturday morning is still swinging in the breeze. It could be my first true stress-fest-f***-up. I'll have to let you know. Otherwise, with the exception of a frozen face and superlatively expensive coffee, Reykjavik is going superbly thus far. Wish you were all here to enjoy it with me. 

No, I don't. 

That would be way too stressful for my introversion to deal with. 

***That said, if you have any ideas for Saturday AM, I'll make an exception. Go ahead and get a move on. Only so many flights to Iceland between now and then.***