After my run in Reykjavik, I drove toward Krauma, chasing the promise of relaxation in Europe’s most powerful hot spring, Deildartunguhver. As I left Reykjavik, the Iceland I had been promised began to unfold—lush green meadows, towering mountains, landscapes so epic they looked unreal. Maybe it was the double shot of espresso I’d had before the run, or maybe it was Sabrina Carpenter’s song “Espresso” blasting in my ears, but I was feeling unstoppable. Sunset wasn’t until midnight, sunrise would be at 3 AM, and I had all the time in the world. Sleep had to wait.

Krauma temperature? A casual 100°C (212°F). That’s right—boiling. The kind of water that doesn’t just warm you up; it threatens to cook you alive. Thankfully, Krauma had figured out how to make the experience slightly less lethal. They mixed the scalding geothermal water with glacial runoff, creating five perfectly warm baths and one devilishly cold plunge, which, I later discovered, existed only to remind you how much you love warmth.

I slipped into the first hot pool and immediately felt like a god. Muscles relaxed. Stress evaporated. Then, I made the mistake. I decided to try the cold plunge. The moment my body hit the water, every survival instinct I had went on high alert. My brain shut down. My lungs forgot how to function. My ancestors rolled over in their graves, questioning how their descendant, the proud product of a warm African climate, had ended up here doing this nonsense. For 60 seconds, I entered another dimension. I was so cold I couldn’t move, couldn’t think. And yet—those were some of the most euphoric 60 seconds of my life. Every ounce of stress left my system. Pure, clean, Nordic bliss. The only feeling that comes remotely close? That descent from Nederland (a mountain town) into Boulder, Colorado on my road bike at 60 miles per hour. That same mix of terror and exhilaration.

As I sat back in the warm water, steam rising against the Icelandic sky, I realized something:
The best things in life are a balance of extremes—hot and cold, pain and pleasure, running and recovery, questionable decisions and unforgettable experiences. And if I ever needed a reminder of that…Well, there was always the cold plunge. And so, obviously, I went for it again.

The Icelandic Experience | Iceland

Running Through Fire and Ice | Iceland

Reykjavik | Iceland