Arriving into Keflavik is everything that Heathrow isn't. Heathrow, where I've spent most of my day, it seems, has everything. Keflavik appears on first sight to have nothing...except a magical beauty. When you fly in here, you know you're coming somewhere special. I don't know anywhere quite like it. First timers look out of the window expecting Reykjavik proper. But no, this is Reykjavik's Luton, except with nothing in between. "Is this is it?", they say. Last time I was here was for the Reykjavik Marathon. That was special too.
This time I've come to see some new stuff that can hopefully help the athletes we're working with. GB cyclist Jody Cundy can spin out to 186rpm on the track and make 46mph. You need to know your prosthesis will stay on during those conditions, especially when 2012 Gold is expected. I saw Victoria Pendleton, who lives near by, last time I was at the Velodrome, doing speed drills behind the derny. The speed is incomprehensibly fast. It's simply stunning. Insane.

Pete has a new toilet. It's a Triumph, in more ways than one. Click on and zoom in. I don't really have a running or vaguely sporting reference here, but have to show this photo. I'm happy to report the flush is mighty. Fit for purpose. I, on the other hand, am not. I could say my running has gone down the pan. My running situation is crap. I saw the big man yesterday, who has now sent me for a scan. Another week to wait...then what? In the mean time, still no running. No shoes packed in my bag for this trip. It's hard to be positive. I am trying, but I am missing what is clearly a big part of my life. Maybe I didn't realise it before. I do now.