Iceland review - 2019, Side 115

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Iceland Review
The history of Icelandic strength traces its roots
to the Vikings, who settled on the island in the 9th
century. Dr. Mathias Nordvig, of the University of
Colorado Boulder, has described the Norse settle-
ments in Iceland as exceptional, arguing that there
is a specific kind of mentality that leads an individ-
ual to seek out new lands as opposed to remaining
in “comfortable surroundings in Scandinavia.”
Nordvig maintains that a large portion of Iceland’s
early population was a little more opportunistic,
independent, and fortune-seeking than the aver-
age person, which may also explain why Icelandic
literature constitutes most of Old Norse literature:
these are the kind of qualities that inspire good sto-
ries. (Indeed, anyone who lived through the 2008
financial crisis in Iceland has learned that “oppor-
tunism” and “fortune-seeking” are part and parcel
of Icelandic national identity – along with a healthy
dose of the Dunning-Kruger effect.) The roughness
of life on the island during the Middle Ages meant
that locals placed a premium on grit and strength.
The Icelandic strongmen, I’m convinced, are tradi-
tionalists: a vestige of the island’s early settlers.
Before taking my leave of the gym, Theodór demon-
strates a few strongman exercises as I look on with
admiration. He’s not as strong as the Mountain,
not yet, but I’m told he shows great promise. He
tells me that he dreams of competing in the World’s
Strongest Man competition one day and then lets
out a self-deprecating laugh.
“I don’t know. That’s the dream. Truthfully, I just
want to be myself – someone I can be proud of.”
Two days later, curled up on the sofa watching a
documentary on Iceland’s lifting stones (stone
lifting was Iceland’s most popular sport for centu-
ries, someone claims), I learn that Hafþór has lost
his title of World’s Strongest Man, but somehow,
despite his injury, has placed third. To a person
who cut a beeline to the emergency room following
a mild case of carpal tunnel syndrome – this seems
insane.
Watching four-time World’s Strongest Man Magnús
Ver Magnússon waddle around on the screen (his
awkward gait likely the result of many painful inju-
ries), I find myself pondering, once again, what it is
that drives the Icelandic strongmen. Musing upon
the matter, one of the documentary’s interlocutors,
strongman Stefán Sölvi Pétursson, begins discuss-
ing a runic fragment of Hávamál (old Viking poems)
that is tattooed on his arm:
Cattle die
And kinsmen die,
Thyself too
Soon must die,
But one thing never,
I ween, will die;
Fair fame of one
Who has earned.
He pauses.
“It basically says that everything has its time,
everything dies, but if you make a good reputation
in life, it will go on … that’s what I strive for.”
Stefán’s words bring to mind another poem,
written by Icelandic poet and notorious pessimist
Steinn Steinarr:
Sown into every man’s dream
Are the seeds of his undoing.
I think Steinn was on to something.
Photos taken at 2019 Westfjord Viking strongman
competition.
The Icelandic strongmen, I’m convinced,
are traditionalists: a vestige of the
island’s early settlers.