El Cortejo

From the high plains and intense sunshine of western Argentina, I found a half bottle of Sauvignon Blanc with a double meaning (as in both courtship and procession), perfectly suited for Tove Folkesson’s latest book Badort. Co-written with her wife Hanna and set in late 1930s Borgholm, the book immediately caught my eye at the library yesterday, and now I cannot put it down.

Otherwise, the day began with a run up Brudarebacken together with Anna. I managed a new personal record with a grade-adjusted pace of 3:19 min/km, still a long way off the course record, but then again, that record was set by someone whose profile bio simply reads “Olympian athlete,” so maybe I should not feel too bad.

Beau Marin

Two months before setting sail with my dad on the Queen Mary 2, I was finally able to upload the last insurance details – and with that, we are officially ready to go. Believe it or not, this will be my first time aboard a cruise ship, though the QM2 is technically more of an ocean liner one might add. Either way, I am very much looking forward to the journey, not least from a culinary perspective. To get into the right maritime mood, I made pan-seared salmon with a creamy avocado sauce and asparagus, paired with a chilled can of “Beau Marin” from the Loire Valley.

I have made a conscious decision not to book any internet package while onboard the QM2 in order to be more present in the moment. But I promise to update the blog once I am back ashore in the UK. With everything currently unfolding in the Middle East, including Qatar closing its airspace in anticipation of an Iranian attack against the Al Udeid air base, I find myself doom-scrolling news at a pace not seen since the early days of the pandemic. Perhaps it is time to disconnect a little already, and give some more attention to my research.

Run up a hill, swim in a lake

Waking up to the disturbing news that Trump has followed through on his long-standing threat to bomb nuclear installations in Iran, I was at least heartened to see Sweden’s former prime minister Carl Bildt clearly denounce the action as a blatant violation of international law. I remember seeing the city lights of Tehran at night as Anna and I flew to our new home in Hong Kong in 2011 and daytime flights over the snowy mountains of Shiraz in 2015. The futility of all our conflicts, our tragic inability to see the bigger picture and the hope that could be humanity.

Trying to shake the gloom, I went up Brudarebacken in my old Hoka Torrents with my legs feeling a bit heavy after yesterday’s Alpaca hike. 200 meters of elevation gain later, I jumped into the lake below, swam a few hundred meters in the cold water before heading back home to make a failed attempt at Poffertjes with blueberries. 

Alpaca hike

Over lunch yesterday, Eddie suggested that he wanted to hike the Alpaca course. Given that the route is designed to mimic the elevation profile of the Ultra-Trail du Mont Blanc – and includes some fairly technical sections – I was more than a little sceptical. Still, I was happy to see his enthusiasm for a serious physical challenge. After all, this is the same kid who, back in February, spent a week doing a full hour per day on the stair climber. When Eddie commits to something, he really goes all in.

We stopped for waffles at Slätta Damm about halfway through, and despite the heat and steep climbs, Eddie kept up a steady pace, ultimately completing the whole loop in 3 hours and 7 minutes. Now, of course, William wants his turn, and with an Alpaca run already scheduled with Elin in mid-July, it looks like I will be racking up quite a few Alpaca loops before the year is over.

Young Folks

Everywhere from Aloft Haidian in Beijing to W Seminyak on Bali, the same whistling song seemed to be playing through the summer of 2011. Back then, I never managed to identify it, and over the years, I have only heard it on a few rare occasions.

But today, thanks to ChatGPT, I finally tracked it down as “Young Folks” by the Swedish indie band Peter Bjorn and John:

“While older, this song had a very iconic whistling melody and remained popular in lounges, cafes, and hotels well into the 2010s, especially in trendy or upscale places”

Listening to it now, I am instantly transported across time and space. Before being thrown back to the Pacific, I had spent the afternoon hiking with the kids in Kielers Park and made sweet potatoes with mint and feta for dinner – another throwback to summer adventures past.

Espresso smoothie

Waking up to blue skies, I spent the first couple of hours working on my various article projects before taking William out for 5k of running and walking around the block. Once back home, I decided to test how well my legs had recovered from the recent ultra adventures by going flat out – covering the first kilometre in 3 minutes and 54 seconds.

With that, my earlier concerns about running fast in the Asics Novablast were dispelled, as they proved more than up to the task (more so than Rasmus, one might add). Completing the 5k in 21 minutes and 39 seconds, I returned home with that satisfying feeling of having truly exerted myself – and of fully deserving an espresso smoothie with banana, dates, and yoghurt.

Ran to Japan

Unlike during the pandemic, I now spend very little time on YouTube. The days of following Seth James DeMoor’s daily updates from the Colorado trails or watching Ben Parkes race faster than I ever will in his signature pink gloves feel like a distant memory.

Lately, however, I have found myself drawn into the world of “Ran to Japan”, a channel with the fantastically counterintuitive motto: “Train harder, not smarter.” It documents a British runner living out the Japanese “running monk” lifestyle – waking up at 4:45 am and pounding 250 kilometres of asphalt per week. Through this strict regime, he is fast approaching the magic 2 hour and 10 minutes barrier in marathon running with his next race being the Gold Coast Marathon in Brisbane in early July.

In contrast, my own running has hit something of a plateau. No matter how many hours I seem to train, there is little visible progress, only the psychological stress of consistently finishing at the back of the pack in races that stretch the limits of my capacity. And yet, I am still here. Still running. Still showing up. Today that meant 11k of early morning recovery with Anna in Skatås, a cold swim in Härlanda Tjärn, and then 10k of indoor rowing at the gym while Eddie impressively powered through 50 minutes on the stair climber. Not quite 250k a week – but, perhaps, something equally enduring in its own way.

Tjolöholm

Having booked a small Audi A1, I was unexpectedly upgraded by Sixt to a large Lynk & Co hybrid SUV for Eddie’s and my weekend trip to Kalmar. Since I did not have to return the car until Monday evening, I decided to make full use of our rental wheels with an extra excursion to Tjolöholm Castle together with Anna’s mother and Eddie.

Located about 40 kilometres south of Gothenburg, Tjolöholm is one of the last castles built in Sweden. Inspired by Tudor architecture, the manor sits beautifully on a windswept peninsula and even served as the backdrop for Lars von Trier’s Melancholia back in 2011. Far less disconcerting than the film, our visit was filled with cake and a wetsuit swim in the Kungsbacka Fjord. Feeling much better in my legs after the swim, I spontaneously signed up for the Malkars 21k on 28 June, so now I have another race to look forward to.

Poppy fields

Two years after my last attempt, I returned to the northernmost tip of Öland for another 50 kilometres of learning humility. In 2023, I had gone out far too hard, trying to stay with the elites, only to find myself completely burnt out by the 30k mark. I had to walk much of the remainder, humbled and exhausted.

Determined not to repeat the same mistake, I set out yesterday with a modest target: a steady 5:20 min/km pace. My heart rate was a bit high – hovering around 150 bpm – but I felt strong. The course, a mix of bike paths, sandy beaches, and the occasional patch of rocks, carried me to the halfway point in Byxelkrok in 2 hours and 14 minutes. At that point, I was still on track for a 4:39 finish.

Crossing the poppy fields of Neptuni åkrar under a merciless sun and with no wind in sight, I still managed to hold a 5:30 pace, confident that I would stay well ahead of my five-hour goal.

But by the time I reached Grankullavik, the cost of last Sunday's brutal Alpaca run – five loops, 56 kilometres, and 3,400 metres of elevation – came due. My leg muscles were toast. No matter how hard I tried to push, all I achieved was a higher heart rate and a slower pace. By the full marathon distance, I was done. Again. All I could do was to walk it in.

Nauseous and defeated by the heat, I crossed the finish line in 5:38, eight minutes faster than last year, but still a bitter disappointment. And yet, I loved it. The race, the exposure, the strange beauty of northern Öland, there is something about this place that keeps calling me back.

Road 27

Though I have taken the regional train between Kalmar and Gothenburg countless times, today marked my first full drive along Road 27 and Road 25. En route, Eddie and I stopped at the Kronoberg Castle Ruins outside Växjö, a crumbling medieval fortress overlooking Helgasjön, where we also caught a glimpse of the 19th-century steamer S/S Thor and paused for ice cream in the sun, reflecting on the fact that 41 years have passed since my last visit.

Arriving in Kalmar, I jumped straight into the Baltic Sea. According to my Suunto, the water temperature was just 17 degrees – brisk, but not unbearable. With sunshine forecast for the coming days, I expect that number to climb quickly.