Cantucci

Overnight, the rain began to fall. Feeling fatigued, I stayed curled up on the sofa while Anna ran 18 kilometres alone through the forest. Watching the fourth episode of Sverige och kriget with William, we followed how the tide of the war turned after Stalingrad and how Sweden eventually decided to halt the German transit traffic. I also learned something new: that the harbour in Gothenburg was used for exchanging prisoners of war between Germany and the UK.

With some luck, both the sun and my energy will return by mid next week, when we are planning to rent a car and drive down to Kivik and Österlen for a retrospective exhibition of the late photographer Elisabeth Ohlson, who sadly passed away last year. Afterwards, the plan is to show the kids Sandhammaren and stay aboard a sailing boat in Ystad for one night

Marrakech

Sixteen years ago tonight, I boarded the Moroccan Railways (ONCF) night train from Tangier Ville to Marrakech, a city I never quite left in my imagination. Departing at 9 pm in a four-berth shared couchette, it was a far cry from the Oriental Desert Express featured in Spectre. Still, there was something deeply romantic about riding into the red desert under cover of night and waking up 571 kilometres to the south with the sun rising majestically over the Atlas Mountains.

After yesterday’s great maritime adventure, which concluded with some of the best pizza in modern history at Bulldog Kitchen, today has been far less eventful. A short Active Learning Classroom (ALC) safari in the morning was followed by an hour of light weight training at Nordic Wellness Olskroken. With my running on hold, I am thankful to have no fever or other symptoms beyond the red rash – “erythema migrans”, assuming it is indeed Lyme disease. Either way, taking it easy for now feels like the wise thing to do.

Seaside

Lyme borreliosis

Given how much time I spend in the forest – and the number of ticks I have already pulled off this summer – it was probably just a matter of time before my luck ran out. With symptoms worsening in my left leg, I went to the local clinic yesterday and was prescribed a ten-day course of antibiotics for suspected Lyme borreliosis.

With that, I have decided to pause my running for now. Looking back on 51 hours of training and three races in June, a bit of rest seems well-deserved anyway. Hopefully, I will be back stronger by the end of the month as I gear up for that 100-mile ultra along Sweden’s West Coast.

Rendezvous

While helping my mother clean out the basement in Kalmar, I found an old black-and-white postcard from Versailles with a Paris street address and the words “twelve o'clock” written on the back. Looking up the address now, I see that it is next to a Korean restaurant called 'In Seoul' and just a few hundred meters from Gare du Nord, perhaps once the location of one of the many two-star hotels that dotted the area in the 1970s. 

Over a glass of Blason de Bourgogne Mâcon-Villages from southern Burgundy, the mystery of the French postcard deepens – as it often does on Rawls & Me – when things vanish into the “early haze of the seventies sun” and the synchronicity of long-gone trail runs around Lafayette Reservoir.

On the train yesterday, I managed to submit the second of the two reviews I had promised before summer. Still, a few more days of work remain before I can finalize the aviation paper. Even if I am already officially on vacation, there is enough rain in the forecast to make me optimistic about finishing the paper before August rolls around. For now, I took full advantage of the beautiful summer weather and brought the kids up to Floda for a hike along Säveån.

Last box

Eleven years after moving home from Korea, I finally unpacked the last cardboard box from “Korean Post”, long forgotten in my parents’ basement as life kept shifting, first to Umeå, then to Gothenburg. Inside: a worn copy of The Serious Hiker’s Guide to Hong Kong, a Conrad Maldives luggage tag, and a scattering of other mementos that made the whole experience feel like unsealing a time capsule from another life.

Otherwise, as I take the train back across the country, I can look back on 48 hours filled with a full marathon distance of running, an epic tandem bike ride with my mother, and lots of cold water swimming in the Baltic.

Recovery day

Despite sharing a hearty Argentinian steak and a bottle of Malbec with my childhood friend Johanna at “Stekhuset” last night, I felt surprisingly fresh this morning and ready for a recovery run along Kalmarsund. Once at Stensö udde, I had the place to myself and could jump into the water for a few hundred meters of swimming before returning to my parents’ house for coffee in the garden, with eight kilometres logged in total and another 70k week behind me.

Later, I took out the red tandem bike from the garage and rode with my mother down to Hossmo, where Google had promised an open farmhouse café. Sadly, it turned out to be closed. Not to be disheartened, we cycled back into town and out to Lotsutkiken instead, where we had a lovely lunch overlooking the castle and the whitecaps.

Malkars 21k

Leaving a rainy Gothenburg behind, I took train 327 across the country yesterday, with a special detour via Alingsås and Herljunga due to the rail construction going on in Almedal this summer. Being super productive with my research on the train, I arrived in Kalmar five hours later where I was met by my dad who followed me up to Verkstadsgatan and the starting line of Malkars 21k, a half marathon race that I was doing for the third time in my life.

Determined not to repeat past mistakes, I started conservatively, settling into a 4:25 min/km pace behind a runner in a blue “IFK Umeå” shirt. To my surprise, I felt fully in control. Passing Lillviken and the 5k mark at 21:56, I was reminded why I love road racing. Spotting my mother cheering from her bike gave me an extra boost of energy. At 10k, out on Ängö, my watch showed 44:29, still on pace for a new personal record.

But by 15k, nearing the turning point by Berga Centrum, reality set in. My heart rate hovered around 180 bpm, and I began feeling a sharp pressure in my chest. I took a brief walk after the aid station, just a few meters, but it was enough to know the PR would not happen today.

I crossed the finish line in 1:42, seven minutes off my best, but with no regrets. I had run the race I had in me. On the course, I chatted with an older gentleman running in the M75 class who, to my amazement, finished five seconds ahead of me. That, honestly, is more impressive than any personal record. And as for the course, Kalmar is always Kalmar.

BBQ season

With Anna’s brother visiting for the weekend - part professional bodybuilder, part iron ore miner - there is little doubt that the BBQ season is back in full swing. Between the protein-packed portions and tales from deep underground, the grill has been working overtime. Smoke in the air, cold drinks in hand, and the unmistakable feeling that summer has finally arrived.

Streaks

Today, Strava rolled out a new feature that displays your training activity week by week. To my surprise, I have managed to log at least one workout every week for 339 consecutive weeks – or roughly 6.5 years. With this afternoon’s rowing session and some weight training at NW Järntorget, the streak now stands at 4,200 activities in total, which is frankly a bit wild when you think about it.

Over an espresso lemonade at Da Matteo, I found myself still grappling with my new manuscript on pathways to sustainable aviation. And as if the pre-holiday pressure was not enough, I somehow ended up accepting two new reviewer invitations – one of them from Global Environmental Politics, no less. Then again, if one only agreed to peer review when one “had the time”, not much reviewing would ever get done.