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.

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.

SK500

After a full day in the British capital – with a research visit to the Imperial War Museum, lunch at the Mandarin Oriental Mayfair, and an absolutely miserable 2.5 km “Quadzilla” park jog through Berkeley Meadows – Anna and I caught the morning SAS flight back to Copenhagen.

Despite leaving Star Alliance last autumn, SAS still grants its elite members access to the Lufthansa Senator Lounge in Terminal 2. With Lufthansa’s own flights to Munich and Frankfurt already departed, Anna and I had the lounge more or less to ourselves. While it may not quite reach the standards of Qantas or Cathay over in Terminal 3, it remains one of my favourite lounges.

Lunch at the Mandarin Oriental

About a year ago, Mandarin Oriental opened their second hotel in London and, having read all about it in Condé Nast Traveller (which, incidentally, has its editorial office just across Hanover Square), I was intrigued to check it out, especially its rooftop bar with expansive views over central London.

With double rooms going for £1,200 (sic!) tonight, Anna and I decided that it made far more sense to stay at the Ibis Budget next to Heathrow for £50 and spend a tiny fraction of the difference on lunch and champagne at the Mandarin Oriental’s 12th-floor “Abar”. While I opted for the Salmon Sashimi Don, Anna went all in with the Wagyu Burger. Both dishes were truly divine, perhaps not surprising given that the place has already bagged a Michelin star.

Afterwards, we popped into Hagen Espresso Bar next door for a stellar caffeine fix and a few posters of the sandy Danish west coast which was just the mental preparation we needed before taking a summer-warm Piccadilly Line underground train back to reality in Hounslow West.

Morning departure

When in Copenhagen last week, Anna discovered that the Imperial War Museum is hosting a special exhibition on the Japanese “comfort women” system which seemed highly relevant to her research. As such, she decided to make a last-minute surprise trip across the North Sea today. With roundtrip tickets available for 1,500 SEK by combining Ryanair and SAS, I could not resist tagging along for a spontaneous day in London.

Now at Landvetter, we are waiting to board our flight to Stansted. My legs are still absolutely smashed after Alpaca, so I am hoping to go for a gentle recovery jog this afternoon to help ease out some of the muscle soreness.

Lift us up where we belong

For the second time, I took on the brutal course known as The Alpaca Race on Hisingen. Designed to mimic the elevation profile of the Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc, each loop is officially 10.6 kilometres (though actually a bit longer) with over 600 metres of elevation gain. Five loops mean 55 kilometres of running and more than 3,000 metres of climbing.

Taking bus 17 from Munkebäckstorget shortly before 6 am, I met up with the 12 other runners attempting the five-loop version. Seven others had already been out on the course since the night before, trying to complete ten loops. Of those, only one man would ultimately make it. No woman has yet completed ten loops, which probably says a lot about how tough this course is. When the gun went off, I felt strong after a recovery week with only a few dozen kilometres logged. I completed the first loop in 1 hour and 47 minutes, with my quads still able to absorb the downhills. By the third loop, though, they were already sore. My spirits were lifted briefly when Eddie made a surprise appearance, handing me a Huel energy bar.

Throughout the course, signs marked with alpacas offer encouragement – or mockery – depending on your state of mind. Phrases like “What you don’t have in your legs, you need to have in your head”, “Giddy up”, and “Lift us up where we belong” greet you at critical points, especially when yet another brutal climb begins just after a soul-destroying descent.

Each loop includes two super-technical segments where you are basically scrambling. Rain during the first two hours made the rocks slick, though they eventually dried out as the day wore on. With the 12-hour cutoff looming, I pushed myself hard on the final loop. Even so, it took 2 hours and 46 minutes – but I made it, crossing the finish line with just 13 minutes to spare.

Manon les Suites

Located next to Ørstedsparken in central Copenhagen, Manon les Suites is part of the Guldsmeden group, with boho-chic hotels stretching from Reykjavik to Bali and Menton. And checking in last night, I truly felt worlds away from the traffic on nearby H.C. Andersens Boulevard.

Staying in room 213 next to the highly instagrammable “junglefish” pool, I ordered their signature “Tea time in Bali” cocktail with cachaça and lemon while Anna opted for the “Citrus Dream” mocktail. Sipping away on our drinks between lapses in the pool, it almost felt like we were back in Ubud, minus the jetlag.

Making the most of our mini-weekend escape, we kicked off the morning with a city jog to The Union Kitchen, where the perennial Scandinavian language confusion turned “salmon” into “ham”. Even if I typically prefer Eggs Royale to Eggs Benedict, it was still perfect and such a true escapist treat before taking the train back home across the bridge.

Gaza Grill

At least if Svenska Dagbladet is to be trusted, there are some signs that more people in Israel are waking up to the realities of what is going on in Gaza, and the unimaginable suffering imposed on the civilian population there.

Far away in Nørrebro, Anna and I just had an incredible dinner at the Palestinian restaurant Gaza Grill, with the kind of Middle Eastern fare that I have come to love during my travels to the region. I had the chicken sharwarma bowl with bulgur, pomegranate dressing and muhammara while Anna had the halloumi salad with za'atar. If ever in the neighbourhood, I cannot recommend it enough.