Row with a view

After seven hours of solid sleep on the white sofa from Önsvala, I was hoping to catch the last of the unusually strong solar storm, but dawn arrived before I got to see any northern lights. Running out to Kinbergsudde, just as I did in December, I was very tempted to jump right into Kalmarsund. Uncharacteristically, reason prevailed, and I continued to the waterfront Nordic Wellness for some rowing and strength training. With its large windows overlooking the guest harbour and the new Stordalen hotel under construction, the views certainly made my usual Örgryte gym blush.

A long winter later, there are once again flowers in my parents’ gardens, and keeping with tradition, I topped up my morning run with another jog around Stensö together with my mother. Having just turned 77, she remains remarkably enduring, and it is hard not to be impressed by her stamina over the decades. While I chase mileage targets and races, she simply keeps going.

Stopping service

Today, train 327 is making a large number of unusual stops on its way from Gothenburg to Kalmar. Among them, “Rävlanda” is my obvious favourite, bringing back memories of running the Borås Ultra Marathon in 2024, but also offering a subtle hint of what could be in store for this blog as Lufthansa is rolling out its "Future Onboard eXperience", or “FOX”, this spring – assuming that my upgrade request for the Airbus 350-900 return flight from San Diego to Munich clears.

Looking back on yesterday’s crisis simulation, I was so impressed by the students and their creativity, even using AI to generate logotypes and graphical profiles for the fictive municipality of “Långsdalen”. Next Friday, I will have another marathon session in front of Zoom with the same 30 students, as I attempt an oral exam with ten minutes allocated to each student.

Crisis simulation

After spending six hours in an oxygen-starved conference room, the annual crisis simulation with my organizational communication class is over, and I am let out into the brilliant spring sunshine. Walking to the station, I can look back on three beautiful days in Halland that have included a hike with Johanna to the old salt mill in Svalilt, intense academic discussions, and a dinner worthy of the most incorrigible foxes, accompanied by the Nespolino Sangiovese Merlot blend that I discovered during my last visit to Pontus.

Tomorrow, Eddie and I will take another train across Sweden to see my parents for the first time since December, and I hope to squeeze in a run around Stensö, as the forecast promises endless sunshine. As for forecasts and weather, California is currently experiencing a massive heat wave, with inland temperatures already climbing above 40 degrees – something that does not normally happen until May. Hopefully, it will cool off in time for the Silverado mountain trail race on 4 April. If not, I may be in for another heat-induced race cancellation, like the one in Portugal back in 2023.

Only way out

With an Emirates jet again passing overhead on its way to the Americas, I struggled to bring my weekly volume back above 70 kilometres for the first time since January. Eventually, though, I made it home through the mist, microwaved some leftovers, and sat down in front of the computer with a cup of Americano.

Looking ahead over the coming two weeks, the workload is simply insane and, as so many times before, I wonder how I will be able to finish everything in time. Yet, if the past is any guide, the only way out is through. So, with that in mind, I will finish this blog post and turn instead to a manuscript on the geopolitical dynamics of nuclear fuel supplies that I have promised to review.

Habermas

At the age of 96, Jürgen Habermas passed away today. His ideas of deliberative democracy and communicative rationality speak to our highest aspirations – what I jokingly referred to as inverted Trump-speak when trying to explain it to my students the other day.

Waking up to grey skies, I otherwise spent the morning running. To my great joy, I was joined by William for the first Parkrun of 2026, and hopefully we will be able to get back into our Parkrun routine later this spring when I return from the US.

With the real world hellbent on destruction, the kids and I watched The Martian from 2015, which, with its depiction of US–China cooperation, already feels like something from another world. Maybe I am biased here, but there is something about space that truly brings humanity together in our shared vulnerability, and like with For All Mankind, one can only wish that we would direct our energy outwards rather than focus on what divides us.

Sideways rain

Moving to Gothenburg in 2023, sideways rain was perhaps not what I was looking forward to most. Still, during today's harbour run, the maritime magic won out over the awfulness of the weather, as the presence of the western sea reminded me of last year’s sailing aboard the Queen Mary 2.

As for those doing the full transatlantic crossing, The Guardian reports that a mischievous fox apparently sneaked aboard a cargo ship in Southampton and travelled all the way to New York before ending up at the Bronx Zoo, which obviously leaves me tempted to do the same one day. For now, though, I better stick with Lufthansa, as I have to be back for teaching Swedish politics, which today comes with the tragic conclusion of the Liberal Party’s death dance with the Sweden Democrats.

Despite the fact that 74 percent of her own voters are against inviting the Sweden Democrats into government, Simona Mohamsson did just that, like some latter-day Paul von Hindenburg. Having been awarded the Bertil Ohlin Prize and repeatedly received funding from the Karl Staaff Foundation, I am profoundly saddened by this development and the lack of moral fibre it represents.

Viksit Bharat

Back in 2023, Narendra Modi launched his vision for India in 2047 called “Viksit Bharat” (which translates as “Developed India”), a programme that would see India become a high-income country with universal access to healthcare, education, and housing. While the devil is obviously in the details, its general focus on women, young people, and ending caste discrimination seems laudable, and so does India’s ambitious goal of expanding nuclear energy to 100 GW by 2047 to replace fossil energy.

Still, the vision may also be used to legitimize a maddening expansion of highways (with 35,000 km planned!), sprawling wind and solar projects that risk worsening carbon lock-in, and Hindu nationalism – not to mention autocratization in the name of “reducing political polarization”.

Nevertheless, compared to Sweden’s current vision of locking up 13-year-olds in maximum-security prisons and deporting as many immigrants as possible, it is not really as if we are the ones to judge. And remembering how much New Delhi had changed between my visits in 2010 (above) and 2015, the effects of compounded economic growth are not to be underestimated.

Strategic mistake

After a morning of online meetings, I went over to Draken and Nordic Wellness for my first 10k of indoor rowing this month. Knowing that once I have done the remaining 40k I get to go to California is highly motivating – assuming that there will be any jet fuel left for the Lufthansa 747 in three weeks’ time.

Today, the International Energy Agency (IEA) agreed to release 400 million barrels of emergency crude, a third of the group’s total government stockpiles, to mitigate the supply shortage caused by the Iran war. There is a certain irony in the fact that, the day before, Ursula von der Leyen admitted that the decision to phase out nuclear energy was a “strategic mistake” and that being “completely dependent on expensive and volatile imports” of fossil fuels has created a particular vulnerability for Europe.

Were it not for the serious consequences for both human health and the global climate, one would be tempted to say, “told you so”. And while certainly welcome, acknowledging past mistakes is only the first step towards reversing course and realizing that it is precisely the EU-championed investments in renewable energy that are creating this fossil reliance and stubborn emissions (for those keeping score, German electricity emissions remain 15-20 times those of Sweden today as well). 

Grilled cinnamon bun with mascarpone cream

Somewhat to my surprise, my thighs are absolutely trashed after Sunday’s race, with DOMS making it worse by the hour. Luckily, the rest of my body is perfectly fine, so I was able to join William for some weightlifting at daybreak, followed by hours in front of Powerpoint as I prepare my lectures for the new course “The Swedish Political System in a Comparative Perspective”, which starts in early April.

In the afternoon, I had a productive meeting with the PI of my research project at Chalmers and, somehow, also managed to stop by our local Bar à Kaffe to indulge in their latest creation: a grilled cinnamon bun with mascarpone cream. Of course, I had to pick up my medal from Italy as I looked through some race photos. For all the pain lingering in my legs, it was so worth it.

Meanwhile in Gothenburg

While Anna and I were away in Italy, William came second in his chess tournament here in Gothenburg and Mälardalen University decided to hire Anna for a one-year position as a senior lecturer. This means that there is finally some clarity about the future.

After spending the morning in front of the computer, I went for a recovery jog through Skatås in the early spring weather. Ending my run at Wingårds Wok & Sushi with some fried rice, I feel that I can fully leave yesterday’s race disappointment behind and look forward to the Billy Goat Mountain Climb in Silverado, California, in four weeks’ time. 

With the official results in, I finished 201st out of 1,082 runners yesterday with a chip time of 01:43:26. Seeing that the same organizers also host an ultra-trail race, something tells me that this will not be my last visit to Stresa.

Imbarchi

With ten minutes to spare, Anna and I were able to check our bag with SAS at Malpensa Airport after spending a rather intense hour on the busy four-lane autostrade of Milan. Still, there is an obvious charm in vacation maxing and being able to enjoy a glass of white wine in the lounge prior to boarding.

Now high above the Alps aboard Thor Viking, I can look back on an incredible race experience full of Italian energy and confusion. Having registered in the “non-competitive category” to avoid having to pay for another medical certificate, I started at the back of the pack and had to spend a lot of energy during the first kilometres overtaking other runners.

Still, passing the ten-kilometre mark after 45 minutes, I was roughly within the window required to beat my previous half marathon PR of 1 hour and 35 minutes. But already then I knew that, despite all the scenery and the ice-cold snow on the mountains in front of me, the searing sun was taking its toll, as was my lack of training over the last few months.

Despite pushing myself as hard as I possibly could with an average heart rate of 173 bpm, the race was gradually slipping out of my hands, and by 15k I knew for sure that a PR was not to be had. Still, I kept going, finishing in 1 hour and 43 minutes in the heart of Verbania, which turned out to be the loveliest of towns.

After downing a water bottle, a banana, and a Coke, I asked for the pre-paid transportation back to the start in Stresa where Anna was waiting in the lobby of the Regina Palace Hotel. But this being Italy, no one would point me to the chartered ferries that were running back and forth across the lake; instead, I was sent up a hill to where the buses would normally depart. Once there, there were indeed special shuttle buses, only they went to the start of the 10k race. After waiting twenty minutes in a warm bus with other confused runners, someone found a post on a Facebook page and, in no time at all, I was instead on a boat passing the Borromeo Islands. By that time, everything was forgotten and I felt only immense joy for being alive and being able to do these kinds of things.

Picking up Anna and our Alfa Romeo, I then drove into the very centre of Milan, parking in a deep underground garage (always a favourite of mine), before exploring the iconic sites on foot for a couple of hours. All in all, we drove 477 kilometres over the weekend and I would not hesitate to do it all again in a heartbeat.

The Regina Palace

While unable to claim the same Hemingway fame as the neighbouring Grand Hotel des Iles Borromées, the Regina Palace Hotel has nevertheless seen its fair share of royalty, artists and writers over the years, as well as hosting the delegates of the 1935 Stresa Front.

With the race nerves barely in check, the breakfast view overlooking Lago Maggiore was unbeatable, and after a morning walk along the waterfront, I am now ready to set off for those 21.1 kilometres over to Verbania.

Spirito di Locarno

After submitting a couple of journal reviews and uploading a study guide, our Airbus A320 “Gandalf Viking” touched down at Malpensa Airport in Lombardy. Picking up the keys to our rental car, we discovered that Avis had magically upgraded our Fiat 500 to a shiny hybrid Alfa Romeo and, after a night at a very classic Holiday Inn Express next to the airport, Anna and I hit the road.

Driving along the shores of Lago Maggiore, the morning mist began to glow, and we kept stopping for photos as we made our way towards Stresa and the Regina Palace Hotel. Once here, looking at our old-school foldable map of Italia Nord-Ovest, we realized that we could not simply stay put waiting for tomorrow’s race, but had to follow our maximalist travel ethos by driving into Switzerland, swinging by Lugano, and checking out the Edition hotel that is about to open on the shores of Lake Como.

Our first stop in Switzerland was Locarno, famous for the 1925 Locarno Treaties which promised a new era of reconciliation and stability after the First World War. In retrospect, we all know that the scourge of war would soon resurface, yet there is something deeply moving in thinking that other roads might once have been possible.

A cappuccino and an apricot croissant later, we crossed the mountain pass over to Lugano and its art museum, featuring Korean video art and a fascinating book on anti-fascist architecture. Having only been to Lugano once before with my parents, it definitely felt like a place that I would like to return to.

The same was true for the small community of Cadenabbia, which is about to see The Lake Como Edition open on its main street. Sadly, the doors were still locked when we got there, even though the hotel seemed full of last-minute activity. Not letting this discourage us, we picked up some cheese and bread from a supermarket to enjoy next to the new pool deck.

Italian Hours

Based on forty years of travelling, Italian Hours by Henry James was first published in 1909. It famously ends with the words “the luxury of loving Italy”, and it is difficult to think of another piece of travel writing more fitting to bring along to Pontus as Anna and I are about to jet off for a weekend on the shores of Lake Maggiore – while going all-in on Talamone.

Having synchronized our calendars for the coming months – which will include the supervision of dozens of theses and the grading of untold numbers of exams – a glass of that already legendary Nespolino Chardonnay from Emilia-Romagna helps round off the edges of what will be an absurdly busy spring, especially as I will be away for a week in California over Easter to attend WPSA.

At Pontus, I ordered the oven-baked salmon with dill potatoes, Sandefjord sauce, crudité salad and trout roe, while Anna went for the Vietnamese bánh mì with chicken, sriracha mayonnaise, pickled carrot, daikon radish, spring onion and crispy onion. In both cases, the chefs certainly delivered and we are soon ready to board our flight to Milan, where the Olympic fury should have passed by now. Still, Italy's complicated relationship with (over)tourism is, of course, nothing new, as James observed more than a century ago:

“Cunningly select your hour – half the enjoyment of Venice is a question of dodging – and enter at about one o’clock, when the tourists have flocked off to lunch and the echoes of the charming chambers have gone to sleep among the sunbeams”

Paperworking

Heading back up to Gothenburg, I look out over the thawing brown-green fields of Halland from the train window. Tomorrow, I will be on my way to Italy where spring will be further underway, with temperatures up to 15 degrees and sunshine expected in Piedmont.

Before leaving Halmstad, I was able to submit a 31-page application to the Swedish Ethical Review Authority for what should be a fairly straightforward research project involving a survey and some interviews. This clearly says something about the escalating bureaucratization of scientific research.

After a quick lunch on the train, I better return to my quantitative methodology exams since I still have a few dozen to mark, but I look forward to reporting on Sunday’s race.

Floodlit

From the glowing yellow lights of Tehran en route to Hong Kong, to the turquoise waters of the Persian Gulf as seen from the Royal Mirage, I have so many memories from a region now thrown into war.

Participating in yet another quality assessment meeting, it is difficult to shake Trump’s conversational word soup: “Happy World War III season to those who celebrate”. For all its life-ending consequences, it is important to recognize that Trump is, above all, an actor pretending to be president, and whatever greater logic we try to ascribe to his actions, there is something about him that has never truly left that floodlit wrestling arena.

The Wharf of Dreams

With the war raging on in Iran and Ali Khamenei confirmed dead, I woke long before dawn, ate a roll with Austrian blueberry marmalade while trying to make sense of the news, before deciding that running would be a better use of my time than doomscrolling.

Heading out for 16k across town in the mist, I followed the river upstream to the open shipyard where volunteers and private individuals work on various cultural heritage boat projects – a place informally known as “Drömmarnas kaj“.

Uplifted by Skrotnisse-energy in a world otherwise intent on destroying things, I returned home to pick up the boys and take the bus out to Åby Arenastad for 1,000 meters in the pool – all three of us. As the day wore on, the mist gave way to the first spring sunshine but, sadly, the boys were immune to all further outdoor persuasion attempts. Instead, I had to limit myself to a 5k tempo run along the bike paths of Kålltorp.

With just a week left until the Lago Maggiore half marathon, Anna has sadly been forced to withdraw due to her injury. For my part, I am still hoping to chase down my long-standing dream of finishing in under 1 hour and 35 minutes.