Caractère

Drinking a black coffee from Pressbyrån, I am now on an Öresund train to Gothenburg, ready to help Anna move into her new apartment in Gamlestaden. Behind me lie a couple of incredible days in Bakareboda, just on the border between Småland and Blekinge, waffles with my parents in their garden in Kalmar, and an early birthday dinner at Hallandsgatan over a glass of Weszeli Caractère Grüner Veltliner.

Driving all 242 kilometres of Road 25 in a white Škoda, yesterday was a true coast-to-coast adventure, with plenty of amusements along the way, including listening to the absurd story of the 31-year-old Swede who attempted to build a nuclear reactor at home. Sticking to safer hobbies, I am planning my own guerrilla version of Halland Ultra Beach this weekend by running from Halmstad to Båstad – the section I never completed in 2024. If I succeed, I will finally have one continuous red line on my Strava heat map from Åskloster to Båstad.

3x Bakareboda

The Odyssey

Turning fourteen in the City of Birches, Eddie and his girlfriend got to walk along the river in the sunshine, revisiting all the places that once signalled home and that now, for me, mark the breathtaking passage of time. Looking through old photos, like the one above from Broparken, I am reminded of what an immense privilege it is to be a parent.

After building supertall structures at Curiosum and having dinner at Basta, we all got to watch Christopher Nolan's adaptation of The Odyssey, which spoke directly to our own times: of worlds descending into darkness, and of how violence – be it in Gaza or Ukraine – ultimately distorts our souls.

A short sleep later, we are now on SK25 to Arlanda with breakfast being served above the clouds, as my own odyssey continues. Before nightfall, I hope to be in Bakareboda, but looking back on these two days in Västerbotten, it is above all with a sense of warmth.

Norrland

Taking off from runway 01L/19R at Arlanda, our CRJ900 banked right and then turned sharply towards the north. Flying into sunshine, I looked down on the blue waters of the Gulf of Bothnia, thinking back on all the years when this was my gateway to the world.

By the time we were on final into Umeå Airport, the plane was surrounded by heavy rain clouds. Yet, after a couple of hours on the ground, the sun had made it up to Umeå as well, and I got to repeat my signature river run with Elin followed by coffee at Kulturbageriet – all while Eddie reconnected with his Umeå friends at Nydalasjön.

Ending the evening with pizza at Ruccola in Haga, we passed by the house on Hemvägen where we lived during our first year back from Korea. With every turn came memories of stroller walks, playgrounds, and pre-school drop-offs.

Bjäre

A short hop through the air later, I am back at Pontus, this time with a wooden medal after yesterday's fantastic race on the Bjäre Peninsula. While Kullaberg has always held a special place in my heart, Bjäre has remained practically unknown to me beyond a few visits to Båstad.

Running 35 kilometres on technical trails with plenty of elevation, I got to experience breathtaking views across Halland and the sea, Khazad-dûm-like bridges, and steep birch forests. Completing the first loop in just over two hours, I struggled more on the second after being stung by a wasp and accidentally grabbing an electric fence. Truth be told, the drama of the past few days had also taken its mental toll, with my heart rate being much higher than the terrain warranted. In any case, I crossed the finish line in just under five hours which, after having to throw in the towel in Essex earlier this month, felt like a small measure of vindication. With this race behind me, I am not planning anything competitive until Malmö Marathon on the third of October.

Tomorrow, Eddie turns fourteen, something he wanted to celebrate by returning to Norrland and Umeå. After all, he spent the years between the ages of two and eleven there, so it is hardly surprising that it still feels like a kind of home, even though the house has long since been sold. Having gone from outright abysmal to merely a bit rainy, the weather forecast still suggests that we will probably stay in Umeå rather than drive out to Bettnesand or anywhere similar.

Kasai

From the depths of Djuphavsbadet to the skyline at Kasai, yesterday had it all, including a falafel at Davidshallstorg, which has been transformed from parking lots into an urban living room for the summer. At a time when public space is becoming increasingly scarce, it was uplifting to see the trend being reversed with ping-pong tables, outdoor chess sets, and community bookshelves.

Now on high-speed train 484 to Gothenburg, the coming week will be something of a logistical puzzle, with rental cars, a 34 km trail race on the Bjäre Peninsula, a flight to Umeå for Eddie's birthday, before I finally make it to Bakareboda on 28 July.

California weather

After picking up some books at work, I boarded what has been my morning train for the last three years and, a couple of hours later, I was lacing up my running shoes in Västra Hamnen. Heading out into the wind in the most beautiful California weather, it was nevertheless with a heavy heart, having just learned that my long-term Umeå colleague Torbjörn had passed away. As one of our most senior professors, he was an exceptionally kind person who always took a genuine interest in the work of junior colleagues, and I know he will be deeply missed.

Sitting down for a moment at Djuphavsbadet, the vulnerability of it all was painfully apparent, reminding me of the words of Elio's father in Call Me by Your Name: "Our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once”.

Piccolo Primo Primitivo

Twenty-two years ago, in Vienna, I picked up a copy of Charles Baudelaire’s On Wine and Hashish at Shakespeare & Company. I remember reading it shortly afterwards in the gardens of Schönbrunn. If asked about its contents today, I am afraid I do not remember much beyond the blurb: “Wine elevates the will; hashish annihilates it”.

After finishing my second pedagogical portfolio assessment of the summer, I fell asleep on the couch earlier today, something that has only happened a handful of times in recorded history. Waking up, I felt almost as though I were jet-lagged but, eventually, managed to get my act together and head out for a five-kilometre run along the sea.

Returning home, I found a small can of Piccolo Primo Primitivo from Puglia (made from the same grape that is known as Zinfandel in California). Best served at 16–18 degrees, it reminded me that I really need to locate my copy of Roger Scruton's I Drink Therefore I Am. Yet, with every sip, geographical boundaries seemed to blur and, far from being territorial in the way that Scruton suggests, wine more often appears to transcend place and time, transporting me across continents and decades.

Elsinore

What better way to end two blissful days in Denmark than with a chilly swim next to Hamlet’s castle in Helsingør. With Kullen looking both familiar and oddly unfamiliar from this side of Öresund, I finally sensed an end to all the turbulence. Stopping by Værftets Madmarked for some post-swim asado and a cold lager: time for all the winding roads from eastern Småland to the world – and the solace of certainty.

A few hours later, I was back in Halmstad, where the heatwave had faded and a light rain accompanied me out to Skulpturplatsen and back on my evening run. A day on my own now awaits before heading down to Malmö on Tuesday and then back into full parent mode again. 

Villa Copenhagen

Nuclear news

After spending half the day at work, I returned home, changed into my Hoka singlet, and headed out to catch some sunshine in the hope of looking slightly less ghostly. Running 15 kilometres along the coast to Grötvik and back brought my weekly total to 50 kilometres, which I think is just about perfect with next week's race on the Bjäre Peninsula in mind. And few things beat celebrating that with an iced coffee and a cinnamon bun from our local Bärlin bakery.

Before heading out, I watched an SVT news report on the new nuclear reactors being built at Dukovany in the Czech Republic. Following the Korean nuclear industry's success in constructing the four reactors at Barakah in the United Arab Emirates, it is fantastic to see the state-backed Czech utility ČEZ moving ahead with an order for two more Korean reactors "off the shelf". As Barakah has demonstrated, standardization really is the key to bringing construction costs down.

Sommarjobb

Swiping my key card, I find myself entirely alone at work, the usual buzz of students and colleagues replaced only by the hum of the ventilation. Picking up the ninth edition of Policy-making in the European Union, I am reminded that it was one of the books that first sparked my interest in political science at the turn of the millennium. I especially remember the opening chapters on integration theory, how the world still seemed to be coming together, and how cooperation in one domain could spill over into others.

Preparing slides for September, which I already know will be an exceedingly busy month with three courses starting at the same time and a conference in Stockholm. With the election on 13 September, we will also know a little more about what kind of country Sweden has become.

Walking to work this morning, I stopped in front of the Sweden Democrats' election posters, with their faux nostalgia and celebration of fossil-fuelled hedonism. Much as I have come to reject traditional environmentalism for its lack of global imagination, moments like that very clearly remind me where I stand. A renewed mandate for the Tidö parties would, I fear, legitimize our basest instincts and further accelerate the erosion of democracy itself.

15 months ago

Returning to the rolling fields of Halland, I braved the morning heat in my Hoka Rincons and ran out to the Sperlingsholm estate, greeting the horses and reflecting that it has now been almost fifteen months since I last did this run.

Though slower than that morning in April, there is clearly new hope and healing after all that has been. The last few days have been eerily beautiful, almost to the point where a warming climate makes it difficult to fully appreciate high summer. And yet, the swallows still fly high, the evenings are long, and at last there is time to talk about so many things.

Salta bad

Taking the ferry over to the island of Öckerö, William and I started the day with a relaxed morning hike. Stopping for a swim in Hjälvik, where the water was above 20 degrees and the horizon stretched uninterrupted towards the west, I was reminded of how much I appreciate living in this part of Sweden, even as Skåne always beckons.

Back in town, it was well past William's lunchtime, so we had to make an emergency stop at Daawat for some of the best Indian cuisine this side of Delhi. Tomorrow, I am handing over the relay to Anna for the coming week as I take the train down to Halmstad. Before that, however, I hope to squeeze in a few more runs around Delsjön.

Godisdealen

Two years ago on Lofoten, William committed to not eating sweets for an entire year. One year later, he renewed the same commitment and, whereas I failed after just eighteen days when attempting the same thing myself in January 2025, William has remained steadfast. Today, he celebrated his second consecutive year with a cinnamon bun at Elsa’s Café and, within days, he plans to commit to another year.

These being my last days at Ängtegsgatan, I am trying to make the most of them by enjoying the veranda and the hammocks as much as possible, and by going for my customary morning runs in Skatås before it gets too hot. Of all the things I will miss, living within walking distance of two swimmable lakes may well be at the top of the list. So, before our fika, William and I went for another summery swim.

Post-Essex

When I signed up for the Essex Way Ultra in mid-May, it was as much for psychological as for athletic reasons: a way of coping with loss and focusing my mind on something tangible. From the very beginning, I knew it would be a difficult challenge, especially as I had been gradually scaling back my running volume. Little, however, did I expect just how hard it would prove to be, as a combination of worsening knee pain and intense nausea gradually ground me down in the summer heat.

Considering my relatively strong performances at both Trailövik (21 km) in 2023 and the Billy Goat Mountain Climb (26 km) back in April, I decided that my next race should be over a similar shorter distance. Looking through the Swedish Trail Race Calendar, I came across Bjäre Trail on 25 July and registered almost immediately. With a technical loop course completed twice for a total of 34 kilometres, I think it could be a lot of fun – and the perfect pre-flight activity before heading up to Umeå the following morning.

Peace theology

Yesterday, Ryanair safely brought Eddie back from his long sojourn on the Southern Great Plain of Hungary. Just like after Kode Space Camp last summer, it felt as though he had grown a lot by the time the taxi dropped him off next to Liseberg. It was wonderful to hear his stories from those eleven days, featuring everything from crossing the Romanian border to visiting the Hagymatikum thermal baths.

With both William and me happy to have him back, the three of us took the tram to Nordic Wellness this morning for a gym session together, before topping it off with a swim in Delsjön during the afternoon. In between, I found time to read a little of Martin Modéus' Fredsteologi i krigets skugga, which Sofi recommended while we were in England.

As the war in Ukraine rages on, and the fuel crisis increasingly affects Russians at home, there is a growing risk of what one might call a "drowning man syndrome", where Putin may be willing to take ever more desperate risks to stay afloat. In such times, talk of peace can seem dangerously naïve, yet at the same time absolutely indispensable if we are to remain true to the kind of people we aspire to be. Just as with the Sweden Democrats at home, whenever we dehumanize the other, we also give up a part of our own humanity.

Bondespelet

Back at the after-school club (fritids) in the 1980's, my favourite board game used to be Bondespelet. Four or five years ago, I played it quite a bit with the kids and now, when I returned from the British Isles, William had already set it up on the kitchen table. Between autumn storms wreaking havoc in our forests and plentiful summer harvests, he and I spent a couple of hours enjoying a nostalgic game before having dinner on the balcony.

With Anna moving house at the end of the month, she stayed on in Gothenburg for a couple of extra days so that we could sort through the basement together. It also gave us the chance to be jointly impressed by William's progress at the gym, where he has gone from barely being able to do a single chin-up to knocking out fifteen, as well as making his way across metres of monkey bars.

As much as I appreciated the trip, it feels really good to be back home, to go out for an Indian lunch with William, and to enjoy the long, unstructured days of sommarlov.

Camden Bar & Kitchen

With a 95% load factor and more than 20 million passengers last month, Ryanair is clearly doing a great deal to bring Europe closer together. By making travel affordable and efficient, it broadens horizons and, perhaps in some small way, helps stem the nationalist tide. Still, its dismal labour practices and apparent disdain for consumer rights are good reasons to avoid the airline. Yet, as in the past, I keep coming back, because the value proposition becomes hard to resist when you can fly for £25.

With no traditional lounge at Stansted, Priority Pass instead offers an £18 credit per person to spend at the Camden Bar & Kitchen, which Sofi and I happily made use of this morning before heading back to Sweden after four incredible days in the UK.

While that may change, I currently have no more international travel planned for the rest of the year, which actually feels rather good after all the recent globetrotting. Having fallen short of my dream of qualifying for the Arc of Attrition in January, I am also uncertain about what the future of running holds beyond the Malmö Marathon in October. Although disappointing, there is something sobering about recognizing one's own limitations and appreciating just how demanding ultra trail running can be.

Now, feeling almost fully recovered, I am looking forward to taking William to the gym this afternoon and hearing all about his chess adventures in Jönköping. And on Friday, Eddie finally comes home after eleven days (!) in Hungary.

Scones and sea weather

In Harwich, Sofi and I stayed at the Pier Hotel, right on the waterfront. Built in 1862 in the style of a Venetian palazzo, it featured an enormous "gin library" (which we skipped, for obvious reasons), century-old posters promoting travel to the Continent, and bathrooms playing old recordings of the Shipping Forecast. Hearing names like "German Bight", "Finisterre" and "The Hebrides" certainly put my imagination into overdrive.

Taking the train to Colchester, we stopped for scones at Small Talk Tearooms, which reminded me of my pseudo-Atlantic crossing with Dad last year. From there, we boarded the X20 "Airlink" bus to Stansted. At just £3, it was an absolute bargain compared with the train, which would have cost around £40, even if it took nearly two hours to cover the 50 kilometres.

After a quick check-in at the Hampton Inn, we boarded the Stansted Express for what I had planned to be a celebratory post-race visit to the champagne bar at St Pancras. Instead, what we lacked in medals, we made up for with Interrail nostalgia and a spot of bar hopping through the evening.

Secret Garden

Every July, Harwich hosts a "Secret Gardens" weekend when more than two dozen hidden courtyards, medieval walled gardens, and private resident gardens are opened to the public. By pure coincidence, Sofi and I happened to be here on exactly the right weekend. Together with the murals and one of Britain's first cinemas – the so-called Electric Palace – Harwich made quite an impression on me, despite its otherwise rather industrial character. After all, neighbouring Felixstowe is home to the UK's largest container port.

Watching Stena Hollandica arrive from the Netherlands, I briefly regretted not booking the journey home via Bruges. Then again, Ryanair made me an offer I could not refuse – the flight from Stansted to Gothenburg cost something like £25. So, instead of crossing the Channel, Sofi and I will be heading back into London today.

My body is still aching a little after yesterday, but after more than ten hours of sleep and a lovely breakfast I am generally feeling fine. Most importantly, my left knee is completely pain-free, which is reassuring given that it was one of the reasons I decided to stop after 80 kilometres.