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 Emmaboda 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.