Thirty minutes

Through the divorce, going to the gym with the boys has been both a reminder of normality and a shared activity that has helped bring us closer together. Though we rarely spend more than thirty minutes there at a time, it is something I really wish I had done at their age. As a teenager, I suffered from constant headaches and back problems, partly because I grew so quickly and partly, perhaps, because I was once kicked down a flight of stairs by some not-so-friendly guys at school.

Hearing my colleagues complain about their various neck issues, the value of strength training can hardly be underestimated as an adult either. As the years add up, consistency really pays off, and by now I have doubled or tripled the weights I am able to pull on most machines at Nordic Wellness. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said about my academic productivity for the moment. Quite the opposite of how I felt back in December, I find myself in a season of procrastination, a curious condition in which one postpones the very thing that would make one feel better (and instead writes blogposts).

Malmö Marathon

Drawn as ever to alliterations, Malmö Marathon on the third of October (which also happens to be Tag der Deutschen Einheit) proved to be irresistible after learning that both Gabriel and Nils were running. While I have done my fair share of Malmö runs in the past, the marathon course will take me out to Ön and Sibbarp, adding some new lines to my Strava heat map and hopefully a new PR as the course is exceptionally flat. All this assuming that I do not end up injuring myself during that 132-kilometre ultra in July.

Between marking exams and reactivating Instagram after a decade, I had some wild plans for Valhalla today. Having forgotten my running socks, however, I ended up just swimming a thousand metres and saving that 70.3 madness for another rainy day. At least I was able to top up with my usual Skatås loop before returning to Blackboard.

Bar Centro

Waking up to rain, I spent the morning in front of the computer working on an application. As the skies gradually cleared, I decided to check out Bar Centro on Kyrkogatan 31, a place that has piqued my curiosity for quite some time. Between the worn stone floor, the faded walls, and the smell of coffee lingering in the air, I might just have found a new favourite espresso bar.

With Naples coming up next Tuesday, it was the perfect head start: authentic coffee and a chocolate sfogliatella before heading back through the sunshine to Kålltorp and the ever-growing pile of exams.

Boardwalks and planks

From Austin to Malmö, there is something about running on wooden boardwalks – the sound, the slight give underfoot, and the sense of being suspended between water and land. Passing Pöl Harbour, I stopped for 3 × 60 seconds of planking before continuing up to Gamlestaden and Storeberget. While perhaps not quite the Griffith Observatory, the views over Gothenburg were not bad at all, and I was reminded of how much I have come to appreciate living here.

Returning home to the kids, I found that William had emptied the dishwasher, a small act of thoughtfulness that meant more than he probably realizes. With the exams piling up in Blackboard, I then grabbed a bowl of Greek yoghurt and blueberries and settled in for a Sunday of marking.

Szalay

My original plan for this week was to repeat one of the hundred-kilometre weeks of January, which would still be on the low side considering that I have a 132-kilometre ultra coming up in five weeks' time. But, being alone with the kids, I will struggle to even make it to eighty. Hopefully, I will be up with the sunrise tomorrow and ready for a long run.

Before that, I keep turning the pages of David Szalay’s Flesh, a novel that someone likened to a night train, where with each chapter the main character is older and in a new place, in medias res. A bit like Rawls & Me if you jump between the years. Following Stockholm Marathon on Strava, I realize that seven years have passed since I last ran it myself. Looking at the familiar route, I remember the completely unexpected tears when someone in the crowd shouted “Go, Dad!” and the feeling of crossing the finish line at Stockholm Stadion just short of my goal of 3 hours and 45 minutes. Like the protagonist István, one somehow ends up in a different chapter before noticing how much time has passed.

Eden

Over the years, this blog has seen many Edens, from my PhD studies in Lund to Steinbeck country. Tonight, I am thrown a world away to South Australia and the cool-climate wine region of Eden Valley, famous for its mineral-driven take on the Riesling grape, as Systembolaget currently carries a new wine called “Vickery” that I can wholeheartedly recommend.

Otherwise, one may be forgiven for thinking that I had been to Austria rather than Australia on my trail run as I passed lots of red and white waymarks while exploring a newly marked-out trail between Sörlyckan and Bertilson’s cabin this morning. Again, I feel so incredibly fortunate to be able to shift my work around so that I can go for these longer runs and make the most of these luminous early summer days.

Bridges and piers

Someone said that if a bridge requires a lifetime of one-sided construction, it was never a bridge to begin with – it was a pier. With those words on my mind, I look out over Västgötaslätten from the upper deck of train 167 as I head back to Gothenburg after a brief reprieve from my rapidly changing life circumstances.

In thirteen days, I am off to Naples for a conference themed “Abundance or Sufficiency? The Left’s Diverging Paths in the Green Transition”, which I am very much looking forward to. Before that, however, there will be another mad round of grading in the days leading up to the graduation ceremony in Halmstad on 5 June.

Et sola gratia

Halland

Wrapping up the last lecture of the spring semester, I jumped on a green electric scooter and took my Asics Novablasts out for eleven kilometres along the coast of Halland. A part of Sweden that was nearly unknown to me until 2023, Halland has definitely grown on me since, as its liminal character brings together childhood memories of Skåne, the openness of the western sea, and that windy Road 25 leading back to Kalmar.

But, like an old ghost from Kenmare, aesthetics again proved insufficient, and maybe that is ultimately for the better. It is just that it really is back to square one, to have been weighed only to be found insufficient – divides that no words can bridge. Sola fide.

Tomorrow, I am off to Örebro and the great forests of Bergslagen, renewing my faith in what truly matters, as time really does lend perspective on limerence and other things. The other day, I read Emma Engdahl’s new book, Lektioner i kärlek, and it is a book I plan to keep.

The Blue Line

For the second time in my life, I got to follow the blue line around Gothenburg. Unlike in Italy, where I was aiming for a new PR, or in 2024, when I was running next to Anna, I had no goal at all today except to make the most of my free race entry and fully embrace the party that is Göteborgsvarvet.

Running with 55,000 other people means that pacing for the first few kilometres is not really up to you anyway, but after three kilometres, I was able to dip below five minutes per kilometre and sustain that pace for most of the race. Passing Älvsborgsbron, it started raining but, unlike two days ago, it was not dramatic at all, and by the time we reached Vasagatan, the sun had returned.

Finishing in exactly 1 hour and 45 minutes, I was ten minutes short of my PR, but super happy with my even pacing and controlled effort. At no point did I feel dizzy or overextended, and at 47, I think I should be happy about finishing among the fastest 15% of runners.