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.