25 August 2024 – My Last 10-Miler in Sweden
That Sunday marked my last weekend in Gothenburg. It was also the day I ran my final 10-miler before flying back to India. This post is both a throwback to that run and a log for my future self — something I can revisit and re-run through visualization whenever I want.
Getting Started
I spent four summer months in Sweden on a short-term assignment. The long daylight (till 10 pm!), crisp clean air, and traffic-free pedestrian paths left me with no excuse not to run.
Coming from India, where my training usually meant dodging traffic, the contrast felt unreal. Add to that the pedestrian-first culture at crossings, and running became a joy.
I started with short runs after office hours and soon worked my way up to 10 km. My regular loop was from my apartment near Central Station to Slottsskogen Park and back. That became my routine route — so much so that I even earned a Strava “Local Legend” badge for the first time in my life (I didn’t even know such things existed!).
Running with Company
This route also passed through Valand, where my teammate Seema (also on a short-term assignment from Bangalore) stayed. We ran several times together, and she set a fast pace.
I still remember my inner chatter during those runs:
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“Should I tell her to slow down and show I’m weak?”
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“If men’s marathon records are faster than women’s, how can I ask her to slow down? I need to man up :P.”
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“I’ve run 20-milers before — how can I admit I’m struggling now?”
So, I’d run just half a step behind her, silently thanking her for pushing me harder. Funny thing? Recently I learned she felt I was running faster and setting the pace.
Breaking Barriers
Once I got comfortable with the area, I wanted to attempt a longer run — all the way to Saltholmen ferry terminal. It was 11–13 km from my place, depending on the route.
One weekend I set the map on my phone, followed it, and finally reached the terminal. I even got clicked there — though I’m a terrible poser, the lady taking the photo made me do awkward poses with more enthusiasm than me!
That day I realized I could push beyond. I started mapping 10-mile distances in my head — calculating slopes, tram stations, and mental checkpoints:
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“60% left.”
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“One big climb ahead.”
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“Just four tram stations to go.”
Landmarks became my pacers, and slowly, that 10-miler turned into my standard long run.
Gear and Lessons
I usually run in thin-soled shoes (sometimes even canvas) — I’ve run marathons in them too. They wear out fast, but they suit me. In Sweden, I used Nike shoes for long runs (since I wasn’t used to so much mileage after a break), but I’d often get knee pain.
My gear was simple: shorts, t-shirt, phone, bus pass, and AirPods. I didn’t use music during runs — I wanted to be fully present. But on the tram ride back? Music on, shoes loosened, body drained but mind buzzing.
Why I Won’t Run Marathons in Cushioned Shoes
Route Snapshots
Friggagatan to Central Station
This stretch always felt like the warm-up, but also the danger zone. My mind would already start whispering excuses — “turn back, maybe tomorrow, maybe shorter today.” But when I ignored that voice and pushed on, it set the tone for the whole run. On good days, the legs felt light, and I knew I’d go far.
Quiet Sunday streets past Central Station
Crossing this area on Sundays was surreal. A place usually buzzing with trams, buses, and people suddenly felt deserted, almost like the city had paused just for me. I’d hear only my footsteps and breathing, and that quietness gave a calm rhythm to keep going.
Scenic windy section
One of my absolute favorite stretches — a small road curving with the breeze. Something about the openness, the air rushing past made me feel free, even playful. But it ended quickly, and I always wished it went on longer.
The statue landmark
This was my unofficial halfway marker — about 5 km in. Poseidon stood tall with his trident, and for me, it felt like a checkpoint: “half the battle done, now comes the grind.” Passing here gave a mix of pride and dread — relief that I’d made it so far, but also the mental shift that the easy part was over.
The long straight road
This section tested patience more than stamina. Nothing fancy, just a straight, endless stretch where the mind kept asking, “how much more?” It felt longer than it was, and the monotony sometimes made it harder than the hills.
The climb itself
The dreaded slope. Not the steepest hill I’ve ever run, but long enough to break rhythm and willpower. I’d switch to the shaded side for small relief, counting breaths and tram poles as micro-goals. Every step here was a fight, but reaching the top felt like unlocking the second half of the run.
From there, I’d run along tram tracks toward the ferry terminal. Usually, I’d push harder around the 14–15 km mark, desperately checking my phone for distance updates, praying for it to end. I always made sure to stop near a tram station so I could head back.
Funny Moments -
So basically after above small under bridge pass I would run along tram lines till ferry terminal. Swedish people are just damn too active and fit and one funny incident I recall now - I was running at decnt pace from my standards and two ladies felt like they were jogging - looked effortless - passed my me in a breezy but wait a second they were having steady conversation and not panting and top of it both of them had baby strollers along with them and I was like Damn !
Wrapping Up
I’d then hop on a tram, slip off my shoes, and sink into the seat. Sometimes I’d change at Central Station, sometimes walk the last stretch back. My legs and knees would ache by evening — pain I don’t experience now in Bangalore, so maybe it was the shoes… or the pace.
That run on 25 August 2024 wrapped up my Sweden chapter. Fittingly, on the very night I was to fly back, I sneaked in one final 10 km.
I look forward to returning to Europe someday — to gather more miles, relive more routes, and keep writing these memories down.
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