I tend to be bullied for my hobbit feet. Having hobbit feet means that you have big, wide feet with very small element of arches. So I'm a flat foot. In addition, there are little tufts of hair on my toe knuckles. Are they called toe knuckles? 

I have always felt self-conscious of my feet. I've never been particularly good at running. The two are connected somehow. I simply can't give my feet much love and they haven't given me much love in return. But all that has changed. 

About a year ago I decided that I would run Göteborgsvarvet, a 21 km race in Gothenburg. Me, my girlfriend and some of my friends registered together. Now one friend has a damaged knee, one forgot to practice, one became pregnant, one has a sore foot and the last is becoming sick. It seems that I am the only one of us who's going to run Göteborgsvarvet. Me and 53,000 others. 

When I was ten years old I ran one kilometer in 8 minutes. Me and my hairy hobbit feet. Also known as the wooden boards I have under my waist. The ones that never got much love. But all that is forgotten now. 

Now I run my round in Majorna. Put on my playlist where the track Raised Fist Running Man is first out and then I bounce down the stairs to the Shell gas station, away against Chapman's Square and out onto the streets of Gothenburg. There is love all the way now. My running trousers are black and tight, my jersey as well. The cat burglar in black hat and gloves. I am a running ninja.