Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke
Today I got lessons from a difficult 10K Run. I usually run first thing in the morning because Nashville’s weather quickly becomes unfriendly to runners.
Even by 7:30 a.m., the air can feel remarkably heavy. It is not always because of rain. More often, the culprit is humidity. Once the temperature climbs above 70°F and humidity approaches—or exceeds—90%, the atmosphere transforms into something that feels almost tangible. It is less like running through air and more like trying to jog through warm pudding.
Saturday is my regular 10-kilometer running day.
Unless there is a snowstorm, thunderstorm, or a family event—which, for some reason, always seems to choose Saturday—I stick to that schedule. Consistency has become one of the most valuable parts of my training.
Since beginning treatment for anemia, my body has felt noticeably lighter during my runs. The improvement has been encouraging. Even so, there are still mornings when exhaustion appears without an invitation.
Today was one of those mornings.
From the very beginning, my legs felt unusually heavy. Every kilometer demanded more effort than it should have, and the pace that normally feels comfortable seemed frustratingly out of reach. By the time I finished, I was more than a minute behind my target pace and completely exhausted.
The strange part was that I hadn’t expected it.
Summer naturally brings more physical work around the house, especially lawn mowing, which is more exercise than many people give it credit for. Still, I had mowed on Thursday, so I assumed I had fully recovered by Saturday morning.
Apparently, my body had other opinions.
As I looked over my to-do list later in the day, I found myself trying to solve the mystery. Everything had seemed to be going well this week. I had slept well, eaten well, and generally felt healthy. Yet my run told a completely different story.
Perhaps that is one of the most humbling lessons running teaches.
Our bodies are wonderfully complex. They do not always explain themselves. Sometimes they perform beyond expectations, and other times they quietly remind us that recovery is not something we can schedule with the precision of a calendar appointment.
Instead of dwelling on the disappointing run, I moved on to the rest of my day’s tasks. One by one, I finished everything I had planned before our grocery shopping trip.
There is a special satisfaction in checking the final item off a to-do list. It means that once we return home, I can spend the rest of the evening doing something every runner eventually learns to appreciate.
Absolutely nothing.
After all, rest is not the reward for hard work.
Sometimes, it is part of the training itself.