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The Weekend Latte Ritual: A Brewed Philosophy

Written February 2, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Ah, the weekend—those glorious two days where time slows just enough to remind us that life isn’t only about deadlines and checklists. My wife and I have stumbled upon a new weekend tradition, one that involves the alchemy of caffeine and a dash of self-appreciation.

It all started with a simple upgrade: coffee. Not just any coffee, but the kind that demands a moment of respect before the first sip—the kind that makes you pause and acknowledge, Yes, I deserve this. We don’t go to fancy cafés or wait in long lines for baristas to scribble our names incorrectly on cups. No, we craft our own indulgence right at home.

Then Christmas came along, and with it, my sister’s perfectly chosen gift: a milk frother and flavored syrups. This was a game-changer. Suddenly, Sunday became latte day. Not just any latte, but the latte, handcrafted with a level of precision that would make a chemist proud.

Now, my wife is a purist when it comes to coffee—black, untainted, unsweetened. But once a week, she lets me transform her cup into something velvety and rich. The catch? The syrup. Following the package instructions led to a disaster of sugar overload. So, after a few misfires (and my wife’s polite but unimpressed expressions), I cracked the code: just enough syrup to balance indulgence without betrayal. A sweet spot, if you will.

And somehow, this tiny ritual makes me reflect—not just on coffee ratios but on life itself. Every Sunday latte is a quiet nod to the week we’ve survived, the goals we’ve chased, and the fact that we’re still here, sipping and smiling.

Yesterday, I completed my 10K run. Did I hit my target pace? Not quite. Did I still run 10K? Absolutely. And that counts for something.

So, we sip our lattes, acknowledging the week’s efforts, big or small. It’s a self-made celebration, a pat on the back in a ceramic cup. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that appreciating yourself isn’t just nice—it’s necessary.

And what better way to do it than with a perfectly brewed latte?

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A Walk to the Doctor’s Office (and a Well-Earned Cupcake)

Written February 4, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

It’s that time of year again—my annual checkup with my general practitioner. Not my nephrologist this time, just the standard “let’s make sure nothing unexpected is brewing” kind of visit. Although, if I’m being honest, “annual” checkups feel almost quaint in my world. Thanks to my kidneys, I’m on a much more frequent schedule.

When we bought this house, my wife and I made sure we had all the essentials within walking distance—our dentist, doctor, and a few favorite spots for coffee. It makes life easier, and today, it means my appointment is just a short stroll away. The weather isn’t as pleasant as yesterday, but it’s decent enough. Besides, I won’t be outside long, so why complain?

There’s something oddly comforting about these little hubs of life—places where errands mix seamlessly with leisure. My doctor’s office is nestled in a small mall, surrounded by restaurants, coffee shops, and even a cupcake store. My wife isn’t big on cupcakes, but I certainly am. And today, I just might reward myself with one.

Before my brain stroke, I never imagined I’d be visiting doctors so regularly. Back then, checkups felt optional—something you did when absolutely necessary, not something you scheduled like clockwork. Now? Every few months, I’m back in an exam room, getting my blood pressure, heart rate, and kidney function scrutinized. It’s not my favorite pastime, but I’ve learned to accept it. There’s no use questioning how important these visits are. They keep me informed, and more importantly, they keep me alive.

A lot of it comes down to choices—small, daily decisions that keep my health in balance. My wife and I eat in a way that supports my kidneys: more fresh produce, fewer processed foods, and carefully measured protein. I can’t just mindlessly grab a steak or overindulge in anything salty. Even something as minor as a cold or a slight miscalculation in my water intake can send my numbers in the wrong direction. It’s a delicate system, and I have to respect it.

That’s why I no longer mind these doctor’s visits like I used to. They aren’t just about checking boxes; they’re about staying ahead of problems before they spiral. I listen to my doctors, take their advice seriously, and adjust accordingly. It’s a partnership, not a battle.

Still, a little reward never hurts. After my checkup, I plan to take a detour to the cupcake shop nearby—nothing excessive, just a small indulgence to mark another successful visit. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that balance is everything. Taking care of my health is non-negotiable, but finding joy in the little things? That’s just as important.

So, here’s to another routine checkup, another step in the right direction, and maybe—just maybe—a well-earned cupcake at the end of it all.

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How I Stay Motivated to Run and Plank

Written 02/01/2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning, I decided to reward myself with an extra 30 minutes in bed. Not out of laziness—no, this was a well-earned bonus round of rest. When I finally stretched awake, my body had plenty to say about yesterday’s workout. My abs, shoulders, and arms all ached in that satisfying, you did something tough kind of way. The culprit? Three solid planking sessions.

Now, if you had asked me a few weeks ago whether I’d voluntarily hold a plank multiple times a day, I would have laughed and changed the subject. But here I am, surprising even myself. I’ve already checked off one session this morning, but I’m gunning for at least two. My ultimate goal is to conquer the elusive three-minute plank, and until I get there, consistency is the name of the game.

Speaking of consistency, let’s talk about the tricky beast that is exercise. Staying committed to a fitness routine isn’t always fun. Some days, I feel unstoppable; other days, my legs protest even the thought of movement. The secret, I’ve found, is to make exercise less of a chore and more of a challenge. Instead of dragging myself through a routine, I turn it into a game.

And this month? The game just got a fresh update. My running app has rolled out new monthly challenges, and I am all in. I used to be a gamer, so this setup feels oddly familiar—like accepting quests in an RPG. But instead of slaying dragons or looting treasure, I’m chasing down miles and racking up achievements.

First up on today’s list: a 10K run. Not only will that check off one of my monthly challenges, but it will also give me a head start on the others. The app typically hands me three major quests each month—a single 10K run, a 50K total distance challenge, and a two-month 150K challenge. It’s like leveling up my real-world endurance, one run at a time. As long as I stick to my own running expectations, I tend to complete them all.

For tracking, I use the ASICS Runkeeper app. The free version has everything I need, though the premium upgrade unlocks extra features. I haven’t felt the urge to splurge on it yet—partly because my wife and I already use the free version to keep tabs on each other’s progress. Having a workout partner, even virtually, makes a big difference. Some days, she’s the one pushing ahead, which inspires me to lace up and hit the pavement. On other days, it’s me leading the charge. Either way, it keeps us both accountable.

So, as I sit here sipping my coffee, psyching myself up for that 10K, I remind myself: fitness isn’t about punishing your body—it’s about challenging it. And the best way to stay motivated? Make it fun, set goals, and turn it into a quest worth pursuing.

Now, it’s time to gear up and earn today’s bragging rights.

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Running, Weather, and the Fine Art of Not Wrecking My Kidneys

Written January 30, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Yesterday’s run? Surprisingly pleasant. The weather was in that sweet spot—chilly enough to make standing around feel like a questionable life choice but with just enough sun to turn things comfortable once I got moving. It’s that perfect running paradox: too cold to stand still, too warm to bundle up. And best of all? I managed to beat my target pace for the first 5K again, which means I’m still holding onto my ever-diminishing speed goals. A small but satisfying victory.

Now, let’s talk about my body’s complicated relationship with temperature. Ever since my brain stroke, my autonomic nervous system has been a bit of a diva—it no longer regulates heat or cold properly. If the weather swings too far in either direction, my endurance takes a nosedive. Some runners struggle with pacing, others with motivation. I struggle with the fundamental issue of my body, deciding it simply does not approve of temperature extremes. It’s like a toddler refusing to eat anything but macaroni and cheese.

Because of this, I’ve been forced to become a part runner and part-amateur meteorologist. I check the forecast religiously, sometimes more than I check my emails. My weather app claims it can predict the weather up to 10 days in advance, though let’s be honest—it’s basically fortune-telling after a week. Still, it gives me a decent heads-up on what’s coming. And when you have a body that treats temperature changes like a personal betrayal, planning ahead is crucial.

Take tomorrow, for example. Warmer weather is on the way, which means hydration is about to become my new best friend. That also means my pace might start to slow because staying hydrated and pushing for speed don’t always go hand in hand. And here’s where things get tricky. I love progress. I love seeing the numbers on my running app improve. But I also love having functioning kidneys, and unfortunately, one comes at the expense of the other.

Dehydration is bad for anyone, but for me, it’s particularly risky. My kidneys already function at less than full capacity, so letting them get parched isn’t just a bad idea—it’s a potentially dangerous one. Pushing my limits is one thing; actively sabotaging my health is another.

So, if I have to choose between breaking a personal record and keeping my body happy, I’ll choose my health every time. Okay, maybe not happily, but let’s call it a mature decision. It’s the kind of choice I’ll have to keep reminding myself of mid-run, especially when the competitive part of my brain whispers, just a little faster, you can still beat it.

But in the end, running is about longevity, not just speed. And if slowing down a little means I get to keep running for years to come? That’s a trade I’m willing to make even if my inner speed demon protests the entire way.

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A Funny Thing About Annual Check-Ups

Written January 29, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Every January, like clockwork, I get a little nudge from my doctor’s office: It’s time to schedule your annual physical! It’s a routine as predictable as New Year’s resolutions that don’t make it past February. Except this year, something was off. By mid-January, my inbox remained suspiciously silent. There was no automated reminder, no gentle push to book an appointment.

Curious (and a little paranoid), I logged into my patient portal, hoping to schedule it myself. Turns out, I was a bit premature. Last year’s appointment was on January 30th, so technically, I wasn’t due just yet. Patience, as they say, is a virtue—but when it comes to health, I’d rather be early than late.

Lessons From a Stroke: Why I No Longer Play Chicken With My Health

Before my brain stroke, I wasn’t exactly best friends with the medical world. Doctors were for emergencies, right? Annual check-ups were those things people did when they had extra time. And I, in my infinite wisdom, thought I had plenty of it.

Then came the stroke. And the swollen feet from gout. And the realization that, actually, time isn’t something to take for granted. Now, I’m a changed man—or at least a much more medically responsible one. I go for my annual physical without fail, and I see my nephrologist every few months like it’s a standing coffee date (minus the coffee because caffeine is another thing I have to watch).

The Irony of Post-Stroke Health

Here’s the kicker: I’m probably the healthiest I’ve ever been. Who knew a life-altering medical event could be the best personal trainer?

Since my stroke, I’ve taken up running and walking—activities I once considered optional but now see as non-negotiable. My endurance has skyrocketed. My diet? Let’s just say I’ve become intimately familiar with ingredient labels. Salt, protein, phosphate, and potassium are all on a tight leash. My wife, determined to make sure I don’t live a life of bland meals, has turned our kitchen into a spice lab, crafting homemade blends that put store-bought seasonings to shame.

Even my drinking habits have changed. I still enjoy a glass of something now and then, but just one. Gone are the days of carefree refills. And sleep? I treat it with the same discipline as a tax deadline—strict and non-negotiable. Bedtime at 9:30 PM, wake up at 7 AM, no exceptions.

Health: A Long Game, Not a Sprint

The truth is, I don’t feel sick. There’s nothing urgent making me rush to the doctor. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that health isn’t just about reacting to problems—it’s about preventing them. Regular check-ups while feeling good help establish a baseline. Without that, how do you even know what’s “normal” for you?

So, I fully expect that tomorrow, my doctor’s office will send that long-overdue reminder email as if on cue. And this time, I’ll be ready.

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A Warmer Week and the Battle Against Procrastination

Written January 27, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

At long last, it seems the days of running in the bone-chilling cold are behind me. No more bracing for that sharp, icy slap of air first thing in the morning. As long as I give the sun a little time to do its job, the temperatures are downright pleasant. Granted, today still has a bit of a seasonal chill, but compared to last week? Practically tropical. And if the forecast holds, we might even tiptoe into actual warm territory soon.

With the start of a new week, I’m determined to hit the ground running—both literally and figuratively. I’ve stacked my to-do list a little higher than usual since my wife has been working longer hours. It’s her busiest season (audit and tax season—fun times), so I’m trying to take some things off her plate. A small gesture, but one that hopefully makes a difference.

The upside of this milder weather? My runs are feeling smoother, and faster when it’s too cold, my body protests. But now? Now, I can focus on picking up my pace and making the most of my workouts. And, of course, with spring around the corner, outdoor chores are about to demand their fair share of attention.

After wrapping up my morning exercise, I dove into my other tasks. Blog post? Almost done. Run? Still on the agenda. And then there’s my writing project—the one I’ve been neglecting. I plan to chip away at it while listening to Sanderson’s writing lectures, which, if I’m being honest, I should have been doing last week.

Confession time: I completely slacked off. I let distractions win. Writing? Ignored. Lectures? Skipped. The result? I’m further behind than I should be, and to make matters worse, I’m still floundering when it comes to figuring out how long writing a book should take. That uncertainty makes it too easy to procrastinate.

My wife, on the other hand, takes a much more structured approach. Whenever she starts a new writing project, she logs everything—research time, drafting hours, and revisions. She fully admits her memory isn’t great for tracking details, so she writes it all down. And here’s the key: after going through the process a few times, she gets a clear sense of how long each phase takes. She’s cracked the code.

Maybe it’s time I do the same. If I track my progress, I might finally figure out what’s realistic instead of just guessing (or, worse, stalling). So, here’s to getting back on track—one run, one blog post, and one writing session at a time.

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Relentless Forward Motion: Embracing the Grind, One Run at a Time

Written 01/26/2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Ah, what a difference a week makes! The weather has finally decided to cooperate, and my runs are feeling much more bearable. Yesterday was so mild that I nearly ditched my windbreaker altogether. Gloves? Left them behind. And guess what? I didn’t regret it.

Running in this kind of weather is a dream. My body isn’t wasting energy trying to keep warm or cool down—it’s actually focusing on, you know, running. And the results? Well, let’s just say I had a good day. Not only did I crush my target pace for two consecutive 5Ks, but I also set a new personal best for my 10K. Not too shabby for a guy who, just a few years ago, had to relearn how to control his body.

My goal for this year? A sub-9-minute-per-kilometer 5K. Ambitious? Maybe. But here’s the kicker: It’s only January, and I’ve already pushed my pace down to 9:32/km. That’s progress. Real, tangible progress.

Now, let’s talk about running for a second. It’s a weird sport. Improvement is painfully slow, especially if you start from zero—trust me, I know. I wouldn’t call myself fast (or even moderately speedy), but I’m persistent. Whether the weather is unforgivingly cold or oppressively hot, I lace up and hit the road. I don’t quit. I just keep going.

My wife once told me that, eventually, running wouldn’t feel like a struggle—it would just be something I did. And she was right. At some point, my body got used to it. Even more surprisingly, I started experiencing what she calls “runner’s high.” She used to rave about how addictive it was, and while I wouldn’t say I’m hooked just yet, I do get it now. There’s something incredibly rewarding about seeing progress, even when it happens at a pace that would make a snail yawn.

Zooming out and looking at my progress over a year instead of obsessing over daily runs? That’s when I truly see how far I’ve come.

Of course, once summer rolls around, I expect my pace to slow down again—because running in the heat is basically self-inflicted suffering. But come fall, I’ll be ready to pick up speed again. The key is consistency. Just keep running, and the results will follow.

Oh, and speaking of progress, my planking game is back on track. Two-minute sessions are feeling solid again, thanks to the new platform. So, endurance? We’re rebuilding that, too.

All in all, I’d say things are looking pretty good. Now, let’s see what next week’s runs bring!

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Planking Pains and Gains: My Battle with the New Platform

Written January 24, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

Ever since my wife and I upgraded to a new planking platform, my core has been waging a full-scale rebellion. Holding a plank for my usual duration? Ha! My abs have other plans. Two likely culprits are sabotaging my endurance, and honestly, I feel personally attacked.

Why Am I Suddenly Terrible at Planking?

First, there was the dark age—that sad, plank-less week when our old platform broke. Not wanting to lose momentum, I switched to planking on the floor. Great idea in theory, except floor planking apparently isn’t the same beast. It felt easier, sure, but that “easier” came with a hidden cost—my endurance took a hit. Turns out, sometimes doing something isn’t as good as doing the right thing. Lesson learned.

Second, this new machine is demanding, and my body is not amused. Unlike the old platform, this one requires a completely different posture. My core, once a loyal ally, is now throwing tantrums over the additional balancing act. I plank, I wobble, I try to hold steady, and the machine just laughs at my suffering.

The Game Plan: One Problem at a Time

Since quitting isn’t an option (and my pride won’t let me), I’ve been sneaking in extra plank sessions throughout the day. The improvement has been slow but steady—exactly the kind of hard-earned victory that makes fitness both frustrating and rewarding.

Endurance Woes: Fighting for Seconds

When I first set foot (or rather, forearm) on this new machine, I barely lasted a minute. A whole 60 seconds before my core tapped out. Now, I’m creeping up to 90 seconds. Still far from my goal of nearly three minutes, but hey, progress is progress. I’ve been on and off gymnastics in the past, so I know one thing for certain—muscle endurance isn’t won overnight. It’s a painfully slow process of adding seconds, one grueling plank at a time. The only way forward? Reduce the timer, reclaim lost time, and build up gradually.

Core Chaos: The Balancing Act

Balance? What balance? This machine demands way more from my core, and my muscles are not amused. It’s like trying to hold a plank on a tiny, floating island that tilts at the slightest shift. Keeping the correct posture while balancing feels like taming a wild horse—one that insists on throwing me off at every opportunity. But I’m sticking with it. No matter how many times I feel like a baby giraffe learning to walk, I’ll get there.

The Silver Lining: Sore Abs = Progress

How long will it take to reach my previous planking glory? No clue. This is an entirely different beast, and I’ll have to tame it on its terms. One thing I do know? My abs are on fire. The soreness is proof that this machine is working harder than ever. If pain equals progress, then I’m definitely moving in the right direction.

So, for now, I’ll keep planking, keep struggling, and keep counting the seconds—until my core decides to stop complaining and start cooperating.

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Homemade Yogurt: Tasty, Cost-Effective, and Surprisingly Versatile

Written January 23, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

There’s something incredibly satisfying about homemade yogurt. Maybe it’s the velvety texture, the way it melts on the tongue without that artificial aftertaste or just the smug satisfaction of knowing we made it ourselves. Or maybe—just maybe—it’s the fact that yogurt prices have been creeping toward seven dollars a tub. At this point, it’s less of a grocery staple and more of a luxury item.

Luckily, my wife has mastered the art of making yogurt, and our fridge is rarely without it. She has a knack for balancing the flavor—less sweet than store-bought but not too tart. Some might call her a yogurt connoisseur. I just call her smart. Not only does she get to enjoy it exactly the way she likes, but we also save a decent chunk of change in the process.

Of course, homemade yogurt isn’t exactly instant. There’s a bit of patience involved. But thanks to our trusty Instant Pot, the process is almost effortless. We know exactly what goes into it—no artificial thickeners, preservatives, or questionable ingredients we can’t pronounce. Just milk, cultures, and time. The result? A creamy, probiotic-rich masterpiece that puts anything from the grocery store to shame.

The Creamy Secret: Straining for Perfection

My wife usually starts with a gallon of milk, allowing it to culture overnight before straining it to achieve a thick, luxurious consistency. This step is crucial. The difference between strained homemade yogurt and its store-bought counterpart is like comparing Greek yogurt to runny, watered-down pudding. The extra effort pays off, and the result is a yogurt so rich and creamy that it practically demands to be eaten straight off the spoon.

Despite making an entire gallon at a time, the yogurt never lasts long in our household. We use it for everything. My wife swears by it for gut health, and she’s meticulous about keeping her stomach happy. As for me? I’ve been getting a little experimental in the kitchen.

Yogurt: The Unsung Hero of Cooking

One of my recent discoveries is using yogurt as a substitute for sour cream in pasta sauce. And let me tell you, it’s a game-changer. The slightly less tangy flavor doesn’t overpower the dish, but it still adds that perfect creamy consistency. Plus, eliminating sour cream from our fridge means one less ingredient to keep track of—streamlining the grocery list and saving space.

I suspect that smoothies will always be our primary yogurt-consuming activity. There’s just something about blending it with fresh fruit and a touch of honey that never gets old. But who knows? We might stumble upon even more creative uses that knock smoothies out of the top spot.

For now, I’ll keep experimenting, my wife will keep making batches of our creamy homemade yogurt, and we’ll both enjoy the satisfaction of dodging outrageous store prices. Because honestly, why pay seven dollars for something we can make even better at home?

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The Weather’s a Trickster, and So Is My Mind

Written January 20, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Today, Nashville has officially decided to test my limits. It’s the coldest day of the season so far, and yesterday, it even had the nerve to snow—just a little. But instead of sticking around like a proper winter scene, the snow pulled a vanishing act. Gone. No trace. Like it had second thoughts about being here, this left me with an internal debate: No snow means the roads are fine, so I should go run. But the air feels like it was imported straight from the Arctic, so maybe I should… not.

Cue the battle of wills. On one side, the rational me: You’ll feel great once you get going! Running in the cold builds character! Think of the endorphins! On the other side, the devil on my shoulder: It’s freezing. Your couch is warm. You could stay inside and drink something hot like a civilized person. The devil makes a compelling argument.

Nashville’s weather, I’ve realized, operates on its own chaotic logic. We don’t get those long, predictable seasons like in Portland, Oregon, where I used to live. Instead, we get extremes—either melting asphalt in summer or air that bites in winter. My body, thanks to an uncooperative autonomic nervous system, doesn’t adjust well. Before my brain stroke, I used to think my wife had the most finicky internal thermostat—too hot, too cold, too humid, too dry, never just right. Now? I am the reigning champion of temperature intolerance. The gold medalist of feeling the weather too much.

So, I compromised. Instead of heading out first thing in the morning like usual, I postponed my run. Maybe if I waited, the temperature would rise a little. Maybe the sun would be kind and throw me a few degrees of mercy. Spoiler: It won’t. Today is one of those days where the high temperature and the low temperature are essentially the same. In other words, cold now, cold later, cold forever.

Eventually, I’ll have to face the inevitable: bundling up like I’m about to summit Everest and forcing myself out the door. The plan is simple—hit my target pace for the first 5K, and I get to stop early. One hour in the cold, no more. If I don’t hit that pace? Well, then I’m stuck running the full 10K as punishment. My version of self-accountability: run fast or run more.

I know, logically, that once I start moving, the cold will be less of an issue. The first five minutes will be miserable, but then my body will adjust, and I’ll find my rhythm. I always do. The real challenge isn’t the temperature—it’s shutting up the part of my brain that keeps whispering excuses.

So, off I go. Because if I give in to the couch today, what’s stopping me from doing it tomorrow? And the next day? That’s how routines fall apart. That’s how discipline slips. And that’s not happening.

Not today, Devil.