Category: Brian’s Journey

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From Stroke Survivor to 10K Runner: My Pace Story

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Let’s take a moment to appreciate mornings when the universe actually cooperates. This morning was one of those rare gifts: perfect shorts weather, not a raindrop in sight despite the forecast’s best threats, and barely a whisper of wind. In other words, ideal running conditions. the kind that make you feel like you’ve got rocket boosters hidden in your sneakers.

And rocket-boosted I felt. My pace numbers agreed, which is always satisfying (nothing worse than feeling fast and then looking at your watch in despair).

I’ve been on a genuine upswing with my running pace lately, and I’ve been thinking about why. The answer, I’m fairly certain, is muscle conditioning. A few years back, I added strength training to my regular running, and, honestly, summers nearly broke me. Running, lawn mowing, and resistance exercise all at once? Even a machine would protest. So last year I got smart about it: I split my workouts into focused sessions — arms one day, something else the next. That small tweak changed everything. I was finally able to keep training through the heat without melting into the sidewalk.

The results have been real. My body fat percentage is now below 13%. I’m leaner. I’m stronger. I can feel it in the way I move.

11 Years Ago

Here’s the part of the story that gives all of this meaning: I had a brain stroke. When it happened, I was in a coma for the first 11 days, and then in bed for nearly two months, mostly sleeping, mostly still. By the time I moved to a long-term care facility, I had lost all the muscle I’d ever built. And I don’t just mean I was out of shape. I had to relearn everything: how to walk, how to move my hand, how to eat.

That first year, my wife and I walked every single day. I had a walker. I had to rest every five minutes. My wife pushed me, gently and persistently, to keep moving my legs. Slowly, those shuffling walks became a routine. Then a habit. Then 1.3 miles. Then, after my wife bought me my first real pair of running shoes, something that started to resemble actual running.

By the time we moved to Nashville, I was jogging, slowly, but jogging. Over the years that followed, I built myself up until I could run 10 kilometers. My wife told me I should be very proud of that, and she’s right. Surviving a brain stroke is something. Getting back to this is something else entirely.

Now I’m working on pace.

This morning, I finished 16 seconds ahead of my target. I then knocked out two sets of pull-ups, a set of 10 and a set of 8, which is exactly what I was aiming for.

Not bad for a guy who once had to rest every five minutes.

Keep moving, keep surprising yourself.

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A Small Win: My Hemoglobin Is Heading Up

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Good news arrived at my hematology appointment yesterday: my hemoglobin is heading up! I’m still below normal levels, not exactly a cause for throwing confetti, but at least the numbers are trending in the right direction.

Here’s the funny thing: I haven’t actually felt any different. But I’ve spent so much of my life with what is essentially anemia that being anemic just feels… normal to me. I’d need a much more sudden and dramatic change before my body would bother sending me a memo. Fortunately, lab reports exist precisely because the human body’s internal reporting system can be a bit unreliable.

Background to My Anemia

A bit of background for newer readers: I have what is called Mediterranean Sickle Cell Disease. My red blood cells are misshapen, which can block blood flow and lead to complications such as anemia, pain crises, and organ damage. In short, my red blood cells aren’t great at carrying hemoglobin, and simply taking iron supplements isn’t a good solution for this condition.

This isn’t my first time managing this particular challenge. The first time I needed treatment was right after my brain stroke, when my blood count was already low from blood loss. With my existing condition on top of that, I developed severe anemia. That treatment stretched over several months. Now, ten years later, my hemoglobin has dipped too low again, so here we are, back to treatment.

I go to the lab and receive treatment every other week, with my doctor keeping a close eye on the reports. The good news is that this isn’t a permanent situation. If everything continues going well, I’m on track to wrap up treatment in May. (Fingers crossed!)

This appointment is just one more item on an already packed spring and summer schedule. I’ve been doing some careful calendar juggling to make sure nothing important gets skipped because of these treatment visits, and so far, I’m managing to keep all the plates spinning.

I hope I’ll be back to my best soon. As fun as anemia sounds, I really can’t recommend it.

Until next time,

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Getting Back to Running After a Week Off

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

The weather app had spoken, and for once it was right: temperatures hovering firmly below the Great Shorts Threshold. After much trial and error, and at least one very chilly calf’s experience, I’ve determined that 65°F is my personal Rubicon when it comes to running attire: below it, long pants; above it, shorts. My body temperature regulation, it turns out, is not exactly a finely tuned machine, so I’ve learned to outsmart it with a well-considered wardrobe.

Here in Nashville, the first item of business every spring morning is consulting the weather app like it’s an oracle. And Nashville spring, bless its volatile heart, is not for the faint of schedule. We’re talking wild temperature swings, sudden thunderstorms, and the occasional tornado as a bonus surprise. This city keeps things interesting.

I’m an outdoor activity enthusiast by default, running four times a week, mowing the lawn from spring through autumn, and generally treating the outside as my gym. Rain won’t stop me from running; neither will extreme heat or cold, though I’ve drawn the line at thunder (I’m active, not reckless). The secret, I’ve discovered, is simply dressing for the weather. Revolutionary concept, I know.

When it gets hot, anything threatening to climb past 80°F, I become an early bird. Morning runs and yard work only, before the sun decides to really commit to its agenda. Running in the heat is, to put it elegantly, deeply unpleasant.

This particular morning, I started with breakfast as usual, then faced the happy challenge of getting back to my exercise routine after a full week off. The pullups went surprisingly well, 10 reps, a short rest, then 7 more. The muscles apparently took their vacation but kept their memories intact. Small victories.

The run, however, was a different story. I let things warm up a bit, laced up with optimism, and then proceeded to finish well behind my target pace. My legs, it seems, had their own agenda. Maybe my body was carrying more fatigue than I realized. The good news? The rest of the week’s runs are just opportunities to do better.

Here’s to lacing up anyway, tired legs, uncertain weather, and all.

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Mowing With CKD: Half Done and Fully Determined

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Lawn mowing sounds simple, right? Fire up the mower, walk in straight lines, and admire the results. For most people, maybe! But when you’re living with chronic kidney disease, mowing the lawn is less of a weekend chore and more of a strategic endurance event, complete with nutrition planning, weight monitoring, and the kind of careful snack selection that would make a nutritionist both proud and slightly nervous.

Here’s the thing: I get tired faster than your average healthy adult. That’s just the reality of CKD, and I’ve made my peace with it. So rather than throw up my hands and let the grass grow into a lion-worthy savannah, I’ve spent years training to build up muscle mass and endurance. And it works! I feel noticeably stronger than I used to. The catch? More muscle means more nutrition needed, and when you’re adding physical activity like mowing on top of an already-restricted diet, the math gets tricky.

Last summer was a real lesson in the delicate art of weight management. With my protein intake limited by my kidney condition, recovering from physical exertion is genuinely hard. I can drop five pounds in a single week if I’m not careful, which is exactly the kind of dramatic number that makes my doctor raise an eyebrow and pick up the phone. So during the warmer months, I snack strategically throughout the day.

And I do mean strategically. It turns out the snack aisle is full of landmines when you have CKD. Bananas? Potassium. Cantaloupe? Also potassium. Those bright, cheerful, colorful vegetables? Phosphate. Even ice cream, the one food that feels universally harmless, came with a gentle but firm talking-to from my doctor when it started affecting my liver function. So I rotate. I experiment. And I’ve settled into a habit of making small pastry bites each week. They’re my secret weapon: portable, reliable, and doctor-approved-adjacent.

This past mowing session, I grabbed my water and pastry bites and headed out to tackle the first mow of the week. The weather cooperated beautifully, not too hot, not too cold, just that sweet spring window before the humidity rolls in and turns yard work into a sauna experience. Two hours later, I had finished roughly half the yard. My reward? A weight check showed I’d gained 2.6 pounds over yesterday, nudging me a little closer to my target range. Not quite there yet, but progress is progress.

Next up: strawberries. I’m thinking a smoothie, strawberries, juice, yogurt, all blended into something cold and celebratory. Half a lawn, a small weight gain, and a smoothie on the horizon. Some days, that’s what winning looks like.

Until next time,

— Your friendly neighborhood lawn warrior (half done, fully determined)

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Running in Spring: Patience, Progress & Bad Weather Days

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Mother Nature, it seems, has never heard of consistency, unlike me. One day she’s all sunshine and warmth, luring me outside in shorts, and the next she’s quietly laughing as I dig out my long sleeves again. That was yesterday: a chilly curveball after a perfectly nice day, which somehow made it feel even colder than it actually was.

Here’s the thing about my body: my brain stroke left me with a bit of a broken thermostat. Warming up and cooling down take me far longer than they used to, so picking the right outfit before a run isn’t just a fashion choice, it’s a survival strategy. Layers in, layers out; I’m basically a human onion on legs.

The good news is that next week is looking gloriously mid-to-high 70s across the board. I’ll take it. Yesterday’s run, though? Not my finest hour. I missed my target pace and finished the 10th kilometer a full minute-plus behind where I’d hoped to be. My legs are even more sore today than they were yesterday, which I’m choosing to interpret as a sign that they’re busy getting stronger. (This is what runners tell themselves. We’re a hopeful bunch.)

I’ve still got a good stretch of improvement ahead of me before I hit my end-of-year speed goal. Spring is my window; once summer rolls in with its heat and humidity, things tend to slow down whether I like it or not. So I’m planning to make the most of the next few months.

At the end of the day, running is a patience game. I’ve been at this consistently for nearly ten years, and in that time I’ve learned that a bad run doesn’t erase a good one. Some days my legs show up ready to go; other days they’re still settling a grudge from yesterday’s resistance workout. Both kinds of days count. And consistency? That’s the real secret. Not talent, not perfect weather, not the fanciest shoes. Just showing up, over and over, one kilometer at a time.

Until next time, keep putting one foot in front of the other (preferably in weather-appropriate footwear).

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Consistent Running: Patience, Progress & Bad Weather Days

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Mother Nature, it seems, has never heard of consistency, unlike me. One day she’s all sunshine and warmth, luring me outside in shorts, and the next she’s quietly laughing as I dig out my long sleeves again. That was yesterday: a chilly curveball after a perfectly nice day, which somehow made it feel even colder than it actually was.

Here’s the thing about my body: my brain stroke left me with a bit of a broken thermostat. Warming up and cooling down take me far longer than they used to, so picking the right outfit before a run isn’t just a fashion choice. It’s a survival strategy. Layers in, layers out; I’m basically a human onion on legs.

The good news is that next week is looking gloriously mild, mid-to-high 70s across the board. I’ll take it. Yesterday’s run, though? Not my finest hour. I missed my target pace and finished the 10th kilometer over a full minute behind where I’d hoped to be. My legs are even more sore today than they were yesterday, which I’m choosing to interpret as a sign that they’re busy getting stronger. (This is what runners tell themselves. We’re a hopeful bunch.)

I’ve still got a good stretch of improvement ahead of me before I hit my end-of-year speed goal. Spring is my window. And once summer rolls in with its heat and humidity, things tend to slow down, whether I like it or not. So I’m planning to make the most of the next few months.

At the end of the day, running is a game of patience. I’ve been at this consistently for nearly ten years, and in that time I’ve learned that a bad run doesn’t erase a good one. Some days my legs show up ready to go; other days they’re still settling a grudge from yesterday’s resistance workout. Both kinds of days count. And consistency? That’s the real secret. Not talent, not perfect weather, not the fanciest shoes. Just showing up, over and over, one kilometer at a time.

Until next time, keep putting one foot in front of the other (preferably in weather-appropriate footwear).

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Athena Takes Control: Upgrading Home HVAC

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, we are finally upgrading the home HVAC. Last summer, our HVAC system had what you might diplomatically call “performance issues.” It worked, technically, but not with any particular enthusiasm. My wife and I briefly entertained the idea of minimizing its use. I’m not someone who enjoys living in an icebox. However, when the Nashville heat climbs into the high 80s. What makes it worth it is that it’s a good friend, Humidity. So, not having working air conditioning stops being a lifestyle choice and starts being a public safety concern.

Since my wife had back-to-back meetings today, the HVAC project fell squarely in my lap. This was fine. What was also fine, remarkable, even, was that the morning was finally warm enough to run without requiring an extra layer of psychological fortitude. I do love those mornings. I couldn’t linger, though: the installer was due within the hour, so I channeled that ticking clock into a personal challenge and hit my target pace for the second consecutive run. A small victory before the bigger one of the day. I got home with about a minute to spare, which is exactly the kind of margin that makes a man feel competent.

The crew confirmed what the HVAC technician had been telling us for years: our intake was far too small for the system. This explained a lot, honestly; it had been working harder than it needed to with less airflow than it deserved. Two installers arrived and set to work, and to everyone’s mild surprise, the whole job was done faster than expected. Efficient professionals make everything look easy.

Our New Home HVAC Control System

Now here’s my favorite detail: the new display pad is named “Athena.” Our cat, as regular readers may know, is named Artemis. If you’re keeping track of the Greek goddess count in our household, we are now at two. I am choosing to interpret this as a theme.

The new thermostat is a genuine upgrade, sleek, intuitive, and controllable via an app on my phone that took less time to set up than I expected. I’ve already configured our temperature schedule, and I’ll confess I’ve been playing with it a bit more than strictly necessary. Some people get new toys and can’t put them down; I get HVAC management software. We’re both just happy that this summer should be considerably more comfortable than the last one.

Until next time, may your air stay cool, your intake stay properly sized, and your goddess count stay exactly where you want it.

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Sore Legs, Wrong Pastry, and a Weather Whiplash

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Let’s start with the good news: my legs are sore. I know, I know,  that sounds like the opposite of good news. But hear me out. After yesterday’s 10k run, my legs staged a full protest this morning, which I’ve chosen to interpret as a standing ovation from my muscles. They don’t usually bother complaining anymore, so the fact that they spoke up today? That means I actually pushed myself, even if my target pace remained stubbornly out of reach. I’ll take the moral victory and the muscle ache.

Now for the… let’s call it an adventure in the kitchen. As part of my summer routine, I batch-make pastry bites on weekends to fuel all the yard work and general outdoor heroics that come with warmer weather, lawn mowing, moving things from one place to another, and looking purposefully at the garden. One pack of puff pastry sheets is enough for me for the whole week. Simple, reliable, delicious.

Except this week, I came home from the grocery store with puff pastry shells instead of sheets.

Now, “shells” and “sheets” share the same first four letters, the same aisle, and apparently the same ability to end up in my cart undetected. The shells are decidedly chunkier — less “delicate pastry bite” and more “substantial pastry commitment.” Since it’s too late to return them, I’ve decided to simply rebrand my snack. We’re not having bites this week. We’re having moments.

I’m blaming this one squarely on the grocery store, which has recently taken great joy in rearranging everything, combined with my own enthusiastic lack of attention to detail. A classic combination.

The silver lining? Temperatures are dropping a full 30 degrees tomorrow after what felt like a surprise summer preview, so at least half my week will involve post-breakfast runs in much more comfortable conditions. This weather truly cannot make up its mind. A few days ago, I was convinced spring had finally arrived. Now winter seems to be circling back for one last curtain call.

But I’ll count this as a free pastry pass, make peace with my chunkier snacks, and resolve to read the label more carefully next time. Onward, sore legs, wrong pastry, and all.

Until next time, may your pastry always be the right kind and your legs only sore enough to feel proud.

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When Snow Saves You From Your Morning Run

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

It started innocently enough: rain tapping at the windows after bedtime, wind doing its best impression of a haunted-house soundtrack, and, by morning, a temperature drop so dramatic it felt personally offended. Forty degrees cooler than yesterday. Forty. Degrees. The weather didn’t just change overnight. It staged a coup.

My wife, ever the morning warrior, still laced up and headed outside for her exercise. She came back reporting winds cold enough to warrant a full winter outfit. Apparently, she and sudden temperature plunges have an ongoing dispute, and she refuses to let the weather win. I admire her deeply. I also admire her from the inside, where it is warm.

As for me, once I’d finished breakfast and reality had fully set in, I did what any sensible person does in the age of smartphones: I consulted the weather app. The forecast, bless its pixelated little heart, informed me that snow was expected to begin within the hour.

Now, I want to be clear: I am not a fair-weather runner. Cold? I’ll suffer through it. Gray skies? Character-building. But actively falling snow is one of my few, carefully preserved conditions for calling off a run. It’s not laziness; It’s principle. With snowflakes on the way, I did what the data demanded: I declared the day a rest day and settled in, quite contentedly, to stay indoors.

The snow did arrive, though it turned out to be something of an underachiever, nothing like the January accumulation that had buried the neighborhood. Temperatures stayed just above freezing, and despite the blustering wind, there were even a few brave souls outside. (I see you, and respect you. I am not joining you.)

But here’s the thing: skipping the outdoor run didn’t mean skipping everything. Resistance training lives indoors, and indoors I did my exercises, thank you very much. Snow: 1, Running: 0, but me and my workout routine? Still undefeated.

Until next time, may your weather apps always give you the excuse you were looking for.

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Nashville Surprise Snow

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Spring in Nashville is less of a season and more of a personality test — and this week, we are failing it magnificently. Not so long ago, we had some warm days. Today, we received a Nashville surprise snow.

This Sunday, my wife decided to take matters into her own hands and get a head start on the yard. Smart woman. She figured that if she tackled the weeds early, she’d stay ahead of them all season rather than playing frantic catch-up in June. And honestly? She was right — though she did kick off this ambitious plan on a morning when snow is in the forecast for tomorrow evening. Nashville in mid-March: where you can get sunburned and frostbitten in the same week.

While she heroically wrestled the yard into submission, I held down the equally important fort inside. I made her a proper Sunday fancy coffee and a fluffy omelet — because a good support team fuels the troops. I also spent some time prepping my pastry bites for the coming week. Whether I’ll actually need them Monday is another story, since temperatures are predicted to nosedive 20 to 30 degrees overnight. Crazy right? Apparently, Persephone has decided to take a few extra personal days down in the underworld this year and hasn’t quite committed to spring yet. We wait, Persephone. We wait.)

My Wife’s Yard Campaign Against Weed

My wife’s yard campaign was thorough. She pulled out the long weeds that have a habit of tangling themselves around the lawn mower blades at the worst possible moment. She also cleared out the grass and scrubby growth creeping along the foundation of the house — and spotted a few ambitious vines that had quietly decided to make themselves at home near the siding. Vines can damage house siding; left unchecked, they’ll wedge themselves right in and cause real damage. My wife is officially on vine patrol for the rest of the season. The vines have been warned.

The rest of the week is supposed to settle back into something resembling spring. So, I may get back to my morning runs and mowing sessions after breakfast on weekdays. In the meantime, it feels good to be getting back into the Sunday routine — pre-breakfast yardwork, pastry prep, and all.

Until next time — may your weeds stay small, your pastry bites stay crispy, and your local weather app stay at least vaguely honest.

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