Category: Running

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When the Air Feels Heavier Than the Workout

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Let me tell you just how humid it has been outside lately.

We had a relatively mild spring this year, but Nashville has finally decided to remind everyone where they live. The weather is settling into its familiar pattern of heat, humidity, and the constant possibility that the sky might suddenly become dramatic.

The humidity has reached the point where stepping outdoors feels less like entering the atmosphere and more like walking into a warm, damp sponge. The air seems to push against you from every direction. It is almost as if the weather is trying to give you a hug that you never asked for.

Of course, humidity is not an acceptable excuse for skipping a run. At least not in my book.

So I headed out as usual.

One pleasant surprise was that I managed to avoid getting rained on. That may not sound like much, but after several consecutive days of rain, it felt like a small victory. The recent weather had kept me indoors more than I would have liked, limiting many of my usual outdoor activities.

To be fair, this is not unusual for Nashville. Rain, thunderstorms, and tornado warnings are all part of the local experience. Summer here often feels like living inside a weather forecast.

Unfortunately, the absence of rain did not mean pleasant running conditions. The air remained thick and heavy, making every step feel slightly more difficult than it should have. I suspect the humidity played a significant role in my less-than-impressive performance. Sometimes the weather reminds you that it has a vote in your workout results.

Thankfully, my other morning exercises went much better.

I had also been concerned about our lawn. With so many rainy days, I had not been able to mow for a while, and the grass was beginning to look a little too enthusiastic about growing. Even after the rain stopped, the lawn remained damp because the humidity hovered above 90 percent. The grass seemed determined to hold onto every drop of moisture it could find.

My wife had her own concerns. She was worried she would not be able to use the weeding machine effectively. She usually takes care of the areas that the lawn mower cannot reach, but the ground and vegetation were still too wet to cooperate. According to her, the weather has simply refused to participate in our landscaping plans.

For now, all we can do is wait and hope for a few days of drier weather. The lawn, the weeds, and perhaps even the runners of Nashville would all appreciate a break from the humidity.

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I Finally Got Runner’s High (Here’s What It Felt Like)

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

I had my first runner’s high!

For years, I heard my wife talk about “runner’s high” with the reverent, slightly glazed-over look of someone describing a religious experience. She ran seriously back in the day, so she knew whereof she spoke. I always wondered: would I ever get there? Was I built for such transcendence? Could my legs carry me to the promised land of endorphin-fueled bliss?

Reader, they could.

My run on May 8th was already shaping up to be a personal milestone. I beat my target pace, set a new personal best, and came agonizingly close to logging my first sub-8-minute-per-kilometer, just a few seconds shy. Not bad for someone who has been quietly waging war on anemia.

Then, somewhere around the middle of my 4th kilometer, it happened. A warm, pleasant tingling crept up the back of my neck. I finished my run, slightly confused and extremely suspicious that I was either experiencing runner’s high or the early signs of a very benign haunting. I reported back to my wife, who has considerably more miles on her legs than I do. Her verdict: runner’s high. And apparently, it means you’re pushing yourself hard. High praise from the household running authority.

Now, I’d be remiss not to mention my anemia treatment, which I received just the day before. Was it the iron working its magic? A placebo boost from feeling like I was doing something about my blood? Honestly, who knows, but ever since starting treatment, my pace has climbed noticeably. The difference is, as they say, night and day. More endurance, more energy, more ability to actually finish a sentence without running out of, you know.

In other fitness news: 19 pullovers knocked out before the run, my plank is creeping back toward the 3-minute mark, and my flexibility is sitting at 170 degrees, close enough to a full split that I can practically smell 180. I anticipate getting there soon.

Until next time, may your pace be swift and your neck always tingle in the best possible way.

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Running on Empty: Life with Anemia and a 10K

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

I’ll be honest with you: this evening, I am utterly, magnificently exhausted. I attempted my weekly 10K, and my running app, with all the tact of a traffic cone, informed me that I did not, in fact, complete the full distance. My body already knew. My body had filed the paperwork on that one halfway through.

Here’s the backstory, if you’re new here: I was born with Thalassemia, a hereditary blood disorder that in my case has traveled in some very unwelcome company. My kidneys no longer work the way a healthy adult’s do, which means I’ve been dealing with severe anemia on top of everything else. To manage it, I’ve been receiving treatment, booster shots to give my blood the iron backbone it’s currently refusing to grow on its own.

The treatment has genuinely helped. I’m better than I was. But “better” is a relative word, and on days like today, sweaty, stubborn summer days, I’m reminded that my tank fills more slowly than most people’s. Summer is the hardest season because the yard doesn’t care that I have a blood disorder. It still grows. The weeds still insist on living their best lives.

Since my wife is flat-out busy with work, the yard work falls to me. And since I’m apparently constitutionally incapable of doing just one physically demanding thing at a time, I also fit in workouts on top of it. Sometimes, mid-task, I get this very specific feeling, a quiet signal from my body that says, “We have not fully recovered from the last thing. Please advise.” I try to advise accordingly.

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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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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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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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Staying Consistent in Unpredictable Weather

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

The weather in Nashville has been behaving like a rollercoaster lately. Yesterday the temperature jumped up by about 20°F, and today it dropped by nearly the same amount. So winter, after briefly pretending to leave, has returned with enthusiasm.

Since my brain stroke, my body does not regulate temperature very well. My practical solution has been simple: adjust the outfit instead of fighting the weather. Even so, the cold this morning made me check the forecast twice just to confirm we were not facing another surprise snow day. Fortunately, there was no snow—at least not today.

Unless we have lightning, ice storms, or heavy snow, I try to keep my running routine. Consistency matters to me, so I run whenever conditions allow it.

When winter temperatures drop too much, I usually wait until the warmest part of the day before heading out. Nashville winters can feel colder than they appear, especially for someone whose internal thermostat does not cooperate. If I can avoid the worst cold, I will.

Cold weather affects my runs more than I would like. My body spends so much effort trying to stay warm that it leaves less energy for actual running. On Saturdays, I usually run 10 km, and ideally, I prefer conditions that are neither too cold nor too hot.

Today, however, timing worked against me.

I delayed the run longer than usual while waiting for the temperature to improve, which started to disrupt the rest of our Saturday schedule. Eventually, I decided that waiting any longer would only make things worse.

So I went out and ran anyway.

Even in the afternoon, the air remained stubbornly cold. My pace was slower than usual, which felt a bit disappointing. Still, I finished the full 10K despite the strong temptation to cut it short.

In winter running, sometimes the real achievement is not speed—it is simply showing up and finishing.

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Running in Ice and Snow: Saving My 100-Week Streak Against the Weather

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, my running app delivered a quiet but deeply threatening message:
“Two more days to log a run before your 100+ week streak is interrupted.”

Nothing motivates quite like the possibility of digital judgment.

Normally, I would not panic. My plan was simple—run tomorrow, maintain the streak, and continue life as a responsible and consistent human being. However, winter had other narrative ambitions.

A quick glance at tomorrow’s forecast revealed snow, thunder, and temperatures about ten degrees colder. In other words, the weather equivalent of saying, “Perhaps stay inside and reconsider your life choices.”

The recent bad weather has already disrupted my running schedule. After the ice storm just a few days ago, the ground is still suspiciously slippery in places. I had hoped tomorrow would be my triumphant return, but the forecast strongly suggested otherwise.

So, in a rare plot twist, I chose to run today—an unusual running day—purely out of strategic necessity. When the weather becomes unpredictable, flexibility becomes a survival skill.

Meanwhile, my wife continues exercising as if icy conditions are merely a mild inconvenience. She owns an extreme cold-weather running jacket imported from Canada, where winters apparently function as advanced training environments. Compared to that, Tennessee’s ice probably feels like a beginner level.

Inspired (and slightly pressured by my own running streak), I prepared for battle:
new warm pants, gloves, a hat, and a cautious mindset.

Road conditions after the ice storm persists

Stepping outside felt like entering a carefully disguised obstacle course. Some areas were clear, others were icy traps waiting patiently for overconfidence. I slowed down in several spots, prioritizing dignity and bone preservation over speed. Falling would have been memorable, but not in a good way.

Surprisingly, the run went exceptionally well.
Not only did I avoid falling, but I also completed my third-fastest 5K.

At that moment, victory felt less like athletic excellence and more like a successful negotiation with winter. The streak remains intact, which is perhaps the most satisfying outcome of all. Consistency, after all, is built on small decisions made under inconvenient conditions.

I do hope the ice disappears soon. These lingering icy patches have been quietly restricting our outdoor activities and daily plans. Even appointments have surrendered to the weather. The recent operation was postponed due to storm-related issues, possibly including power concerns, and rescheduled for Presidents’ Day.

My wife’s dentist appointment was also moved to the same day. Fortunately, she is off that day, which means no PTO required—a rare administrative win courtesy of bad weather.

So while the ice has delayed routines, altered schedules, and turned sidewalks into tactical zones, it has not defeated the running streak. For now, I will consider that a successful week: no falls, a fast 5K, a preserved streak, and a respectful truce with winter.

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Icy Roads and Missed Runs: Choosing Safety Over Winter Ambition

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Icy Roads and missed Runs

The icy road conditions remain undefeated, and today’s strategic decision is simple: cancel the run, preserve the bones. We had ice roads, and I missed Runs.

With the temperature stubbornly parked at 32°F, the ice has no intention of melting. It is merely existing—quietly, confidently, and dangerously. Our area is also quite hilly, which transforms every frozen surface into a potential skating rink with consequences.

The road in front of our house, however, is a rare exception. My wife salted it early, well before the ice storm reached its dramatic peak. She remembers, quite vividly, that during severe conditions, no delivery vehicles—not even the garbage truck—will dare descend our steep road. Apparently, gravity plus ice is a combination that logistics companies respectfully decline.

The irony?

The main road was cleared rather quickly, yet the smaller neighborhood roads remain untouched. As a result, no garbage truck, no deliveries, and no signs of modern convenience bravely approaching our hill. Civilization stops at the flat parts, it seems.

Ice Storm Preparation

My wife, ever vigilant, has been obsessively ensuring that no one slips on our property. During the storm, she kept the driveway and entryway almost entirely ice-free. She insists there is a “method” to it, which I suspect is the result of over twenty years of Canadian winter survival experience. That kind of knowledge may look excessive in Tennessee—until an ice storm arrives and suddenly she becomes the neighborhood’s unofficial winter strategist.

She continues to wander outside occasionally, fully equipped in a winter outfit imported from Canada. Where she used to live, temperatures could drop to -35°C (-31°F), so Tennessee’s icy chill likely feels like a mild inconvenience rather than a threat. Still, she moves carefully, because even seasoned cold-weather veterans respect ice. Confidence does not cancel physics.

Fortunately, the steep hill in front of our house is now mostly safe, thanks to her early salting efforts. A preventative mindset, it turns out, is far more effective than reactive panic.

As for my running routine, it has been temporarily suspended. My wife has strongly advised against going outside, describing the conditions as “deceptively slippery,” which is winter’s polite way of saying “you will fall with dignity but also with bruises.”

Unlike her, I do not own a jacket built for extreme cold. She bought hers as a teenager and is still using it—a testament to both quality craftsmanship and long-term winter planning. I also struggle with body temperature regulation, so extreme weather is less of a challenge and more of a negotiation I prefer to avoid. In this case, skipping the run is not laziness. It is risk management.

Surprisingly, there has been one unexpected benefit to missing my last three runs: recovery. My weight has returned to my target range, and I even regained a pound of muscle since yesterday’s weigh-in. Not exactly the result one expects from inactivity, but winter seems to enforce its own training philosophy—rest, adapt, and resume wisely.

Now that the temperature has finally crept slightly above freezing, there is cautious optimism. If the gradual thaw continues, Friday may mark the triumphant return of my running schedule.Until then, the plan remains clear:
avoid ice, maintain balance (literally and metaphorically), and respect winter’s quiet but very persuasive authority.

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