Category: Running

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Running Through The Seasons is How I Reclaimed Strength After Stroke

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Written October 15, 2025

Hello, Dear Readers,

This morning, I woke up feeling a little foggy. The air has turned noticeably colder, and lately it’s been harder for my body to bounce back from running and everyday tasks. Sudden temperature shifts have always affected me, but ever since my brain stroke, my autonomic nervous system just… clocks out when the weather changes. If the temperature swings, my body goes, “Nope. That’s enough character development for today.”

So, every morning, I check the weather carefully and layer up like I’m preparing for a small expedition. Over time—and plenty of trial and error—I’ve learned which clothing works for which temperature range. Still, when the seasons shift, my body needs time to adjust. Winter cold and summer heat both make it difficult for me to feel “comfortable” in my own skin.

Over the past few days, I’ve been pushing myself to run a little more because I felt motivated. But this morning, I felt the effort in every muscle. Even so, I headed out the door. And something surprising happened—I ended up hitting my 4th-fastest run time ever, meeting and beating my pace goal. I averaged 9 minutes per kilometer, something I didn’t expect on a tired day. Oddly enough, the fatigue helped me focus. And I was proud.

Now that we’re down to the last few months of the year, I checked in on my annual goals. One of them was logging 1,000 km of running. Thanks to adding a weekly 10km run, I should reach that milestone by the end of October—weeks earlier than last year. Another goal was improving my running pace, and I’ve already accomplished that one.

It still amazes me. Ten years ago, I was relearning how to walk with a walker. Today, I’m running consistently. I’m not the fastest runner out there, but I am improving—steadily, patiently, year after year.

My brain stroke once took away my independence. Regaining my leg mobility felt like reclaiming a part of myself. Every completed run reminds me that I’m capable. Running has become easier over time—not just physically, but emotionally. It’s no longer something I resist; it’s part of my life.

My wife recently read something in a neuroscience journal: One key to forming habits is reducing emotional resistance.

A new habit often feels uncomfortable in the beginning. But when you keep showing up, that discomfort fades. I think my mind and body have finally agreed—running isn’t temporary. It’s home.

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This is What I Learned: Lessons from Today’s 10K

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Written October 4, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

I keep reminding myself that progress isn’t a straight line—it’s more like a hilly trail with a few unexpected potholes. Today was one of those “downhill” days.

When you chase a goal and the results don’t match your effort, disappointment sneaks in like a side stitch. For me, that moment came during today’s 10K.

Maintaining a 10K pace has always been tricky—it’s long enough to test endurance but short enough to tempt you to sprint too early. My wife once said that mid-distance runs (around 10–21 km) are the most deceptive: go too fast at the start, and you’ll spend the rest of the run questioning your life choices.

I’ve been running for years, so I’m no rookie. My app gives me pace updates every quarter-kilometer, helping me track my rhythm. Lately, though, I’ve wanted to push harder. Sometimes that push pays off; sometimes it backfires and slows me down overall.

Today I crossed the 10K finish mark but didn’t smash through the wall I’ve been chasing. Still, I think I might have cracked it a little. Whether that crack grows or seals itself back up—well, the next few runs will tell.

Even though I haven’t hit my target pace yet, I’m still improving. My 10K average today was faster than my last year’s normal 5K, and that’s worth celebrating.

Yesterday, however, was a slog. I had zero energy—felt like my batteries were running on nostalgia alone. I started strong today, but by the end of my first kilometer, my early lead had vanished. My wife reminded me that cardio readiness fluctuates daily. Sadly, my app doesn’t track that—just my pace. My watch focuses on blood pressure, which, given my health priorities, is fair—but I wish it could multitask.

The biggest lesson? Patience. You can’t sprint your way through every wall. Some need chipping away, one steady stride at a time. My app logs prove I’m moving forward, even if the pace isn’t dramatic.

Maybe I’ll break my progress into smaller goals—a few seconds faster here and there—until the “personal best” feels inevitable. For now, I’m calling today’s run a success. Tired, yes. But still moving forward.

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Muscle vs. Scale: The Real Weight Loss Struggle

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Written October 1, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Laundry: my most persistent rival in this fitness journey. Forget to do it one day, and suddenly tomorrow’s run is delayed because someone (me) had to play catch-up with socks and T-shirts. So yes, today’s run started later than ideal. But the good news? When I finally did step on the scale afterward, my weight had dropped back into my “target zone.” The not-so-good news? It was clinging to the ceiling of that zone like a cat refusing to leave its perch.

Now, here’s the sneaky thing about scales: they’re master illusionists. The number looks comforting, but sometimes it’s smoke and mirrors. In my case, this “drop” was less about losing fat and more about muscle quietly packing its bags. And no, I wasn’t thrilled to wave goodbye.

For the past couple of months, keeping my weight steady has been a balancing act. When I was mowing the lawn twice a week, I could eat with a bit more freedom. Now that the grass has slowed down, I can’t just eat like a hungry teenager and expect the scale—or my muscles—to cooperate. My wife, however, cracked part of the code. She used to be a stress-snacker, but now she manages cravings with weekly emotional reflections. (Honestly, it’s impressive. Imagine fighting potato chips with philosophy. And winning.)

She also panics whenever her muscle mass dips—which, honestly, is fair. Her solution was to up her protein and resistance training. And she’s right: when you shift focus from “weight loss” to “body composition,” progress looks very different. She’s building muscle now, even if the scale doesn’t move much. That’s when you realize that chasing a smaller number isn’t always the smartest goal—sometimes you need stronger, not lighter.

I’d love to copy her playbook, but my kidneys have me playing by different rules. Protein is like a VIP guest for me—I can only let a limited amount in. That means, while other people might just “eat more protein” to protect their muscles, I need to approach the puzzle differently. Still, I’ve managed to keep over 125 pounds of muscle packed into my 150-pound frame. That’s leaner than most guys my age, which makes me quietly proud—even when the scale pretends otherwise.

Sure, I’m a few pounds heavier than before my recent spike and drop, but I’m not losing sleep over it. (Well… unless laundry decides to strike again.) The truth is, both my wife and I now obsess more over body composition than over plain weight. And when she tells me she’s impressed with my progress, given the dietary limits I juggle, it means more than any “perfect” number ever could.

At the end of the day, the scale might tell part of the story, but muscles, mindset, and resilience are the real plot.

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Why I Gained Four Pounds Overnight—and Why It’s Actually Good News with My Kidney Condition

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Written September 29, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

My legs and I are currently on speaking terms again—barely. Yesterday’s 10K run left me hobbling like I’d just completed a marathon with bricks strapped to my ankles. Recovery is not my strong suit; thanks to my kidney condition, I heal slower than the average adult male, and unlike gym bros, I can’t just down a mountain of chicken breasts to bounce back.

My doctor did let me nudge up my protein intake a bit, but it’s still a delicate balancing act. During summer, I was burning calories faster than an ice cube melts in Nashville heat, so keeping my weight steady was like playing nutritional Jenga.

Today’s run was… let’s call it “character-building.” I aimed for 10K, but my body voted strongly for “more like 5K.” Fatigue, poor sleep, temporary weight gain, and a side of sore legs made sure my performance stayed humbling. And speaking of sleep—last night mine was about as restful as trying to nap during a fire alarm test.

Dinner probably didn’t help. My wife, who avoids meat like it’s auditioning for a horror movie, made vegetarian chili to sneak in some extra protein. Tasty, yes. But let’s just say it left me producing enough gas to qualify as a renewable energy source. Add to that the three liters of water I downed, and I was on first-name terms with our bathroom.

The scale added its own drama this morning: four pounds heavier than Saturday. It is not as bad as you think when you have a kidney condition like mine. But before I accused my chili of conspiring against me, I noticed the breakdown. According to the fancy metrics, over half of that gain is muscle, and a quarter is water weight. My wife—now practically a part-time sports medicine researcher thanks to her own fitness challenges—reminded me that recovery often means muscles hoard water like dragons hoard gold.

So yes, the numbers will bounce around, but in a couple of days, I’ll be back in my target range. In the meantime, I’ll keep running, keep eating cautiously, and maybe keep a safe distance from vegetarian chili before long runs.

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Rice Runs, Frozen Tofu Experiments, and the 10K That Got Away

Brian’s fitness journal after brain stroke

Written September 20, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Saturday morning in my household is a delicate dance between errands, exercise, and the eternal quest for puff pastry sheets. This week’s adventure began at the local Asian grocery store, because, well—running out of rice in an Asian household is basically the culinary equivalent of running out of oxygen. My wife needed vegetables, too, which meant the trip was officially sanctioned. So today, we went Asian grocery shopping.

Now, a trip to the Asian grocery shopping isn’t just a “pop in, pop out” operation. It’s a small expedition. The store recently started opening at 8 a.m., but let’s be honest: that’s early enough to threaten my carefully choreographed Saturday 10k schedule. My wife doesn’t mind—she has her own routines to juggle. But me? I get twitchy when my long run collides with cabbage shopping.

Back home, my wife immediately switched into surgeon mode, chopping vegetables with precision, bagging them up, and sealing them tighter than Fort Knox. Freezer prep is her art form. She even went bold this week, sneaking tofu into the vegetable bags. This was a first—frozen tofu. The great experiment. She worried about texture changes, but she sealed everything like she was shipping supplies to the International Space Station.

And here’s the thing: Asian groceries are magical, but they’re also heartbreakers. Prices are climbing faster than I can sprint a downhill kilometer. Bean sprouts—bean sprouts!—cost more than they have any right to. Tofu leapt from $1.69 to $2.33, and cabbage is flirting with the one-dollar-per-pound mark. My wife, ever the philosopher-economist, shrugged it off: “Vegetables are cheaper than getting sick.” She calls it an investment in future health, which is hard to argue with—even if I did want to whine about my wallet.

Meanwhile, my run schedule was wobbling. By the time we’d sorted rice, veggies, and freezer logistics, the Nashville sun was already plotting against me. I laced up for the 10k, determined to salvage the morning. The first half went fine—better than fine, actually—but by the second half, the temperature had risen to “why am I doing this again?” levels. Let’s just say I did not become the hero of my own running story that day. Half a run, half a victory.

Of course, I promised myself I’d make up the distance on Monday. I even checked the week’s forecast like it was my personal redemption arc. But life, as always, threw a curveball: mowing season isn’t done yet. And yes, I had to factor in pastry bites, because apparently, my errands also involve making sure puff pastry sheets are in stock for the week ahead. (Don’t ask how pastry became part of my training diet—it’s a long story involving taste buds and denial.)

Here’s the truth: seasonal transitions don’t happen in a neat, dramatic shift. They creep up on you. The weather hasn’t bullied me into full winter running mode yet, so I’m keeping things flexible. Saturday schedules will shift. Runs may be cut short. Puff pastry will mysteriously appear in the cart. But patience—and maybe a little tofu experiment—will get us through.

And in the meantime, there’s rice in the pantry, vegetables in the freezer, and a 10k penciled into my calendar with suspicious optimism. That’s what I call balance.

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Rain, Runs, and Relentless Grass: A Nashville Tale

Brian’s Journal after Brain Stroke

Written September 24, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Nashville’s weather has been auditioning for the role of “most indecisive character in a soap opera.” One minute, sunshine. Next minute, a full-on rain performance with dramatic flair. Naturally, my lawn has been the stage victim—too soggy to mow the other day, yet somehow already plotting its overgrowth revenge.

Today’s to-do list included a 5 km run. Did the rain stop me? Not exactly. Did it try to slow me down? Absolutely. Imagine running while the sky wrings itself out like a wet towel over your head—that was me. By the midpoint, I felt as if the rain wasn’t just falling on me but siphoning my energy straight out of my legs. The cool air stiffened me up, and my pace slowed, but hey, I still finished. That’s a victory in my book.

Meanwhile, the lawn continues to mock me. Mowing is no small affair here—our backyard is hillier than a rollercoaster ride. My wife used to mow it with a non-electric push mower, which I now realize was basically a medieval torture device disguised as gardening equipment. She took breaks between passes; I just sweat and pray.

The funny part? Last summer was so scorching hot that the grass barely grew, and we actually wished it would. This year, it’s making up for lost time—rain, warmth, repeat. Nashville weather is playing chess, and I’m just a pawn with a lawnmower.

When I got home from my run, I weighed myself and noticed I was down four pounds compared to yesterday. Before you think I discovered some magic weight-loss hack, don’t get excited—it was probably the difference between “pre-breakfast” vs. “post-liter-of-water.” For the record, one liter equals about 2.2 pounds. Math: not glamorous, but it explains a lot.

The weighing ritual has become part of my daily routine, thanks to our electric scale. My doctor loves the log—apparently, sudden spikes or drops are like plot twists in my health story. I keep myself steady around 150 pounds, with about 132 of that being muscle (the other 18? Let’s just call them “personality”).

On the food front, my wife has recently developed a habit of stockpiling bananas. She snacks on one before her workouts. Bananas may contain potassium, which I need to watch with my kidneys, but I figure one or two won’t send me straight to the ER. Plus, potassium helps with energy—something I probably could’ve used before running in the rain like a damp tortoise.

Slow or not, I ran today. The grass may wait, the rain may fall, but showing up matters more than the stopwatch. Someday, I’ll be a faster runner. For now, I’ll settle for being the guy who outpaces his lawn.

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Cookies, Cold Runs, and Cat Chaos: A Fall Running in Nashville

Written September 15, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning, I decided to ignore my usual “cold-weather running schedule” and hit the road first thing. Why? Because thanks to my brain stroke, my autonomic nervous system is about as reliable as Nashville weather—completely indecisive. I have to change my running times seasonally: summer evenings, winter mornings. Today, I gambled with the cooler air.

Of course, fuel was required. Sadly, I was out of my trusty pastry bites, so I settled for one of my homemade bite-sized cookies. Sure, vegetables would’ve been the “healthier carb choice,” but when you’re staring down 5k with zero fuel, kale isn’t going to cut it. My wife won’t touch cookies before noon—she’s convinced sugar is a morning villain—but I like my cookies tiny enough that even my calorie counter barely blinks.

After the run, I realized lawn mowing season is officially over (victory dance). But before I get too cozy, the trees in our front yard have declared war—sending down waves of crunchy leaves that need collecting before they stage a full-on rebellion. Tomorrow, leaf duty begins.

Meanwhile, our kitten has been inhaling food like she’s training for an eating contest. Four servings down before lunch, and she still looks at me like Oliver Twist asking for more. At least she balances it out with exercise—her version of “cardio” is chasing a toy mouse across the living room like a furry missile.

So: no mowing, yes to leaf wrangling, cookies for fuel, and a kitten with bottomless-pit energy. Autumn in Nashville may be confused, but my day certainly isn’t.

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When Life Gives You Rain, Trade Your Mower for Running Shoes

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Written September 25, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Sometimes the universe likes to laugh at your carefully planned to-do list. This morning, it chuckled right in my face. I woke up, stretched, looked out the window—and saw rain. Again. The lawn had already staged a mutiny thanks to weeks of drizzle and warm weather, but mowing in the rain is as effective as trying to blow-dry your hair in a hurricane.

So, breakfast it was. I sipped my coffee and gave the sky my best “disappointed dad” look, hoping it would feel guilty and stop raining. No luck. And even if it did stop, soggy grass is a mower’s worst nightmare. My frustration grew—plans derailed by something completely out of my control.

Enter: my wife. She’s basically a Jedi Master of time management, trained since her teenage years. Watching me sulk at the window, she offered a simple solution: “Why not swap today’s mowing with tomorrow’s run?”

Genius. And annoyingly reasonable.

So, I laced up my running shoes and hit the pavement. And you know what? I ran better than yesterday. Turns out swapping a mower for running shoes isn’t the worst deal after all. My wife reminded me of an ancient truth: control what you can, stop glaring at what you can’t.

The lawn, of course, will get its day—maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. But here’s the kicker: I secretly dread more mowing anyway. It’s autumn, the grass should be retiring by now! Every raindrop feels like nature’s way of extending lawn season just to spite me.

Still, once I made the switch, I realized my mood had already improved. Running in the rain (well, drizzle) was a lot better than sulking indoors. And yes, the lawn still looks like a small jungle, but at least I got a solid run and a story out of it.

Lesson learned? When the rain ruins your plans, don’t argue with the clouds. Just change shoes.

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Why a Belt Pouch Beats an Arm Holster for Carrying Your? Phone

Brian’s fitness journal after brain stroke

Written September 10, 2025

Hello, Dear Readers,

Today I tested out a new running hack: ditching my arm holster and slipping my phone into the pouch on my water bottle belt. Turns out, this was a major upgrade—kind of like trading in a wobbly shopping cart for one that actually rolls straight.

The belt itself came after a chat with my nephrologist. I proudly said, “I’ve started running again!” and instead of high-fives, I got, “Are you drinking enough water?” Because Tennessee summers are hot enough to roast marshmallows on the sidewalk, and running a 10K without hydration is basically survival training.

Originally, I borrowed my wife’s old running belt. Back in her racing days, it carried everything: keys, cards, a license, and occasionally water bottles when she ran with friends. But like all veterans, it eventually retired—translation: it broke. So, I upgraded to my own shiny(ish) version.

My belt’s pocket is the perfect size for keys or a phone. The problem? My old phone was basically the size of a small TV and didn’t fit. That’s when my wife introduced me to the arm holster. And while it worked, it also slipped, bunched, and demanded constant fiddling mid-run. Worst of all, it caused me to drop my phone once—because apparently, I like to add “juggling” to my workouts.

Enter: my new, smaller phone. It fits in the belt pouch like it was born there. No slipping, no bouncing, no phone gymnastics. And wouldn’t you know it—I clocked my fastest time yet. Coincidence? Maybe. Or maybe the pouch is my new superpower.

The phone itself is also a delight. I’ve redownloaded my apps, got my audiobooks back, and life feels orderly again. Was my pace faster because of the belt setup, the phone, or pure runner’s glory? Who knows. All I know is, I finally hit a sub-9-minute kilometer—my first since last spring.

The goal now: keep that pace up and maybe even shave it down before 2025 waves goodbye. In the meantime, I’ll keep running, hydrating, and making sure my phone stays securely on me, not in pieces on the pavement.

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Thunderstorm Workout: An Alternative Way to Stay Active

Brian’s Journey after a brain stroke

Written September 6, 2025

Hello, Dear Readers,

This morning I woke up like a superhero ready for a 10k—but the universe had other plans. My new Google phone, the sidekick I’d been waiting for, pulled a diva move and decided not to show up. Delivery delayed. My wife explained that we missed the carrier’s cut-off, and since it’s the weekend, the phone is basically sipping margaritas in a warehouse until Monday.

Now here’s the problem: I had psyched myself up for a two-hour run, but without audiobooks, that’s just two hours of listening to my own thoughts. And trust me, my brain is not the best playlist. To add insult to injury, it was cold. Like, September-just-started-but-we’re-already-in-October cold. Nashville apparently skipped the weather memo.

Then my wife pointed out the thunder and lightning. Yes, actual thunderbolts—while I was too busy sulking about my phone to notice. She had already cut her own run short (she’ll run through snow, rain, plagues of locusts—you name it—but thunder is her personal “nope”). To be fair, her aunt once got hit by lightning. Survived, but the story was enough to permanently traumatize her. On a day like this, I will find an alternative way to stay active.

So instead of dodging lightning like a wannabe Olympic sprinter, I downgraded to a safer workout: vacuuming. It doesn’t burn quite the same calories, but hey, clean floors are underrated cardio.

Meanwhile, our kitten staged her own adventure. She scaled the stairs, stormed into our bedroom, and leapt onto the bed like she owned the place. My wife was over the moon. Me? I was just proud our tiny furball could jump higher than my weekend motivation. She’s getting braver by the day, meowing for pets, curling up on my lap, and basically running the household with four paws and a tail.

Honestly, spending the morning with her wasn’t a bad trade for missing my run. Thunder outside, purring inside. And while I do feel naked without a phone—no alarms, no stopwatch, no audiobooks—I’ll survive. It’s wild how much we rely on those little rectangles, even when we’re not on social media.

Until my phone comes crawling home on Monday, I’ll be over here vacuuming, cat-cuddling, and pretending I meant to skip that run all along. When the weather is not suitable for running, this is how I deal with it, an alternative way to stay active.