Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke
Some days, sleep simply refuses to cooperate. Last night was one of them.
I woke up around 1 a.m. and stayed awake for hours, staring into the darkness while my brain ran its own unsolicited marathon. By morning, my body made it very clear that it had not signed up for this level of sleep deprivation.
Fridays come with their own fixed set of chores, and today was no exception. My wife took the day off—strategically—because she needs to work an extra day next week. She had already been up for hours, moving briskly through chores she scheduled a month ago. That’s just how she operates. Planning is her superpower.
Despite feeling tired down to my bones, I got up at my normal time. Routine has a way of carrying you when energy doesn’t. After breakfast, I felt marginally more human and decided to go for my run. This was not enthusiasm—it was willpower.
My wife, already finished with her morning exercise, cheerfully reported how wonderful it was outside. And she was right. By the time I stepped out, it was already above 65°F—shockingly warm for winter in Tennessee. She’s thoroughly enjoying this mild American winter, having lived in Canada long enough to expect a white Christmas.
I remember Canadian winters vividly. One year, we shoveled nearly a foot of snow. If you live in the snow belt, snow removal becomes a lifestyle choice.
Today’s run felt great weather-wise. Shorts made another appearance. Speed, however, did not. I didn’t hit my target pace, and I’m placing full responsibility on poor sleep and lingering exhaustion.
My wife mentioned the other day—backed by her usual deep dive into nearly 100 academic journals—that sleep quality has a direct impact on cardio and resistance training performance. She doesn’t repeat common wisdom; she verifies it. That level of professional skepticism likely comes from her accounting background. Admirable? Yes. Exhausting? Also yes.
Despite the fatigue, I managed to complete everything on today’s to-do list. Still, there was a quiet sense of dread hovering over the day—the kind that only poor sleep can bring.
Now that it’s early evening, I’m nearly caught up. Once I finish my pullovers, I’ll officially be in the clear. The hope is simple: better sleep tonight, a stronger run tomorrow, and fewer arguments with my pillow.
One tired day down. Tomorrow gets another shot.