Written April 14, 2025
reviewed 4/19
Hello, Dear Readers,
At long last, Nashville is flirting with spring. The weather forecast this week suggests we might finally be wrapping up the “breakfast season”—you know, the time when it’s still cool enough in the morning to sit down, sip something warm, and think about running. But let’s be honest: in this city, spring is always on a short-term lease. Summer’s probably waiting in the parking lot, engine running.
This morning, the air was balmy enough for shorts. A small victory. My wife, however, was not impressed—she stepped outside and immediately declared war on the pollen and pollution. “My eyes are burning,” she said. Welcome to Nashville in bloom: pretty, but armed with allergens.
The tricky part of days like this is timing. Wait too long, and the friendly warmth becomes a sweaty sauna. So I shifted my schedule accordingly. Efficiency is the name of the game in spring training—beat the heat or melt into the pavement.
My wife seems much perkier lately, probably because daylight finally aligns with her post-run cool-down. Meanwhile, I’m wrestling with the humidity—it clings like an overly enthusiastic hug. She mentioned a thunderstorm warning, but it must’ve RSVP’d somewhere else. Not a drop here.
I’ve been toying with the idea of adjusting my routine even earlier than usual. Nashville summers don’t play nice, so yard work and runs will need to be knocked out before the asphalt starts steaming. I’ve also made changes to my exercise schedule this season: instead of doing everything everywhere all at once, I now do one type of exercise per day. A civilized arrangement, if I may say so.
Despite the chaos of weather shifts and yard chores, I managed all 10 pullups in a single set today. Small triumphs deserve applause. But as the forecast continues to play mood-ring roulette, I’ll take a look at the 10-day outlook this weekend to finalize my tactical plan for next week—both for runs and for mowing.
Now, there is one flaw in this early-bird strategy: hunger. I need something in the tank before my run, and a protein shake would be perfect—if I didn’t have kidney restrictions. Alas, with protein limits breathing down my neck, I have to get creative.
Processed snacks? Out. Most protein bars? Also out. Even “healthy” foods are landmines with my salt, potassium, and phosphate restrictions. So what’s left? My trusty homemade pastry bites. They’re small, satisfying, and friendly to my dietary constraints. I slather them with my wife’s homemade jam—peach season is coming, and she’s gearing up for a full-blown jam session.
So yes, while others may carb-load with smoothies and power bars, I’ve got dainty pastry bites and fruit preserves—charming, old-school, and delicious.
And now, the trail (or sidewalk) calls. It’s warm, the sky’s clear, and I can already hear my running shoes whispering, “Let’s go.”