Tag: adaptive fitness

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Rain, Hills, and High Hopes: A (Postponed) Summer Running Kickoff

Written April 21, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Last night, I was ready. I laid out my running clothes like a ritual sacrifice to the gods of summer fitness. My pre-run pastry bites were perfectly staged (because who runs on an empty stomach unless they’re being chased?). Today was supposed to be the glorious start of my summer running schedule.

Then morning happened.

I woke to the melodic sound of rain hammering the roof like it had a personal vendetta, and a temperature drop that made me question if we’d time-traveled back to March. So much for best-laid plans—and best-laid leggings.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Today is my designated running day. But Mother Nature seems to be doing interval training with thunderclouds. Ever since moving to a place where summer mornings feel like a furnace on “broil” by 9 a.m., I’ve learned to schedule anything that requires outdoor movement to happen at sunrise—just like my wife does with her daily cardio. It’s Nashville. Sometimes it hits 100°F (38°C), and that’s not a typo—that’s a sauna with streetlights.

But let’s pivot to my other nemesis: lawn mowing. Yes, it’s still chilly, and yes, the grass doesn’t care. It just keeps growing like it’s in a competition with the weeds. Now, mowing may sound simple, but when your lawn resembles a ski slope and your mower is a plug-in sidekick, it becomes a workout worthy of its own medal. Add in my lovely post-stroke body’s struggle to regulate temperature, and let’s just say timing is everything. I try to mow when it’s neither “frozen fingers” cold nor “eggs-cook-on-the-sidewalk” hot.

My wife, by the way, used to tackle that steep hill with a manual push mower. No electricity. No mercy. She’d split the task across the week like it was a strategic battle plan. Eventually, logic (and probably her arms) persuaded her to upgrade to an electric push mower. Still, even with that upgrade, the hill doesn’t quit. I now spend around 6–7 hours per week mowing, but don’t worry—I break it into shifts. I’m not that much of a lawn martyr.

Back to today: it’s mid-April, and yet the air still has that “early March in denial” vibe. Just a few weeks ago we were flirting with 85°F, and now I’m wrapped in fleece debating cardio logistics. The rain’s left the yard squishy, the kind of squishy that makes mowing feel like dragging a sled through pudding.

So here I am, toggling between my weather app and the breakfast table, waiting for a possible break in the rain. Will I run today? Maybe. The app promises a one-hour window, but I don’t trust it. It’s like a flaky friend who always shows up late… if at all. So yes—chilly rain, mushy grass, and my stubborn thermoregulation convinced me to do the only reasonable thing: I had breakfast, postponed everything, and officially declared tomorrow the new start of my summer schedule. Because sometimes, the best cardio move is a strategic retreat.

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Spring Fever (with a Side of Pastry Bites)

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.”