Tag: adaptive fitness journey

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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 Your Muscles Say, “Not Today”

Written May 8, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Sometimes, my body and I are just not on the same team. Today’s first planking session felt like trying to wrestle a walrus—slippery, slow, and strangely humiliating. As I collapsed into a heap after the first set, I stared into the abyss (okay, the ceiling) and wondered how on earth I was supposed to do three more.

For the record, I don’t do anything extreme. I jog four times a week and do 10–20 minutes of muscle training every day—respectable, not Ironman material. Yet even this modest routine requires me to walk the tightrope of “just enough” thanks to my charmingly fussy kidneys.

Protein is a particular diva in my diet. I can eat it, but only in controlled, red-carpet amounts. If I push too hard without fueling properly, my muscles start cannibalizing themselves like a badly written survival movie. Not the vibe I’m going for. So, I’ve learned to listen to my body like it’s the lead singer and I’m just the backing vocals. Some days, it hits the high notes. Today, it croaked.

Naturally, this led to the Great Plank Debate of the Day: do I quit after one and scale the whole plan back? Or do I test the waters again later and see if my body’s just being dramatic?

Several hours and one curiosity-fueled check-in later… surprise! Round two felt significantly better. Maybe the lawn mowing earlier had worn me out more than I thought. Or maybe my muscles just needed a little nap and a motivational TED talk. Either way, I was back in the game.

Session three was… fine-ish. Not glorious, but also not tragic. I rewarded myself with a brief pause and some household chores—because nothing says “active rest” like folding towels. Then came session four, powered by the holy grail of motivation: ice cream. And somehow, I did it.

This whole planking saga got me thinking—maybe I need a proper rest day in my routine. I already rotate muscle groups to avoid overworking the same area, but perhaps even my meticulous planning needs a day off. After all, I’m not a machine. I’m a human with medical fine print.

I haven’t figured out the ideal plank duration yet. I know I can’t keep increasing it forever (unless I’m training for a Guinness World Record in dramatic floor-staring). One day, I’ll hit a ceiling. But for now, I’ve made peace with the idea that recovery is not weakness—it’s strategy.

Living with chronic conditions means your exercise plan sometimes needs to bend like a yoga master. So today’s lesson? When your body says “later,” sometimes it means “better.”