Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke
Written September 16, 2025
Hello Dear Readers,
Today’s workout wasn’t in the gym—it was me versus a front yard buried in leaves. After an hour of vacuuming (yes, vacuuming leaves—welcome to suburban cardio), I felt like getting a reward with a bizarre 40-degree temperature rollercoaster. We started the day at 50, peaked at 90, and now the house sits at a blissful 72. Windows open, fans humming, life’s good.
Naturally, I had an audiobook in my ears. My wife is reading the same book, and I like to “listen along” so we can dissect it together like the world’s nerdiest book club for two. I used to love reading print books myself, but after my brain stroke, double vision made following even one line feel like I was reading through a kaleidoscope. Audiobooks became my lifeline—suddenly, I was devouring books again, mile after mile on a run or chore after chore at home.
My wife, though, wasn’t sold. For her, audiobooks felt like background noise, more like music than words. She almost gave up until she caught me struggling to complete a book. Without me saying a word, she guessed I had a problem reading. So, she passed her audio account—and this time it stuck.
She’s always been a voracious reader, but about four years ago, she leveled up. After reading How to Read Literature Like a Professor, she dove into cross-disciplinary book analysis. Now, a novel isn’t just a story—it’s a launchpad into psychology, history, art, and even rabbit holes of academic journals. (Her Zotero library looks like it belongs to a PhD candidate, not a casual reader.)
Her approach has rubbed off on me. While I was showering today, I realized I wasn’t just enjoying the plot; I was thinking about themes, character roles, and even narrative craft. Blame Brandon Sanderson’s writing lectures too—suddenly, I’m seeing books like a writer, not just a reader.
And the best part? One of her goals has always been to inspire people to read more deeply. Mission accomplished, dear—I’m proof your analysis works.
