Tag: brain stroke recovery

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Holiday Baking for Family, and the Quiet Joy of Making Pie

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today’s most important task wasn’t glamorous—but it was meaningful:
I peeled, sliced, and macerated apples for tomorrow’s apple pie.

We’re heading to my sister’s house for a Christmas party, and my official contribution is two pies: one apple, one pumpkin. Sadly, my mother won’t be able to come this year because she has the flu and doesn’t want to share it with the rest of us. That’s disappointing—but also considerate. Germs are not festive.

I was still excited, though. I used this same apple-pie process for Thanksgiving, and my brother-in-law—a genuinely excellent cook—complimented it. That is high praise. When someone who regularly feeds everyone beautifully enjoys something you made, it hits differently.

So yes, I’m happily attempting a repeat performance.

I always prep pies two days ahead. Pies, like good ideas, improve with a little patience. The day before baking, I macerate the apples—letting sugar and spices pull out their juices and soften them overnight. Tomorrow, all I have to do is assemble and bake.

The pumpkin pie required a small compromise this year. We didn’t make our own pumpkin purée like usual. Everyone was too busy, and even applesauce didn’t happen. So we bought purée from the store. Is it as romantic? No. Is it acceptable? Absolutely.

I love baking for family gatherings. It’s how I show up. I’ve loved baking since I was a teenager, and after my brain stroke—when I couldn’t even draw a proper clock—I still baked my wife a birthday cake with my father’s help. Baking gave me structure, sequencing, and purpose. In a very real way, it became part of my rehabilitation.

There’s something deeply grounding about measuring, mixing, waiting, and watching something become whole.

I can’t believe the year is almost over. The best parts of the holidays are still ahead. My wife is already excited to see her niece—she only gets that chance during family gatherings because life is so busy for everyone.

For now, I’m content with bowls of spiced apples resting quietly in the fridge, doing their slow magic.

It feels good to contribute something made with care to people I care about—even if it’s just pie.

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When Getting Out of Bed Is the First Workout of the Day

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Some mornings invite you to crawl back under the covers and negotiate with the universe. Today was one of those mornings. I was still half-asleep when the alarm went off, but I got up anyway—mostly because I’ve learned that negotiating with fatigue never ends well.

Ever since my brain stroke, sleep has been… complicated. In the early days, I could sleep almost indefinitely. My occupational therapist responded by giving me a very firm schedule, and my wife enforced it with the seriousness of a NASA launch director. Her rule was simple: never give up your agency. Losing control of your body is hard enough—don’t also surrender control of your will.

Kafka would’ve understood.

Being trapped in a body that doesn’t cooperate is emotionally brutal. At first, I was scared. Insecure. Stripped of mobility and confidence all at once. But slowly, painfully, I got it back. The will to live returned. I realized my wife needed me—but more importantly, I needed me.

Now, most of what I do is for myself: running, strength training, and learning. People can change. I’m living proof of that. So even on tired mornings, I stick to my routine.

Today was no exception.

I made my way to my office, fed our cat, and started my morning exercises before breakfast. My wife had already left for work at 6:30 a.m., as usual, powered by her own internal stoic engine.

Being Monday, the schedule called for pull-ups.

I knocked out the first 10 without dropping off the bar, then after a few seconds of dramatic oxygen negotiations, finished the remaining 9. Nineteen total. Next week’s target is 20, which conveniently marks the end of my weekly increase streak.

That opens an interesting question:
Do I push further into three sets of ten?
Or do I hold the line and focus on maintaining this strength?

I have two weeks to decide. That feels fair.

For now, I’m allowing myself a short pause before the next act of today’s production: my run. Fatigue may still be hanging around, but discipline has already clocked in for work.

And that makes all the difference.

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Why My Kidneys Just Banned My Favorite Melons

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

today my kidneys staged a small but decisive coup.

My nephrologist’s office called to inform me that my latest bloodwork shows I’ve been consuming too much potassium. The culprits? Cantaloupe and honeydew. Two of my favorite, innocent-looking fruits. Apparently, they’ve been quietly plotting against me this whole time.

When your kidneys aren’t working properly, the list of things you have to watch becomes impressively long. Protein. Potassium. Phosphate. Even foods that sound healthy—like spinach and other green vegetables—can become problematic. You don’t just eat what’s “good”; you eat what your kidneys will tolerate.

Over the summer, I was told I was eating too much icecream (sugar), so melons became my workaround. Light, refreshing, hydrating—what could go wrong? Well, potassium. That’s what.

Fortunately, it’s not summer anymore, and I’m not doing as much physical activity. That means I can get away with smaller snack volumes, which makes adjusting a little easier.

Kidney disease is not a casual hobby. It demands attention, planning, and frequent dietary grief. So now, melons are off the table—for a while, at least.

After some research, I discovered that strawberries and carrots are much friendlier options for a low-potassium diet. My wife, always the strategist, suggested rotating foods instead of banning them forever: melon one week, berries the next. That way, nothing gets permanently exiled unless it absolutely has to.

Still, losing another favored snack stings. And it’s not just melons. Cheese and chocolate—two of life’s most reliable joys—also need to be carefully rationed when kidneys are involved. Apparently, the universe believes character is built through dietary restraint.

So for now, it’s goodbye to honeydew and cantaloupe. Hello to berries and carrots.

I’ll keep paying attention to potassium levels, rotating foods when possible, and doing my best to eat in a way that keeps my kidneys cooperative—even if they have a flair for dramatic food bans.

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When Nashville Freezes and Productivity Moves Indoors

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Tragically, today is 30 degrees colder than yesterday, which was already rude. That puts us squarely in literally freezing territory. My wife reported that it was 11°F when she went out for her morning workout—casually, as if that’s a normal thing to say.

She wore her legendary winter ski jacket from Canada. It’s over 30 years old and still looks brand new. At this point, I’m convinced it’s immortal.

Nashville, for context, is in the southern United States. We are not in Minnesota or in Texas.. We live in the awkward middle zone where winters usually aren’t this aggressive and summers don’t actively try to kill you. I honestly don’t remember it being this cold before.

My wife, however, treats temperature like background noise. Hot, cold—it’s all just “weather.” Her routine does not bend. She’s deeply influenced by Stoicism and admires Marcus Aurelius. While she doesn’t take Meditations as literal doctrine, she lives the spirit of it remarkably well. Marcus Aurelius: philosopher king, cold-weather champion, probably would have approved of that jacket.

Fortunately, I had no outside activities planned today. Instead, I redirected my energy toward indoor productivity—specifically, tidying up.

I still had boxes and random packaging debris left over from assembling the stretching machine, and I needed to find a sensible permanent spot for it in my room. Equipment without a home is just clutter waiting to become emotional.

Meanwhile, my wife has been on a house-cleaning streak. She also has two broken former desk chairs in her room that she’s asked me to dismantle and dispose of. She briefly entertained the idea of fixing and reselling them after seeing someone do that online—but the person who could help is booked for months. The chairs, meanwhile, are occupying valuable mental space.

So the verdict was clear: let them go.

My wife strongly dislikes having too many things in the house. She says clutter makes it harder to focus—and worse, it encourages buying even more things. This is, unfortunately, correct.

So today’s plan is simple and achievable:
  • Disassemble and remove one broken chair today
  • Deal with the second one next weekend

Progress without burnout. Stoic, even.

When the weather is this cold, staying inside isn’t laziness—it’s strategy. And if that strategy results in fewer boxes, fewer broken chairs, and a calmer space, then honestly, winter can stay mad outside.

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Backwards Legs, a Stubborn Cable, and a Surprisingly Good 10K

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

This morning, after breakfast and settling in at my desk, I returned to what I believed was the final phase of assembling the stretching machine. I was confident. Dangerously confident.

A closer look at the schematic revealed the truth: I had installed the stabilizing legs backwards. Naturally. That meant undoing the last few steps, which turned into a couple of hours of careful disassembly, reassembly, and quiet self-criticism.

Problem solved—briefly.

Immediately after, I discovered a new issue. There’s a cable that runs from a lever to the legs, used to pull them apart. The cable was wound so tightly on its reel that it simply refused to reach the attachment point. I stared at it. It stared back. Neither of us budged.

At that point, I declared a tactical retreat and shifted focus to my weekly 10K run.

It was chilly, but my new warm running pants made it tolerable—and, thankfully, it was above glove temperature. I hit my target pace for the first 5K, which felt great. I couldn’t quite pull off the rare double success for the full distance, but I still logged my second-fastest 10K ever. I’ll take that win without argument.

Back home, I moved through the Saturday checklist: vacuuming, a shower, and then making soup for my wife and me—comfort food earned the honest way. After dishes, it was time for our weekly grocery run. Our water cooler was completely empty, so forgetting water was not an option. I’d already staged the empty bottles upstairs to make loading easier. Organization: achieved.

Transportation: complicated.

The city has closed the main intersection that exits our neighborhood—the one that leads directly to the grocery store. We discovered this last week, and the rumor is it’ll stay closed until April. So now every trip involves scenic backroads and low-grade grumbling. There’s not much to do except adapt and complain quietly.

This closure may also affect my annual physical appointment, which I normally walk to. I’ll need to scout the route on foot to see if it’s still passable—or accept the indignity of calling an Uber to drive me a mile.

Meanwhile, my brain kept circling back to the stretching machine. I searched online, fiddled with the reel and crank, and hunted for a release switch that would allow more cable to unwind. Nothing. The manual was unhelpful. The internet was silent.

So I’ve resolved to call customer service on Monday.

Do I have high hopes? No. Based on the manual, communication may not be their strongest skill. Still, it’s the only path forward. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Stranger things have happened.

The good news is that everything else is assembled correctly. Once the cable mystery is solved, the machine will be ready for use. Until then, it stands as a monument to perseverance.

By the end of the day, I was completely worn out—but in the good way. The kind where things didn’t go perfectly, but enough went right to make it count.

Monday will bring customer service.
Today brought effort.
And for now, that’s enough.

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Why Hydration Is Not a Task You Want to Cram

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Yesterday was so busy that my hydration schedule quietly collapsed while I wasn’t looking.

After we returned from the running shoe store, I realized I was already about an hour behind on my water intake. I managed to catch up before heading out for my run, which felt like a small victory. Then I disappeared for two hours—and fell even further behind. This is not recommended behavior. At all.

My kidneys don’t function like those of a healthy adult, so hydration isn’t optional for me. My nephrologist is very clear: at least two liters of water a day, every day, to prevent my kidneys from filtering overly concentrated urine. To help with this, my wife and I both use water bottles marked with hour-by-hour drinking goals so we don’t quietly drift into dehydration.

Yesterday, however, life had other plans.

Vacuuming.
Showering.
Cooking supper.
Then our weekly grocery trip.

By the time I finally made it back to my desk, I was several hours behind schedule. I should have been done with my first liter and well into the second. Instead, I was staring down a very avoidable hydration deficit.

For a brief moment, I considered giving up on hitting the full two liters. But then I remembered that kidneys are not impressed by excuses. So I did what I had to do: I started guzzling water to catch up.

Our Hydration Routine, My for my Kidneys

We go through about five gallons of water per week in our house. We use a water dispenser because my wife is understandably cautious about water quality and my kidney health. The water is excellent—just not meant to be consumed in heroic quantities all at once.

I take hydration seriously, but I was worried that this late-day water surge would punish me overnight with constant bladder alarms. Still, I decided that was the price of falling behind earlier in the day.

Thankfully, timing worked out in my favor. I finished my water about thirty minutes before getting ready for bed, which gave my body just enough time to process most of it. I only had to get up once during the night—a win, all things considered.

So yes, I drank what I needed to drink.
And yes, I mostly avoided the consequences.

But this was not a strategy—it was damage control.

Today’s goal is simple: stay on schedule and don’t turn hydration into an evening endurance sport again.

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Why You Shouldn’t Drink a Milkshake Before a 10K

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today’s plan was simple and efficient: visit the running shoe store to get my wife a fresh pair of shoes, then stop for a milkshake on the way home. We had a flier for a free milkshake, so naturally, we synchronized errands like responsible adults.

My wife takes running attire very seriously—and for good reason. She firmly believes that the wrong shoes invite injury, and improper clothing invites heat stroke, hypothermia, or, at the very least, regret. I don’t argue with this logic.

While we were there, I also replaced my aging cold-weather running pants. My old pair had reached the end of their honorable service, so I upgraded. Once we got home, I immediately put the new pants on and decided to break them in properly—with a full 10K run.

We don’t go out much on her days off because she usually has a long list of chores. But she’d already declared weeks ago that her running shoes were overdue for replacement. This outing had been scheduled in the household calendar long before the milkshake entered the story.

The milkshake, however, was my personal motivation.

My wife isn’t interested in milkshakes. She always takes one sip of mine, politely declares it “too sweet,” and hands it back. I, on the other hand, was thrilled. I hadn’t had a milkshake in years. Years.

And then I made a terrible decision.

I drank the entire milkshake right before heading out for my run.

Running with a belly full of milkshake is… not ideal. No matter how delicious it is, milkshake-fueled jogging is not a performance-enhancing strategy. This is a lesson I will absolutely remember: milkshakes belong after runs, not immediately before them.

The run itself was hard. I fought to keep my pace from collapsing more than 50 seconds below my target. I finished 49 seconds under instead—which is technically better, but emotionally still rough. By the end, my legs were fully aware that I had tried very hard.

They may become even more aware tonight.

I’m considering doing my weekly squats this evening instead of tomorrow. That would give me an extra recovery day before my Monday run, which should—at least in theory—help me be faster then.

So today’s takeaways:
  • New shoes: excellent
  • New pants: promising
  • Free milkshake: delicious
  • Timing of milkshake: catastrophic

Still, lessons were learned, gear was upgraded, and the run got done.
Next time, I’ll earn my milkshake the hard way—after the finish line.

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Too Cold to Run, Smart Enough to Plan Around It

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

I have been exceptionally cold in Nashville lately. We’ve had mornings starting at 11°F, which feels less like weather and more like a personal challenge from the universe.

My wife, unfazed, went out for her morning workout anyway. Her internal temperature sensor is clearly miscalibrated, I blame her time living in the frozen wastes of Canada. She claims her winter running jacket feels perfectly warm at 11°F. Apparently, such jackets exist. I have never owned one and therefore remain skeptical.

Last night, it snowed. Snow itself doesn’t concern us unless it requires manual labor. We are fully prepared—with two bags of salt and a snow shovel standing by like emergency supplies. Fortunately, the snow didn’t stick. The temperature crept above freezing just long enough to melt it away.

Unfortunately, that did not mean warmth was coming back.

Once I realized we wouldn’t see anything above 40°F, I immediately began dreading my run. Since I’ve already hit my yearly running goals, a dangerous thought appeared: Maybe I can take a break.

And just like that, I declared today a no-run day.

That said, I know the rule my wife lives by: skip once, and you must go back next time. Otherwise, skipping becomes a habit, and habits quietly erode commitment. This is probably why she still works out in conditions better suited for polar research.

I, however, have a different constraint: my body does not cope well with extreme weather. This is less a motivational issue and more a survival preference.

Looking ahead, Saturday promises temperatures in the 40s. Not pleasant—but tolerable. I’ll definitely be running a 10K then. A 10K in the 40s isn’t fun, but it’s manageable with the right layers and the correct amount of complaining.

This has led me to consider a new idea: a temperature-based exception rule.

Something like:

  • If it doesn’t get above 40°F by 1 p.m.
  • And I’ve already hit my current year’s goals
    → I’m allowed to skip the run without guilt.

I suspect this would reduce unnecessary stress and make running feel less like a punishment issued by the weather. It may also be wise to establish an upper temperature limit as well—though running early in the morning usually solves that problem.

For now, winter and I have reached a temporary ceasefire. I skipped today.
I will run next time.
And that, I think, is a reasonable compromise.

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Rebuilding My Memory System One App at a Time

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Despite it still being cold today, it’s already less of a disaster than yesterday. A low bar—but progress is progress.

I started the day with one clear intention: to reinforce a new habit by using a new app. The motivation is painfully obvious. I’ve recently forgotten two important doctor appointments. The dentist mishap had a semi-respectable excuse (my old phone died a dramatic death), but missing my nephrologist appointment? That one was entirely on me.

Enough was enough.

The app Finch, which I decided to try, is one my wife uses regularly—and happily. She’s been using the free version for a while and swears by it. A friend of mine went all in on the premium version because he enjoys unlocking extra features. I figured starting small would be wiser. Commitment can come later.

To make the habit stick, I used a strategy that’s worked for me before: attach the new task to something I already do. This was a trick I learned in occupational therapy. When your brain has experienced trauma, memory becomes… creative. The goal isn’t to trust it—it’s to outmaneuver it.

So I decided to open the app immediately after completing my daily language lesson. I already do that lesson without fail, so it’s the perfect anchor. One task flows into the next, and suddenly the new habit doesn’t feel new at all.

I set up my task list so it aligns neatly with due dates. That way, I don’t have to hunt for what needs to be done. Small organizational tweaks make a big difference when attention is limited. Efficiency is kindness—to your future self.

I added my daily essentials first: medication, stretching, and language practice. Medication, especially, is non-negotiable in my case. Forgetting it is not an option. I also added weekly tasks—like kombucha bottling. We drink kombucha every day, so forgetting to bottle it would be… unfortunate.

With my digital life slightly more organized, I tackled the next unavoidable task: calling my doctor’s office to reschedule the appointment I missed. After a few rounds of phone tag, I finally reached the receptionist and booked a new appointment—for January.

Later than ideal? Absolutely.
Unsurprising? Also yes.

This is what happens when you miss an appointment—you go to the back of the line. While I assume my kidney function is holding steady at level four, it’s still reassuring to see the doctor regularly.

The app is still new to me, and I don’t yet know if it’s the solution. But my wife uses it. My friend uses it. I can even share progress with them, which adds a layer of accountability I probably need.

Cold weather remains.
Memory remains unreliable.
But today, at least, I built a system instead of relying on willpower.

And that already feels like a win.

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A Very Bad Fitness Day (With Lessons Included)

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today was—how shall I put this—an unqualified disaster.

It began badly and showed no interest in improving. When I woke up, it was literally freezing outside, and I spent the entire morning dreading my usual run. Cold has a way of turning motivation into theoretical knowledge.

Before even getting to the run, I failed at completing my planned number of dips and leg lifts. That’s usually a sign that I’ve hit my current limit. Not “I’m lazy” failure—more “the muscles have voted and the motion did not pass” failure.

Sometimes my muscles simply don’t repair fast enough. Because of my kidney condition, I’m on protein restriction, which means muscle recovery takes longer than it does for the average man. I already space out resistance workouts by several days for this reason. Today was just not the day to push the number. I’ll try again next week. No drama—just biology.

Then came the plot twist.

My wife popped into the room and asked, very calmly, whether I needed to go to my nephrologist today.

Today?

Yes. Today.

Just like with my dentist appointment the other day, I had completely forgotten about it. I was convinced the appointment was tomorrow. My wife, working from home, had noticed that I was still very much at home when I shouldn’t have been.

This one felt bad.

Missing a nephrology appointment isn’t ideal, especially when you’re actively monitoring kidney disease. My wife had driven me to the lab a week earlier specifically to prep for this visit. If something were abnormal, the doctor would call early—but still, forgetting the appointment wasn’t okay. I immediately called the office and reached the answering machine, which did nothing for my guilt.

My wife looked worried. That part stung the most.

Logically, I knew that if there were serious lab abnormalities, the office would have contacted me already. Emotionally, I still felt like I’d dropped the ball—again. Clearly, I need a stronger system. The solution is probably simple: checking my calendar needs to become part of my morning phone routine, right alongside language lessons and weather checks.

And just to complete the full bingo card of disappointment: I also failed to hit my target running pace.

Cold weather and speed do not get along. At all. I finished the run, but not at the pace I wanted. At least Friday and Saturday should be less hostile—still cold, but no longer actively threatening.

So yes. Today was rough.

But days like this still teach something. I need to be better at:

  • respecting recovery limits
  • managing appointments
  • planning around cold weather
  • and keeping my systems tight when my brain decides to freelance

As always, the goal isn’t perfection.
It’s improvement—one repaired habit, one rescheduled appointment, and one tolerable run at a time.

Tomorrow gets another chance.

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