Tag: Fitness Journey

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Sore Legs, Wrong Pastry, and a Weather Whiplash

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Let’s start with the good news: my legs are sore. I know, I know,  that sounds like the opposite of good news. But hear me out. After yesterday’s 10k run, my legs staged a full protest this morning, which I’ve chosen to interpret as a standing ovation from my muscles. They don’t usually bother complaining anymore, so the fact that they spoke up today? That means I actually pushed myself, even if my target pace remained stubbornly out of reach. I’ll take the moral victory and the muscle ache.

Now for the… let’s call it an adventure in the kitchen. As part of my summer routine, I batch-make pastry bites on weekends to fuel all the yard work and general outdoor heroics that come with warmer weather, lawn mowing, moving things from one place to another, and looking purposefully at the garden. One pack of puff pastry sheets is enough for me for the whole week. Simple, reliable, delicious.

Except this week, I came home from the grocery store with puff pastry shells instead of sheets.

Now, “shells” and “sheets” share the same first four letters, the same aisle, and apparently the same ability to end up in my cart undetected. The shells are decidedly chunkier — less “delicate pastry bite” and more “substantial pastry commitment.” Since it’s too late to return them, I’ve decided to simply rebrand my snack. We’re not having bites this week. We’re having moments.

I’m blaming this one squarely on the grocery store, which has recently taken great joy in rearranging everything, combined with my own enthusiastic lack of attention to detail. A classic combination.

The silver lining? Temperatures are dropping a full 30 degrees tomorrow after what felt like a surprise summer preview, so at least half my week will involve post-breakfast runs in much more comfortable conditions. This weather truly cannot make up its mind. A few days ago, I was convinced spring had finally arrived. Now winter seems to be circling back for one last curtain call.

But I’ll count this as a free pastry pass, make peace with my chunkier snacks, and resolve to read the label more carefully next time. Onward, sore legs, wrong pastry, and all.

Until next time, may your pastry always be the right kind and your legs only sore enough to feel proud.

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When Snow Saves You From Your Morning Run

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

It started innocently enough: rain tapping at the windows after bedtime, wind doing its best impression of a haunted-house soundtrack, and, by morning, a temperature drop so dramatic it felt personally offended. Forty degrees cooler than yesterday. Forty. Degrees. The weather didn’t just change overnight. It staged a coup.

My wife, ever the morning warrior, still laced up and headed outside for her exercise. She came back reporting winds cold enough to warrant a full winter outfit. Apparently, she and sudden temperature plunges have an ongoing dispute, and she refuses to let the weather win. I admire her deeply. I also admire her from the inside, where it is warm.

As for me, once I’d finished breakfast and reality had fully set in, I did what any sensible person does in the age of smartphones: I consulted the weather app. The forecast, bless its pixelated little heart, informed me that snow was expected to begin within the hour.

Now, I want to be clear: I am not a fair-weather runner. Cold? I’ll suffer through it. Gray skies? Character-building. But actively falling snow is one of my few, carefully preserved conditions for calling off a run. It’s not laziness; It’s principle. With snowflakes on the way, I did what the data demanded: I declared the day a rest day and settled in, quite contentedly, to stay indoors.

The snow did arrive, though it turned out to be something of an underachiever, nothing like the January accumulation that had buried the neighborhood. Temperatures stayed just above freezing, and despite the blustering wind, there were even a few brave souls outside. (I see you, and respect you. I am not joining you.)

But here’s the thing: skipping the outdoor run didn’t mean skipping everything. Resistance training lives indoors, and indoors I did my exercises, thank you very much. Snow: 1, Running: 0, but me and my workout routine? Still undefeated.

Until next time, may your weather apps always give you the excuse you were looking for.

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Oversleeping and Still Winning the Morning: A Runner’s Small Victory

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

So this is how I got away with oversleeping and still winning the morning.

This morning began with what looked like a promising start—and then quietly derailed.

I actually woke up before my alarm. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I returned to bed for what I assumed would be a brief rest. Unfortunately, my brain interpreted that as permission for a second sleep session.

The next thing I remember was hearing my wife get up and leave for her morning exercise. Shortly after the front door closed, my alarm went off. I turned it off and thought, very logically, that I would get up after she returned so we would not both compete for the bathroom.

In theory, this sounded like a perfectly organized plan.

In reality, it made absolutely no sense.

My wife usually leaves before 6:30 a.m., while my alarm rings at 7:00. Looking back, the most likely explanation is that I simply fell asleep again and missed everything—including her return from exercise, her getting ready, and her leaving for work.

My wife operates on a far stricter schedule than I do. She arrives at work earlier than most people because she likes to clear her emails before colleagues and bosses begin their day. Meanwhile, my morning apparently turned into a quiet demonstration of the dangers of comfortable pillows.

I had intended to start my day at 7:00 a.m.

Instead, I woke up when my calendar reminder sounded at 8:00.

One hour behind schedule.

Normally, that might derail the entire morning, because my routine includes a long chain of small tasks. If one falls behind, the rest tend to domino into chaos. Today, however, I decided to move quickly and avoid lingering over anything.

Efficiency replaced elegance.

Surprisingly, it worked.

I caught up with my morning tasks and still managed to leave for my run at roughly the time I had planned the night before when I checked the weather forecast.

Even better, the run itself went well. My legs felt a little sore at the start, but I still managed to beat my target pace for the first time this week.

So while the day technically began with oversleeping, it ended with something close to success.

Not perfect—but proof that sometimes a late start does not ruin the day if you simply keep moving forward.

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Icy Roads and Missed Runs: Choosing Safety Over Winter Ambition

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Icy Roads and missed Runs

The icy road conditions remain undefeated, and today’s strategic decision is simple: cancel the run, preserve the bones. We had ice roads, and I missed Runs.

With the temperature stubbornly parked at 32°F, the ice has no intention of melting. It is merely existing—quietly, confidently, and dangerously. Our area is also quite hilly, which transforms every frozen surface into a potential skating rink with consequences.

The road in front of our house, however, is a rare exception. My wife salted it early, well before the ice storm reached its dramatic peak. She remembers, quite vividly, that during severe conditions, no delivery vehicles—not even the garbage truck—will dare descend our steep road. Apparently, gravity plus ice is a combination that logistics companies respectfully decline.

The irony?

The main road was cleared rather quickly, yet the smaller neighborhood roads remain untouched. As a result, no garbage truck, no deliveries, and no signs of modern convenience bravely approaching our hill. Civilization stops at the flat parts, it seems.

Ice Storm Preparation

My wife, ever vigilant, has been obsessively ensuring that no one slips on our property. During the storm, she kept the driveway and entryway almost entirely ice-free. She insists there is a “method” to it, which I suspect is the result of over twenty years of Canadian winter survival experience. That kind of knowledge may look excessive in Tennessee—until an ice storm arrives and suddenly she becomes the neighborhood’s unofficial winter strategist.

She continues to wander outside occasionally, fully equipped in a winter outfit imported from Canada. Where she used to live, temperatures could drop to -35°C (-31°F), so Tennessee’s icy chill likely feels like a mild inconvenience rather than a threat. Still, she moves carefully, because even seasoned cold-weather veterans respect ice. Confidence does not cancel physics.

Fortunately, the steep hill in front of our house is now mostly safe, thanks to her early salting efforts. A preventative mindset, it turns out, is far more effective than reactive panic.

As for my running routine, it has been temporarily suspended. My wife has strongly advised against going outside, describing the conditions as “deceptively slippery,” which is winter’s polite way of saying “you will fall with dignity but also with bruises.”

Unlike her, I do not own a jacket built for extreme cold. She bought hers as a teenager and is still using it—a testament to both quality craftsmanship and long-term winter planning. I also struggle with body temperature regulation, so extreme weather is less of a challenge and more of a negotiation I prefer to avoid. In this case, skipping the run is not laziness. It is risk management.

Surprisingly, there has been one unexpected benefit to missing my last three runs: recovery. My weight has returned to my target range, and I even regained a pound of muscle since yesterday’s weigh-in. Not exactly the result one expects from inactivity, but winter seems to enforce its own training philosophy—rest, adapt, and resume wisely.

Now that the temperature has finally crept slightly above freezing, there is cautious optimism. If the gradual thaw continues, Friday may mark the triumphant return of my running schedule.Until then, the plan remains clear:
avoid ice, maintain balance (literally and metaphorically), and respect winter’s quiet but very persuasive authority.

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The Snack Experiment: Kidney Friendly Snacks

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Lately, I’ve been rotating my snacks like a cautious scientist running a very personal experiment. The goal is simple: keep my weight steady. The execution, unfortunately, is not.

Because I run regularly, exercise, and even mow the lawn during warmer months, my activity level is fairly high. That sounds healthy in theory. In practice, it makes maintaining weight surprisingly difficult. My body burns energy enthusiastically, while my dietary options remain… diplomatically restricted.

Kidney conditions come with a long list of nutritional negotiations. I cannot rely on protein shakes like a typical active adult, since compromised kidneys struggle to filter metabolic waste such as urea. Potassium, phosphorus, and excess sodium also require careful monitoring. Suddenly, many “healthy snacks” become suspicious characters.

Bananas? Too much potassium.
Melons? Also potassium.
Convenient snacks? Usually salty.

At this point, even the snack aisle feels like a minefield disguised as a grocery store.

Naturally, I tried switching to melons as a safer alternative—only to discover they also contain a fair amount of potassium. That plan was quietly retired. I then pivoted to berries, which are much more kidney-friendly. The only problem? They are good… and aggressively sour.

So, I introduced a diplomatic solution: homemade yogurt.

My wife makes yogurt at home, which is both versatile and practical. It works in smoothies, cooking, and even as a substitute for sour cream. Recently, I suspect she has been making more of it simply because I keep eating it. I am now seriously considering taking over yogurt production myself. Not because it is difficult, but because it requires careful temperature control when adding the culture—something my wife has been handling with quiet precision.

Today brought an encouraging result. I finally regained some of the weight I had been missing: 1.2 pounds, with 0.8 pounds recorded as muscle mass. I am still slightly under my target range, but less so than yesterday, which counts as meaningful progress.

Yesterday’s snack experiment consisted of a small bowl of yogurt paired with blackberries. It is entirely possible that this combination helped reverse the downward trend. Of course, one data point does not make a scientific conclusion—but it does make a promising hypothesis.

Therefore, in the spirit of disciplined experimentation (and cautious optimism), I will repeat the yogurt-and-berries protocol again this evening.

I hope this will solve my problem.

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Running In Cold Weather Because Goals Don’t Care About Temperature)

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

The chilly morning didn’t deter my wife from her early exercise routine. It also didn’t deter her from running errands. She planned a trip to the UPS Store to return an Amazon package and invited me along. I happily agreed. Marriage sometimes means love; sometimes it means carrying the return receipt.

Because the morning air was brutally cold, I decided to delay my run until later in the day. Ever since my brain stroke, temperature regulation hasn’t exactly been my body’s strong suit. My neurologist explained that my autonomic nervous system took a hit. In practical terms, that means my body takes longer to warm up—and running in freezing air feels like negotiating with winter while already tired.

When it’s cold, my body spends energy heating itself before it even starts running. It’s like paying an entrance fee before the workout even begins.

Still, cold weather does not cancel Saturday’s 10K.

Goals don’t reschedule themselves.

Starting the run was the hardest part. My muscles felt stiff, and the air felt unfriendly. But once I got moving, rhythm returned. The first half of the run went surprisingly well—I actually hit my target pace. I briefly entertained the idea of conquering the entire distance at that speed.

The second half had other ideas.

I couldn’t quite maintain the pace, but the overall result was still strong enough to earn my third-fastest 10K ever. That’s not perfection, but it’s progress—and progress is what counts.

What encourages me most is the trajectory. I’m slowly getting faster. Not dramatically. Not magically. But steadily.

There’s still plenty of work ahead if I want to hit this year’s goal. But it’s early in the year. Improvement doesn’t require heroics; it requires repetition. As long as I keep showing up, struggling a little, and pushing just past comfort, I’ll keep improving.

Winter can complain all it wants.

I’ll keep running.

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A Rainy Morning Run and a Strong Finish Elsewhere

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Despite the heavy rain early this morning, my wife still went out for her morning exercise—and got thoroughly soaked. She owns a proper running jacket designed for rain and snow, a relic from her years in Canada. Unless there’s ice on the road, the weather is more of a suggestion than a deterrent for her.

I, on the other hand, was mildly concerned about becoming a soggy runner.

By the time I headed out, the rain had cleared completely—and somehow it was warm enough for shorts. A rare weather plot twist. Unfortunately, this unexpected kindness from the sky did not translate into a target-paced run.

Running pace is a fragile thing. Sleep quality, body condition, temperature, humidity—almost anything can tip it off balance. If I don’t sleep well, my pace suffers. If the weather shifts suddenly, my pace notices. So I try not to get too discouraged when a run doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Today was one of those days.

Still, the workout wasn’t a loss. Pull-ups were on the schedule, and those went well. I completed all 21, finishing the first 10 without dropping off the bar—a small but satisfying benchmark. Planking and stretching followed, both completed without complaint from my body.

While the run didn’t cooperate, the rest of the system performed.

I’ll have one more chance this week to hit my target pace. Tomorrow’s weekly 10K will be the real test. If I can’t hit my goal across the full distance, I’m hoping to at least lock it in for one strong half.Not every run is fast.
Not every workout shines.
But consistency still counts—and today, that box is firmly checked.

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Pull-Ups, Greed, and the Fine Art of Pushing Just Enough

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

I woke up a few minutes early this morning, which already put me in a suspiciously good mood. Mondays usually require negotiation. Today did not. Today was pull-up day.

That meant I had a decision to make.

I’d originally set my goal at 20 pull-ups—a nice, round, respectable number. I hit that last week. So the question was simple:
Do I maintain… or do I get greedy?

Before my brain stroke, I used to follow a program called P90X. I had one of those doorway pull-up bars—the kind that makes you question both engineering and your doorframe. A year before my stroke, my wife upgraded me to a proper exercise bar. Then the stroke happened. The bar sat unused. Later, it was dismantled when we moved to Nashville.

For a long time, upper-body strength wasn’t even on the agenda.

First came walking—with a walker.
Then walking with my wife’s support.
Then a stick.
Then jogging.
And now… 10K runs.

A few years ago, I pulled the equipment back out and reassembled it. At first, pull-ups were brutal. Awkward. Humbling. But slowly—quietly—they came back.

Here’s the strange part:
I can now do more pull-ups than I could before my stroke.

That still surprises me.

So this morning, being appropriately greedy, I went for 21.

I completed the first 10 without dropping from the bar and immediately felt victorious enough to justify the decision. When you push just beyond what you think you can handle—not recklessly, but deliberately—your body often agrees to the negotiation.

The remaining 11 came in two bursts:
6 pull-ups, a few seconds of existential bargaining, then 5 more.

Done.

I’m still careful. I have to be. My kidneys mean I can’t overwork muscle tissue or recover like a typical athlete. Cardio and resistance training are good for me—but excess is not. Everything lives in the margins of balance.

Still, this kind of pushing works for me.

For now, I think I’ll keep increasing the count each week—at least until I can comfortably complete two clean sets of 10 with only a short break between them.

After that?
We’ll renegotiate again.

That’s how progress works—not in straight lines, but in small, stubborn decisions made on ordinary Monday mornings.

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A Skunk Alarm Clock and My Fastest Start to a New Year

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

My New Year didn’t start with an alarm clock—it started with a skunk alert.

About an hour earlier than I planned to wake, my wife called me to open the garage door so she could get back into the house after her morning walk. Apparently, she’d spotted a skunk casually loitering near our front porch and decided that direct negotiation was not the safest strategy.

Reasonable.

She’d just returned from her morning exercise, and it was still dark outside. When I turned on the porch light, the skunk immediately fled—clearly not interested in confrontation or homeownership. Crisis resolved. Sleep, however, was not.

Being awake an hour early left me groggy and disoriented, but I did my best to reset into my normal routine. Eventually, I laced up and headed out for my run.

And then something unexpected happened.

The first quarter kilometer felt fast—suspiciously fast. I checked my pace and realized I was already about 30 seconds ahead of my target. Concerned I might burn out early, I shifted focus to simply maintaining speed instead of chasing numbers.

By the end of the first kilometer, I was over a minute ahead of my target pace.

At the two-kilometer mark, my average pace had dropped below 8 minutes per kilometer. That’s the kind of number that starts doing dangerous things to your optimism. If I could hold it for another three kilometers, I’d set a new personal best and potentially smash my end-of-year goal on the first run of the year.

That part felt slightly unreal.

I couldn’t quite maintain that pace through the final kilometer and drifted back above 8 minutes per kilometer—but it didn’t matter. I still set a new personal best and ran significantly faster than my previous run on Wednesday.

More importantly, it confirmed something:
If I just keep doing what I’m doing, my goal is absolutely reachable.

I only need to shave 22 seconds off my pace to hit sub-9 minutes per kilometer.

That’s not magic.
That’s consistency.

For a year that began with a skunk encounter and a disrupted sleep cycle, it turned into a surprisingly perfect first run. Strong, fast, confident, and full of momentum.

Not a bad way to start a new year at all.

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Starting the Year Strong—with New Year Fitness Goal, Planks, Plans, and Yard Work

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Happy New Year!

Looking back over the past year, I’m genuinely pleased with how things turned out. I ran just over 1,200 kilometers, lowered my average pace, and increased my strength training. As a small but satisfying punctuation mark, I completed a three-minute plank on my first attempt today—an achievement my abdominal muscles are already protesting and will likely escalate tomorrow.

I can’t gain muscle quickly, and I never will. With my kidney condition, protein intake has limits, so everything becomes a balancing act: how hard I train versus how much my body can reasonably rebuild. Still, consistency counts. Despite the constraints, my muscle mass percentage remains high, which feels like a quiet victory earned through patience rather than force.

I’ve already started working on my New Year Fitness Goal. New year, clean sheets—literally and figuratively. I spent time around the house updating spreadsheets, refining routines, and mentally shifting into the next phase. My wife was home today because of the holiday, though “home” is a relative term—she was busy all day, as usual, and woke up early like it was any normal workday. My wife, by the way, does not make new year fitness goal or any goals. Instead, she adjusts her goals daily, weekly, and monthly.

Neither of us fluctuates much with our schedules. We go to bed and wake up around the same times every day. Occasionally, I sleep in when I’m especially exhausted, but it’s rare. My wife usually wakes up about thirty minutes before schedule—without an alarm. She doesn’t like being woken during REM sleep. Even when she’s sick or taking medication, the variation is only about 30 to 45 minutes. Consistency is her default setting.

Leaf Collection On January 1st!

Today wasn’t just about reflection and planning, though. There was also one final seasonal obligation: leaf collection.

One stubborn tree had refused to drop its leaves even as temperatures fell. Finally, after the last major windstorm, it gave up and scattered its leaves everywhere. Some were blown away, but enough remained to justify one final cleanup.

After finishing my morning routine, I headed out and completed what should be the last leaf collection of the season. Our trees are now completely bare, and most of the neighbors have already cleared their yards, so accumulation should be minimal from here on out.

That means until spring arrives, my Tuesdays and Thursdays just got a little emptier.

I might even find another small project to fill the gap—at least until mowing season inevitably returns. For now, though, the year has started exactly the way I hoped:
steady, intentional, and quietly productive.

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