Tag: Fitness Journey

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Lessons from a Difficult 10K Run

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today I got lessons from a difficult 10K Run. I usually run first thing in the morning because Nashville’s weather quickly becomes unfriendly to runners.

Even by 7:30 a.m., the air can feel remarkably heavy. It is not always because of rain. More often, the culprit is humidity. Once the temperature climbs above 70°F and humidity approaches—or exceeds—90%, the atmosphere transforms into something that feels almost tangible. It is less like running through air and more like trying to jog through warm pudding.

Saturday is my regular 10-kilometer running day.

Unless there is a snowstorm, thunderstorm, or a family event—which, for some reason, always seems to choose Saturday—I stick to that schedule. Consistency has become one of the most valuable parts of my training.

Since beginning treatment for anemia, my body has felt noticeably lighter during my runs. The improvement has been encouraging. Even so, there are still mornings when exhaustion appears without an invitation.

Today was one of those mornings.

From the very beginning, my legs felt unusually heavy. Every kilometer demanded more effort than it should have, and the pace that normally feels comfortable seemed frustratingly out of reach. By the time I finished, I was more than a minute behind my target pace and completely exhausted.

The strange part was that I hadn’t expected it.

Summer naturally brings more physical work around the house, especially lawn mowing, which is more exercise than many people give it credit for. Still, I had mowed on Thursday, so I assumed I had fully recovered by Saturday morning.

Apparently, my body had other opinions.

As I looked over my to-do list later in the day, I found myself trying to solve the mystery. Everything had seemed to be going well this week. I had slept well, eaten well, and generally felt healthy. Yet my run told a completely different story.

Perhaps that is one of the most humbling lessons running teaches.

Our bodies are wonderfully complex. They do not always explain themselves. Sometimes they perform beyond expectations, and other times they quietly remind us that recovery is not something we can schedule with the precision of a calendar appointment.

Instead of dwelling on the disappointing run, I moved on to the rest of my day’s tasks. One by one, I finished everything I had planned before our grocery shopping trip.

There is a special satisfaction in checking the final item off a to-do list. It means that once we return home, I can spend the rest of the evening doing something every runner eventually learns to appreciate.

Absolutely nothing.

After all, rest is not the reward for hard work.

Sometimes, it is part of the training itself.

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A Small Victory on the Running Trail: Beating My Target Pace by Seven Seconds

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

This morning, I finally achieved something I had been chasing for several runs. I beat my target pace.

To someone who does not run, seven seconds might sound insignificant. To a runner who has been stubbornly chasing a goal, however, seven seconds can feel like winning an Olympic medal… or at least earning the right to enjoy breakfast with a little extra satisfaction.

The weather certainly decided to cooperate today.

Relative humidity was around 20%, a dramatic improvement from the previous week. Here in Nashville, humidity regularly climbs above 90%, making the air feel as though someone forgot to wring it out. This morning, however, the air was crisp and refreshing. It was actually cool enough that I felt a slight chill when I started running, a welcome change from feeling as though I were jogging through warm soup.

One tool that has become surprisingly valuable is the ASICS Runner app. I have it announce my pace at regular intervals so I can make adjustments while I run, rather than discovering my mistakes after I’ve already finished.

I even changed the settings to kilometers instead of miles. Since announcements come more frequently, I receive feedback sooner, giving me more opportunities to adjust my pace before bad habits settle in. Sometimes success isn’t about running harder; it’s simply about getting better information sooner.

As I approached the final quarter kilometer, I checked my pace. I may beat my target pace.

I was ahead by exactly one second.

One second is an amusing amount of confidence. It is just enough to make you optimistic, and just a little too much to make you nervous.

Then I remembered yesterday’s disappointing finish, when I lost precious seconds right at the end. That memory was all the motivation I needed. I pushed harder over the final stretch and crossed the finish line seven seconds ahead of my target pace.

Those extra six seconds may not sound like much, but they represent progress.

If I can repeat today’s performance on Friday, I’ll be back on track toward setting new personal bests. Running has taught me that improvement rarely arrives in dramatic leaps. More often, it comes disguised as a handful of seconds, earned through consistency, patience, and the willingness to keep trying after yesterday didn’t go as planned.

So today, I’m happy.

Not because I ran a perfect race, but because I proved that yesterday’s disappointment was simply another step toward today’s success.

Sometimes, progress is measured not in miles, but in seconds.

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Running with Anemia: Learning Patience One Kilometer at a Time

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

My run this morning ended in disappointment, which is unfortunate because for most of the journey, success seemed perfectly happy to accompany me.

I was either meeting or slightly ahead of my target pace almost the entire way. Then, during the final quarter kilometer, something happened. I slipped twenty seconds behind. I never felt as though I had slowed down, but the stopwatch is a brutally honest companion and apparently disagreed with my assessment.

Still, despite the disappointing finish, victory was clearly within reach. That alone is encouraging.

I have dealt with anemia since childhood. After receiving treatment for my kidney condition, my doctor reminded me that anemia also needed attention. I was treated for it after my brain stroke years ago, and once again I began treatment in February 2026.

What surprised me was just how much anemia affected my running.

Until this year, I had accepted many things as normal. Since beginning treatment, I have noticed that I have more energy during my runs. Gradually, my pace has improved. Of course, now that I have tasted improvement, I naturally want more. Human beings are wonderfully unreasonable in that way. Give us progress, and we immediately ask whether there is a faster version available.

Although my current pace is significantly better than before treatment, improvement has become more difficult. That is hardly surprising. Running, much like life, refuses to cooperate with our desire for perfectly straight lines. Progress is more like the stock market than an elevator. There are ups and downs, good days and bad days, and occasionally days when one wonders whether gravity has become stronger overnight.

Summer has also brought additional physical activity. Lawn mowing, for example, turns out to be an excellent way to discover muscles one never knew existed. It is entirely possible that I was simply more tired than I realized.

Fortunately, patience is one of the most important lessons that running teaches. Progress never arrives in a perfectly orderly fashion. Internal factors, external conditions, and simple fatigue all play their part.

So, despite this morning’s disappointment, I remain optimistic.

The next run offers another opportunity.

And next time, I intend to remember that a race is not finished until the finish line actually appears. The final quarter kilometer, as I discovered this morning, apparently has a mischievous sense of humor.

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Controlling Your Yard in the Rainy Season

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

The forecast had spoken, and as I lay in bed that morning, I had to admit: it had a point. Rain was already falling, which meant mowing was looking about as likely as a snowstorm in July. This is Nashville, though, so rain and thunderstorms come with the territory. Tornadoes, too, if you want to get really dramatic about it. Having grown up in the Midwest, I consider myself seasoned. Tornadoes and I have something of an understanding.

Here’s the thing about owning a house: it doesn’t care how busy you are. The weeds will grow with or without your blessing. My wife and I learned this the hard way one year when life got especially hectic, and she wasn’t feeling well. When she finally made it back outside after a few weeks, the yard had quietly turned into a small jungle. Not her finest gardening moment, and she will be the first to say so. Since then, she has been firm about the one rule that makes all the difference: catch weeds early, when they’re young and still apologetic about existing. A quick weekly pass takes almost no time at all. Let them settle in, and suddenly you’ve got yourself a whole Saturday project.

I try to do my part too, sneaking in weed patrol whenever I can, even around doctor’s appointments. Every little bit helps.

So there I was that morning, eyeing the sky. It looked gray and thoroughly committed to staying that way. But when I actually peered outside, the rain was barely a sprinkle. Just a gentle mist, really, the kind that barely counts. I thought, “I can work with this.” A little drizzle never hurt anyone. I pulled on my shoes, went outside, and got started on the front yard.

I lasted a few minutes before I heard it. Thunder. Not close, but close enough to make the point. There’s a line I’m willing to cross, and getting lightly rained on is one thing. Standing in a thunderstorm while pushing a metal mower is quite another. I went back inside just in time for the skies to properly open up, as if the rain had been holding back just to prove it could.

Thursday is my next hope. The forecast isn’t exactly promising, but then, neither was this morning. You just never know until you look outside. Sometimes you get lucky.

Until then, may your skies be clear and your weeds be few. Or at least short.

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Dressed Wrong for Every Appointment: A Day of Humidity, Air Conditioning, and Medical Checkups

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today turned out to be one of those days when my wardrobe seemed determined to disagree with my schedule. I dressed Wrong for Every Appointment.

My first mission was a trip to the dentist to have an old filling redone. When I left the house, I was pleased to see clear skies. The forecast suggested rain might arrive later. So I decided to play it safe and headed out wearing a cape and hoodie.

This was an excellent plan, provided I had been traveling through a cool mountain village rather than a Tennessee humidity chamber.

Although the temperature was not especially high, the air felt thick enough to swim through. By the time I arrived at the dentist’s office, I was thoroughly overheated. I made a strategic retreat to the restroom, where I attempted to remove at least some evidence of my battle with the atmosphere. Thankfully, the dental procedure itself went smoothly, and I escaped without incident. The walk home remained rain-free, but the humidity showed no intention of taking the day off.

Once home, I had about an hour before my hematology appointment. During that time, I brewed a fresh batch of kombucha tea and decided to correct my earlier wardrobe mistake by changing into shorts.

As it turns out, I had simply traded one problem for another.

The hematology clinic and laboratory appeared to be operating under the assumption that patients might spontaneously combust if the indoor temperature rose above refrigerator levels. The air conditioning was running at full strength, and I spent most of the appointment wondering whether I should have brought a winter coat.

The good news was that my red blood cell count remained high enough that I did not need an injection. I briefly entertained the hope that this might mean fewer appointments in the future. Unfortunately, the medical team had other ideas. Instead of graduating from follow-up visits. I was informed that they would like to see me again in three weeks rather than two.

Lesson Learned for today

By the end of the day, I had learned an important lesson: apparently, I am capable of dressing incorrectly for both a humid summer day and an aggressively air-conditioned medical office within a few hours.

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When You Skip Your Run for Waffles (Again)

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Welcome back to another thrilling episode of “What Did I Do Instead of Running?” Answer: I made waffles. I skipped a run for waffles.

My wife had to head into the office that morning, and my visiting friend… was not a waffle enthusiast. Which I respect. It takes a certain kind of person to look at a warm, golden, perfectly crisp waffle and say “no thanks.” Anyway, I skipped my run (you saw that coming), but I did knock out my other exercises first before firing up the griddle. So really, I’m still winning. Mostly.

After everyone was fed (waffle-resistant guests included), we played more games until my wife returned home. Then my friend and his wife headed off to visit yet another mutual friend who, conveniently, lives remarkably close to us. Our neighborhood is apparently very popular. I seized the quiet moment to start cooking supper. My wife was quite hungry by the time she got back and had to wait a bit longer for the food to be ready. She was patient. The food was worth it. I’m choosing to believe both things.

Tomorrow, our guests head home right after breakfast. I’d love to send them off with more waffles, but we’ve run out of maple syrup. Tragically. I’ll figure out something else, because two mornings of waffles is probably enough waffles for any friendship. Depending on when they get back tonight, we might squeeze in our traditional Monday online gaming session with another friend. Time will tell.

As for me, I’ll be a little sad to see them go. Our cat, however, will not be. She has been in full witness-protection mode since their arrival, appearing only occasionally to confirm that yes, she still lives here, and no, she does not approve of guests. She’d probably warm up to them eventually. Probably. But it turns out two days isn’t quite long enough for a cat to reconsider her introversion.

Until next time, may your maple syrup never run out at the worst possible moment.

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When the Air Feels Heavier Than the Workout

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Let me tell you just how humid it has been outside lately.

We had a relatively mild spring this year, but Nashville has finally decided to remind everyone where they live. The weather is settling into its familiar pattern of heat, humidity, and the constant possibility that the sky might suddenly become dramatic.

The humidity has reached the point where stepping outdoors feels less like entering the atmosphere and more like walking into a warm, damp sponge. The air seems to push against you from every direction. It is almost as if the weather is trying to give you a hug that you never asked for.

Of course, humidity is not an acceptable excuse for skipping a run. At least not in my book.

So I headed out as usual.

One pleasant surprise was that I managed to avoid getting rained on. That may not sound like much, but after several consecutive days of rain, it felt like a small victory. The recent weather had kept me indoors more than I would have liked, limiting many of my usual outdoor activities.

To be fair, this is not unusual for Nashville. Rain, thunderstorms, and tornado warnings are all part of the local experience. Summer here often feels like living inside a weather forecast.

Unfortunately, the absence of rain did not mean pleasant running conditions. The air remained thick and heavy, making every step feel slightly more difficult than it should have. I suspect the humidity played a significant role in my less-than-impressive performance. Sometimes the weather reminds you that it has a vote in your workout results.

Thankfully, my other morning exercises went much better.

I had also been concerned about our lawn. With so many rainy days, I had not been able to mow for a while, and the grass was beginning to look a little too enthusiastic about growing. Even after the rain stopped, the lawn remained damp because the humidity hovered above 90 percent. The grass seemed determined to hold onto every drop of moisture it could find.

My wife had her own concerns. She was worried she would not be able to use the weeding machine effectively. She usually takes care of the areas that the lawn mower cannot reach, but the ground and vegetation were still too wet to cooperate. According to her, the weather has simply refused to participate in our landscaping plans.

For now, all we can do is wait and hope for a few days of drier weather. The lawn, the weeds, and perhaps even the runners of Nashville would all appreciate a break from the humidity.

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How a Self-Care App Saved My Doctor Appointment Streak

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Some mornings, the universe conspires to test you. This particular morning, it handed me a chilly dawn, a nephrology appointment, and the quiet threat of a broken streak. Challenge accepted. A self-care app was the key for me.

Despite the brisk weather, I laced up my running shoes and hit the road before the appointment. My plan was ambitious but reasonable: finish my morning run, shower, knock out my usual exercises, and arrive at the doctor’s office feeling like a functional human being.

It almost worked.

I did finish the run and the shower, and I squeezed in most of my morning tasks before it was time to head out. But “most” isn’t “all,” and I had to make peace with leaving a few items on the to-do list for later. The early morning hour simply had other plans.

When I got home, I settled back in, fully intending to pick up where I’d left off. You can probably guess what happened next. The routine? Completely forgotten. The intentions? Excellent. The follow-through? Less so.

This is exactly why I have the Finch App.

I’ll be honest. I’m the person who once missed the same doctor’s appointment twice in one month. I was busy, yes, but busy isn’t a medical excuse. My nephrologist would not be amused. So I turned to the same app my wife and friends swear by: Finch. We use the free version, which turns out to be plenty. It’s got everything I need to keep my daily habits on track.

With the app sending reminders straight to my phone, I can actually maintain my streaks, even on appointment days.

Now, the part my wife was really waiting for: the lab results. I tend to get rougher numbers in the summer, so she was watching this one closely. The verdict? My red blood cell count is back in the right range, the rest of my numbers look good, and my nephrologist’s official medical advice was: keep doing what you’re doing.

That’s the kind of doctor’s visit I can get behind.

Until next time, run your miles, keep your appointments, and let the app handle the rest.

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Morning vs Evening Stretching: Why the Difference?

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Let me tell you about my complicated relationship with Morning vs. evening stretching.

It started last Christmas, when my father gifted me a stretching machine. Very thoughtful. Very assembly-required. I finally got around to building it in early January, and I do mean finally, because the manual was less a guide and more an abstract art piece. After a heroic battle with diagrams and ambiguous bolts, I prevailed. And since then, I’ve been stretching every single morning.

Here’s the thing: I used to be flexible. I did gymnastics when I was young, and my body was the kind of effortlessly bendy that people either admire or find slightly unsettling. Then I had a brain stroke, and the long recovery that followed left me stiff in ways I was determined to undo. I started running in 2016. Added resistance training over the past few years. And now, stretching,  because what good is a strong body if it snaps the first time you reach for something on a high shelf?

So I’ve been making real progress. And by “real progress,” I mean: every morning, I hit 180 degrees on the machine and feel like an absolute champion.

And every evening, I fall about 10 degrees short, and the machine silently judges me.

This is deeply puzzling. I am the same person. I have the same legs. The laws of physics have not changed between 7 a.m. and 8 p.m. And yet,  morning me is practically a contortionist, while evening me is more of a… determined rectangle.

The only meaningful difference I can spot is this: in the morning, I stretch after my planking session and a round of floor stretches. In the evening, I skip straight to the machine. Could a minute of floor work and a plank really account for a full 10 degrees? It sounds almost too simple. But sometimes the simplest explanation is the right one.

So tonight, I’m running the experiment. Floor stretches first, then the machine, and we’ll see if I can finally crack the case of the mysteriously stiff evenings.

Science waits for no one. Neither does my stretching machine.

Until next time,
Still searching for my 180,  one plank at a time

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Running on Empty: Life with Anemia and a 10K

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

I’ll be honest with you: this evening, I am utterly, magnificently exhausted. I attempted my weekly 10K, and my running app, with all the tact of a traffic cone, informed me that I did not, in fact, complete the full distance. My body already knew. My body had filed the paperwork on that one halfway through.

Here’s the backstory, if you’re new here: I was born with Thalassemia, a hereditary blood disorder that in my case has traveled in some very unwelcome company. My kidneys no longer work the way a healthy adult’s do, which means I’ve been dealing with severe anemia on top of everything else. To manage it, I’ve been receiving treatment, booster shots to give my blood the iron backbone it’s currently refusing to grow on its own.

The treatment has genuinely helped. I’m better than I was. But “better” is a relative word, and on days like today, sweaty, stubborn summer days, I’m reminded that my tank fills more slowly than most people’s. Summer is the hardest season because the yard doesn’t care that I have a blood disorder. It still grows. The weeds still insist on living their best lives.

Since my wife is flat-out busy with work, the yard work falls to me. And since I’m apparently constitutionally incapable of doing just one physically demanding thing at a time, I also fit in workouts on top of it. Sometimes, mid-task, I get this very specific feeling, a quiet signal from my body that says, “We have not fully recovered from the last thing. Please advise.” I try to advise accordingly.

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