Tag: Nashville heat

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Running Shoes, A/C Battles, and the Thermostat Cold War

Written August 16, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Hello, dear readers who are either braving the heat or hoarding popsicles,

Today was supposed to be my glorious 10k day—but alas, it was sabotaged by… responsible adulthood. My running shoes, bless their worn-out soles, finally reached the “retirement” phase. The shoe store opens at 10 a.m., and by the time we returned, it was 11 a.m.—a.k.a. The Hour of the Scorching Pavement. Running then would have been more like slow-roasting my legs, so the 10k got pushed to tomorrow. Again.

Credit where it’s due—my wife scheduled this shoe store mission three weeks ago, back when I casually mentioned my sneakers were entering the “structurally unsound” stage. She took it seriously. (And I’m honestly grateful. My old shoes were starting to look like they’d been through a war zone… twice.)

Tomorrow, I will reclaim my 10k destiny. Hopefully, next week won’t need as many scheduling gymnastics. Unless some celestial event knocks out the sun or something equally inconvenient, I should be back on track.

Of course, lawn mowing is looming again—but that’s par for the course in suburban life. What’s new is that the sun seems to have accepted a part-time role as a blowtorch again. We’ve officially dipped into our precious A/C stash. We try not to go wild with it though. Our indoor temperature? A cozy 86°F. Anything below that, and we start reaching for sweaters like Floridians during a 60-degree cold front.

Fun fact: I discovered our new low-heat tolerance during a July visit to my mother’s place. She keeps her thermostat at 78°F. My wife and I? Shivering. Like… actual teeth-chattering. Meanwhile, she was probably sipping tea in a sweater, wondering why we were acting like we were in an ice hotel.

This summer feels milder than last—fewer heat waves, a few bonus cool days, and even our trees were briefly tricked into thinking autumn had arrived. Nature got punked. However, there’s a hurricane brewing somewhere near the coastline, so who knows what next week’s weather roulette will bring.

We typically reserve A/C for when it breaches 95°F, but even then, we try not to “melt our heat tolerance.” Next year, though, we’re leveling up—goodbye ancient HVAC system, hello shiny new setup with a smart thermostat! One that can actually negotiate with the outside temperature rather than stage a silent protest.

Sure, the rest of Nashville might be chilling indoors at 72°F, but we’ve decided to embrace the sauna lifestyle… with just a splash of modern cooling when necessary. It’s sweaty, it’s strategic, and hey—it builds character. And electrolytes.

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Negotiating with My Body: Finding Energy in the Summer Heat

Written July 22, 2025

Hello, Dear Readers,

I don’t know if it’s the sweltering summer sun or if I’m just hitting a wall, but lately, I’ve felt like I’ve got nothing left in the tank. After a tiring mowing session—where I had to fuel up with cantaloupe instead of my usual pastry-bites—I found myself too zapped to follow through with my weekly pushups. So, in a bold act of self-compassion, I struck a deal with myself: “No pushups before breakfast. We’ll do them before supper instead.”

Summer in Nashville is a true test of endurance. Between two days a week of working outside (and yes, still doing battle with that steep backyard), it feels like my energy reserves are running on fumes. Thankfully, this year’s summer hasn’t yet thrown us into a brutal 100°F heatwave, though I won’t lie: the humidity here still knows how to knock you out.

Despite the sluggishness, I try to push through. The last time I attempted this, though, my wife was not thrilled. I had a gout flare-up, but did I take it easy? Of course not. I kept mowing and marching around like nothing was wrong. I didn’t tell her about the gout—partly because I didn’t want to worry her and partly because, well, I didn’t want to admit my body was starting to rebel. It’s a tough pill to swallow, realizing that I need rest when I’d rather keep pushing forward like the good old days.

But, here’s the twist: my wife insists I’ve got more stamina and energy than before. Go figure. She’s always been the outdoor adventurer—hiking, canoeing, camping, you name it—while I’m the homebody, cozy with my books, video games, and board games. She enjoys the outdoors but doesn’t really do the whole “movie-watching” thing unless there’s a notepad and pen involved. No judgment there; we all have our quirks.

The truth is, I’ve got more energy than I did before—but it still doesn’t last as long as I’d like. One culprit? My diet (or lack thereof). My protein intake is a bit on the low side, and I’ve noticed that my muscles just don’t bounce back the way they used to. So, I’ve had to learn how to negotiate with my body—compromise when I need to and push myself only when it’s truly necessary.

One trick that’s working for me is setting specific times to make up for missed tasks. As long as I know I’ve scheduled something for later, I’m far more likely to follow through than if I just say, “I’ll do it later” and leave it at that.

Take today, for example. I managed to knock out my pushups before dinner, even though I had postponed them earlier. My wife’s concern about my health is valid, especially after the last gout episode and the fact that my lab results weren’t as stellar as we hoped. So, yeah, I need to be smarter about listening to my body, knowing when to rest and when to power through—without ignoring those signals.

Negotiating with myself is key. If I’m wiped out, I rest. If I think I might regain my energy by the end of the day, I’ll save the pushups for later. The important part is making sure I follow through. If I tell myself, “I’ll do it later,” I’ve got to remember to actually do it later—not let it slip off the radar.

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Sweat, Sun, and Sore Muscles: A Summer Morning Mow-tivation Tale

Written June 5, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning, unlike the tropical Tuesday saga, I seized the rare opportunity to mow the lawn before the sun turned my backyard into a convection oven. Thanks to a relatively cool night (by Nashville standards), the air was downright tolerable — you know, in that “I only mildly regret existing outdoors” kind of way.

Armed with determination and a mower that has seen more summers than our old air conditioner, I conquered the yard in just under three hours. By the end, the temperature had climbed high enough to cook an egg on the sidewalk — sunny side up, no less. I bolted inside and promptly shut all windows and vents, preserving that glorious sliver of night-chill like it was the last popsicle on Earth.

We try not to blast the AC unless absolutely necessary — not just because it wheezes like an asthmatic raccoon (bless its vintage soul), but because we’re reserving its final act for a true heatwave encore, à la 2023. Spoiler alert: It’s getting replaced next year, assuming it doesn’t melt into a puddle of R-22 first.

Now, let’s pause for a moment of historical curiosity: how on earth did people survive 100 years ago in this kind of heat? Imagine doing farm work in the blazing sun with zero air conditioning. Just sweat, grit, and maybe a straw hat if you were lucky. No thank you.

My wife, the seasoned world traveler and resident thermostat of our home, lived in Canada and Germany before settling in the sauna we call Tennessee. She rarely touches the AC. In fact, she says your body should know it’s summer — not be tricked into thinking it’s mid-October. Logical? Sure. Comfortable? Debatable.

Truthfully, I’ve found her temperature policy rather merciful post-brain-stroke. My body doesn’t respond well to sudden climate shifts, so a house that mimics the gentle rise of outdoor heat is oddly comforting. Still, I come prepared — always with long sleeves in tow when visiting overzealously chilled places like malls or friends’ homes, aka human freezers.

Once I cooled off (the natural way), I shifted into phase two: exercise. This week has been a redemption arc — I actually stuck to my workout plan, unlike previous weeks when I mostly specialized in the art of Procrastinative Stretching™.

That said, my chest is still protesting Tuesday’s push-ups. It feels like I bench-pressed a rhinoceros in my sleep. One ongoing issue is keeping my weight steady — a challenge when your appetite ghosts you and your muscles are crying out for protein. But too much protein can be a bad thing too. Ah, the paradox of wellness: even good things need moderation. Like ice cream… or leg day.

I’ve been tinkering with my routine: adjusting sleep, sneaking in extra snacks, and playing Goldilocks with my workout load — not too much, not too little. Just right. Maybe. Hopefully. We’ll see.

All in all, it’s been a productive, sweaty, slightly achy but oddly satisfying day. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to ration what’s left of that precious indoor cool before the AC makes its final dramatic gasp.