Tag: overcoming setbacks

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Planking Debt and Dental Drama: A Cautionary (Core) Tale

Written April 30, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Yesterday’s schedule came with extra side quests—including an unexpected journey into the land of Root Canal—which left me with a zero on the plank scoreboard. Not a single session. Nada. Zilch.

Now, before the Fitness Police come knocking, let me plead my case. First, I was out of the house for hours because a dentist decided to drill into my soul (well, technically my tooth, but same vibes). Second, I was warned that once the anesthesia wore off, my jaw would throb in sync with my heartbeat like an EDM concert. So anything that might elevate my heart rate—say, planking—was officially off the table. Because nothing says “bad idea” quite like throbbing pain in your skull while pretending to be a human ironing board.

So yes, I had a good excuse. But I also know: excuses don’t cancel consequences. They just soften the guilt.

Today, however, was redemption day. I rolled out my mat and got to work, attempting to chip away at the planking debt like a fiscally responsible core warrior. I’ll try to sneak in more sets before the day ends, because… just because. (Discipline is mysterious like that.)

My wife once told me that missing a day of piano practice set her back a whole week. So, during her serious piano era, she would tap those keys every chance she got—like a caffeinated Mozart. But muscles aren’t like piano scales. You can’t binge your way back to strength. Hit the same muscles too soon, and you’re more likely to get a complaint letter from your own body.

Still, skipping a workout unsettles me—way more than it logically should. After my stroke, when I couldn’t move at all, I made a quiet promise to myself: if I ever got mobility back, I’d use it. Every skipped session feels like I’m letting that promise fade a little.

I’ve made peace with the past. I carry it with me—not as baggage, but as a reminder. My wife has this old car that’s nearly 20 years old. She maintains it like it’s a classic Ferrari. Not because it’s fancy, but because it’s hers. She’s grateful it still runs. I guess I treat my body the same way. It may not be shiny, but it still moves, still works, still gets me through the day—and for that, I’m deeply grateful.

I’ve never been a super athlete. I don’t sprint past people or crush personal bests on leaderboards. But I show up. I work. I move.

As of now, I’ve done two planks. The goal is to hit five today—six if I’m feeling spicy. That way, I’ll be one session closer to balancing my plank budget. And tomorrow? I’ll settle the score.

Because the only thing worse than sore abs… is regret.

Posted on

Planking Debt and Dental Drama: A Cautionary (Core) Tale

Written April 30, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Yesterday’s schedule came with extra side quests—including an unexpected journey into the land of Root Canal—which left me with a zero on the plank scoreboard. Not a single session. Nada. Zilch.

Now, before the Fitness Police come knocking, let me plead my case. First, I was out of the house for hours because a dentist decided to drill into my soul (well, technically my tooth, but same vibes). Second, I was warned that once the anesthesia wore off, my jaw would throb in sync with my heartbeat like an EDM concert. So anything that might elevate my heart rate—say, planking—was officially off the table. Because nothing says “bad idea” quite like throbbing pain in your skull while pretending to be a human ironing board.

So yes, I had a good excuse. But I also know: excuses don’t cancel consequences. They just soften the guilt.

Today, however, was redemption day. I rolled out my mat and got to work, attempting to chip away at the planking debt like a fiscally responsible core warrior. I’ll try to sneak in more sets before the day ends, because… just because. (Discipline is mysterious like that.)

My wife once told me that missing a day of piano practice set her back a whole week. So, during her serious piano era, she would tap those keys every chance she got—like a caffeinated Mozart. But muscles aren’t like piano scales. You can’t binge your way back to strength. Hit the same muscles too soon, and you’re more likely to get a complaint letter from your own body.

Still, skipping a workout unsettles me—way more than it logically should. After my stroke, when I couldn’t move at all, I made a quiet promise to myself: if I ever got mobility back, I’d use it. Every skipped session feels like I’m letting that promise fade a little.

I’ve made peace with the past. I carry it with me—not as baggage, but as a reminder. My wife has this old car that’s nearly 20 years old. She maintains it like it’s a classic Ferrari. Not because it’s fancy, but because it’s hers. She’s grateful it still runs. I guess I treat my body the same way. It may not be shiny, but it still moves, still works, still gets me through the day—and for that, I’m deeply grateful.

I’ve never been a super athlete. I don’t sprint past people or crush personal bests on leaderboards. But I show up. I work. I move.

As of now, I’ve done two planks. The goal is to hit five today—six if I’m feeling spicy. That way, I’ll be one session closer to balancing my plank budget. And tomorrow? I’ll settle the score.

Because the only thing worse than sore abs… is regret.

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When Running Slaps You With a Reality Check (But You Learn to Laugh Anyway)

Written March 13, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Yesterday’s run? Let’s just say it wasn’t exactly a Rocky-movie montage moment. My pace was dragging, my energy was shot, and the only thing sprinting was my inner critic. I pushed myself hard—maybe too hard—and when the numbers didn’t reflect the effort, I ended up in a full-on sulk spiral. Funny how chasing a goal with everything you’ve got can sometimes leave you feeling like you’ve been chasing your own tail.

Enter my wife, voice of reason, and resident bookworm. She told me about a book she reviewed—an advanced reader copy, no less. The book pointed out something profound: People often give up on their goals not because they lack motivation but because they’re too attached to the outcome. Oof. Guilty as charged. The same part of our brain that processes disappointment also houses our drive. So when that number on the scale or running app doesn’t look pretty, it punches our motivation in the gut.

Which explains why so many well-meaning folks throw in the towel on fitness goals. Or weight-loss goals. Or, say, not-treating-your-watch-like-a-judge goals like me.

But here’s where I’m learning to pivot. I try to zoom out. Instead of obsessing over yesterday’s data or last week’s sluggish stats, I look at the bigger picture. Okay, sure, last week wasn’t stellar—but I’m still running significantly faster than I did last year. And I don’t just mean by seconds. I mean full-on “last year me would’ve called this a miracle” levels of improvement.

Plus, it’s not just about speed. Running clears my head like nothing else. It gives me that sweet sense of accomplishment and resilience. My stamina? Way up. Five years ago, I’d be toast after a mile. Now? I’m a machine. A slightly wheezy, occasionally grumpy machine—but a machine nonetheless.

And let’s not forget the curveballs nature throws. Last summer? Total disaster. Heat waves turned every run into a survival challenge. I wasn’t logging progress—I was logging complaints. But I adapted. I started running earlier in the morning to dodge the furnace-level temps, and boom—problem, sort of solved. Sometimes, disappointment is just disguised data. It tells you what needs fixing. And once you tweak the system, you start winning again.

Now, logically, I know speed isn’t everything. The effort I’m putting in matters more. But let’s be honest—speed feels more real. You can see it. It’s flashy. Tangible. And occasionally heartbreaking.

Still, I don’t want to eliminate the disappointment entirely. Strange as it sounds, it fuels me. That tiny spark of “ugh, I want to do better” is often what lights the fire under my shoes. As long as that frustration doesn’t morph into burnout or self-loathing, I say let it stay. Harness it. Let it challenge you, not crush you.

So here I am—still running, still chasing, still learning not to take a bad day personally. Growth isn’t always linear. But if you look back far enough, you’ll see just how far you’ve come—and realize the finish line isn’t the only victory worth celebrating.