Tag: Personal Growth

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A Comedy of Errors: My Morning Adventure in Forgetfulness

Written February 25, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning was a disaster of my own making—an entirely avoidable one, at that. It all started with a simple yet catastrophic decision: going back to sleep.

My wife had to leave early for work, so I woke up with her, saw her off, and then—because I am, at times, my own worst enemy—I crawled back into bed. When my alarm rang at its usual time, I reasoned that there was no immediate need to rise and shine. Why rush? The world could wait. I could bask in the warmth of my blankets for just a little while longer.

Ah, but then—the horror! Like a bolt of lightning, it struck me. I had an appointment at the phlebotomy lab. This morning. In a moment, I went from blissful comfort to full-blown panic mode.

Suddenly, I was a man on a mission. Breakfast was a frantic affair—more a feeding frenzy than a meal. I barely finished swallowing before summoning an Uber to whisk me across town. Somehow, by sheer force of will (and the generosity of traffic lights), I arrived roughly on time. My reward? A needle in my arm and the satisfaction of knowing I had narrowly avoided disaster.

The Saga of the Quarterly Lab Visit

This whole lab ordeal isn’t a weekly thing, thank goodness. It happens once every three months—a fun little prelude to my nephrologist appointments. The lab used to be conveniently located within walking distance, but those were the good old days. Now, thanks to the ever-evolving world of healthcare logistics, both my doctor’s office and the lab have migrated to opposite ends of the city. Since my wife was at work, Uber was my chariot of choice.

A Kidney’s Hard-Won Victory

Once upon a time, my kidneys were in such dire shape that a transplant was on the horizon—stage five of kidney disease, the final boss level. But through some miracle of discipline (and possibly sheer stubbornness), I clawed my way back to stage three. Even my doctors were impressed. Kidneys don’t just bounce back like that. It’s been an uphill battle—strict diet, exercise, a truckload of medication—but I intend to keep it that way. If my kidneys have fought this hard, the least I can do is not sabotage them.

The Curious Case of the Urgency-Driven Wife

Speaking of discipline, my wife operates on a completely different level. She thrives on urgency. More time? Not helpful. More deadlines? That’s where she shines. She has goals stacked like dominos—lifelong ones, yearly ones, monthly ones, and even daily ones. Meanwhile, I apparently struggle with remembering a single appointment that’s been on my calendar for months.

A Morning Lost in Translation

In my defense, I used to have a built-in scheduling assistant—my wife. For years, she managed my appointments with an efficiency that I now recognize I took for granted. But since 2017, I’ve been the proud (if slightly forgetful) owner of my own calendar. And today, that system failed spectacularly. I’m fairly certain I ignored every phone alarm. Maybe I was half-asleep. Maybe I was just being me.

The Aftermath of Chaos

Once I got back home—blood drawn, dignity slightly bruised—I tried to restore order to my day. I worked out, did my language practice, and checked off my morning to-do list. By some miracle, I still had time before dinner prep to catch my breath and, of course, write about my self-inflicted chaos. What is the moral of the story? Maybe don’t ignore your alarms. Or better yet, don’t trust a half-asleep brain to make scheduling decisions. It does not have your best interests at heart.

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Winter’s Sneaky Comeback and My Sore-Legged Recovery Day

Written February 9, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning, I innocently peeked outside, expecting to see the same pleasant scenery from just a few days ago. Instead, I was met with a brutal slap of icy air, sharp enough to make me reconsider all my life choices. The mild temperatures of the past few days had been a cruel deception. The tiny green sprouts that had optimistically popped up earlier in the week? Gone. Buried under the relentless grip of winter’s encore performance.

I swear, nature has a cruel sense of humor. One day, it’s all sunshine and warm breezes, luring you into a false sense of security. The next, it sucker-punches you with a reality check in the form of bone-chilling wind. And today? Today was the kind of cold that makes you rethink your entire relationship with the great outdoors.

Fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with it. Sundays are my designated recovery days, meaning I had no reason to step outside and voluntarily freeze. As long as I stayed inside my warm little fortress, winter could do whatever it wanted. I wasn’t participating.

Now, about my legs. After months of dedicated running, I’ve built up enough endurance that muscle soreness rarely visits me. So, when I woke up and felt that familiar ache, I knew I had done something right. Yesterday’s run must have been extra brutal because my legs were making their displeasure known. Stiff, sore, and just dramatic enough to make me shuffle around like I had aged a few decades overnight.

But soreness is secretly a good thing. It means progress. It means my muscles are rebuilding, hopefully, stronger and faster than before. Maybe—just maybe—this is the kind of soreness that results in a breakthrough. Perhaps next week, I’ll find myself shaving seconds off my pace, gliding through my runs like some sort of gazelle. Or, you know, at least not feeling like I’m dragging bricks for legs.

In the meantime, today is all about stretching. I’ve actually been pretty consistent with it, mostly because I found a way to trick my brain into doing it. The secret? Pairing it with planking. After every plank session, I roll right into some leg stretches. It’s a system that works suspiciously well, and since I usually plank multiple times a day, I end up getting in at least three or more solid stretching sessions without even thinking about a small habit, but a game-changer for keeping my legs in running shape.

So, while the outside world insists on being a frozen wasteland, I’ll be in here, stretching, planking, and basking in the warmth of my personal sanctuary. I’ll let winter do its thing, and I’ll do mine—until tomorrow when I have to lace up my running shoes again and face whatever fresh weather betrayal awaits.

But that’s a problem for future me. Today, I am inside. Today, I recovered. And today, I pretend that winter doesn’t exist.

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A Funny Thing About Annual Check-Ups

Written January 29, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Every January, like clockwork, I get a little nudge from my doctor’s office: It’s time to schedule your annual physical! It’s a routine as predictable as New Year’s resolutions that don’t make it past February. Except this year, something was off. By mid-January, my inbox remained suspiciously silent. There was no automated reminder, no gentle push to book an appointment.

Curious (and a little paranoid), I logged into my patient portal, hoping to schedule it myself. Turns out, I was a bit premature. Last year’s appointment was on January 30th, so technically, I wasn’t due just yet. Patience, as they say, is a virtue—but when it comes to health, I’d rather be early than late.

Lessons From a Stroke: Why I No Longer Play Chicken With My Health

Before my brain stroke, I wasn’t exactly best friends with the medical world. Doctors were for emergencies, right? Annual check-ups were those things people did when they had extra time. And I, in my infinite wisdom, thought I had plenty of it.

Then came the stroke. And the swollen feet from gout. And the realization that, actually, time isn’t something to take for granted. Now, I’m a changed man—or at least a much more medically responsible one. I go for my annual physical without fail, and I see my nephrologist every few months like it’s a standing coffee date (minus the coffee because caffeine is another thing I have to watch).

The Irony of Post-Stroke Health

Here’s the kicker: I’m probably the healthiest I’ve ever been. Who knew a life-altering medical event could be the best personal trainer?

Since my stroke, I’ve taken up running and walking—activities I once considered optional but now see as non-negotiable. My endurance has skyrocketed. My diet? Let’s just say I’ve become intimately familiar with ingredient labels. Salt, protein, phosphate, and potassium are all on a tight leash. My wife, determined to make sure I don’t live a life of bland meals, has turned our kitchen into a spice lab, crafting homemade blends that put store-bought seasonings to shame.

Even my drinking habits have changed. I still enjoy a glass of something now and then, but just one. Gone are the days of carefree refills. And sleep? I treat it with the same discipline as a tax deadline—strict and non-negotiable. Bedtime at 9:30 PM, wake up at 7 AM, no exceptions.

Health: A Long Game, Not a Sprint

The truth is, I don’t feel sick. There’s nothing urgent making me rush to the doctor. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that health isn’t just about reacting to problems—it’s about preventing them. Regular check-ups while feeling good help establish a baseline. Without that, how do you even know what’s “normal” for you?

So, I fully expect that tomorrow, my doctor’s office will send that long-overdue reminder email as if on cue. And this time, I’ll be ready.

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A Warmer Week and the Battle Against Procrastination

Written January 27, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

At long last, it seems the days of running in the bone-chilling cold are behind me. No more bracing for that sharp, icy slap of air first thing in the morning. As long as I give the sun a little time to do its job, the temperatures are downright pleasant. Granted, today still has a bit of a seasonal chill, but compared to last week? Practically tropical. And if the forecast holds, we might even tiptoe into actual warm territory soon.

With the start of a new week, I’m determined to hit the ground running—both literally and figuratively. I’ve stacked my to-do list a little higher than usual since my wife has been working longer hours. It’s her busiest season (audit and tax season—fun times), so I’m trying to take some things off her plate. A small gesture, but one that hopefully makes a difference.

The upside of this milder weather? My runs are feeling smoother, and faster when it’s too cold, my body protests. But now? Now, I can focus on picking up my pace and making the most of my workouts. And, of course, with spring around the corner, outdoor chores are about to demand their fair share of attention.

After wrapping up my morning exercise, I dove into my other tasks. Blog post? Almost done. Run? Still on the agenda. And then there’s my writing project—the one I’ve been neglecting. I plan to chip away at it while listening to Sanderson’s writing lectures, which, if I’m being honest, I should have been doing last week.

Confession time: I completely slacked off. I let distractions win. Writing? Ignored. Lectures? Skipped. The result? I’m further behind than I should be, and to make matters worse, I’m still floundering when it comes to figuring out how long writing a book should take. That uncertainty makes it too easy to procrastinate.

My wife, on the other hand, takes a much more structured approach. Whenever she starts a new writing project, she logs everything—research time, drafting hours, and revisions. She fully admits her memory isn’t great for tracking details, so she writes it all down. And here’s the key: after going through the process a few times, she gets a clear sense of how long each phase takes. She’s cracked the code.

Maybe it’s time I do the same. If I track my progress, I might finally figure out what’s realistic instead of just guessing (or, worse, stalling). So, here’s to getting back on track—one run, one blog post, and one writing session at a time.

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From Stumbling Steps to Sore Legs: My 10K Running Journey

Written Jan 05, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This year, I made a bold proclamation: I’d conquer the 10K run more frequently than last year. Lofty, isn’t it? Well, it sounded heroic at the time. My main goal? Shave some seconds off my pace and make my running app sing my praises.

Let me set the scene: halfway through today’s 10K, I realized I’d missed my target pace by just a few seconds. Naturally, I did what any mildly obsessive runner would do—I pushed myself like I was being chased by a very determined turtle. The result? I barely hit my goal pace, but hey, “barely” still counts!

Looking back, it’s wild to think how far I’ve come. When I first started running seriously about 7-8 years ago, just finishing a few kilometers felt like scaling Everest. Rewind even further, and you’ll find me relearning how to walk after a brain stroke. Fun fact: my brain remembered that walking was a thing, but it forgot how to send the memo to my legs. The first time I told my wife I wanted to try running, she probably imagined me face-planting spectacularly. Spoiler: she wasn’t entirely wrong—I did fall a few times. But bruises fade, and determination grows.

Fast-forward to 2018, when we moved into our current home. I was still a slowpoke. A 5-kilometer run felt like a marathon, but over time, it stopped feeling like torture. Then came the glorious leap to 10 kilometers. Now, here I am—trying to outrun my past self, armed with sheer grit and slightly sore legs.

Speaking of sore legs, they’re the price of today’s achievement. My reward? I felt general weariness and the smug satisfaction of knowing this was my second-fastest 10K on record. Not bad for someone who started by jogging a single kilometer like a wobbly giraffe.

My endgame this year is to smash that 9:00 min/kilometer barrier. Today’s effort brought me closer, but it also left me with legs that felt like overcooked noodles. Stretching to the rescue! My daily leg stretches after a plank session is now less a routine and more a survival strategy.

So, here’s to run faster, recover smarter, and celebrate every hard-earned second because every step—whether wobbly or swift—proves that I’m still moving forward.

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How Virtual Hangouts With My Friends Became My Secret Rehab

Written January 3, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Regular catch-ups with friends are like a secret ingredient for staying sane and happy. My group of gaming buddies hails from my college days in Indiana, but since we’ve all scattered across different states, we now meet online. Thank goodness for technology! Not only can we video chat, but we can also play board games and other fun stuff virtually. Honestly, it’s way more convenient than coordinating in-person meetups back in the day.

That said, due to holidays, our gaming nights don’t happen on a rigid schedule. We’re all juggling family commitments, which take top priority. (Seriously, who has time to be consistent these days?) So, I’ve been patiently waiting for our next session to pop up on the calendar.

As luck would have it, my friends magically appeared online right after I published a blog yesterday! We managed to squeeze in a couple of games. Sure, we started later than usual, but we made it count and had a blast.

Playing games together has always been a big part of our connection. Even before my brain stroke, we’d hop online and compete or collaborate in all kinds of virtual adventures. After the stroke, my wife reached out to one of my friends and made sure I stayed in the loop. Why? Because her doctor said, gaming could be great for my brain recovery. Who knew all those hours holding a controller could be doctor-approved rehab?

Now, I can’t really measure my own progress (brains are tricky like that), but my wife swears she’s seen huge improvements. I’ll take her word for it—she’s got a sharp eye for details.

The stroke itself was no walk in the park. It led to two holes in my skull to drain blood—a traditional approach, thanks to my less-than-cooperative kidneys. That iron from the blood? Apparently, it’s like a kryptonite for your brain. The whole ordeal messed with my planning and execution skills, which is why gaming now doubles as both fun and functional. It helps sharpen those cognitive tools while giving me a reason to connect with my old crew.

Last night was extra satisfying because I’d already wrapped up most of my chores while waiting for the guys to log on. So even though we played a little late, I could head to bed guilt-free, knowing I’d earned that time to unwind.

Here’s to great friends, good games, and recovery disguised as fun. Who knew healing could be this entertaining?

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Starting the Year with a Run and Some Irish Coffee

Written January 1, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

It’s the first day of the new year, and guess what? I’ve already checked off my first run. Did I crush my target pace? Not quite. But hey, let’s not dwell on that. Instead, let’s celebrate the fact that my pace today was a world away from where it was at the start of last year. Progress is progress, right? And for me, that’s more than enough to lace up my running shoes again on Friday.

This year, I’ve set my sights on reducing my target pace time further. Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not gunning for Olympic speed or anything. But I’m all about inching closer to my goals, one step (or one run) at a time. That said, I know my biggest nemesis is just around the corner: cold weather. The kind of cold that turns your breath into tiny clouds and makes your fingers question why you didn’t just stay home. Winter running isn’t exactly my idea of a good time. Thankfully, I have a built-in weather barometer—my wife. She has this funny way of sensing bad weather before I even step outside. If her nose hurts, it’s guaranteed to be one of those frosty, windy days where the air feels like needles. Today, though, she didn’t mention a thing. That’s how I knew it wasn’t a lousy day to hit the pavement.

After that run, we eased into the new year with a quiet yet delightful New Year’s Eve celebration. No loud parties or midnight crowds for us—we kept it cozy, sipping Irish coffee and diving into a new board game called Abducktion. Yes, the name is as quirky as it sounds. It’s a strategy game involving alien abductions and ducks (yes, ducks), and I’d been itching to play it since Christmas. I don’t know who had more fun—me trying to outsmart my wife or her secretly plotting to obliterate my game strategy. Even though we were total rookies at it, the rules were simple, and we caught on quickly. By the time we wrapped up, we enjoyed the game so much that losing didn’t matter. (Okay, maybe it mattered a little. I’ll get her next time.)

What made the evening even better was that my wife made time to play. She’s a force of nature—always buzzing with projects and pouring her heart into everything she does. I admire that about her, but I also worry she doesn’t relax enough. Moments like this, where we’re just enjoying ourselves and letting go of the to-do lists, feel like little treasures. And honestly, seeing her smile while we strategized over alien ducks was the highlight of my day.So, here we are, stepping into the new year with laughter, Irish coffee, and a newfound love for board games. If this is any indication of what’s to come, 2025 is already off to a great start. Here’s to more runs, more laughs, and maybe even mastering Abducktion. Who’s ready for round two?

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365 Days of Planking: My (Not-So-Secret) Superpower

Written December 29, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

Guess who’s feeling like an absolute champ this morning? Spoiler alert: It’s me. Why, you ask? Because I’ve just hit a milestone that has me walking a little taller (probably thanks to my newly improved core strength). Drumroll, please… I’ve officially completed 365 consecutive days of planking! That’s an entire year of showing up, holding steady, and giving gravity a run for its money.

Now, let’s set some realistic expectations here. I’m not exactly a Guinness World Record holder or prepping for a plank-off with The Rock (yet). But I’m pretty proud of my progress. Right now, I’m inching closer to holding a solid 3-minute plank in one go. And let me tell you, it feels pretty amazing, considering where I started.

When I first embarked on this journey, my initial plank attempts barely scraped the one-minute mark. I’d start strong, shaking within 30 seconds, and collapse in a heap by 60. It wasn’t exactly graceful, but it was a start. Every habit begins somewhere, right? Fast-forward to today, and I can confidently say those early struggles have paid off. Three minutes may not seem too impressive, but for me, it’s a pretty big deal—and it’s proof that consistency works wonders.

The app I use has been my trusty sidekick throughout this journey. It keeps me on track, celebrates my streaks with little virtual confetti bursts (because who doesn’t love confetti?), and has been a surprisingly effective motivator. Seeing that little streak number climb higher and higher kept me committed, even on those days when the idea of planking sounded about as fun as a root canal.

This habit has become such a natural part of my routine that I can’t imagine starting my day without it. It’s like my morning coffee but with fewer jitters and more abs. And while I’m thrilled with my progress, I know there’s always room for improvement. My next goal is to see how far I can push my limits—not just in time but also in form and focus. Because, let’s face it, a 5-minute plank sounds impressive, but not if I’m doing it with my hips in the air like a triangle.

Of course, there’s always the possibility I’ll hit a practical limit at some point. Maybe my body will say, “Okay, this is as far as we’re going,” or my brain will decide to switch things up. And that’s fine, too. Goals evolve, habits shift, and new challenges emerge. I’ll reevaluate, adjust, and keep moving forward when that happens.

For now, though, I’m basking in the glow of this achievement. Here’s to staying consistent, celebrating progress, and tackling new goals with the same determination. Who knows? Maybe in another year, I’ll be writing about my 730-day streak—or teaching a masterclass in planking. Until then, I’m sticking to my plan, one plank at a time.

Stay strong, and as always, plan on!

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Crossing the Finish Line: My 1000K Running Journey

Written on December 28, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

Today, I finally hit my big running goal for the year—drumroll, please—1000 kilometers! That’s a pretty satisfying number, even if it’s less than last year’s total. I’ve come to realize that running isn’t just about hitting numbers; it’s about the journey, the lessons learned along the way, and occasionally, the sweat-soaked, slightly embarrassing selfies that prove you were out there doing the thing.

This year, I shifted my focus to something new: speed. I wanted to improve my pace, and while it’s been a challenge, I’m proud of the strides I’ve made—pun absolutely intended. Running faster has a way of reminding you that progress isn’t always linear. Some days, you’re flying, and other days, let’s just say walking feels like a more viable option.

Now, let’s talk about summer, aka my arch-nemesis this year. It was hot. Not the “oh, it’s a little warm” kind of hot, but the “melting-the-soles-of-my-shoes” variety. And I’ll admit, I didn’t always feel like braving the heat. Laziness? Yes, it paid me a few visits, but can you blame me? The couch starts looking pretty appealing when the sun feels like it’s sitting in your driveway.

Thankfully, I found a way to adapt. Shifting my runs to early mornings worked wonders. There’s something magical about hitting the pavement while the world is still waking up. It’s quieter and cooler, and the sunrise is often its own reward. Plus, there’s a smug satisfaction in knowing you’ve already knocked out your run before most people have had their coffee.

Of course, my biggest hurdle this year wasn’t just the heat or the motivation dips—it was my body. Ever since my brain stroke, I’ve been dealing with a pesky little issue: my body no longer regulates temperature properly. This means external conditions like weather have an outsized impact on my running performance. It’s frustrating at times, but I’ve learned to listen to my body, adjust my pace, and embrace the idea that running is as much about resilience as it is about distance.

Looking ahead, I’m setting the same 1000K goal for 2025. Why mess with a good thing, right? Starting the year with a clear goal keeps me motivated and focused. The key is breaking it down into manageable chunks—one week, one run, one kilometer at a time. And when summer inevitably makes its sweaty return, I’ll be ready to greet it with those early morning runs. Sunrise runs are calling, and I’m already planning to answer.

Here’s to another year of chasing goals, battling the elements, and reminding myself that progress isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence. So, 2025, let’s lace up and hit the ground running. Literally.

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Rest, Recovery, and Rediscovering My Run

Written December 26, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

I skipped my Wednesday run, which felt like breaking an unspoken rule in my routine. Why? Because my knee decided it was time to be the squeaky wheel—or, in this case, the squeaky joint. That makes three full days off from running, and honestly, I’m okay with it. Here’s why: I’ve seen what happens when you don’t give your body time to heal. My wife once pushed through an injury, thinking she was invincible, and let’s just say her recovery became a long-term project. I’d rather learn from her experience than repeat it. 

When your knee is unhappy, you suddenly realize how much you depend on it. For instance, going down the stairs earlier this week was like walking a tightrope while juggling knives—not exactly graceful. It was a sharp reminder to pay attention to the signals my body was sending. On Tuesday and Wednesday, every descent was a little “ouch” here and a little “yikes” there. But today? The stairs and I are back to being friends. My knee no longer complains, which I’m taking as a good sign.

This forced break has been an interesting shift. As a runner, rest days feel like a guilty pleasure, like sneaking a second slice of cake when no one’s watching. But sometimes, your body needs that slice of metaphorical cake—or, in this case, a few days to repair itself. Skipping runs isn’t easy for me; I love the rhythm of hitting the pavement and the mental clarity it brings. But I’d rather take three days off now than risk being sidelined for weeks later.

Rest has its perks, though. I’ve caught up on some reading, spent more time planning my next running goals, and even got an extra hour of sleep here and there. (Who knew recovery could feel this luxurious?) More importantly, I can feel the difference in my knee. It no longer twinges when I walk downstairs, and it’s not screaming for attention every time I move. That’s progress I can celebrate.

I’ll lace up my running shoes again tomorrow, and I’m hopeful it’ll be a smooth, pain-free return. With three days of rest under my belt, I feel like a sprinter at the starting block, ready to channel all my pent-up energy into a fast, satisfying run. There are no guarantees I’ll break any records, but hey, after days of forced patience, even a moderate jog will feel like a victory lap.

If there’s one takeaway from this experience, it’s this: listen to your body. Rest isn’t the enemy—it’s the secret weapon for coming back stronger. Whether it’s your knee, your back, or just a sense of exhaustion creeping in, sometimes stepping back is the best way to keep moving forward.