Planking: Where Pride Goes to Die (and Come Back Stronger)

Written March 2, 2025

reviewed 3/15

Hello Dear Readers,

Ah, the sweet reward of a solid workout: muscle aches. Not exactly the kind of prize you’d frame on the wall, but a trophy nonetheless. Today, my legs are singing the well-earned ballad of yesterday’s hard-fought 10K run. Stretching is non-negotiable—unless I want to spend the day hobbling around like a wounded penguin. And trust me, that’s not the heroic look I’m going for.

While my running goals are shaping up better than expected, my planking? Well, that’s an entirely different beast. The new machine I got for planking scoffs at my previous efforts. It’s the Balrog of fitness equipment dragging me into the abyss of muscle fatigue. My body, still reeling from the betrayal, is filing official complaints. A couple of days ago, I smacked face-first into a wall of frustration. The plan had been simple: endure the pain for a week, and surely, I’d emerge victorious. But no. The abyss had other plans. No matter how much I gritted my teeth, I just couldn’t hold on long enough.

So, I made a painful decision—I cut my planking target time by a full minute. Oof.

Now, before you call it a defeat, hear me out. I’m all for pushing limits, but I also used to tell my university students that goals must be realistic. Time to practice what I preached. Setting the bar so high that I end up quitting entirely? That’s not resilience—that’s self-sabotage. A minute might not seem like much, but in the world of planking, it’s an eternity. Still, with this new machine, I have to be honest about what’s actually achievable.

Here’s how my planking sessions work: I use my smartphone on the machine to play a color ball chase game—an absolute gem of a distraction. The timer counts down, and I cling to life. The issue? My old target time, the one I used to master on my previous machine, just doesn’t translate here. But my stubborn streak refused to budge. I clung to that old number like Gollum to his precious, as if lowering it meant tarnishing my past victories. Eventually, my screaming muscles staged a full-scale rebellion, and I caved.

But here’s the plot twist: just like Gandalf, I may have fallen, but I’m coming back stronger. The new machine allows for incremental increases, so instead of mourning the lost minute, I’ve set my time to go up by one second per day. Small, steady victories. In time, I’ll reclaim my full endurance—without the unnecessary suffering. That’s the plan, at least.

At the end of the day, progress isn’t about stubbornly clinging to an arbitrary number. It’s about tracking what I can actually do and building from there. Seeing my endurance improve, even by the tiniest fraction, is far more motivating than repeatedly failing to hit an unrealistic goal.

So, here’s to adjusting, adapting, and rising like Gandalf the White—one second at a time.

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?