Tag: running motivation

Posted on

Morning Routine with Kitten Chaos: How Arty Turned My 5K Run into a Purrfect Day

Written September 12, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning, I was awakened an hour earlier than planned by two forces of nature: my wife and our kitten, Arty. Arty has officially declared our bed part of her kingdom, and apparently, my feet are her sworn enemies. Nothing says “good morning” like a four-pound ball of fur launching a surprise attack at your toes.

But here’s the thing—I kind of love it. Watching her bounce around like she’s had three espressos before sunrise makes me feel oddly calm and ridiculously happy. I’m starting to think kittens are cheaper than therapy (though with the vet bills incoming, maybe not by much).

Fueled by Arty’s 6 a.m. pep talk, I decided to get out of bed and put on my running clothes. Naturally, Arty sat on the blanket, staring at me like, “Sure, go ahead, human. Run. I’ll be here conquering invisible monsters.” Fridays are a 5K day, and thanks to my tiny furry alarm clock, I hit the pavement early. By noon, I’d already knocked out my to-do list. Honestly, I felt unstoppable—like I’d unlocked some secret productivity cheat code called cat ownership + cardio.

When I got home, Arty and I had a little fetch training session. Yes, you read that right—I’m teaching a cat to fetch. She’s not perfect, but she’s leagues ahead of where she started. Sometimes she’ll go on a 20-fetch streak like an Olympic champion, and other times she taps out after three rounds and collapses dramatically on my lap. Either way, I’m basically the proud parent at her recital.

My wife has been bonding with Arty too. After losing our previous cat, Gambi, years ago, she promised herself she’d spend more time with this one. And she has—whether it’s cuddling on the couch or chasing fleas with a comb like it’s a full-time job.

Tomorrow is Arty’s big day: her first vet appointment. She’ll get her checkup, vaccines, and a follow-up plan for October. We’ve even collected a stool sample (because nothing says romance like discussing cat poop with your spouse). We just hope the car ride doesn’t freak her out too much.

So, yes, my days now start with kitten chaos, mid-morning runs, and poop samples in the fridge. But honestly? I wouldn’t trade it. Arty might be small, but she’s already teaching me how to live bigger, run earlier, and laugh more often.

Posted on

Breaking in New Running Shoes: Why 5K Felt Smarter Than 10K

Written August 17, 2025

Reviewed 8/26

Hello ,Dear Readers,

This morning I laced up my brand-new pair of running shoes, ready to conquer a glorious 10K. The shoes looked sharp—clean, crisp, and full of promise—even though they’re identical to my old pair. (Funny how a new version of the same thing feels so much more exciting. Humans are weird that way.)

But here’s the plot twist: I called it quits at 5K.

The reason? A deadly combo—rising heat and the dreaded “new shoe syndrome.” My left ankle kept threatening to roll with every stride, and I wasn’t about to limp home like a tragic marathon meme. New shoes are stiff, unyielding, and about as cooperative as a cat during bath time. My wife usually ends up with blisters. I, on the other hand, get sore feet and near-miss ankle sprains. Either way, not ideal for the long run.

I’ve been down this road before. Every new pair puts me through the same initiation ritual. Still, I secretly hope that one day a new pair of shoes will turn me into Usain Bolt overnight. I’ll never forget my first authentic running shoes—the way they felt so light I swore I’d dropped five pounds just by lacing them up.

For now, my old pair graduates to “walking shoe” status, still good enough for daily steps but no longer up for the big leagues. The best part? My running app now tracks mileage per shoe. No more clunky Excel logging. It automatically records distance, pace, and ties everything neatly to the shoe’s lifespan. Pretty slick.

I’ll admit I was a little disappointed. I wanted that solid 10K, especially since recent Saturdays have been hijacked by other plans. But next weekend, I’ll try again. With the laces cinched a little tighter and the shoes a little more forgiving, I’m hopeful they’ll finally cooperate.

Until then, I’ll settle for the small win: no blisters, no twisted ankle, and a shiny new pair of shoes with their whole running life ahead of them.

Posted on

How to Make A Kidney-Friendly Summer Reset

Written July 16, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Another scorcher in Nashville. Since the end of last summer, I’ve been trying to outsmart the heat by waking up earlier and starting my runs before the sun fully clocks in. My wife’s been doing this from the get-go—she actually likes it. For her, that early run is like nature’s espresso shot. She has low blood pressure, so getting her heart pumping first thing in the morning helps set the rhythm for her day.

I, on the other hand, started my run at 7 a.m., thinking I was ahead of the heat. Nope. It was already warming up, and the rising temperature slowed me down halfway through my 5K. My wife had taken yesterday off to help me with extra chores, so today she was back at the office, while I was sweating it out solo.

Last June, I had a minor gout flare-up, which led to a check-up with my nephrologist. That’s when I got the disappointing news: my kidney function had slipped into stage 4. I’d held steady at stage 3 for so long that the sudden drop felt like a punch in the gut. But these things usually have a culprit, so my doctor and I retraced my steps.

Everything else checked out fine—heart rate, blood pressure, diet—all good. But then I admitted something: I’d been struggling to maintain my weight and had started leaning a little too hard on sugary comforts. Ice cream, specifically. Guilty.

Turns out, that was likely the culprit. So I made a switch—out with the ice cream, in with homemade yogurt and cantaloupe. The result? My weight stayed stable, and my kidneys got a break. With my doctor’s approval, I also upped my protein intake slightly, which has helped too.

Exercise remains a must. My doctor emphasized it again, especially after my rehab. But hydration is key—especially in a Nashville summer, where the humidity hugs you like a damp wool blanket. Changing my run time has made a world of difference. At 7 a.m., it’s still a bearable 73–74°F (23–24°C), though it climbs quickly once the sun kicks into high gear.

I’m counting the days until fall. Cooler mornings mean faster runs and less sweating just from tying my shoes. Honestly, summer running feels like training with a weighted vest—once autumn hits, I expect to feel lighter, quicker, and a whole lot happier out there.

Posted on

The Great 10K Redemption Run (a.k.a. Oops, I Forgot—Again)

Written July 9, 2025

Reviewed 7/26

Hello Dear Readers,

Ah, Saturday. The day I had grand 10K ambitions… that ended halfway through. I was determined to make up for it on Monday. But here’s the plot twist: I completely forgot. I mean, the kind of forgetfulness where you only remember after you’re cooling down, patting yourself on the back like you nailed it. Spoiler: I did not nail it.

So, Wednesday became the new redemption day. This time, no forgetting, no excuses. I tied my shoes like a warrior preparing for battle and hit the pavement early—like, pre-sunrise early—because in Nashville, once that sun is up, you’re basically jogging through a sauna.

Last year, I used to run around lunchtime. Which sounds bold until you realize I was just marinating in humidity with each step. But I’ve since evolved. These days, I run before the cicadas even start singing, and I must say—it’s a game-changer. Cooler temps, fewer bugs, and I get to feel smugly accomplished before most people even finish their first cup of coffee.

Now, Nashville weather has been acting like a moody teenager this year—storms, rain, sudden downpours that cancel both my runs and my yard work. My schedule’s been bouncing around like a squirrel on caffeine.

Still, there’s something magical about running in bearable weather. I used to crawl through summer runs, but now I glide (okay, maybe “glide” is generous—let’s go with “lumber efficiently”). It also helps that I finish my workout early enough to make the rest of my day feel productive instead of… sweaty and sluggish. My wife’s been team Morning Everything for years—turns out she was right. Again.

Did I hit my target pace today? Nope. But let’s be honest, trying to increase speed and distance at the same time is like trying to cook a five-course meal while juggling flaming swords. A noble idea, but not exactly sustainable.

I’ve also been doing a ton of yard work lately, so my legs are staging a silent protest. I’m learning to listen to my body—well, mostly. Sometimes I still push it to the edge of “nap-or-collapse” territory. But I remind myself: even if my pace isn’t perfect, I’m still out there. Still moving. Still logging the miles.

Running is a fickle friend—affected by the weather, your sleep, your breakfast, and even your mood. One off-day doesn’t mean failure. When I zoom out and look at the big picture, I am getting better. And that’s what really matters.So here’s to Wednesday’s redemption run: a full 10K in the books, a slight smile on my face, and hopeful legs for Friday. Who knows? Maybe next time I’ll remember my plan before the run. Stranger things have happened.

Posted on

Running on Cool Air and Accidental Kilometers

Written June 9, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Yesterday was a scorcher—the kind of heat that makes you question your life choices, your wardrobe, and maybe your decision to live on Earth. We sweated through it with as much dignity as possible (read: none), but thankfully the heat retreated overnight. This morning, my wife emerged from her walk announcing it was “chilly.” I was still burrowed under blankets like a hibernating bear, and I had to agree—comfortably so.

We’ve developed a quirky philosophy around indoor climate control. Our goal? Keep the indoor temperature close enough to the outdoor one that our bodies don’t go into seasonal whiplash. Yes, we have central AC. Yes, it technically still works. But it’s old enough to remember dial-up internet, so we try not to lean on it unless the weather turns dramatic—which, living in Nashville, it frequently does.

And here’s the twist: after my brain stroke, my internal thermostat retired early. I can no longer regulate body temperature like a normal human radiator. Fortunately, we’ve always preferred a “seasonally appropriate” indoor vibe. No saunas in winter or ice caves in July. But when Nashville cranks the weather dial to “chaos,” even our stoic system has to bend. That’s when the AC gets its rare moment of glory.

Now, about today’s run—by the time I laced up and hit the pavement, it wasn’t chilly anymore, but it was that perfect middle ground: warm enough to get the blood flowing, cool enough to pretend I was in a Nike ad. I felt good. Too good, maybe. So good, in fact, I forgot to check my distance and accidentally ran an extra kilometer.

The wild part? I still hit my target pace. I know. Who is this person?

Back when I first started running, one kilometer felt like trekking across the Sahara. In 2017, I managed just over a mile, and it nearly took my soul with it. Then came the real game changer: proper shoes. My wife gifted me a glorious pair of Nikes—shoes that whispered, “You got this,” with every step.

Consistency, not magic, built my endurance. Last year, I got curious about pace. Sometimes I plateau, sure. There are weeks where progress is flatter than a pancake in Kansas. But in the long haul, I’ve improved.

And today? I ran farther than I planned, faster than I expected, and finished with enough breath left to write this blog.

Not bad for a guy with a malfunctioning thermostat.

Posted on

The Perils of Time Change and Skunks

Written March 10, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Ah yes, it’s that time of year again—the dreaded time change. Most states in the U.S. go through this ritual, allegedly for a good reason, but let’s be honest: it’s mostly just a nuisance. My wife and I were both thoroughly unimpressed to find ourselves waking up to pre-dawn darkness this morning. Nothing says good morning like fumbling around in the dark, wondering why the universe has conspired against you.

As if losing an hour of morning light wasn’t bad enough, my wife had a less-than-pleasant encounter during her morning workout. She spotted a skunk. Yes, a skunk—nature’s own chemical warfare specialist, a creature that thrives under the cover of darkness. Speaking of skunks, we’ve had our own personal skunk horror story. One particularly cold winter evening, a skittish skunk got startled by the sudden roar of our heating system kicking on. In a panic, it unleashed its full arsenal. The wretched stench seeped into the house as warm air circulated, and out of all the rooms, my study bore the brunt of the assault. To this day, I suspect the culprit is the same smug little skunk my wife just spotted.

Now, she lives in fear of another skunk ambush during her workouts. And who could blame her? The absolute last thing anyone wants is to be doused in skunk spray before breakfast. That kind of disaster lingers. Literally.

My wife firmly believes that seasonal wildlife sightings are nature’s own calendar. According to her, as long as she’s still spotting owls and skunks, winter isn’t quite over yet. I can’t argue with that logic—especially since she’s the one out there facing these creatures while I’m still contemplating whether to get out of bed.

But back to the time change. I can’t shake the feeling that this abrupt shift disrupts the natural rhythm of things. Just last week, I was waking up to bright, golden dawns, but now? Darkness, again. It’s a setback. For my wife, the frustration lies in losing that perfect moment at the end of her workout—the serene sight of the sun rising. For me, it’s a simple yet profound demotivator. Whether it’s pitch dark or broad daylight when I wake up, my enthusiasm for running remains highly weather-dependent.

I had grand plans to start running first thing in the morning starting today, but alas, the temperature still has other ideas. It’s just a bit too chilly at dawn to leap enthusiastically into a jog, so that schedule change is officially postponed until further notice. Let’s call it weather permitting.

Besides, I have a bigger goal in mind—I want to avoid running in the unbearable heat of summer. To do that, I’ll need to ease into an earlier schedule as the temperatures allow. Of course, March in Nashville is a wildcard, with temperatures swinging wildly between springtime bliss and winter’s last hurrah. So, my approach is simple: stay flexible, monitor the forecasts, and start my sunrise runs when the weather demands it.

Until then, I’ll just have to deal with the darkness, the cold, and the looming possibility of rogue skunks. Welcome to spring.

Posted on

The Grand Canyon Didn’t Break Me, So Neither Will My 10K Pace

Written March 1, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Yesterday, I was on top of the world—or at least, on top of my running game. My 5K was a total success, smashing my target pace and dipping under 9 minutes per kilometer for the first time. Naturally, my mind started racing faster than my legs: If I keep this up, I’ll be setting a whole new goal for the year!

And then came today.

While my pace wasn’t quite as speedy, I still clocked my fastest 10K yet—just a few seconds per kilometer shy of my yearly goal. Not bad, right? But it got me thinking: so many factors affect my running pace. Distance, my body’s condition on the day, the weather—whether I’m battling a light breeze or running headfirst into a windstorm. Today, it was all about the distance.

There’s a world of difference between a 5K and a 10K. Some runners barely blink at the distinction; they lace up and conquer either without breaking stride. My wife told me about her old running buddies in Canada who were exactly like that. She, however, worked tirelessly to get there—only to realize that natural aptitude plays a role too.

But she also says consistency can take you far. Maybe not to the Olympics, but certainly further and faster than you’d expect. When she first mentioned it, I brushed it off. I wasn’t that serious about running. But over the years, as I watched my progress unfold, I started to appreciate the power of steady effort.

A prime example? The Grand Canyon.

A while back, we visited, and my wife—ever the hiking enthusiast—decided we’d walk everywhere. Skip the bus? Sure. Wander the steep, winding trails? Why not? By the time we finished, we had covered well over 10 miles, including a particularly hilly section of the canyon. And yet, I felt strong. Years ago, I would have needed to sit and rest every few minutes just to try to walk again. That day, though? No problem. My endurance had improved more than I’d ever realized.

So, yeah—consistency works.

That’s why I keep running. That’s why today’s run, even if not as fast as I’d hoped, was still an essential step forward. If I put in the effort this week, next week will be even better. And who knows? By the end of the year, I might just be chasing the 8-minute-per-kilometer mark.

One step, one run, one breakthrough at a time.

Posted on

Running Through the Chill: A Battle Against Nashville’s Winter

Written February 19, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

February is nearly in the rearview mirror, but Nashville isn’t ready to let go of winter just yet. The city seems determined to keep us wrapped in layers, clinging to the cold like an overzealous guest who refuses to leave the party. And now, just to keep things interesting, the forecast is throwing snow into the mix. Whether it actually happens or not is anyone’s guess, but I wouldn’t put it past the weather to surprise us.

Now, I don’t mind a crisp winter run—cold air is invigorating, after all—but snow? That’s where I draw the line. My neighborhood is already an obstacle course of hills, one of which looms in front of my house like a miniature Everest. Running on it when it’s dry is a challenge. Running on it when it’s covered in snow? That’s not a workout; that’s an audition for an injury.

I learned this the hard way a few years ago. It was the day before Christmas, and my wife and I had grand plans to deliver small gifts to our neighbors. Simple enough, right? Wrong. The snow had turned the streets into a treacherous, ice-covered battleground. Every step felt like a high-stakes balancing act, and we spent more time trying not to wipe out than actually walking. Since that day, I have made a firm rule: running on snow is a terrible idea. The whole point of running is to stay healthy, not to end up in a cast.

That said, I’m not letting the cold stop me. I still plan to hit my weekly running target, snow or no snow (preferably no snow). Last summer was brutal—I struggled through one of the hottest seasons I can remember, dragging myself through heat so intense it felt like I was melting. But those struggles paid off. In November and December, I pushed hard to hit my year-end distance goal, and in the process, I did something unexpected—I got faster.

Now, every time I run, I shave a little more off my pace. I’m within five seconds per kilometer of my end-of-year target, and that progress fuels me. My wife is impressed whenever I show her my running logs, and honestly, that extra bit of admiration is a great motivator. It’s always nice to have a cheering section, even if it’s just one person.

Of course, I know not every run will be great. Some days will be slow, some will be frustrating, and some will make me question why I do this to myself at all. But I’ve learned that bad days are just that—days. They don’t define the journey. The key is to keep moving, keep improving, and not expect progress to happen overnight.

So, I’ll keep running. I’ll keep chasing my goals. But if the snow does show up tomorrow? Well, I’ll be watching it from inside with a hot drink in hand.

Posted on

Rain, Rogue GPS, and the Mysterious Vanishing Kilometers

Written February 16, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Some runs feel like a victory lap. Others? A battle against the elements, technology, and one’s own patience. Yesterday’s run firmly belonged in the latter category.

It all started with rain. Not the cinematic kind, where you look heroic, sprinting through a storm with determination in your eyes. No, this was the persistently annoying variety—too light to justify quitting but steady enough to be irritating. I ran anyway, determined to get my usual 10k in. The universe, however, had other plans.

About halfway through, I glanced at my running app and noticed something was off. It had only logged one kilometer. One. I had covered at least five. I stopped, restarted the app, and, like any stubborn runner with a love-hate relationship with technology, decided to run another 5k just to make sure the second half was tracked correctly. It worked—sort of. The second 5k showed up fine, but the first half of my run had been swallowed into the digital abyss, never to be seen again. And just like that, my running records were now permanently haunted by a mysterious missing 4k.

Curious (and mildly exasperated), I looked into why this happened. Turns out, GPS signals don’t always play nice with rain. While light rain doesn’t do much, heavier rain can scatter the signals enough to make devices struggle. That explained my app’s refusal to acknowledge half my workout. The logic makes sense, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating when you’re staring at an incomplete run in your stats.

Now, if you ask my wife, she’d say I shouldn’t even be looking at the daily numbers. “Look at the long-term progress,” she always tells me. “People get discouraged when they fixate on single-day stats. That’s how they end up quitting.” She had to learn that lesson the hard way—being results-driven meant she used to stress over every little fluctuation. Me? Not so much. I like having numbers, but I don’t let them dictate my mood. Still, I see her point. If a missing 4k had the power to make or break my commitment to running, I probably wouldn’t have lasted this long.

At the end of the day, my legs still got their workout, my heart still did its thing, and the health benefits remained intact—regardless of what my app said. It’s a minor annoyance, sure, but it’s not like my fitness depends on perfect tracking. That being said, I won’t pretend I wasn’t tempted to manually add the missing kilometers just to restore my stats. I resisted. (Barely.)

So, the moral of the story? Rain happens. Technology fails. And sometimes, you just have to run another 5k out of sheer stubbornness. But in the grand scheme of things, what matters isn’t a missing stat—it’s the habit, the discipline, and the fact that I got out there in the first place. And if I ever need proof, my sore legs will be more than happy to remind me.

Posted on

The Weekend Latte Ritual: A Brewed Philosophy

Written February 2, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Ah, the weekend—those glorious two days where time slows just enough to remind us that life isn’t only about deadlines and checklists. My wife and I have stumbled upon a new weekend tradition, one that involves the alchemy of caffeine and a dash of self-appreciation.

It all started with a simple upgrade: coffee. Not just any coffee, but the kind that demands a moment of respect before the first sip—the kind that makes you pause and acknowledge, Yes, I deserve this. We don’t go to fancy cafés or wait in long lines for baristas to scribble our names incorrectly on cups. No, we craft our own indulgence right at home.

Then Christmas came along, and with it, my sister’s perfectly chosen gift: a milk frother and flavored syrups. This was a game-changer. Suddenly, Sunday became latte day. Not just any latte, but the latte, handcrafted with a level of precision that would make a chemist proud.

Now, my wife is a purist when it comes to coffee—black, untainted, unsweetened. But once a week, she lets me transform her cup into something velvety and rich. The catch? The syrup. Following the package instructions led to a disaster of sugar overload. So, after a few misfires (and my wife’s polite but unimpressed expressions), I cracked the code: just enough syrup to balance indulgence without betrayal. A sweet spot, if you will.

And somehow, this tiny ritual makes me reflect—not just on coffee ratios but on life itself. Every Sunday latte is a quiet nod to the week we’ve survived, the goals we’ve chased, and the fact that we’re still here, sipping and smiling.

Yesterday, I completed my 10K run. Did I hit my target pace? Not quite. Did I still run 10K? Absolutely. And that counts for something.

So, we sip our lattes, acknowledging the week’s efforts, big or small. It’s a self-made celebration, a pat on the back in a ceramic cup. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that appreciating yourself isn’t just nice—it’s necessary.

And what better way to do it than with a perfectly brewed latte?