Tag: Running

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Running Late on Purpose: When Life Delays Your 10K

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Life has a funny way of rearranging your carefully laid plans, and sometimes, just sometimes, it gets it exactly right.

This week, my running schedule needed a little surgery of its own. Not literally, thankfully. That honor went to my wife, who had a post-op check-up to attend: sutures to be removed, surgical site to be inspected, the whole routine. She’s not exactly a fan of doctors (unless you count her dentist and GP, who’ve apparently earned some sort of special exemption). So, naturally, I went with her. That’s just how we roll.

The upshot? My morning run got pushed to the afternoon. And here’s the thing: as it turned out, running at that later hour was actually the right call. The earlier window would have been downright unpleasant. Sometimes the universe knows what it’s doing, even when we’re grumbling about it.

My speed, however, had not gotten the memo. I missed my target pace, which, I won’t lie, stings a little. But here’s the silver lining wrapped in a sweatband: I still clocked my 3rd fastest time ever. Third. Fastest. Ever. In the grand scheme of my running history, that’s genuinely impressive. The gaps between my top 10 fastest runs are fairly wide, so even when I’m not breaking personal records, I’m filling in those gaps, and that quiet, steady progress is the kind that compounds.

Tomorrow’s run is also getting the axe. My family is throwing a birthday party for me,  yes, me, over at my sister’s place. Could I theoretically squeeze in a 10k before the cake? Possibly. Would the timing feel rushed and vaguely ridiculous? Absolutely. So I’m giving myself full permission to skip it. A birthday is a perfectly acceptable reason for an unscheduled rest day.

What happens next week is anyone’s guess. Maybe the rest will recharge my legs, and I’ll fly down the road like a birthday-fueled rocket. Or maybe I’ll feel a little rusty and need to ease back in. Either way, I’ll be out there, slightly older, hopefully faster, and definitely better-rested.

Happy running (or strategic non-running, as the occasion demands).

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Running Faster After Anemia Treatment

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Spring has technically arrived, though someone forgot to send the temperature memo. My personal policy is firm: shorts come out when it hits 65°F. This morning it was just a hair below that threshold, and I pulled them on anyway. Sometimes principles are more of a guideline.

And I’m glad I did, because today’s run was something special. For the second time this week, I beat my target pace. Twice. In one week. That’s not nothing. That’s something worth writing home about.

Here’s the secret ingredient: anemia treatment. I’ve been receiving treatment recently, and I can genuinely feel the difference. More hemoglobin means more oxygen, and more oxygen means my legs don’t feel like they’re churning through wet cement. I finally understand why some competitive runners go to such extreme lengths to gain an edge in their blood. I’m not endorsing anything sketchy, just saying: the oxygen, it matters enormously.

The funniest part? My wife pointed out that I had been running in “hard mode” this whole time, and I had absolutely no idea. How would I? The last time I was treated for anemia, I was still learning how to walk. My entire running life has been lived at low hemoglobin levels. That was just my normal. Turns out, my normal was secretly heroic.

One more 5k run this week, and if I match today’s pace, I’ll earn another success that puts me within striking distance of my end-of-year goal. Yes, summer is coming, and yes, the heat will slow me down, the laws of physics apparently still apply. But fall will come around, and I’ll claw back more successes then. Right now, I’m just going to savor this rare and golden alignment of being close to my goal and making rapid progress at the same time.

It’s a good day to be a runner with working red blood cells.

Until next time, may your oxygen levels be plentiful and your pace be swift.

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From Stroke Survivor to 10K Runner: My Pace Story

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Let’s take a moment to appreciate mornings when the universe actually cooperates. This morning was one of those rare gifts: perfect shorts weather, not a raindrop in sight despite the forecast’s best threats, and barely a whisper of wind. In other words, ideal running conditions. the kind that make you feel like you’ve got rocket boosters hidden in your sneakers.

And rocket-boosted I felt. My pace numbers agreed, which is always satisfying (nothing worse than feeling fast and then looking at your watch in despair).

I’ve been on a genuine upswing with my running pace lately, and I’ve been thinking about why. The answer, I’m fairly certain, is muscle conditioning. A few years back, I added strength training to my regular running, and, honestly, summers nearly broke me. Running, lawn mowing, and resistance exercise all at once? Even a machine would protest. So last year I got smart about it: I split my workouts into focused sessions — arms one day, something else the next. That small tweak changed everything. I was finally able to keep training through the heat without melting into the sidewalk.

The results have been real. My body fat percentage is now below 13%. I’m leaner. I’m stronger. I can feel it in the way I move.

11 Years Ago

Here’s the part of the story that gives all of this meaning: I had a brain stroke. When it happened, I was in a coma for the first 11 days, and then in bed for nearly two months, mostly sleeping, mostly still. By the time I moved to a long-term care facility, I had lost all the muscle I’d ever built. And I don’t just mean I was out of shape. I had to relearn everything: how to walk, how to move my hand, how to eat.

That first year, my wife and I walked every single day. I had a walker. I had to rest every five minutes. My wife pushed me, gently and persistently, to keep moving my legs. Slowly, those shuffling walks became a routine. Then a habit. Then 1.3 miles. Then, after my wife bought me my first real pair of running shoes, something that started to resemble actual running.

By the time we moved to Nashville, I was jogging, slowly, but jogging. Over the years that followed, I built myself up until I could run 10 kilometers. My wife told me I should be very proud of that, and she’s right. Surviving a brain stroke is something. Getting back to this is something else entirely.

Now I’m working on pace.

This morning, I finished 16 seconds ahead of my target. I then knocked out two sets of pull-ups, a set of 10 and a set of 8, which is exactly what I was aiming for.

Not bad for a guy who once had to rest every five minutes.

Keep moving, keep surprising yourself.

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Getting Back to Running After a Week Off

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

The weather app had spoken, and for once it was right: temperatures hovering firmly below the Great Shorts Threshold. After much trial and error, and at least one very chilly calf’s experience, I’ve determined that 65°F is my personal Rubicon when it comes to running attire: below it, long pants; above it, shorts. My body temperature regulation, it turns out, is not exactly a finely tuned machine, so I’ve learned to outsmart it with a well-considered wardrobe.

Here in Nashville, the first item of business every spring morning is consulting the weather app like it’s an oracle. And Nashville spring, bless its volatile heart, is not for the faint of schedule. We’re talking wild temperature swings, sudden thunderstorms, and the occasional tornado as a bonus surprise. This city keeps things interesting.

I’m an outdoor activity enthusiast by default, running four times a week, mowing the lawn from spring through autumn, and generally treating the outside as my gym. Rain won’t stop me from running; neither will extreme heat or cold, though I’ve drawn the line at thunder (I’m active, not reckless). The secret, I’ve discovered, is simply dressing for the weather. Revolutionary concept, I know.

When it gets hot, anything threatening to climb past 80°F, I become an early bird. Morning runs and yard work only, before the sun decides to really commit to its agenda. Running in the heat is, to put it elegantly, deeply unpleasant.

This particular morning, I started with breakfast as usual, then faced the happy challenge of getting back to my exercise routine after a full week off. The pullups went surprisingly well, 10 reps, a short rest, then 7 more. The muscles apparently took their vacation but kept their memories intact. Small victories.

The run, however, was a different story. I let things warm up a bit, laced up with optimism, and then proceeded to finish well behind my target pace. My legs, it seems, had their own agenda. Maybe my body was carrying more fatigue than I realized. The good news? The rest of the week’s runs are just opportunities to do better.

Here’s to lacing up anyway, tired legs, uncertain weather, and all.

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Running in Spring: Patience, Progress & Bad Weather Days

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Mother Nature, it seems, has never heard of consistency, unlike me. One day she’s all sunshine and warmth, luring me outside in shorts, and the next she’s quietly laughing as I dig out my long sleeves again. That was yesterday: a chilly curveball after a perfectly nice day, which somehow made it feel even colder than it actually was.

Here’s the thing about my body: my brain stroke left me with a bit of a broken thermostat. Warming up and cooling down take me far longer than they used to, so picking the right outfit before a run isn’t just a fashion choice, it’s a survival strategy. Layers in, layers out; I’m basically a human onion on legs.

The good news is that next week is looking gloriously mid-to-high 70s across the board. I’ll take it. Yesterday’s run, though? Not my finest hour. I missed my target pace and finished the 10th kilometer a full minute-plus behind where I’d hoped to be. My legs are even more sore today than they were yesterday, which I’m choosing to interpret as a sign that they’re busy getting stronger. (This is what runners tell themselves. We’re a hopeful bunch.)

I’ve still got a good stretch of improvement ahead of me before I hit my end-of-year speed goal. Spring is my window; once summer rolls in with its heat and humidity, things tend to slow down whether I like it or not. So I’m planning to make the most of the next few months.

At the end of the day, running is a patience game. I’ve been at this consistently for nearly ten years, and in that time I’ve learned that a bad run doesn’t erase a good one. Some days my legs show up ready to go; other days they’re still settling a grudge from yesterday’s resistance workout. Both kinds of days count. And consistency? That’s the real secret. Not talent, not perfect weather, not the fanciest shoes. Just showing up, over and over, one kilometer at a time.

Until next time, keep putting one foot in front of the other (preferably in weather-appropriate footwear).

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Consistent Running: Patience, Progress & Bad Weather Days

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Mother Nature, it seems, has never heard of consistency, unlike me. One day she’s all sunshine and warmth, luring me outside in shorts, and the next she’s quietly laughing as I dig out my long sleeves again. That was yesterday: a chilly curveball after a perfectly nice day, which somehow made it feel even colder than it actually was.

Here’s the thing about my body: my brain stroke left me with a bit of a broken thermostat. Warming up and cooling down take me far longer than they used to, so picking the right outfit before a run isn’t just a fashion choice. It’s a survival strategy. Layers in, layers out; I’m basically a human onion on legs.

The good news is that next week is looking gloriously mild, mid-to-high 70s across the board. I’ll take it. Yesterday’s run, though? Not my finest hour. I missed my target pace and finished the 10th kilometer over a full minute behind where I’d hoped to be. My legs are even more sore today than they were yesterday, which I’m choosing to interpret as a sign that they’re busy getting stronger. (This is what runners tell themselves. We’re a hopeful bunch.)

I’ve still got a good stretch of improvement ahead of me before I hit my end-of-year speed goal. Spring is my window. And once summer rolls in with its heat and humidity, things tend to slow down, whether I like it or not. So I’m planning to make the most of the next few months.

At the end of the day, running is a game of patience. I’ve been at this consistently for nearly ten years, and in that time I’ve learned that a bad run doesn’t erase a good one. Some days my legs show up ready to go; other days they’re still settling a grudge from yesterday’s resistance workout. Both kinds of days count. And consistency? That’s the real secret. Not talent, not perfect weather, not the fanciest shoes. Just showing up, over and over, one kilometer at a time.

Until next time, keep putting one foot in front of the other (preferably in weather-appropriate footwear).

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Sore Legs, Wrong Pastry, and a Weather Whiplash

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Let’s start with the good news: my legs are sore. I know, I know,  that sounds like the opposite of good news. But hear me out. After yesterday’s 10k run, my legs staged a full protest this morning, which I’ve chosen to interpret as a standing ovation from my muscles. They don’t usually bother complaining anymore, so the fact that they spoke up today? That means I actually pushed myself, even if my target pace remained stubbornly out of reach. I’ll take the moral victory and the muscle ache.

Now for the… let’s call it an adventure in the kitchen. As part of my summer routine, I batch-make pastry bites on weekends to fuel all the yard work and general outdoor heroics that come with warmer weather, lawn mowing, moving things from one place to another, and looking purposefully at the garden. One pack of puff pastry sheets is enough for me for the whole week. Simple, reliable, delicious.

Except this week, I came home from the grocery store with puff pastry shells instead of sheets.

Now, “shells” and “sheets” share the same first four letters, the same aisle, and apparently the same ability to end up in my cart undetected. The shells are decidedly chunkier — less “delicate pastry bite” and more “substantial pastry commitment.” Since it’s too late to return them, I’ve decided to simply rebrand my snack. We’re not having bites this week. We’re having moments.

I’m blaming this one squarely on the grocery store, which has recently taken great joy in rearranging everything, combined with my own enthusiastic lack of attention to detail. A classic combination.

The silver lining? Temperatures are dropping a full 30 degrees tomorrow after what felt like a surprise summer preview, so at least half my week will involve post-breakfast runs in much more comfortable conditions. This weather truly cannot make up its mind. A few days ago, I was convinced spring had finally arrived. Now winter seems to be circling back for one last curtain call.

But I’ll count this as a free pastry pass, make peace with my chunkier snacks, and resolve to read the label more carefully next time. Onward, sore legs, wrong pastry, and all.

Until next time, may your pastry always be the right kind and your legs only sore enough to feel proud.

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Oversleeping and Still Winning the Morning: A Runner’s Small Victory

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

So this is how I got away with oversleeping and still winning the morning.

This morning began with what looked like a promising start—and then quietly derailed.

I actually woke up before my alarm. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I returned to bed for what I assumed would be a brief rest. Unfortunately, my brain interpreted that as permission for a second sleep session.

The next thing I remember was hearing my wife get up and leave for her morning exercise. Shortly after the front door closed, my alarm went off. I turned it off and thought, very logically, that I would get up after she returned so we would not both compete for the bathroom.

In theory, this sounded like a perfectly organized plan.

In reality, it made absolutely no sense.

My wife usually leaves before 6:30 a.m., while my alarm rings at 7:00. Looking back, the most likely explanation is that I simply fell asleep again and missed everything—including her return from exercise, her getting ready, and her leaving for work.

My wife operates on a far stricter schedule than I do. She arrives at work earlier than most people because she likes to clear her emails before colleagues and bosses begin their day. Meanwhile, my morning apparently turned into a quiet demonstration of the dangers of comfortable pillows.

I had intended to start my day at 7:00 a.m.

Instead, I woke up when my calendar reminder sounded at 8:00.

One hour behind schedule.

Normally, that might derail the entire morning, because my routine includes a long chain of small tasks. If one falls behind, the rest tend to domino into chaos. Today, however, I decided to move quickly and avoid lingering over anything.

Efficiency replaced elegance.

Surprisingly, it worked.

I caught up with my morning tasks and still managed to leave for my run at roughly the time I had planned the night before when I checked the weather forecast.

Even better, the run itself went well. My legs felt a little sore at the start, but I still managed to beat my target pace for the first time this week.

So while the day technically began with oversleeping, it ended with something close to success.

Not perfect—but proof that sometimes a late start does not ruin the day if you simply keep moving forward.

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Staying Consistent in Unpredictable Weather

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

The weather in Nashville has been behaving like a rollercoaster lately. Yesterday the temperature jumped up by about 20°F, and today it dropped by nearly the same amount. So winter, after briefly pretending to leave, has returned with enthusiasm.

Since my brain stroke, my body does not regulate temperature very well. My practical solution has been simple: adjust the outfit instead of fighting the weather. Even so, the cold this morning made me check the forecast twice just to confirm we were not facing another surprise snow day. Fortunately, there was no snow—at least not today.

Unless we have lightning, ice storms, or heavy snow, I try to keep my running routine. Consistency matters to me, so I run whenever conditions allow it.

When winter temperatures drop too much, I usually wait until the warmest part of the day before heading out. Nashville winters can feel colder than they appear, especially for someone whose internal thermostat does not cooperate. If I can avoid the worst cold, I will.

Cold weather affects my runs more than I would like. My body spends so much effort trying to stay warm that it leaves less energy for actual running. On Saturdays, I usually run 10 km, and ideally, I prefer conditions that are neither too cold nor too hot.

Today, however, timing worked against me.

I delayed the run longer than usual while waiting for the temperature to improve, which started to disrupt the rest of our Saturday schedule. Eventually, I decided that waiting any longer would only make things worse.

So I went out and ran anyway.

Even in the afternoon, the air remained stubbornly cold. My pace was slower than usual, which felt a bit disappointing. Still, I finished the full 10K despite the strong temptation to cut it short.

In winter running, sometimes the real achievement is not speed—it is simply showing up and finishing.

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Post-Storm Yard Cleanup After the Ice Storm and Running Comeback

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today felt like a small but meaningful return to normal life. I was able to run again—and even more impressively, I did it without gloves. That alone felt like a seasonal milestone. Winter is clearly loosening its grip, even if only slightly.

The run itself went well. I reached my target pace, which was satisfying not just physically but psychologically. After days of icy hesitation and cautious movement, it felt good to move forward at a steady rhythm instead of tiptoeing across frozen uncertainty.

But the real workout began after the run.

Armed with a wheelbarrow and a sense of responsibility, I turned my attention to the yard, which still looks like it lost an argument with the last storm. Branches are scattered everywhere, as if the trees held a dramatic meeting and collectively decided to shed their limbs all at once.

We have a forest behind our house, which is usually peaceful and beautiful—until a storm arrives and rearranges everything. One particularly strong storm even uprooted a tree, leaving behind a noticeable pit where the roots once lived. Since then, that pit has unofficially become my natural disposal zone for branches and yard debris. Not elegant, but undeniably efficient.

So, after my run, I filled a wheelbarrow with fallen branches and hauled them down to the pit. One trip later, the yard looked slightly less chaotic. Slightly. There are still plenty of sticks scattered across the ground, quietly reminding me that nature always leaves follow-up tasks.

Our neighbor’s tree suffered a far worse fate during the ice storm—it split in half and still stands there looking tragically frozen in time. Compared to that, our damage was relatively mild, though we still have several large branches from the front trees that needed dragging and tossing into the ever-growing branch pit. Smaller sticks are everywhere, hiding in the grass like tiny obstacles waiting for lawn mower season.

And yes, lawn mowing season is approaching… eventually.
The weather this month has been extraordinarily fickle—one day icy, the next day mild, then back to unpredictable again. It makes planning yard work feel less like scheduling and more like guessing.

My goal is to clear as many branches as possible before mowing season begins, even if that is still a few weeks away. I suspect at least one more wheelbarrow trip is in my future. Possibly several. The yard, unfortunately, has a long memory after storms.

Around the neighborhood, signs of recovery are visible but incomplete. Broken branches still line some roads, like quiet evidence of the storm’s passing. The good news is that power has finally been restored to the houses nearby, and with electricity comes something that feels almost symbolic—people are outside again. Movement, conversation, normalcy.

However, I have heard that some households are still without power, which is especially concerning in the middle of winter. Cold weather without electricity is not merely inconvenient; it is genuinely difficult and sometimes dangerous.

So today felt like a day of small victories:
a successful run, a partially cleared yard, restored power nearby, and the gradual sense that life is piecing itself back together after the storm’s disruption.

There is still work to do, of course—more branches, more cleanup, and more unpredictable weather—but at least progress is visible, one wheelbarrow at a time.

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