Tag: Running

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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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Running in Ice and Snow: Saving My 100-Week Streak Against the Weather

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, my running app delivered a quiet but deeply threatening message:
“Two more days to log a run before your 100+ week streak is interrupted.”

Nothing motivates quite like the possibility of digital judgment.

Normally, I would not panic. My plan was simple—run tomorrow, maintain the streak, and continue life as a responsible and consistent human being. However, winter had other narrative ambitions.

A quick glance at tomorrow’s forecast revealed snow, thunder, and temperatures about ten degrees colder. In other words, the weather equivalent of saying, “Perhaps stay inside and reconsider your life choices.”

The recent bad weather has already disrupted my running schedule. After the ice storm just a few days ago, the ground is still suspiciously slippery in places. I had hoped tomorrow would be my triumphant return, but the forecast strongly suggested otherwise.

So, in a rare plot twist, I chose to run today—an unusual running day—purely out of strategic necessity. When the weather becomes unpredictable, flexibility becomes a survival skill.

Meanwhile, my wife continues exercising as if icy conditions are merely a mild inconvenience. She owns an extreme cold-weather running jacket imported from Canada, where winters apparently function as advanced training environments. Compared to that, Tennessee’s ice probably feels like a beginner level.

Inspired (and slightly pressured by my own running streak), I prepared for battle:
new warm pants, gloves, a hat, and a cautious mindset.

Road conditions after the ice storm persists

Stepping outside felt like entering a carefully disguised obstacle course. Some areas were clear, others were icy traps waiting patiently for overconfidence. I slowed down in several spots, prioritizing dignity and bone preservation over speed. Falling would have been memorable, but not in a good way.

Surprisingly, the run went exceptionally well.
Not only did I avoid falling, but I also completed my third-fastest 5K.

At that moment, victory felt less like athletic excellence and more like a successful negotiation with winter. The streak remains intact, which is perhaps the most satisfying outcome of all. Consistency, after all, is built on small decisions made under inconvenient conditions.

I do hope the ice disappears soon. These lingering icy patches have been quietly restricting our outdoor activities and daily plans. Even appointments have surrendered to the weather. The recent operation was postponed due to storm-related issues, possibly including power concerns, and rescheduled for Presidents’ Day.

My wife’s dentist appointment was also moved to the same day. Fortunately, she is off that day, which means no PTO required—a rare administrative win courtesy of bad weather.

So while the ice has delayed routines, altered schedules, and turned sidewalks into tactical zones, it has not defeated the running streak. For now, I will consider that a successful week: no falls, a fast 5K, a preserved streak, and a respectful truce with winter.

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After the Ice Storm: Melting Roads, Returning Power, and a Careful Return to Routine

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

At last, the ice has begun its slow and reluctant retreat.

Today’s temperature rose about fifteen degrees compared to yesterday, which in winter logic qualifies as “practically tropical.” It is still cold, of course, but no longer the kind of cold that feels personally offended by your existence. Instead, it has settled into something far more reasonable—if winter can ever truly be called reasonable.

My wife, meanwhile, has taken it upon herself to conduct unofficial neighborhood inspections. While most people cautiously peer out from their windows, she ventures outside like a field researcher documenting the aftermath of a frozen experiment. She reports that although our power returned after several hours, many of our neighbors are still living in the candlelight era.

Our area is densely wooded, which is wonderful in spring, poetic in autumn, and deeply problematic during ice storms. Ice accumulates, branches snap, cables fall, and electricity quietly exits the conversation. Nature, it seems, prefers dramatic chain reactions.

According to her morning observations, the neighborhood at dawn is almost pitch dark. With no street lights functioning in several sections, it looks less like a suburban street and more like the setting of a philosophical novel about resilience. Curiously, if you walk just a few houses north, power returns as if nothing happened. Entire rows remain powerless, except for two mysteriously fortunate houses whose power lines are connected to a different street. Fate, it appears, also plays favorites in infrastructure.

To be fair, this is not a matter of incompetence. Tennessee rarely experiences this kind of ice storm, and the crews have been working long shifts to restore power under genuinely difficult conditions. Extreme weather does not politely follow regional expectations. It simply arrives, unannounced and unapologetic.

We still remember when a tornado hit north of Nashville several years ago and we lost power for days. Back then, it was near spring, so the cold was manageable. This time, however, the cold is far less forgiving. When the power went out, the temperature inside the house dropped noticeably, reminding us very quickly that electricity is not just convenience—it is survival. Shelters opened the very day the outages began, which speaks volumes about how serious prolonged cold can be.

My wife also discovered the most obvious culprit: fallen trees. In one section of the road, nearly a third of the path is occupied by broken branches and debris, with power lines dragged down alongside them. It is less a mystery and more a very visible cause-and-effect demonstration courtesy of physics and ice.

Thankfully, progress is visible. Roads are gradually being cleared, which is especially encouraging since my wife is planning to drive to the office tomorrow. Civilization, one cleared road at a time.

As for me, I may finally return to my running schedule tomorrow—assuming the road visible from our front window passes the safety inspection. It will still be cold, naturally, but no longer the extreme, bone-chilling cold of yesterday. In winter recovery, expectations are simple:
melting ice, stable power, clear roads, and perhaps—if fortune is especially generous—a fully normal routine returning without further dramatic weather plot twists.

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Icy Roads and Missed Runs: Choosing Safety Over Winter Ambition

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Icy Roads and missed Runs

The icy road conditions remain undefeated, and today’s strategic decision is simple: cancel the run, preserve the bones. We had ice roads, and I missed Runs.

With the temperature stubbornly parked at 32°F, the ice has no intention of melting. It is merely existing—quietly, confidently, and dangerously. Our area is also quite hilly, which transforms every frozen surface into a potential skating rink with consequences.

The road in front of our house, however, is a rare exception. My wife salted it early, well before the ice storm reached its dramatic peak. She remembers, quite vividly, that during severe conditions, no delivery vehicles—not even the garbage truck—will dare descend our steep road. Apparently, gravity plus ice is a combination that logistics companies respectfully decline.

The irony?

The main road was cleared rather quickly, yet the smaller neighborhood roads remain untouched. As a result, no garbage truck, no deliveries, and no signs of modern convenience bravely approaching our hill. Civilization stops at the flat parts, it seems.

Ice Storm Preparation

My wife, ever vigilant, has been obsessively ensuring that no one slips on our property. During the storm, she kept the driveway and entryway almost entirely ice-free. She insists there is a “method” to it, which I suspect is the result of over twenty years of Canadian winter survival experience. That kind of knowledge may look excessive in Tennessee—until an ice storm arrives and suddenly she becomes the neighborhood’s unofficial winter strategist.

She continues to wander outside occasionally, fully equipped in a winter outfit imported from Canada. Where she used to live, temperatures could drop to -35°C (-31°F), so Tennessee’s icy chill likely feels like a mild inconvenience rather than a threat. Still, she moves carefully, because even seasoned cold-weather veterans respect ice. Confidence does not cancel physics.

Fortunately, the steep hill in front of our house is now mostly safe, thanks to her early salting efforts. A preventative mindset, it turns out, is far more effective than reactive panic.

As for my running routine, it has been temporarily suspended. My wife has strongly advised against going outside, describing the conditions as “deceptively slippery,” which is winter’s polite way of saying “you will fall with dignity but also with bruises.”

Unlike her, I do not own a jacket built for extreme cold. She bought hers as a teenager and is still using it—a testament to both quality craftsmanship and long-term winter planning. I also struggle with body temperature regulation, so extreme weather is less of a challenge and more of a negotiation I prefer to avoid. In this case, skipping the run is not laziness. It is risk management.

Surprisingly, there has been one unexpected benefit to missing my last three runs: recovery. My weight has returned to my target range, and I even regained a pound of muscle since yesterday’s weigh-in. Not exactly the result one expects from inactivity, but winter seems to enforce its own training philosophy—rest, adapt, and resume wisely.

Now that the temperature has finally crept slightly above freezing, there is cautious optimism. If the gradual thaw continues, Friday may mark the triumphant return of my running schedule.Until then, the plan remains clear:
avoid ice, maintain balance (literally and metaphorically), and respect winter’s quiet but very persuasive authority.

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Running In Cold Weather Because Goals Don’t Care About Temperature)

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

The chilly morning didn’t deter my wife from her early exercise routine. It also didn’t deter her from running errands. She planned a trip to the UPS Store to return an Amazon package and invited me along. I happily agreed. Marriage sometimes means love; sometimes it means carrying the return receipt.

Because the morning air was brutally cold, I decided to delay my run until later in the day. Ever since my brain stroke, temperature regulation hasn’t exactly been my body’s strong suit. My neurologist explained that my autonomic nervous system took a hit. In practical terms, that means my body takes longer to warm up—and running in freezing air feels like negotiating with winter while already tired.

When it’s cold, my body spends energy heating itself before it even starts running. It’s like paying an entrance fee before the workout even begins.

Still, cold weather does not cancel Saturday’s 10K.

Goals don’t reschedule themselves.

Starting the run was the hardest part. My muscles felt stiff, and the air felt unfriendly. But once I got moving, rhythm returned. The first half of the run went surprisingly well—I actually hit my target pace. I briefly entertained the idea of conquering the entire distance at that speed.

The second half had other ideas.

I couldn’t quite maintain the pace, but the overall result was still strong enough to earn my third-fastest 10K ever. That’s not perfection, but it’s progress—and progress is what counts.

What encourages me most is the trajectory. I’m slowly getting faster. Not dramatically. Not magically. But steadily.

There’s still plenty of work ahead if I want to hit this year’s goal. But it’s early in the year. Improvement doesn’t require heroics; it requires repetition. As long as I keep showing up, struggling a little, and pushing just past comfort, I’ll keep improving.

Winter can complain all it wants.

I’ll keep running.

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A Rainy Morning Run and a Strong Finish Elsewhere

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Despite the heavy rain early this morning, my wife still went out for her morning exercise—and got thoroughly soaked. She owns a proper running jacket designed for rain and snow, a relic from her years in Canada. Unless there’s ice on the road, the weather is more of a suggestion than a deterrent for her.

I, on the other hand, was mildly concerned about becoming a soggy runner.

By the time I headed out, the rain had cleared completely—and somehow it was warm enough for shorts. A rare weather plot twist. Unfortunately, this unexpected kindness from the sky did not translate into a target-paced run.

Running pace is a fragile thing. Sleep quality, body condition, temperature, humidity—almost anything can tip it off balance. If I don’t sleep well, my pace suffers. If the weather shifts suddenly, my pace notices. So I try not to get too discouraged when a run doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Today was one of those days.

Still, the workout wasn’t a loss. Pull-ups were on the schedule, and those went well. I completed all 21, finishing the first 10 without dropping off the bar—a small but satisfying benchmark. Planking and stretching followed, both completed without complaint from my body.

While the run didn’t cooperate, the rest of the system performed.

I’ll have one more chance this week to hit my target pace. Tomorrow’s weekly 10K will be the real test. If I can’t hit my goal across the full distance, I’m hoping to at least lock it in for one strong half.Not every run is fast.
Not every workout shines.
But consistency still counts—and today, that box is firmly checked.

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