Tag: Self-Care

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The Great Coffee vs. Kidney Hydration Dilemma

Written 04/19/2025

reviewed 5/4

Hello Dear Readers,

When your kidneys start acting up, hydration isn’t just a good idea—it’s practically a medical mandate. My nephrologist (a.k.a. the Kidney Boss) has drilled this into me with the persistence of a motivational coach. “Drink more water!” he says. “Again!” he says. And I do try—I really do.

Enter: the water bottle that changed my life. My wife, ever the health-savvy hero, got me one of those time-marked bottles that tells you where you should be by 10 a.m., noon, and beyond. It’s like having a gentle but judgmental friend watching your hydration habits. And honestly? It works. I find myself drinking more water than I ever did before. The bottle nags, so I don’t have to.

Last summer was a bit of a cautionary tale. I wasn’t drinking enough, and my lab reports tattled on me. My numbers were off, and after my doctor played detective with my biometric logs, he traced the problem straight to—you guessed it—dehydration. As soon as I upped my water game, the lab results improved. Hydration: 1, Kidney Drama: 0.

Now that the summer sun is peeking out again, I’m back on hydration high alert. But here’s the kicker—my stomach has limited seating. It’s either Team Water or Team Coffee. There is no both. One in, one out.

I adore my morning coffee. That rich, warm energy boost is my AM ritual. But ever since I became a full-time water drinker, coffee’s been benched. There’s only so much liquid real estate in my stomach, and water now gets priority seating. Tragic, really.

On most days, I can live with this sacrifice. But Sunday? Sunday is sacred. That’s our coffee day. When autumn and winter roll around, my wife and I head to Starbucks like it’s a pilgrimage. We sip the seasonal brews with the reverence of monks. We even own a classic espresso maker—the kind that sits on the stovetop and hisses like it means business. My wife brews it on weekends when work doesn’t steal her away.

Still, if I have to choose between a functioning pair of kidneys and my beloved espresso shot…well, the kidneys win. Begrudgingly. The silver lining? My wife now has an extra share of coffee. And judging by how much she loves the stuff, I think she’s secretly thrilled.

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One Extra Hour: How Sleep Saved My Planks (and My Sanity)

Written April 12, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

Lately, I’ve been dragging myself around like a phone on 3% battery—blinking, buzzing, and refusing to load. Yard work has turned into a full-contact sport around here, and my body clearly did not get the memo that spring chores were starting. Muscles I forgot existed have filed complaints. Loud ones.

This seasonal fatigue isn’t new—it sneaks in every year like an uninvited guest bearing mulch and weed whackers. The warmer weather only makes matters worse. Instead of rising with the sunshine like a cheerful daisy, I’ve been negotiating with my pillow for just five more minutes… which somehow turns into forty-five.

Enough was enough.

I finally gave in to the not-so-subtle hints from my exhausted limbs and called it a night early. I managed to go to bed an entire hour ahead of schedule. My wife nearly dropped her book in surprise. You see, she’s usually the early-to-bed, early-to-rise type, squeezing in a workout, meditation, and probably an entire novel before I’ve finished brushing my teeth. She tackles her work day before it even starts. It’s her way of keeping the dragons of procrastination at bay. Respect.

As for me? That precious hour of extra sleep worked magic. I woke up without groaning. No zombie shuffle. No groggy inner monologue about caffeine. Just… energy. Actual energy. I felt like a phone fresh off the charger—100% and glowing green.

Now, let’s talk planks. My ongoing battle with chronic kidney disease means I have to tiptoe around protein intake like it’s a sleeping lion. Building muscle becomes a delicate dance: push too hard, and my body rebels. Add yard work to the mix, and suddenly I’m struggling to complete my daily planking sessions, barely hanging on by the third round—let alone the fourth.

But today? Today was different.

With that extra hour under my belt, I felt like my old self again—well, at least like a version of myself who doesn’t curse at the yoga mat. My planks were smoother, my muscles less whiny, and if I manage to pull off all four sessions today, I’ll finally increase my duration tomorrow… by one mighty second.

Because in this house, we celebrate progress in seconds. And sleep, apparently, is the unsung hero of all fitness gains.

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Weather Betrayal and the Art of Finding Joy Anyway

Written February 5, 2025

Hello, dear readers!

Monday’s run was glorious. The kind of day that tricks you into believing winter is finally packing its bags and heading for the hills. The sun was shining, the temperature was perfect, and for a fleeting moment, I thought, Maybe—just maybe—spring has arrived.

Ha.

The universe must have heard my foolish optimism and decided to intervene immediately. By Tuesday, the temperature had plummeted 15 degrees. Today? Another 10. At this point, I half-expect to wake up tomorrow and find a fresh layer of snow just to complete winter’s petty revenge arc.

It’s still not as bitterly cold as last week, but somehow, that one warm day spoiled me. I had already started fantasizing about running in short sleeves again, and now I’m back to layering up like an Arctic explorer. Funny how a single glimpse of spring makes returning to winter feel even worse than before.

Adding to the tease, the warm spell coaxed some early greenery out of hiding. My wife, ever the keen observer, stood by the window, enjoying the sight of those fresh little sprouts. And then, as if winter took offense at our moment of joy, the cold came roaring back. Typical Midwest. Having lived here, I should’ve known better. Midwest weather doesn’t transition—it mood-swings.

But what’s the point of complaining? It won’t change a thing. Might as well put my feelings of betrayal, disappointment, and mild outrage into a neat little box labeled Things I Cannot Control. It’s a pretty full box at this point.

At least my walk to the doctor’s office yesterday was pleasant. The temperature was still hanging on to some remnants of warmth, and I even managed to enjoy the stroll. The appointment went smoothly—always a plus—and, as promised, I rewarded my responsible adulting with a cupcake on the way home.

Now, let’s talk about that cupcake. Was my favorite flavor available? No. Was I momentarily devastated? A little. But I soldiered on, selected another, and—no surprises here—it was delicious. Honestly, I don’t think this bakery is even capable of making a bad cupcake. Some places just have that magic touch.

Of course, my wife, being the mysterious and perplexing individual she is, remains indifferent to cupcakes. I do not understand this. How does one simply not care about cupcakes? This is one of life’s great mysteries, alongside Why does toast always land butter-side down? and Why do socks vanish in the laundry? But alas, she was unmoved by my confectionary enthusiasm, so I had to enjoy my sweet reward solo. Her loss.

Let the temperatures play their cruel little games. I refuse to let them dictate my mood. If winter wants to be temperamental, fine—I’ll just keep finding my own ways to enjoy the day.

And if that happens to involve another cupcake next week? Well, who am I to argue with fate?

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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?

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A Walk to the Doctor’s Office (and a Well-Earned Cupcake)

Written February 4, 2025

Hello Dear Readers,

It’s that time of year again—my annual checkup with my general practitioner. Not my nephrologist this time, just the standard “let’s make sure nothing unexpected is brewing” kind of visit. Although, if I’m being honest, “annual” checkups feel almost quaint in my world. Thanks to my kidneys, I’m on a much more frequent schedule.

When we bought this house, my wife and I made sure we had all the essentials within walking distance—our dentist, doctor, and a few favorite spots for coffee. It makes life easier, and today, it means my appointment is just a short stroll away. The weather isn’t as pleasant as yesterday, but it’s decent enough. Besides, I won’t be outside long, so why complain?

There’s something oddly comforting about these little hubs of life—places where errands mix seamlessly with leisure. My doctor’s office is nestled in a small mall, surrounded by restaurants, coffee shops, and even a cupcake store. My wife isn’t big on cupcakes, but I certainly am. And today, I just might reward myself with one.

Before my brain stroke, I never imagined I’d be visiting doctors so regularly. Back then, checkups felt optional—something you did when absolutely necessary, not something you scheduled like clockwork. Now? Every few months, I’m back in an exam room, getting my blood pressure, heart rate, and kidney function scrutinized. It’s not my favorite pastime, but I’ve learned to accept it. There’s no use questioning how important these visits are. They keep me informed, and more importantly, they keep me alive.

A lot of it comes down to choices—small, daily decisions that keep my health in balance. My wife and I eat in a way that supports my kidneys: more fresh produce, fewer processed foods, and carefully measured protein. I can’t just mindlessly grab a steak or overindulge in anything salty. Even something as minor as a cold or a slight miscalculation in my water intake can send my numbers in the wrong direction. It’s a delicate system, and I have to respect it.

That’s why I no longer mind these doctor’s visits like I used to. They aren’t just about checking boxes; they’re about staying ahead of problems before they spiral. I listen to my doctors, take their advice seriously, and adjust accordingly. It’s a partnership, not a battle.

Still, a little reward never hurts. After my checkup, I plan to take a detour to the cupcake shop nearby—nothing excessive, just a small indulgence to mark another successful visit. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that balance is everything. Taking care of my health is non-negotiable, but finding joy in the little things? That’s just as important.

So, here’s to another routine checkup, another step in the right direction, and maybe—just maybe—a well-earned cupcake at the end of it all.

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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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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.

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Balancing Health, Family, and Home Projects In A Busy Weekend

Written October 26, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

Today starts with a hectic morning. My wife and I took the regular annual flu vaccination and COVID shot. We would have liked to have done it earlier, but we were too busy with deck repair this year. Besides, it is much better than missing the flu vaccination at all. 

My medical doctors recommend I take vaccinations with extra caution. Because of my health condition, even the COVID vaccination was earlier than that of any adult my age. They tell me I am high-risk. I cannot see why I should be at high risk. Doctors, however, have my biological data that I cannot see and feel visually. With their expertise, I assume that I am a high risk. So, no matter what I think about the vaccination, we make the annual appointment. 

We usually get the vaccination earlier in October. This month, we had to do the deck painting earlier in October. Since the deck painting has a shorter due date as winter approaches, we decided to push out our vaccination. 

My wife prefers vaccinations on weekends because weekday appointments disrupt her schedule. She could take 30-45 minutes to go to the doctor on a weekday but chooses not to. She meticulously plans her daily schedule. She is always doing something. 

We usually go to a nearby pharmacy to receive our seasonal vaccination, which takes approximately 15 minutes from our house. Our appointment was at 9:30 a.m., which left me in a somewhat awkward schedule position. My wife starts her day at 5:30 a.m. every day. 9:30 a.m. was her best time since she usually completes creating menus and groceries for the week. However, I started running later now, and the appointment was in the middle of my morning routine. 

If only this vaccination disrupted my day, I could still tweak my schedule. I forgot about this vaccination schedule and planned to go to my mother’s to help her and my sister make apple sauce. My wife already planned her schedule. This was a few days’ notice for us, so she could not make it to the apple sauce. My wife will drop me off at my mother’s house for our planned applesauce marathon.  It’s also my brother-in-law’s birthday so we can see him and give him a gift. 

I would skip running and enjoy a few cups of coffee. I am ok with it.

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Celebrating Progress On Hitting My Running Pace

Written Septermber 6, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

Today brought some good news—my efforts have finally paid off. During my run, I achieved the pace I’ve been aiming for as part of my end-of-year goal. This achievement is a significant milestone for me, and it feels incredible to see my progress. Because of this success, I’ve set a new rule for myself: for each run, I will reduce my pace time by 5 seconds. The challenge I’ve given myself is to beat this reduced pace twice in a row, with no more than two failures in between. Once I accomplish that, I’ll lock in my end-of-year pace goal at the new speed.

One thing I’ve come to realize is how different it feels to focus on pace rather than just distance. Initially, my running goals were all about how far I could go. But now, I’ve become more conscious of the nuances involved in pacing myself, and it’s an entirely different experience. Running pace can fluctuate based on many factors I hadn’t considered before. For example, external temperature can give me a boost or slow me down considerably. Cooler days tend to energize me, while hotter days can make running feel like an uphill battle. Similarly, wind and weather conditions greatly influence how well I perform. A strong headwind can be exhausting, while a nice tailwind makes me feel like flying.

My physical condition is another critical factor. One day, I might feel full of energy and ready to tackle my run, while the next day, my body might feel heavy, making it harder to keep a steady pace. These variables make running a more dynamic challenge than I initially anticipated, and it has taught me to be flexible with my expectations.

In addition to pacing, I’ve also learned the importance of taking care of my body during this journey. Overexertion is a real risk, especially when the weather is extreme. Running too long in the blazing summer heat can be dangerous, mainly if I run low on water. I must constantly monitor hydration, as it can make or break a good run. Additionally, I’ve realized that I need to prioritize rest when my muscles are sore or not recovering properly. Pushing through without adequate recovery could lead to injuries or setbacks, which I want to avoid.

I also have specific dietary restrictions that make recovery more challenging. Since I have limits on my protein intake, I have to be careful not to lose muscle through overexertion. Muscle loss is a real concern for me, so I’m mindful of balancing my exercise with the nutrients my body needs to repair and grow. Monitoring my calorie intake is another part of the process. I need to fuel my body for these runs without going overboard. Through it all, I remind myself I’m running to improve and strengthen my body—not harm it. This is a promise I made to myself when I first started running, and it’s something I hold onto as I continue to progress.

My running journey began after I lost mobility due to a brain stroke. It was a tough time, but after several months of rehabilitation, I was able to walk again. Eventually, I worked my way up to running, a huge victory. Now, I’m running and pushing myself to get faster. While it’s still a struggle to improve my speed, I’m determined to keep going, step by step.

Today, I want to celebrate my success. It’s easy to get caught up in the next goal, the next challenge, but it’s essential to take a moment to appreciate how far I’ve come. I’m thrilled with how today’s run went, and it serves as a reminder that progress is possible, no matter how difficult the journey may seem.

I look forward to what comes next and am excited to see where this running journey takes me.

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The Secrets to Improve in Running is Recovery and Embracing Your Strength

Written September 2, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

Recently, I’ve noticed that my body hasn’t been recovering as well as I’d like. Over the past few days, I’ve been pushing myself hard, not just with running but also with yard work, and it’s starting to show. One of the more challenging aspects of managing my kidney condition is how it impacts muscle repair. My body doesn’t bounce back as quickly, and the restrictions on my diet certainly play a role. I’m limited in what I can eat, affecting my body’s healing ability. Surprisingly, I’ve adapted pretty well to the dietary limitations—they don’t frustrate me much anymore. But when I push my physical limits, I feel the consequences.

This year, I’ve consciously tried to improve my running pace. I’ve been running for several years, and until last year, I focused on completing 10 km runs. I enjoyed the challenge of reaching that distance, but now I’m shifting my focus. It’s not just about running far anymore; I want to run faster. Since we live in a hilly area, my runs always begin with a significant challenge—a 17-meter elevation gain immediately. I know some runners actively seek out hills for training, but for me, it’s just the reality of running in my neighborhood. There’s no way around it. In a way, I guess we’re fortunate. Others come here specifically to train on hills, but it’s simply part of the landscape for us. Every run starts with a climb, whether I like it or not.

This morning, I was disappointed with my pace. I’ve developed a habit of analyzing my runs and trying to figure out what factors might be impacting my performance. Was it the terrain? Was I more fatigued than I realized? There’s always something to consider. My runner wife often reminds me that discipline is more important than constantly worrying about numbers. She says running is unpredictable, and there can be many factors—weather, how well I’ve slept, stress levels, and even the amount of yard work I’ve done the day before. What matters most is that I don’t give up.

And she’s right. The important thing is that I keep running. No matter what, I’m putting in the effort, ultimately leading to improvement. While it’s easy to get fixated on pace, I know I’ve worked hard, and that’s where the real value lies. The numbers will eventually catch up to the effort. Improvement might come slower than I’d like, and it might not always be smooth. There will be setbacks, and some days will feel like I’m running through mud. But I know I’ll see progress as long as I keep putting one foot before the other.

The pace won’t improve as quickly as I’d hoped, and I may have more days where recovery feels frustratingly slow. But I’m learning that it’s okay. It’s part of the journey. And with consistency, I’ll get there—step by step, day by day.