Tag: Stroke Recovery

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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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A Free Day, a Mowed Yard & a Wife’s Post-Op Checkup

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

There is something deeply satisfying about waking up and realizing: no doctor’s appointments today. Today, my wife had her post-op checkup. For the past few months, my calendar has been cluttered with visits to a hematologist across town, a 20- to 30-minute Uber ride that, thanks to Nashville’s legendary downtown traffic, somehow manages to swallow an entire afternoon. So, when do I get a free day like today? I guard it like a precious gem.

And what did I do with this gleaming gem of a day? I mowed the yard. Very glamorous, I know. But honestly? There’s something therapeutic about knocking a chore off the list. After breakfast and a brief, guilt-free sit-down, I fired up the mower and got it done. The rest of the to-do list is still waiting patiently, but I’m on schedule, and at this rate, I’ll be ticking everything off well before bedtime. Small victories!

Tomorrow is a different story. My wife had surgery exactly a week ago, and we’ll be heading to her post-op checkup. She’s been a champ in recovery, though not without some pharmaceutical drama. Tylenol 3, it turns out, came with an unexpected side effect for her: an absolutely baffling hunger that made her feel like she’d gone 30 hours without food. Which, for most of us, would be alarming, but for her, it was a recognizable sensation. She’s a seasoned fast learner who regularly practices 16-, 20-, 24-, and even 30-hour fasts, convinced (and she’s probably right) that it sharpens her mind considerably.

But here’s the maddening part: she had to eat something with her medication, because Tylenol 3 on an empty stomach is a recipe for trouble. So there she was, feeling ravenous for no medically valid reason, while rationing painkillers like a hero. Post-surgery, she took ibuprofen once for the initial pain and reached for Tylenol 3 only twice, both times when her incision started feeling warm. I call that impressive restraint. She calls it Tuesday.

She’s also asked me to come along to tomorrow’s appointment because, like many perfectly rational human beings, she finds doctors unsettling. I’m happy to be her support human.

My Plan

breakfast, accompany her to the appointment (which shouldn’t run too long), and then get my run in after we’re back. It’ll be a bit chilly if I try to go early, so the post-appointment window works perfectly.

Here’s to the quiet days between the hard ones, and to a good checkup report tomorrow.

Now if only the yard could mow itself.

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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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When Thunder Delays Lawn Mowing Plans

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Thunder delayed lawn mowing plans. Mother Nature had opinions this morning. Loud, rumbling, electrically charged opinions. Our neighborhood woke up to a thunderstorm that had absolutely no respect for my carefully scheduled lawn plans or my wife’s morning run.

Speaking of my wife: she’s had a healthy fear of thunderstorms ever since childhood, when the harrowing tale of her aunt being struck by lightning took up permanent residence in her memory. So while I was grumbling about soggy grass, she was firmly planted indoors, which, honestly, is the sensible place to be.

Now, it wasn’t my running day, but the lawn doesn’t really care about my schedule. Since our property faces a forest, we’re in a constant, low-grade negotiation with weeds. The strategy? Keep everything mowed short enough that the weeds look vaguely intentional. (It’s a lifestyle.) The thunderstorm, however, had left everything thoroughly soaked, so I made the executive decision to wait until late morning for things to dry out.

Several Hours Later

Patience paid off. By late morning the grass had dried enough to proceed, and I got the mower out. I should mention we have an electric mower, environmentally friendly, admirably quiet, and possessed of a battery life that has strong opinions about quitting halfway through the job. That’s why we tackle this in halves: not because we’re strategic, but because the battery is.

Still, I managed the half I had skipped last week, and the yard looks respectable again, no small feat considering it slopes, which turns mowing into a mild cardiovascular event. My wife handles the edging and the side beds on weekends, squeezing it into her early mornings before her busy workday. She actually enjoys it. I find both admirable and slightly baffling.

The plan: mow the remaining half on Thursday, since no dermatology appointment is on the calendar that day. The lawn, the schedule, and the battery gods willing.

Until next time, may your grass be dry and your weeds be short.

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A Trim, a Run, and the Slow Art of Getting Better

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Sometimes life hands you a haircut you have been putting off for a whole month, and honestly, my hair was starting to have opinions of its own. This morning, I finally made it to the barber.

The timing was opportune, because next week the schedule fills right back up: birthday celebrations incoming, a friend visiting, and simply no room left for personal grooming when good times are on the agenda. We seized the window.

While I sat in the chair, my wife was doing what she always does: maximizing every available minute. She camped out in the car with her books and notes, working through the appointment with the focused energy of someone who considers a parking lot a perfectly legitimate office. As she puts it, any time is time she could use. I love that about her.

Forty minutes later I emerged newly shorn, cropped short enough that I could feel the April air doing its thing against my face. A brisk thing, as it turned out. Today was decidedly chilly, and I couldn’t help lamenting the brief window of gorgeous high-70s weather we had a few weeks ago. It came, it warmed us, and it left. Classic.

The haircut did bump my 10k run to later in the morning, but that turned out fine. It’s still early enough in the season that the temperature hadn’t climbed to punishing levels by the time I laced up. Silver linings.

The run itself? Let’s call it humbling. I didn’t hit my target pace today, which stings a little. The good news is that my blood work has improved. My red blood cell count is up, and I’ve already factored those gains into my pace targets. The less-good news is that the easy improvements are behind me now. I still need to knock another 20 seconds off my target pace before the year is out.

But here’s what I keep reminding myself: slow improvement is still improvement. The low-hanging fruit is gone, but the orchard isn’t empty. It just requires a taller ladder. I’ve got the time. I’ve got the miles. Onward and upward, one slightly-faster lap at a time.

Until next time, your slightly windswept, perpetually-chasing-the-clock friend.

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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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A Small Win: My Hemoglobin Is Heading Up

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Good news arrived at my hematology appointment yesterday: my hemoglobin is heading up! I’m still below normal levels, not exactly a cause for throwing confetti, but at least the numbers are trending in the right direction.

Here’s the funny thing: I haven’t actually felt any different. But I’ve spent so much of my life with what is essentially anemia that being anemic just feels… normal to me. I’d need a much more sudden and dramatic change before my body would bother sending me a memo. Fortunately, lab reports exist precisely because the human body’s internal reporting system can be a bit unreliable.

Background to My Anemia

A bit of background for newer readers: I have what is called Mediterranean Sickle Cell Disease. My red blood cells are misshapen, which can block blood flow and lead to complications such as anemia, pain crises, and organ damage. In short, my red blood cells aren’t great at carrying hemoglobin, and simply taking iron supplements isn’t a good solution for this condition.

This isn’t my first time managing this particular challenge. The first time I needed treatment was right after my brain stroke, when my blood count was already low from blood loss. With my existing condition on top of that, I developed severe anemia. That treatment stretched over several months. Now, ten years later, my hemoglobin has dipped too low again, so here we are, back to treatment.

I go to the lab and receive treatment every other week, with my doctor keeping a close eye on the reports. The good news is that this isn’t a permanent situation. If everything continues going well, I’m on track to wrap up treatment in May. (Fingers crossed!)

This appointment is just one more item on an already packed spring and summer schedule. I’ve been doing some careful calendar juggling to make sure nothing important gets skipped because of these treatment visits, and so far, I’m managing to keep all the plates spinning.

I hope I’ll be back to my best soon. As fun as anemia sounds, I really can’t recommend it.

Until next time,

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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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Mowing With CKD: Half Done and Fully Determined

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Lawn mowing sounds simple, right? Fire up the mower, walk in straight lines, and admire the results. For most people, maybe! But when you’re living with chronic kidney disease, mowing the lawn is less of a weekend chore and more of a strategic endurance event, complete with nutrition planning, weight monitoring, and the kind of careful snack selection that would make a nutritionist both proud and slightly nervous.

Here’s the thing: I get tired faster than your average healthy adult. That’s just the reality of CKD, and I’ve made my peace with it. So rather than throw up my hands and let the grass grow into a lion-worthy savannah, I’ve spent years training to build up muscle mass and endurance. And it works! I feel noticeably stronger than I used to. The catch? More muscle means more nutrition needed, and when you’re adding physical activity like mowing on top of an already-restricted diet, the math gets tricky.

Last summer was a real lesson in the delicate art of weight management. With my protein intake limited by my kidney condition, recovering from physical exertion is genuinely hard. I can drop five pounds in a single week if I’m not careful, which is exactly the kind of dramatic number that makes my doctor raise an eyebrow and pick up the phone. So during the warmer months, I snack strategically throughout the day.

And I do mean strategically. It turns out the snack aisle is full of landmines when you have CKD. Bananas? Potassium. Cantaloupe? Also potassium. Those bright, cheerful, colorful vegetables? Phosphate. Even ice cream, the one food that feels universally harmless, came with a gentle but firm talking-to from my doctor when it started affecting my liver function. So I rotate. I experiment. And I’ve settled into a habit of making small pastry bites each week. They’re my secret weapon: portable, reliable, and doctor-approved-adjacent.

This past mowing session, I grabbed my water and pastry bites and headed out to tackle the first mow of the week. The weather cooperated beautifully, not too hot, not too cold, just that sweet spring window before the humidity rolls in and turns yard work into a sauna experience. Two hours later, I had finished roughly half the yard. My reward? A weight check showed I’d gained 2.6 pounds over yesterday, nudging me a little closer to my target range. Not quite there yet, but progress is progress.

Next up: strawberries. I’m thinking a smoothie, strawberries, juice, yogurt, all blended into something cold and celebratory. Half a lawn, a small weight gain, and a smoothie on the horizon. Some days, that’s what winning looks like.

Until next time,

— Your friendly neighborhood lawn warrior (half done, fully determined)

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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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