Tag: Time Management

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Starting the Year Strong—with New Year Fitness Goal, Planks, Plans, and Yard Work

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Happy New Year!

Looking back over the past year, I’m genuinely pleased with how things turned out. I ran just over 1,200 kilometers, lowered my average pace, and increased my strength training. As a small but satisfying punctuation mark, I completed a three-minute plank on my first attempt today—an achievement my abdominal muscles are already protesting and will likely escalate tomorrow.

I can’t gain muscle quickly, and I never will. With my kidney condition, protein intake has limits, so everything becomes a balancing act: how hard I train versus how much my body can reasonably rebuild. Still, consistency counts. Despite the constraints, my muscle mass percentage remains high, which feels like a quiet victory earned through patience rather than force.

I’ve already started working on my New Year Fitness Goal. New year, clean sheets—literally and figuratively. I spent time around the house updating spreadsheets, refining routines, and mentally shifting into the next phase. My wife was home today because of the holiday, though “home” is a relative term—she was busy all day, as usual, and woke up early like it was any normal workday. My wife, by the way, does not make new year fitness goal or any goals. Instead, she adjusts her goals daily, weekly, and monthly.

Neither of us fluctuates much with our schedules. We go to bed and wake up around the same times every day. Occasionally, I sleep in when I’m especially exhausted, but it’s rare. My wife usually wakes up about thirty minutes before schedule—without an alarm. She doesn’t like being woken during REM sleep. Even when she’s sick or taking medication, the variation is only about 30 to 45 minutes. Consistency is her default setting.

Leaf Collection On January 1st!

Today wasn’t just about reflection and planning, though. There was also one final seasonal obligation: leaf collection.

One stubborn tree had refused to drop its leaves even as temperatures fell. Finally, after the last major windstorm, it gave up and scattered its leaves everywhere. Some were blown away, but enough remained to justify one final cleanup.

After finishing my morning routine, I headed out and completed what should be the last leaf collection of the season. Our trees are now completely bare, and most of the neighbors have already cleared their yards, so accumulation should be minimal from here on out.

That means until spring arrives, my Tuesdays and Thursdays just got a little emptier.

I might even find another small project to fill the gap—at least until mowing season inevitably returns. For now, though, the year has started exactly the way I hoped:
steady, intentional, and quietly productive.

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When Nashville Freezes and Productivity Moves Indoors

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Tragically, today is 30 degrees colder than yesterday, which was already rude. That puts us squarely in literally freezing territory. My wife reported that it was 11°F when she went out for her morning workout—casually, as if that’s a normal thing to say.

She wore her legendary winter ski jacket from Canada. It’s over 30 years old and still looks brand new. At this point, I’m convinced it’s immortal.

Nashville, for context, is in the southern United States. We are not in Minnesota or in Texas.. We live in the awkward middle zone where winters usually aren’t this aggressive and summers don’t actively try to kill you. I honestly don’t remember it being this cold before.

My wife, however, treats temperature like background noise. Hot, cold—it’s all just “weather.” Her routine does not bend. She’s deeply influenced by Stoicism and admires Marcus Aurelius. While she doesn’t take Meditations as literal doctrine, she lives the spirit of it remarkably well. Marcus Aurelius: philosopher king, cold-weather champion, probably would have approved of that jacket.

Fortunately, I had no outside activities planned today. Instead, I redirected my energy toward indoor productivity—specifically, tidying up.

I still had boxes and random packaging debris left over from assembling the stretching machine, and I needed to find a sensible permanent spot for it in my room. Equipment without a home is just clutter waiting to become emotional.

Meanwhile, my wife has been on a house-cleaning streak. She also has two broken former desk chairs in her room that she’s asked me to dismantle and dispose of. She briefly entertained the idea of fixing and reselling them after seeing someone do that online—but the person who could help is booked for months. The chairs, meanwhile, are occupying valuable mental space.

So the verdict was clear: let them go.

My wife strongly dislikes having too many things in the house. She says clutter makes it harder to focus—and worse, it encourages buying even more things. This is, unfortunately, correct.

So today’s plan is simple and achievable:
  • Disassemble and remove one broken chair today
  • Deal with the second one next weekend

Progress without burnout. Stoic, even.

When the weather is this cold, staying inside isn’t laziness—it’s strategy. And if that strategy results in fewer boxes, fewer broken chairs, and a calmer space, then honestly, winter can stay mad outside.

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Backwards Legs, a Stubborn Cable, and a Surprisingly Good 10K

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

This morning, after breakfast and settling in at my desk, I returned to what I believed was the final phase of assembling the stretching machine. I was confident. Dangerously confident.

A closer look at the schematic revealed the truth: I had installed the stabilizing legs backwards. Naturally. That meant undoing the last few steps, which turned into a couple of hours of careful disassembly, reassembly, and quiet self-criticism.

Problem solved—briefly.

Immediately after, I discovered a new issue. There’s a cable that runs from a lever to the legs, used to pull them apart. The cable was wound so tightly on its reel that it simply refused to reach the attachment point. I stared at it. It stared back. Neither of us budged.

At that point, I declared a tactical retreat and shifted focus to my weekly 10K run.

It was chilly, but my new warm running pants made it tolerable—and, thankfully, it was above glove temperature. I hit my target pace for the first 5K, which felt great. I couldn’t quite pull off the rare double success for the full distance, but I still logged my second-fastest 10K ever. I’ll take that win without argument.

Back home, I moved through the Saturday checklist: vacuuming, a shower, and then making soup for my wife and me—comfort food earned the honest way. After dishes, it was time for our weekly grocery run. Our water cooler was completely empty, so forgetting water was not an option. I’d already staged the empty bottles upstairs to make loading easier. Organization: achieved.

Transportation: complicated.

The city has closed the main intersection that exits our neighborhood—the one that leads directly to the grocery store. We discovered this last week, and the rumor is it’ll stay closed until April. So now every trip involves scenic backroads and low-grade grumbling. There’s not much to do except adapt and complain quietly.

This closure may also affect my annual physical appointment, which I normally walk to. I’ll need to scout the route on foot to see if it’s still passable—or accept the indignity of calling an Uber to drive me a mile.

Meanwhile, my brain kept circling back to the stretching machine. I searched online, fiddled with the reel and crank, and hunted for a release switch that would allow more cable to unwind. Nothing. The manual was unhelpful. The internet was silent.

So I’ve resolved to call customer service on Monday.

Do I have high hopes? No. Based on the manual, communication may not be their strongest skill. Still, it’s the only path forward. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Stranger things have happened.

The good news is that everything else is assembled correctly. Once the cable mystery is solved, the machine will be ready for use. Until then, it stands as a monument to perseverance.

By the end of the day, I was completely worn out—but in the good way. The kind where things didn’t go perfectly, but enough went right to make it count.

Monday will bring customer service.
Today brought effort.
And for now, that’s enough.

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Why Hydration Is Not a Task You Want to Cram

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Yesterday was so busy that my hydration schedule quietly collapsed while I wasn’t looking.

After we returned from the running shoe store, I realized I was already about an hour behind on my water intake. I managed to catch up before heading out for my run, which felt like a small victory. Then I disappeared for two hours—and fell even further behind. This is not recommended behavior. At all.

My kidneys don’t function like those of a healthy adult, so hydration isn’t optional for me. My nephrologist is very clear: at least two liters of water a day, every day, to prevent my kidneys from filtering overly concentrated urine. To help with this, my wife and I both use water bottles marked with hour-by-hour drinking goals so we don’t quietly drift into dehydration.

Yesterday, however, life had other plans.

Vacuuming.
Showering.
Cooking supper.
Then our weekly grocery trip.

By the time I finally made it back to my desk, I was several hours behind schedule. I should have been done with my first liter and well into the second. Instead, I was staring down a very avoidable hydration deficit.

For a brief moment, I considered giving up on hitting the full two liters. But then I remembered that kidneys are not impressed by excuses. So I did what I had to do: I started guzzling water to catch up.

Our Hydration Routine, My for my Kidneys

We go through about five gallons of water per week in our house. We use a water dispenser because my wife is understandably cautious about water quality and my kidney health. The water is excellent—just not meant to be consumed in heroic quantities all at once.

I take hydration seriously, but I was worried that this late-day water surge would punish me overnight with constant bladder alarms. Still, I decided that was the price of falling behind earlier in the day.

Thankfully, timing worked out in my favor. I finished my water about thirty minutes before getting ready for bed, which gave my body just enough time to process most of it. I only had to get up once during the night—a win, all things considered.

So yes, I drank what I needed to drink.
And yes, I mostly avoided the consequences.

But this was not a strategy—it was damage control.

Today’s goal is simple: stay on schedule and don’t turn hydration into an evening endurance sport again.

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Rebuilding My Memory System One App at a Time

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Despite it still being cold today, it’s already less of a disaster than yesterday. A low bar—but progress is progress.

I started the day with one clear intention: to reinforce a new habit by using a new app. The motivation is painfully obvious. I’ve recently forgotten two important doctor appointments. The dentist mishap had a semi-respectable excuse (my old phone died a dramatic death), but missing my nephrologist appointment? That one was entirely on me.

Enough was enough.

The app Finch, which I decided to try, is one my wife uses regularly—and happily. She’s been using the free version for a while and swears by it. A friend of mine went all in on the premium version because he enjoys unlocking extra features. I figured starting small would be wiser. Commitment can come later.

To make the habit stick, I used a strategy that’s worked for me before: attach the new task to something I already do. This was a trick I learned in occupational therapy. When your brain has experienced trauma, memory becomes… creative. The goal isn’t to trust it—it’s to outmaneuver it.

So I decided to open the app immediately after completing my daily language lesson. I already do that lesson without fail, so it’s the perfect anchor. One task flows into the next, and suddenly the new habit doesn’t feel new at all.

I set up my task list so it aligns neatly with due dates. That way, I don’t have to hunt for what needs to be done. Small organizational tweaks make a big difference when attention is limited. Efficiency is kindness—to your future self.

I added my daily essentials first: medication, stretching, and language practice. Medication, especially, is non-negotiable in my case. Forgetting it is not an option. I also added weekly tasks—like kombucha bottling. We drink kombucha every day, so forgetting to bottle it would be… unfortunate.

With my digital life slightly more organized, I tackled the next unavoidable task: calling my doctor’s office to reschedule the appointment I missed. After a few rounds of phone tag, I finally reached the receptionist and booked a new appointment—for January.

Later than ideal? Absolutely.
Unsurprising? Also yes.

This is what happens when you miss an appointment—you go to the back of the line. While I assume my kidney function is holding steady at level four, it’s still reassuring to see the doctor regularly.

The app is still new to me, and I don’t yet know if it’s the solution. But my wife uses it. My friend uses it. I can even share progress with them, which adds a layer of accountability I probably need.

Cold weather remains.
Memory remains unreliable.
But today, at least, I built a system instead of relying on willpower.

And that already feels like a win.

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A Very Bad Fitness Day (With Lessons Included)

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today was—how shall I put this—an unqualified disaster.

It began badly and showed no interest in improving. When I woke up, it was literally freezing outside, and I spent the entire morning dreading my usual run. Cold has a way of turning motivation into theoretical knowledge.

Before even getting to the run, I failed at completing my planned number of dips and leg lifts. That’s usually a sign that I’ve hit my current limit. Not “I’m lazy” failure—more “the muscles have voted and the motion did not pass” failure.

Sometimes my muscles simply don’t repair fast enough. Because of my kidney condition, I’m on protein restriction, which means muscle recovery takes longer than it does for the average man. I already space out resistance workouts by several days for this reason. Today was just not the day to push the number. I’ll try again next week. No drama—just biology.

Then came the plot twist.

My wife popped into the room and asked, very calmly, whether I needed to go to my nephrologist today.

Today?

Yes. Today.

Just like with my dentist appointment the other day, I had completely forgotten about it. I was convinced the appointment was tomorrow. My wife, working from home, had noticed that I was still very much at home when I shouldn’t have been.

This one felt bad.

Missing a nephrology appointment isn’t ideal, especially when you’re actively monitoring kidney disease. My wife had driven me to the lab a week earlier specifically to prep for this visit. If something were abnormal, the doctor would call early—but still, forgetting the appointment wasn’t okay. I immediately called the office and reached the answering machine, which did nothing for my guilt.

My wife looked worried. That part stung the most.

Logically, I knew that if there were serious lab abnormalities, the office would have contacted me already. Emotionally, I still felt like I’d dropped the ball—again. Clearly, I need a stronger system. The solution is probably simple: checking my calendar needs to become part of my morning phone routine, right alongside language lessons and weather checks.

And just to complete the full bingo card of disappointment: I also failed to hit my target running pace.

Cold weather and speed do not get along. At all. I finished the run, but not at the pace I wanted. At least Friday and Saturday should be less hostile—still cold, but no longer actively threatening.

So yes. Today was rough.

But days like this still teach something. I need to be better at:

  • respecting recovery limits
  • managing appointments
  • planning around cold weather
  • and keeping my systems tight when my brain decides to freelance

As always, the goal isn’t perfection.
It’s improvement—one repaired habit, one rescheduled appointment, and one tolerable run at a time.

Tomorrow gets another chance.

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Ending It Nearly Completed All Tasks With Time Management Skills

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, I forced myself out of bed—feeling surprisingly rested and recovered—but immediately remembered one inconvenient truth: it was cold. Very cold. Cold enough to make running sound like a poor life choice. Still, I started my day on time.

I checked the weather app and plotted the optimal moment for my run like a general preparing for battle. Cold-weather gear would be required, but I could afford to wait a bit for marginally better conditions. Unfortunately, waiting too long wasn’t an option—I had a long list of chores left over from yesterday.

Thanksgiving 2025 was a genuinely lovely family gathering. The food was excellent. The company was even better. But holidays have a way of borrowing time from the future, and today was the repayment day. With a full slate of chores waiting, time management suddenly mattered a lot.

Despite my worry that I’d overworked the evening after returning from my sister’s house yesterday, I managed to power through. As soon as we got home, I transferred clothes from the washer to the dryer, then went upstairs to finish the dishes while the kombucha water boiled. Multitasking isn’t glamorous, but it’s effective.

Once those tasks were underway, I checked the dryer timer and realized I had just enough time to eat a piece of leftover pizza before the next wave of responsibilities arrived. On days like this, I have to work systematically—doing the task that fits into the gaps while something else runs in the background.

When the laundry finished, I folded and put away everything except the sheets. Those had twisted themselves into an impressive knot and hadn’t fully dried, so they earned another spin in the dryer and a postponement until tomorrow. At that point, the sheer volume of tasks was starting to feel heavy.

By the time I finally stopped moving, I was completely exhausted and very ready for sleep.

My Time Management Method

To manage days like this, I rely on task chains—doing one thing that naturally leads to the next—so I don’t have to hold everything in my head at once. These are coping strategies I’ve learned since my brain stroke. When your brain has been injured, remembering things isn’t automatic. Systems matter.

Out of curiosity, I checked on my wife. She’s been off since Wednesday and will be until the end of the week, which usually means more chores—not fewer. But she had already completed most of her tasks yesterday, knowing how packed the week before our family gathering had been. Planning ahead: her specialty.

I’m still working on my time-management skills. But today, I got most of what needed to be done—and that’s good enough. The rest can wait until tomorrow. Progress doesn’t always look energetic.
Sometimes it looks like finishing the day tired—and still satisfied.

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When I Optimized for Temperature and Forgot About Time

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

This morning, I made what felt like a perfectly reasonable decision: stay in bed a little longer because it was cold. Very cold. Also, there was no immediate pressure to run—it wasn’t even close to the warmest part of the day yet.

This logic was flawless.
Unfortunately, it was also dangerous.

I waited too long.

By the time I finally started my day, my carefully imagined schedule had already begun to unravel. Saturdays are chore-heavy for me. I do a lot around the house and fit in a 10-kilometer run on top of it. Delaying the start meant everything else slid later… and later… and later.

When I returned from my run, dinner was already behind schedule. I could tell immediately—my wife was not thrilled.

My wife runs life on a timeline. She schedules days and weeks in advance. Cold days and hot days do not interfere with her morning exercise routine. Her internal clock does not negotiate. Sometimes I think she wishes I were more like her. Today, I wished that too.

I felt bad knowing I’d disrupted her carefully structured day.

Normally, when things go wrong because of me, my wife quietly adjusts her tasks so she doesn’t waste time waiting. Today, though, the ripple effects were harder to contain.

Saturday evening is grocery time—specifically a very precise window when the store is less crowded. She also meal-preps for the following week, packing ingredients with recipes so cooking is easy for me. Any delay pushes everything later, including bedtime. She doesn’t like food sitting around unorganized. Neither does her conscience.

By the time I started washing dishes, we were already 45 minutes past our usual grocery time. I panicked, stopped mid-dish, and suggested finishing later—without realizing that this decision now blocked her from organizing groceries afterward.

Efficiency, I had learned, was optional today.

While I was scrambling, my wife quietly rearranged some of her Sunday tasks just to keep the day moving. Then she tackled grocery sorting anyway, because that’s what she does. Later, she gently reminded me of a lesson I apparently needed to relearn: schedule backward.

Start with the fixed commitments.
Work back to the run.
Then decide when sleeping in is actually allowed.

So yes, next time I’m tempted to wait for optimal running temperatures, I’ll also remember this: time waits for no one—and neither does the grocery schedule.Warm legs are nice.
An undisturbed household system is nicer.

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When One Missed Task Knocks Over the Whole Day

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

Today, I learned—once again—that my schedule is only as intense as its weakest forgotten task.

The first crack appeared when I realized I hadn’t prepared the kombucha bottles on Wednesday. Typically, I fill them with sanitizing solution so they’re ready to rinse on Thursday and usable by Friday. This time? Completely skipped. That meant starting the process today and planning to rinse them after we returned from my sister’s house. Already, the day was improvising without my consent.

Next came the laundry problem. I had also forgotten how being away would collide with my laundry schedule—specifically, sheet-changing day. We do have a second set of sheets, but the matching pillowcases disappeared during one of our last two moves and have never been seen again. That meant the current ones had to be washed, dried, and put back on the bed all in the same day.

No pressure.

After my shower, I started the laundry, timing it carefully in my head and hoping it would finish washing just in time to move everything into the dryer before we left. This was optimistic math.

One thing occupational therapy taught me after my brain injury was how essential time management systems are. Trauma made me more forgetful and shortened my attention span. I can easily lose track of what I’m doing—or what I was about to do.

So, through trial and error, I built a system. I remember one anchor task in the morning and linking everything else to it in a chain. Wake up → medication → breakfast → next task → next task. It works beautifully… until it doesn’t.

Holidays are natural enemies of systems.

I love Thanksgiving. Truly. But it rearranges routines just enough to break everything quietly. I suddenly realized I’d missed a few steps earlier in the week, and now I was paying for it in delayed laundry and bottle logistics.

We had already told my sister we’d be on a specific schedule. The plan was to complete everything before leaving. Reality disagreed. The washing machine still needed ten more minutes when it was time to go, meaning the dryer would have to wait until we returned.

At that point, I could feel the pressure building. Too many tasks were being deferred to “later,” and I knew that meant a busier, more chaotic evening. Still, there wasn’t much choice. The schedule had already gone off the rails—I was just managing the damage now.

Some days, the system wins.
Some days, the holiday wins. Today was clearly the latter—but at least I know why.

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A Day of Labs, and Strategically Skipping a Run Without Guilt

Brian’s fitness journal after a brain stroke

After checking the weather forecast yesterday and mentally mapping out today’s schedule, I reached a firm conclusion: squeezing in a run would be heroically unpleasant. I have a blood draw scheduled for 1:30 p.m., which makes a midday run less “healthy habit” and more “logistical nightmare.”

My wife kindly took the day off to drive me to the lab. My nephrologist recently changed lab locations, and what used to be a walkable errand is now a 39-minute drive. Progress, apparently, comes with mileage.

Since she already had the day off, my wife suggested stopping by a secondhand bookstore on the way home. We haven’t been in nearly a year, but we like wandering through shelves where books cost less and come with mysterious past lives. Used books don’t bother either of us—stories age well.

The drive itself was pleasant. Being driven to a lab is significantly nicer than walking there, especially when the destination includes an underground parking garage shared by two identical buildings. Naturally, we took the wrong elevator and ended up in the wrong building.

Everything looked… medical. That was the problem. After a moment of quiet confusion and mutual suspicion, I realized we were definitely not where we were supposed to be. Medical offices are impressively interchangeable. We regrouped, descended, ascended again, and eventually found the correct lab.

Afterward, we rewarded ourselves with a visit to the bookstore. My wife browsed happily and found Lolita, which she’s wanted to read but avoided because of its eye-watering Amazon price. The secondhand copy solved that problem instantly. She didn’t care that it wasn’t new—victory is victory.

Once we returned home, reality resumed. Supper needed cooking. Pies need to be baked for tomorrow’s feast. And just like that, the run officially exited today’s agenda.

Lessons Learned

I usually try to schedule appointments on non-running days to avoid this exact situation, but the lab’s availability didn’t cooperate this time. So it goes.

Being out for several hours tightened the rest of the day’s schedule—for both of us. Even on her day off, my wife had to reshuffle everything to fit the lab visit. Efficiency never truly clocks out.

At least I’ve already completed my running goals for the year, so I feel no pressure to “make up” today’s missed run. If anything, the extra rest might help me recover fully and push harder on Friday.

Sometimes progress looks like running.

Sometimes it looks like skipping a run—with intention, books, and pie preparation waiting at home.

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