Tag: workout progress

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The Not-So-Great Shoe Debacle (But Progress Was Made)

Written 08/20/2025

Hello Dear Readers,

This morning, I was rudely awakened—not by an alarm, but by a rebellious cramp in the back of my left thigh. A charming start to the day, really. My prime suspect? The shiny new pair of running shoes I recently introduced to my feet. It’s like they met on a blind date and instantly agreed they were not compatible.

The shoes are the same model as my last beloved pair, so in theory, this shouldn’t be a big deal. But as every runner knows, shoes have personalities. Some are loyal sidekicks, others are just fancy-looking foot traps. I guess mine are still deciding which path they want to take.

Despite the cramped beginning (literally), I laced up and hit the road. My ankles still muttered complaints from previous runs, but they didn’t outright revolt. So… small victory? The pace was slower than I’d like, but hey, I made it through the entire distance without feeling like my lower limbs were on strike. That’s progress. Limping progress, but progress nonetheless.

Honestly, I expected to be breaking in these shoes faster. I’ve already had two failed attempts at conquering a 10K with them—both derailed when my ankle started sending distress signals halfway through. But today? Today felt different. Not “I can crush a marathon” different, but “maybe I won’t need to ice my feet for an hour” different. It’s the little things.

My wife, the wise one, reminded me that all shoes need time to mold to your feet—and feet, in turn, need time to stop being drama queens. She’s right (as usual). So, I’ve decided to stop glaring at my shoes like they’ve betrayed me and start giving them the benefit of the doubt. Patience, grasshopper.

In other athletic news, my planking routine is going strong-ish. I recently had to reduce the time a bit—mainly because my abs filed a formal complaint—but I’m still going for over 3 minutes. That’s miles better than where I started (which was more like “floor faceplant after 30 seconds”).

Like everything else lately, it’s a jagged progress graph. Some days I feel like a fitness superhero. Other days, I feel like I’ve been defeated by a foam mat. But I’m learning that “hard but doable” is actually the sweet spot. It means I’m pushing myself, but not to the ER. So here’s to small wins: less foot rebellion, slightly happier ankles, and core muscles that are screaming just a little less. With a little luck—and a little more patience—Friday’s run might just feel like the start of a comeback.

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A Plank, a Passport, and a Potentially Possessed Headset

Written August 14, 2025

Reviewed 8/25

Hello Dear Readers,

So far, today’s been a surprisingly smooth ride—like buttered toast landing butter-side up. I managed to complete my full planking session on the first try, which means, yes, my abs are mildly protesting, but nothing that resembles a full-scale rebellion. If all continues according to plan, I’ll bump up the duration on Saturday as usual. Progress: it’s slow, sweaty, and strangely satisfying.

Now, tomorrow is shaping up to be less about running shoes and more about running errands. My wife and I are off to get her passport photo taken and submit the application. Technically, I’m not required for this mission, but she insists I’m a good luck charm—which, frankly, I accept with all the smug grace of a man who once found a parking spot in downtown Nashville on a Friday.

Navigating the passport application process has been like decoding a Da Vinci manuscript while blindfolded. She’s had her citizenship for a while, but securing an appointment? That’s been the real odyssey. Nashville’s downtown office might have openings if you time it just right, but Brentwood—the promised land—only opens slots four weeks in advance, and they vanish faster than cupcakes in a breakroom.

So it was nothing short of divine fortune that she snagged an appointment in Brentwood. She’s been prepping for this like it’s the SATs—forms reviewed and re-reviewed, photo IDs printed in triplicate, and backup payment options ready in case the debit card decides to faint from stress. We even hit the bank last week for good ol’ cash. Who knew bureaucracy could be so… cardio-intensive?

On Saturday, we’re off on another noble quest: retiring my poor, overworked running shoes. My wife scheduled this grand event, naturally, and depending on tomorrow’s weather, I might reschedule my 10k to Sunday. Flexibility is the name of the game—especially when life (or clouds) throws curveballs.

As for Monday’s unexpected plot twist: my faithful headset decided it had given enough to this world. I plugged it in post-run, went to shower, and came back to… silence. No lights, no power, no signs of life. I tried CPR (aka frantically mashing buttons), then pulled out the warranty card like a determined archaeologist—only to discover the warranty had expired. Of course.

I’m now surviving on my ancient backup headset, which works about as well as a spoon for slicing steak. I ordered a replacement on Amazon, but it ghosted me yesterday. Hopefully, it arrives today, just in time for tomorrow’s thrilling adventure in passport purgatory.

Between the planned, the unplanned, and the possibly cursed electronics, our calendar is filling up faster than you can say “unexpected life admin.” But thankfully, my wife is a master planner—our weekends are usually charted out weeks ahead. It may seem rigid to some, but for me? It’s perfect. Predictable, adaptable, and only slightly sprinkled with chaos.

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Planking Pains and Gains: My Battle with the New Platform

Written January 24, 2024

Hello Dear Readers,

Ever since my wife and I upgraded to a new planking platform, my core has been waging a full-scale rebellion. Holding a plank for my usual duration? Ha! My abs have other plans. Two likely culprits are sabotaging my endurance, and honestly, I feel personally attacked.

Why Am I Suddenly Terrible at Planking?

First, there was the dark age—that sad, plank-less week when our old platform broke. Not wanting to lose momentum, I switched to planking on the floor. Great idea in theory, except floor planking apparently isn’t the same beast. It felt easier, sure, but that “easier” came with a hidden cost—my endurance took a hit. Turns out, sometimes doing something isn’t as good as doing the right thing. Lesson learned.

Second, this new machine is demanding, and my body is not amused. Unlike the old platform, this one requires a completely different posture. My core, once a loyal ally, is now throwing tantrums over the additional balancing act. I plank, I wobble, I try to hold steady, and the machine just laughs at my suffering.

The Game Plan: One Problem at a Time

Since quitting isn’t an option (and my pride won’t let me), I’ve been sneaking in extra plank sessions throughout the day. The improvement has been slow but steady—exactly the kind of hard-earned victory that makes fitness both frustrating and rewarding.

Endurance Woes: Fighting for Seconds

When I first set foot (or rather, forearm) on this new machine, I barely lasted a minute. A whole 60 seconds before my core tapped out. Now, I’m creeping up to 90 seconds. Still far from my goal of nearly three minutes, but hey, progress is progress. I’ve been on and off gymnastics in the past, so I know one thing for certain—muscle endurance isn’t won overnight. It’s a painfully slow process of adding seconds, one grueling plank at a time. The only way forward? Reduce the timer, reclaim lost time, and build up gradually.

Core Chaos: The Balancing Act

Balance? What balance? This machine demands way more from my core, and my muscles are not amused. It’s like trying to hold a plank on a tiny, floating island that tilts at the slightest shift. Keeping the correct posture while balancing feels like taming a wild horse—one that insists on throwing me off at every opportunity. But I’m sticking with it. No matter how many times I feel like a baby giraffe learning to walk, I’ll get there.

The Silver Lining: Sore Abs = Progress

How long will it take to reach my previous planking glory? No clue. This is an entirely different beast, and I’ll have to tame it on its terms. One thing I do know? My abs are on fire. The soreness is proof that this machine is working harder than ever. If pain equals progress, then I’m definitely moving in the right direction.

So, for now, I’ll keep planking, keep struggling, and keep counting the seconds—until my core decides to stop complaining and start cooperating.