The past week bled straight into this one, and honestly, it’s been a grind. Work has been busy in all the familiar ways that come with building a new medical practice, life hasn’t slowed down, and running—while still grounding—has felt harder than I expected.
But I showed up.
The Runs
I got out three times over the last week:
- Tuesday, 12/17 (evening) – 1.01 miles
Cool, damp December air in Magnolia, mid-60s with that familiar Southeast Texas humidity lingering even after sunset. This run felt mechanically awkward. My body wanted to settle into an 11:30–12:30 pace, but I kept fighting to slow it down. My right IT band and knee were noticeable, but more of a reminder than a warning. - Friday, 12/20 (afternoon) – 1.50 miles
Warmer than it should have been for December—low 80s—and I felt it. Heart rate crept up, legs felt heavy, and this run was more about discipline than flow. Still, I finished. I never regret getting out there. - Sunday, 12/22 (evening) – 0.71 miles
Short and simple. Mid-70s, humid, end of the day. This one was more mental than physical. Even a brief run felt like reclaiming something after a long stretch of stress and exhaustion.
The Physical Struggle
Running slow has been frustrating—maybe the most frustrating part of this phase. My mechanics naturally want to move faster, but Run With Hal has me targeting a 13:36 pace, and staying there feels almost harder than pushing the pace.
I’ve questioned why the pace needs to be this slow. Part of that frustration comes from knowing I’m capable of more. At the same time, I’m listening to what my body is telling me. My right IT band and knee have been on and off, but overall improving—and that improvement matters.
What’s clear is that I need to be more consistent with core and strength work, especially glutes. When that slips, everything else feels harder.
Mental State
Mentally, I’ve been all over the place.
Running a new medical practice is rewarding, but it’s mentally demanding in ways that don’t shut off at the end of the day. Stress has been high. Sleep—something I’ve struggled with since med school and residency—has been hit or miss, and some nights just plain bad.
Trevor visiting last week (Wednesday and Thursday) was a bright spot. Having a trusted consultant and friend walk through the practice, give feedback, and simply see what I’m building was grounding. It reminded me I’m not doing this alone.
There were days I came home completely exhausted. I missed a run, then made it up the next day. That flexibility mattered more than perfection.
Nutrition & Recovery
I’ve been mindful of portion control, but a recent steroid dose pack for back spasms knocked me a little off track. That’s life. Right now, the goal isn’t flawless execution—it’s consistency and awareness.
Perspective
Half marathon training officially starts December 29th, and that feels like a mental reset point. A clean line in the sand.
Despite all the frustration, one thing hasn’t changed:
I never regret running.
I love the time alone.
I love the mental toughness it requires.
I love how running forces everything else in life—sleep, nutrition, discipline, mindset—to get better.
Even when it’s uncomfortable. Especially then.
Gratitude Check
In the middle of the stress and self-doubt, it’s important to pause and take inventory of what’s going right.
I’m deeply grateful for Misty, who has stepped into running the front office with patience, grit, and commitment. She’s learning the complexities of medical insurance, billing, and the realities of managing a front desk in a medical practice—often on the fly, and always with care. I couldn’t do this without her.
I’m grateful for the assistance, mentorship, and blessing that made starting this practice possible, and for the friendships that come with that support. Having people willing to advise, challenge, and stand alongside you makes the load lighter and the journey more meaningful.
I’m grateful for the amazing patients I’ve met and been privileged to treat. The trust they place in me, their stories, and the opportunity to help them move with less pain and more confidence is not something I take for granted.
I’m grateful for my health—for a body that allows me to lace up my shoes and run, even when it doesn’t feel perfect.
I’m grateful for good people in my life, and for what I already have.
Looking Ahead
I’m genuinely excited to be running the Rock CF Half Marathon this March (2026). There’s something deeply meaningful about returning to where running first started for me. It feels less like chasing a finish line and more like coming full circle.
I’m incredibly thankful for everyone who has donated and supported the cause. Every contribution matters, and every mile I run carries more purpose because of it.
More than anything, I’m grateful for the journey itself—in running and in life. This season has taught me more about myself, about patience, and about focusing on what’s good. I’m learning how to be happier, more grounded, and more intentional about where I place my energy.
Gratitude doesn’t erase the struggle—but it keeps the struggle in perspective.
Slow miles still count.
Hard weeks still build strength.
And showing up—even imperfectly—still moves me forward.