Among my thoughts when I announced my Year of Fitness, this segment at the end most clearly stated my intentions:
I want my weight and impulses under control, and an exercise routine I can stick with that keeps me healthy and able to participate in all the sports and activities I enjoy for as long as possible.
Health and fitness are lifelong projects, so this theme focused on rebuilding a stronger foundation that can support further growth while being resilient to those stressful days and difficult weeks that grind good intentions to dust. I needed a base to return to when I inevitably falter.
Both the data and my gut suggest a clear success.
It’s odd and apt to reflect on health and fitness in the immediate aftermath of holiday debauchery. I’ve had a couple enormous meals, more sweet treats than I’d ever want to habituate, and been less active than I prefer. Still, I ran on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day, alternating with small bodyweight workouts. Striking the balance between enjoying time with friends and family and taking advantage of opportunities for good food and fun with my need to temper my appetite and remain active has been the story of 2025.
I began this year by paying for Fitbod. I knew I needed strength workouts to maintain my body for baseball but would be unwilling to join all the New Year Resolution folks in their attempts to fill up the local gyms. After years of podcast advertising, I finally hopped onto the app-based fitness game. It was motivating to have a (mostly) daily workout, fifteen or twenty minutes, beyond my normal walking regimen. But as spring started to bloom, I hadn’t made much progress beyond the ability to handle a few more push-ups.
In April, the idea of possibly becoming a runner coalesced. I downloaded Strava and familiarized myself with the features of my Garmin watch, then learned how to find an appropriate pace over many months. Having never consistently ran farther than a mile, learning how to dial back my speed to build proper aerobic health over longer runs was difficult.
Themes aren’t inherently about numbers, but when we’re talking health and fitness, numerical trends sure tell a compelling story. As my running increased, I also gained control over my weight.
Strenuous exercise and healthy eating have always created a positive feedback loop. When I’m committed to exercise, I have to be careful what I eat. I can’t run if I’ve eaten too much, or had something greasy or rich or generally an unwise choice for food. I consistently make better decisions once I’ve fallen into that loop, so getting hooked onto running directly improved my outcomes.
Beyond these brief ways of measuring success with miles and pounds, two quick stories typify my Year of Fitness.
First, baseball. I returned to Maine this fall to play at Goodall Park. It was the only game I played with my Connecticut sandlot team in 2024, and I was run down after my season in California. My arm hurt, I could barely make the throw from third to first, and my hitting was atrocious. I was frustrated that I wasted the opportunity to play on such a beautiful field by having one of my personal worst games in a long time. My body had let me down because I had let it down.
This year, I’d played another full season. In fact, I played more than I ever had in California given our regular practices in New Haven. I pitched five innings in a game, which I hadn’t done since I was sixteen. I got third place in a hitting competition in Tulsa. I hit an inside-the-park home run and several triples. And in this final game of the season in Maine, I had the chance to compare how my body felt. I easily made my throws across the field all game, hit the ball hard, and got on base in every plate appearance. It was a complete turnaround, largely powered by the attention I paid my body throughout the year. That motivates me to stick with my routines and improve further, ensuring I stay on the field for as long as possible.
My second anecdote is how my running mindset has changed. I’d spent years treating running in the flippant and dismissive way so many people I talk to discuss math: “Oh, that’s not for me. I could never.” I identified as a baseball player who never ran more than a mile at a time. I participated in a few large-scale 5K races around the Twin cities—Turkey Trots and the UMN Goldy’s Run—but these were done with friends and family and with essentially no preparation. I only remember my time of a bit over 35 minutes in one Turkey Trot, during which I made it just over a mile before I had to pause to walk. That on-and-off pacing continued the rest of the way.
Jump forward to late September of this year, and a friend from baseball asks in our Discord whether anyone wants to run a local 5K in Meriden. Having run a few of those during my lunch breaks in the previous couple of months, I readily volunteered. It felt amazing to raise my hand and willingly sign up for a 5K without a second thought, without agonizing over how I’d feel before or after the race, knowing that I wanted to do well but not stressing over the details. It was a gnarly course in 40-ish degree weather, beginning with an uphill climb that lasted nearly the first mile, and the net elevation change was about 250 feet. I had to stop for 20 or 30 seconds to tie my shoe at the halfway point, but latched onto another runner to follow the rest of the way. I relished the closing downhill sprint, finishing in right around 26 minutes, depending on how you want to count that shoe-tying pause.
I’m proud of my progress this year. With an established routine, I can look toward a new theme in 2026 that will help me capitalize on what I’ve built.