This phase of the long border has been less about adding plants and more about understanding behaviour — how each plant actually moves, leans, competes, and cooperates once it’s in the ground.
The border runs broadly west to east, which matters. Light moves across the planting rather than sitting heavily on one side. That single fact resolves many of the theoretical shading problems you see discussed in books. Here, competition is dynamic, not fixed.
The back of the border is now structurally resolved (Buddlejas, Sambucus, Hydrangea, Fuchsia). What remained was getting the middle and front layers to speak clearly, without overcrowding or visual noise.
long border design showing front, middle, and back planting layers
The Baby Joe-Pye Question
Originally, I considered using regular Joe-Pye weed at the back, with Baby Joe-Pye in front — a classic tall-to-short meadow approach.
But regular Joe-Pye is a brute. Beautiful, yes, but dominant. In a border already anchored by shrubs, it would tip the balance from structured naturalism into constant containment.
Baby Joe-Pye, on the other hand, is civilised.
Upright, but not towering
Pollinator-rich without being invasive
Repeatable, rather than monopolising
That led to a realisation: I don’t need two species to create depth — I can create it through management.
Using the Chelsea Chop as a Design Tool
The Chelsea chop is often explained as a blunt instrument: cut everything, make plants shorter. That’s not how it’s being used here.
Instead:
Front Baby Joe-Pye plants will be Chelsea-chopped
Back Baby Joe-Pye plants will be left untouched
Same plant. Two roles.
The effect:
Front plants become shorter, bushier, and flower slightly later
Back plants remain taller, airier, and flower earlier
Visually, this mimics the effect of using both dwarf and full-sized Joe-Pye — without introducing a second scale that might clash later.
This feels like a more honest way of gardening: working with the plant rather than importing solutions.
Middle Layer: Final Composition
From left to right, the middle layer now reads as:
Erigeron — soft, informal, a gentle entry point
Geum ‘Mrs J Bradshaw’ — early heat and momentum
Baby Joe-Pye weed — vertical lift begins
Yellow Achillea — flat plates to calm the eye
Devil’s-bit scabious — wiry, upright, late-flowering, and utterly appropriate
Echinacea ‘Magnus’ — structural authority
Seed-grown Dahlias — variation and play
Child of ‘Verrone’s Obsidian’ — dark foliage pivot
Newly lifted section of lawn forming a bulging curve in the long border
For now, I’m continuing to expand the border without planting anything new. All of that will wait until spring. What mattered here was shape.
Rather than extending the border in a straight, rigid line — something more suited to a formal or architectural planting, I’ve decided to let it bulge in the middle. A soft belly rather than a hard edge. It immediately feels more natural, more forgiving, and far more generous in terms of planting space.
I lifted another roughly 6 × 6 ft section of lawn here. Interestingly, this was the point where the rubble layer finally faded out, transitioning back into a more familiar clayey loam. In anticipation of long-term structure improvement, I incorporated around 140 litres of compost into this section. That should pay dividends over the coming seasons — better drainage, better root penetration, and a more forgiving soil profile overall.
Newly mulched border section showing curved outline and compost-improved soil
I’ve updated the design file to reflect this change, and visually it works far better. The border now reads as something organic rather than imposed — a small but meaningful shift.
One plant that’s now firmly pencilled in for spring work is Geum ‘Mrs J Bradshaw’. I’ve been growing this clump for around five years and it’s naturally formed five distinct crowns — essentially dividing itself. Perfect timing.
Come spring, I’ll lift it, split it cleanly, and redistribute those divisions into the main border. Strong, reliable colour, and excellent pollinator value — it earns its keep.
Over in the pollinator fish-shaped border, I had what I thought was an early resurgence of Echinacea ‘Magnus’ foliage appearing beside the Allium ‘Millennium’. On closer inspection, though, the green shoots weren’t Echinacea at all, but Green alkanet (Pentaglottis sempervirens) — a deep-rooted opportunist making its move while the crown was dormant.
Green alkanet (Pentaglottis sempervirens)
This actually presents a useful opportunity. In spring, I’ll dig out the entire Echinacea clump, remove the alkanet properly, and then split the Echinacea into two or three divisions for the main long border. The vacated spot will be replanted with a division of Allium ‘Millennium’, which feels like a more stable long-term pairing for that space anyway.
Updated long border design plan showing widened central bulge and planting zones
Gardens are not built in straight lines, even when the borders are. They arrive in stages: effort, pause, revision, return. What looks intentional at the end usually began as disturbance.
This post acts as a thread-starter for the long border — a place to gather earlier entries, updates, and reflections as the border continues to change. I’ll be folding older posts into this narrative rather than rewriting them, letting the record show its own sediment layers.
Below is an image from last May, when the long border was still more excavation than planting. It captures the moment between lawn and garden — when grass gives way to intent.
Newly dug long border in lawn, showing stages from turf removal to planted bed, photographed in May.
What strikes me now is how physical the process was. Digging deep, levering compacted soil, moving weight by hand. Gardening here wasn’t ornamental — it was functional labour. The border began in the glutes and lower back long before it began in design.
Earlier Entries in This Thread
These two posts form the foundation of the long-border work and are best read as companion pieces:
They document the transition from lawn to border — physically, mentally, and incrementally — before the planting schemes became clear.
Establishing the Backbone
This season was not about flowers. It was about structure.
The priority was to establish the backbone of the border — the shrubs that will eventually act as the visual and ecological backdrop to the perennials at the front. Until that framework exists, everything else feels provisional.
The original idea was simple and repeatable: Buddleias and Sambucus forming a rhythm along the rear of the border, punctuated by other shrubs where variation felt necessary. That underlying structure still holds, though it has been refined as the ground and the plants themselves dictated amendments.
What matters here is continuity rather than symmetry. Repetition gives the eye somewhere to rest; variation prevents it from becoming rigid.
Current Shrub Layout (Back of Border)
From left (west end) to right (east end), the shrubs now in place are:
Seen together, they already hint at the future border: dark foliage anchoring the lighter, airier forms; summer pollinator shrubs setting the tempo; winter silhouettes quietly doing their work when everything else has retreated.
The perennials will come and go. These plants are the constant.
Extending the Border — Late Season Work
I’ll add the border plan image at the end of this post, as a reference point.
In September, I acquired several Mexican Fleabane (Erigeron) bareroots, which I’ve been growing on in pots since. Autumn into winter is probably the best time to work soil for a new border, particularly heavy soil, and that’s exactly what I’ve done this December.
With a mild forecast stretching right through to the New Year, I felt comfortable extending the border at both the west and east ends, planting only what is genuinely suited to going into the ground at this time of year.
West End
The idea for the west end began back in summer. I’d been thinking about Mexican Fleabane for a while, largely because David Maxwell is forever praising it as one of the best plants for pollinators, and from what I’ve seen, he’s not wrong.
I liked the idea of starting the border with a rockery feel — either a low wall or simply a loose arrangement of stone — and letting the Erigeron spill and wander over it. As this is the start of the border, I wanted a shrub at the back that wouldn’t dominate or announce itself too loudly.
I settled on a dwarf Buddleia as the anchor, with the Fleabane beneath it.
Outline of the new west-end extension marked out in turf
As with all digging, it begins the same way. I reached for the moon-shaped edging tool and extended the border edge at the west end. Once the line was set, I lifted and removed the sods within it.
Amending the Soil
Three stages of developing the border
After lifting the turf, I double-dug the area with a shovel — breaking up compacted clay, teasing out weed roots, and removing the largest stones as I went.
Sand, grit, and compost added to the dug area
Once the ground was opened, I added sand, horticultural grit, and compost. The shovel comes back into play here — not just to mix, but as another opportunity to find stubborn roots and break up remaining clay clumps.
Large mound of amended soil before levelling
At this point it always looks excessive. The amended soil stood nearly two feet high, an ungainly mound that felt wrong. But experience says otherwise. Through repeated cycles of raking and shovelling — back and forth, levelling and settling — the soil drops, consolidates, and finds its own level.
Planting and Finishing
Buddleia and Mexican Fleabane planted
Only once the ground had settled did I plant. For both the Buddleia and Erigeron, I added no fertiliser beyond the compost already worked in. My soil is naturally clay-based, and clay, for all its faults, is the most fertile soil medium there is. It holds nutrients. It remembers.
Horticultural grit around plant crowns, wood mulch applied
Around the crowns, I applied horticultural grit, then a layer of wood mulch. The grit protects the plant bases; the mulch moderates moisture and temperature.
Large stones laid over the mulched bed
Finally, I placed large stones around the Mexican Fleabane plants. This area needs to feel like a rockery, not just read as one. The stones complete that intention — weight, permanence, and a sense that the border didn’t arrive all at once.
Dahlias demand attention through the growing season, but winter is where restraint matters most.
Not fussing. Not interfering. Simply creating the right conditions and stepping back.
Dahlia 'Verrone's Obsidian'
This post marks the beginning of a broader journal on how I overwinter dahlias — not as a rigid set of rules, but as a record of methods that have worked for me, year after year, in an Irish climate.
The Timing: Frost as a Signal, Not a Panic
After the first light frosts, I begin the process early — but gently.
Across the garden, I cut back the dahlias, removing roughly a third of the foliage and the growing tips. These growing tips are where enzymatic signalling pushes energy towards flower production. Removing them interrupts that message.
What follows is intentional waiting.
The remaining foliage is left in place for several weeks, allowing the plant to:
absorb late autumn sunlight
redirect energy downward
continue swelling and strengthening the tubers
This is the quiet part of the year, where nothing visible happens, but everything important does.
The Hard Frost of 2025
In 2025, the first proper hard frost arrived on 21st November, with temperatures dropping to around –2 °C.
That frost did what it always does:
blackened the foliage
collapsed the stems
cleanly ended the growing season
Only then do I move fully into storage mode.
Container Dahlias: Stored As They Are
After removing all the dead foliage, I gather the container-grown dahlias together and line them up closely, creating a single block rather than isolated pots. Any weeds that have seeded themselves into the containers are removed at this stage.
Once everything is clean, I add an insulating layer directly above the crown. This year I chose pine needles, simply because I have an abundant supply in the garden. They’re light, breathable, and shed water well — ideal material for this job.
Containers with pine needle mulch.
After laying down the pine needles, I place a rigid plant tray over the crown (the same type normally used under pots in summer). A few stones or a brick go on top to keep it firmly in place, and then I add another layer of pine needles over the tray.
Each container receives this same treatment.
When all the pots are prepared, I add a secondary insulating layer across the entire group. Some years I’ve used leftover loft insulation (rockwool), but this year I kept it simple and used cardboard, laid flat over the tops of the containers. Over the cardboard, I place old blankets for additional insulation.
Insulating layer across the entire group
The final and most important layer is the outer cover.
I use breathable weed-control fabric to cover the whole arrangement, securing it with stones and bricks. This material is ideal: it keeps the bulk of the rain off while still allowing air to circulate. Trapped moisture is far more dangerous than cold.
Weed-control fabric layer, held down by stones.
Once covered, I use my hardy perennial containers as a final defence, positioning them around the edges. Irish winters are rarely consistently cold — they’re far more often wet and stormy. Placing heavy containers around the perimeter stops wind from getting underneath and lifting the fabric.
Outdoor Dahlia storage setup.
This is my tried-and-tested method for overwintering container dahlias outdoors in Ireland. It works. The tubers remain dry, dormant, and alive right through winter.
From February into March, I begin to gradually reintroduce them to light. Because they’re positioned against a south-facing wall, they benefit from a sheltered microclimate, often waking earlier than dahlias stored elsewhere. Done carefully, this gives them a quiet head start on the growing season.
Lifted Tubers: Cleaned, Dried, and Stored Bare
Some dahlias are lifted entirely — either because they’ve outgrown their containers, are being moved, or simply to reset them for the coming year.
Once lifted from the ground or removed from containers, I snip off all the fine roots, leaving only the tuber cluster itself. The tubers are then placed into a trug of water for around 30 minutes, which helps loosen remaining soil.
After soaking, they’re washed thoroughly — sometimes with a hose, sometimes by splashing water between the tubers using a watering can. The goal isn’t perfection, just removing most of the growing medium so nothing wet or compacted remains against the skin.
Tubers prepped for storage.
Once cleaned, the tubers are left to dry in direct sunlight for a few hours. This isn’t about desiccation, just ensuring no free moisture remains trapped.
When dry, the tubers are placed upside down into plastic storage containers. Each container holds one variety only, clearly labelled to avoid confusion later. They’re laid on a bed of newspaper or straw, which cushions them and absorbs any residual moisture.
Stored tubers.
This year, I’ve stored five different varieties this way in the porch. The porch is unheated and north-facing, staying consistently cool without experiencing hard frost.
Stored like this, the tubers remain stable and dormant until the growing season begins again.
In-Ground Dahlias: Covered, Not Dug
Some dahlias stay exactly where they grew.
For these, I use a simple layered approach:
The crown is covered with straw, newspaper, or pine needles
A rigid plastic plant saucer or tray is placed over the crown
Stones or bricks are added to stop movement
The area is finished with mulch
This creates a small, dry dome — crude, effective, and easy to remove in spring.
Three dahlias prepped for winter, hidden under trays and mulch.
A Control Group: Doing Nothing on Purpose
This season, partly out of curiosity and partly for scientific-like reasons, I’ve decided to introduce a control group.
Rather than intervening everywhere, I’ve deliberately left a small number of dahlias to deal with winter entirely on their own.
In total:
Three dahlias remain in the ground, completely untouched
Four container-grown dahlias have also been left without any winter protection
The three in-ground dahlias occupy different conditions:
two are in full winter sun
one is in partial sun
The container dahlias are in partial sun edging into full shade, receiving roughly four hours of light during winter.
Ireland’s winters are rarely defined by extreme cold. They’re defined by persistent wet, fluctuating temperatures, and long periods of low light. This makes it an ideal environment to test whether dahlias truly fail from frost — or whether moisture and predation are the real culprits.
This experiment isn’t about proving a point. It’s about observation.
The Real Cause of Rot (In My Experience)
Over the years, I’ve noticed something that runs counter to much of the standard advice around dahlias.
Dahlias left in the ground don’t usually rot because of cold.
They don’t even rot because of winter wet — at least not directly.
They rot because the enemy arrives first.
The enemy, of course, is the evil bastards — technically known as Deroceras reticulatum — more commonly referred to as slugs.
On several occasions, I’ve dug up dahlias prematurely to check their condition. What I’ve found time and again are small slugs actively feeding on the tubers. They don’t consume the tuber outright. Instead, they cause just enough damage to breach the skin. That damage then becomes the entry point for rot.
Once that process begins, the tuber is finished — not because of frost, but because it was compromised.
This repeated observation has shaped how I approach winter storage. From what I’ve seen, dahlias are surprisingly tolerant of winter conditions when left alone with minimal protection. It’s subterranean grazing that does the real damage.
If you actively suppress slug populations — for example by applying nematodes — then leaving dahlias in the ground with light protection can work well.
If you don’t intend to wage full war on slugs and snails, lifting tubers and regrowing them in spring is the safer choice.
Cold and wet are manageable.
A bored slug with access to a tuber is not.
Cold vs Wet: The Potato Rule
Dahlias don’t truly fear winter cold.
They fear wet, stagnant conditions.
In that sense, they behave much like potatoes:
cold is tolerable
saturation is lethal
Rot is almost always the result of waterlogged or damaged tubers, not frost alone.
Once this clicks, overwintering becomes less anxious and more observational.
Closing Reflection
Winter storage isn’t about control.
It’s about creating conditions and stepping back.
The tuber already knows what to do.
Your role is simply to keep it dry, still, and undisturbed.
Balance restored. Body respected. Sauce sustained.
🌱 Autophagy: The Inner Fire
Autophagy isn’t a trend — it’s a biological purification system hardcoded into our cells. Literally meaning “self-eating,” it’s how the body clears out broken proteins, damaged organelles, and dysfunctional cellular components. During fasting and intense exercise, insulin drops, and energy sensors like AMPK get flipped on. This tells the body, "There’s no fuel incoming — start tidying up."
What results is:
Cellular spring cleaning
Enhanced mitochondrial efficiency
Decreased inflammation
Potential longevity boosts
My 20-hour fast, followed by kettlebell carnage, was the perfect storm. By stressing the body with fasting + resistance + dynamic movement, I pushed deep into the autophagic zone — breaking down the old so the new can emerge sharper, faster, cleaner.
Even the feast plays a part. It ends the cycle and signals the rebuild.
June was an odd month. It wasn’t especially wet, but the weather was dominated by low pressure, so it was often windy. Most days were overcast, and it never really felt like summer. There were a few hot spells here and there, but they came with the same relentless wind. Like today—I was very cold outside this morning, and as soon as the clouds covered the sun, I felt a chill. By noon, it was very sunny and relatively hot, but that wind never let up.
Pink and red petals scattered across green grass on a windy day.
I’m technically 16 miles (about 26 kilometres) from the coast, but a few years back, I made a conscious decision to treat the garden like it’s a coastal scheme. I don’t have the harsh saltiness of the real coast, but I’ve got the wind, and my plants are always getting battered. Sometimes I wish I could just migrate to central France. I imagine the peaceful, calm, endless summer days, where a gust of wind startles you—whereas here in southern south Ireland, it is always windy.
June looked like autumn, with petals being blown about onto the grass.
A video showing Sambucus branches blowing wildly in the wind on what was supposedly the nicest day of summer.
Dahlia Breeding Update
The dahlias I’ve grown from seed are all in various stages of growth. Some are looking very good—that is, they have very interesting flowers. Some are a bit boring. And a couple look very promising, but I’ll have to wait and see what they’ll look like once they flower properly.
Verrone’s Merlot
A vibrant red star-shaped flower with a golden centre.
This dahlia is particularly interesting. It definitely came from seed I took from Verrone’s Obsidian, but the differences are striking. It has kept the star dahlia form, yet it’s almost a double. The eye stays open, which the pollinators absolutely love.
Close-up of a flower bud opening beside a mature bloom.
It also has that peculiar colour cameras never capture properly. In the photos, it appears crimson. But if you look at the newly opening flower, that’s closer to the real shade—a deep purplish-red, richer than the camera manages to show. Dahlia ‘Tam Tam’ does the same trick, appearing wine red in pictures. Maybe this one inherited a touch of both Verrone and Tam Tam.
Mrs. Popple
A vibrant fuchsia-pink dahlia bloom on a bushy plant.
I’m naming this dahlia ‘Mrs. Popple’, as it has that classic fuchsia-like colour. Two of the plants have nearly identical flowers. One is the first I planted—it’s bushier and seems a bit more vigorous. The second is the first flower that opened, and possibly the start of a new variety worth keeping.
One curious trait: the first flower to open seems to attract aphids and whiteflies just before the petals start to open from the bud. I’ve used a painting brush to remove the little buggers by hand. It’s tedious, but at least it works.
A close-up of a similar flower, the first one that opened on this seedling.
This is a nice type, and I’ll definitely keep it for the future.
Verrone’s Eclipse
A dark, almost black star-shaped dahlia bloom with slender petals and a bright golden centre.
This plant is really interesting. It seems vigorous, with strong growth compared to the others. The first flower that opened from it almost surpasses ‘Verrone’s Obsidian’. The petals are so narrow and open that it looks very dainty, but it’s still quite a large flower overall.
I’m calling it ‘Verrone’s Eclipse’, for obvious reasons.
In container Star dahlia
A deep red star-shaped dahlia flower with a bright yellow centre.
This one isn’t very interesting. It’s similar to the parent, but the flower isn’t as good as the original. I have two plants in containers with this same profile, and honestly, they’ll probably end up in the compost. Sometimes it’s clear early on which seedlings won’t make the cut.
Vicar of Dover
A pale cream flower with hints of pink and red near the centre, set against classic Bishop dark foliage.
There are several plants with the classic Bishop dark foliage, and this is the first one to flower. It’s nothing particularly special, but I’m calling it ‘Vicar of Dover’. The form is slightly double, though the petals don’t seem very symmetrical.
Autumn’s Blush
A bright pink dahlia flower with a uniform colour and a visiting hoverfly at the centre.
There is another plant that has just opened. It’s very similar to Mrs. Popple, but the colour is uniform, whereas Mrs. Popple is variegated. This has some promise. I like the uniform colour on this one—it’s a pinky tone that stands out nicely. I’m giving it the title of ‘Autumn’s Blush’, imagining the slight discolouration of the cheeks. I’m thinking it comes from ‘Verrone’s Obsidian’, but it’s just as likely a hybrid of Dahlia ‘Fancy Pants’.
There is one very interesting plant. It has foliage that is green, and its first flower was an amazing yellow-orange. Unfortunately, the flower came out malformed. Hopefully, it was just a pest that caused that, because the colour was very interesting. I snipped off the flower and tossed it into the compost. I’ll just have to wait and hope the next flowers are not disfigured, as the colour looks fantastic.
Aphids and Whiteflies
I bloody hate aphids, but I really detest whiteflies.
Aphids are tiny, soft-bodied insects that cluster on new growth and suck out the sap. They come in all sorts of colours—green, gray, black—and leave behind sticky residue called honeydew. Whiteflies are even worse. They look like little white moths when disturbed, fluttering up in a cloud. They also feed by sucking sap and can spread viruses between plants.
Now I don’t mind the aphids too much, to be fair. They’re mostly a nuisance. The gray buggers cover my sambucus shrubs early in the season, but I just let them be. A whole host of predators feed off them, and the plant is fine a month later. But when I see them on my dahlias, it pisses me off. I suppose I see my dahlias like children, and I have to remove the buggers by hand.
A paintbrush being used to remove aphids from a closed dahlia flower.
Whiteflies are a real nuisance though. You can wash them away, but they fly back the moment you turn your back. I brush the aphids off and that’s usually it, but whiteflies are tougher to deal with.
Whiteflies clustered along a dried rose stem with webbing.
Both of these little buggers killed the Rose ‘William Morris’ I tried to transplant into a container. I didn’t notice them all over the leaves until it was too late. Now the plant is completely defoliated. I’m sure it’s dead.
What I’m Eating and Why: A Mediterranean Shift
Lately, I’ve been leaning into a more Mediterranean-inspired approach to eating—less out of trend-chasing, more because it just feels good. My meals have become simpler, nutrient-dense, and full of foods with clear, evidence-backed benefits.
A rustic table setting with smoked mackerel, leafy greens, bread, olive oil, and a smoothie, painted in a warm, classic style.
I’ve started including more oily fish like smoked mackerel (“gerookte mackerel,” as I learned—it’s just mackerel smoked, not some exotic subspecies). Mackerel is one of the richest sources of omega-3 fatty acids, which are linked to heart health, brain function, and reduced inflammation. I’m also planning to rotate in sardines and anchovies—smaller fish that pack a serious nutritional punch without the higher mercury levels found in bigger species.
Alongside fish, I’m eating plenty of leafy greens—spinach, rocket, chard—and colourful vegetables like beetroot. They’re rich in vitamins (A, K, C), minerals, and antioxidants that support everything from circulation to digestion. To complement this, I’ve started experimenting with whole grains like couscous (spicy varieties are a favourite) and plan to branch into bulgur, farro, and quinoa.
One of the most significant changes has been embracing high-phenolic extra virgin olive oil as my main fat source. I drizzle it over salads, stir it into oats (strange but delicious), and use it to finish cooked vegetables. EVOO is the cornerstone of the Mediterranean diet, offering anti-inflammatory benefits and helping absorb fat-soluble nutrients.
Fermented foods have made an occasional appearance—like kimchi and non-pasteurized sauerkraut—though I’m learning to balance their bold flavours. And I’m adding whey protein blended with coconut milk into my routine, especially post-hike or as a quick breakfast, to keep my protein intake up.
In essence, this way of eating feels grounded and sustainable. It emphasizes:
Simple, minimally processed foods
Plenty of vegetables and legumes
Healthy fats over refined oils
Seafood as a primary protein
Occasional fermented foods for gut health
Breakfast
Every morning I have a bowl of granola with dried fruit. Then I layer it with ground flaxseed, add walnuts, and slice in one banana. Sometimes I add a handful of blueberries if I can remember to defrost them the night before.
This breakfast is packed with nutrients and beneficial compounds. The granola and dried fruit provide complex carbohydrates and natural sweetness, while flaxseed is rich in alpha-linolenic acid (a plant-based omega-3), fibre, and lignans that support heart health and hormone balance. Walnuts add more omega-3 fats, magnesium, and polyphenols known to protect against inflammation. Bananas bring potassium and vitamin B6, supporting nerve function and energy metabolism. Blueberries are particularly high in anthocyanins and flavonoids—polyphenols linked to improved circulation, cognitive health, and reduced oxidative stress.
Every morning I also make myself a mocha coffee—well, it’s my version. I add 100% cacao. I’ve become addicted to it—it’s so tasty I have it every morning, sipping on it for about an hour.
100% cacao is rich in flavanols, especially epicatechin and catechin, which help support vascular health by improving blood flow and reducing inflammation. It also provides magnesium, iron, and antioxidants that contribute to better mood, focus, and overall cardiovascular resilience. Unlike sweetened cocoa powders, pure cacao offers these benefits without added sugar.
Training and Recovery Routine
Each day before training, I take a carefully balanced stack: vitamin C and zinc for immune support and to enhance collagen formation, collagen peptides to nourish joints and connective tissues, and creatine monohydrate to boost muscle energy and performance. Combined with plenty of mineral water, this routine supports recovery, resilience, and overall vitality—particularly valuable before slow jogging and sprint intervals. Taken about 45 minutes pre-workout, it helps prime my body for sustained effort while promoting long-term joint and tendon health.
I’m watching a lot of doctors and experts on exercise and nutrition on YouTube. I’m becoming more and more bombarded with videos talking about losing “belly fat.” I’ve never had a paunch, but the subliminal nature of these adverts and videos has made me want to fit in and lose belly fat anyway. I feel like I’m being left out—one of those needs from Maslow’s hierarchy: Belonging. So I’ve started working a little more on my abs. This doesn’t actually make you lose belly fat, but the constant messaging has somehow influenced me.
Kettlebell Exercises for Stability and Strength
Due to my chronic shoulder injury, I’m forced to exercise around it. I want to make slow jogging and sprinting my main exercise routine. But I’m also working on stability exercises with kettlebells. Here are the main kettlebell exercises I do.
Russian Twists
This exercise I do after some dynamic stretching of the core. I do a set starting with a 5 kg kettlebell, then in the next set, I move up to 12 kg.
Russian Twists primarily target the oblique muscles along the sides of your abdomen. They build rotational strength and stability, which is essential for keeping your torso steady while jogging and sprinting. A strong, stable core helps transfer power efficiently from your legs through your upper body, improving running form and reducing the risk of injury. The progression from a lighter kettlebell to a heavier one also challenges your balance and grip, further reinforcing trunk stability and control.
Suitcase Carry with Knee Raises
At first I just couldn’t understand how this has an effect on me, but I eventually realized it was a Farmer’s Carry mixed with the knees up, targeting the core. I start with 12 kg, then move to 20 kg, alternating the hand that holds the weight.
This exercise builds lateral core stability and grip strength while also improving balance. The suitcase carry challenges the obliques and deep stabilizing muscles to keep your torso upright as you walk. Adding knee raises forces your hip flexors and lower abdominals to engage, simulating the demands of running—where you’re constantly driving your knee upward while stabilizing your trunk. Alternating hands balances the load on both sides of your body, helping correct any asymmetries and improving coordination important for jogging and sprinting.
Around the World
I really like this exercise with the kettlebells. I start with 12 kg, then move to 20 kg, alternating from clockwise to anticlockwise.
Around the World challenges your entire core and shoulder girdle as you pass the kettlebell around your waist. The constant shifting of weight forces your deep stabilizing muscles—especially the obliques and transverse abdominis—to stay engaged so you don’t twist or lose balance. Alternating directions ensures you build symmetrical control and prevent overuse on one side. This movement also improves coordination and proprioception (your sense of where your body is in space), both of which carry over to running posture and efficient arm swing when you jog or sprint.
Suitcase Carry with Twisting Knees Up
This differs from the other exercise by bringing the knee up, then twisting your left leg past the right leg, like walking sideways. After about 3–4 steps, I alternate the exercise with the other hand holding the weight and the opposite leg raising and twisting.
This variation adds a rotational challenge to the traditional suitcase carry, making it especially effective for training the obliques and hip stabilizers. The twisting knee drive mimics the rotational demands of sprinting and directional changes, improving your ability to control torque through your midsection. It also engages the glutes and deep core muscles responsible for stabilizing your pelvis. Alternating sides ensures balanced strength, which helps prevent overcompensation and keeps your gait efficient during jogging or sprinting.
Step Ups
This is great for targeting the glutes. I do this exercise on a bench, which allows me to explode upwards. I perform it with or without weights.
Step Ups build powerful hip and glute strength, which are crucial for propelling you forward when jogging or sprinting. The movement closely mimics the driving phase of running, where you push off and lift your body weight onto the next stride. Using a bench adds range of motion and forces more engagement from your posterior chain, especially when you focus on an explosive upward push. Performing them without weights helps refine balance and technique, while adding kettlebells increases resistance to develop strength and power.
Single Leg Romanian Deadlift
I really like this exercise. I start with 5 kg, concentrating on technique, then move up to 12 kg, and finally to 20 kg. Once I’m in the 20 kg set, I start to lose discipline, which is why I begin with 5 kg, trying to condition myself so I don’t make mistakes. This is challenging when going to the heavier weights.
Single Leg Romanian Deadlifts are excellent for building posterior chain strength—especially the hamstrings and glutes—while also demanding balance and core stability. This movement strengthens the stabilizing muscles around your ankles, knees, and hips, which helps protect against injuries common in running. The single-leg stance closely mimics the load transfer of jogging and sprinting, training your body to stay aligned as you shift weight from one foot to the other. Starting light allows you to focus on perfect form and proper hip hinging before adding heavier resistance, which is essential because technique tends to degrade under load.
Reverse Lunge
I start with 5 kg to focus on technique, then move to 12 kg. I’m slowly working toward 20 kg, which is difficult, so I do about six each side with the heavier weight.
Reverse Lunges are great for developing unilateral leg strength, balance, and control. Unlike forward lunges, stepping backward places less strain on the knees while still activating the quads, hamstrings, and glutes. This pattern trains the hip and ankle stabilizers essential for running and sprinting, especially when you’re changing pace or direction. Starting lighter allows you to perfect your movement mechanics and build confidence before progressing to heavier loads. The lower rep range with 20 kg ensures you maintain proper form under fatigue.
Squat
Same routine here—working on discipline and technique. I start with 5 kg with sole focus on technique. Then I progress to 12 kg, until the demanding 20 kg. Technique is everything, also breathing.
Squats are a foundational movement for building lower body strength, particularly in the glutes, quads, and hamstrings. They also engage your core and back to stabilize the spine. For jogging and sprinting, strong and well-controlled squats help develop the power you need to drive off the ground and maintain efficient running form. Focusing on technique at lighter weights builds the movement pattern safely and conditions your body to handle heavier loads later. As you progress to 20 kg, maintaining good form and controlled breathing is essential to prevent collapse through the spine or hips.
Kettlebell Swings
I love this exercise, but everything is about technique with this one. You must remember that you’re pushing with your hips and glutes, not your hands. I work on technique moving through the weights until I use the 20 kg kettlebell.
Kettlebell Swings are powerful for developing explosive hip drive, posterior chain strength, and cardiovascular conditioning. The movement trains you to hinge properly at the hips while keeping your spine neutral—skills that directly translate to stronger running mechanics and better posture. Focusing on the hip and glute thrust ensures you’re generating force from your largest muscle groups instead of relying on your arms. Progressing gradually through the weights allows you to refine timing and control before handling the 20 kg load.
Deadlifts
I also sometimes do deadlifts with the 20 kg kettlebell. Not always though, because the weight is not heavy enough to really get the effects, so it’s an aerobic deadlift routine.
Deadlifts build strength through the entire posterior chain—the hamstrings, glutes, lower back, and upper back—all critical muscles for running power and stability. Using a lighter kettlebell turns the movement into more of a conditioning exercise, keeping your heart rate up while reinforcing proper hip hinging and posture. Even without heavy loading, performing controlled repetitions improves muscular endurance and reinforces the pattern of driving through the hips.
Farmers Carry
I use 20 kg and 12 kg kettlebells, alternating arms, and do multiple sets. I carry the weight for about 2 minutes per set, switching arms, for 2–3 sets.
Farmers Carries are a simple but highly effective exercise for building total-body strength and core stability. Holding a heavy kettlebell challenges your grip, shoulders, and traps while forcing your obliques and deep core muscles to keep your torso upright. The extended time under tension builds endurance and reinforces proper alignment—key for maintaining good posture when running. Alternating arms balances the load across both sides of your body.
HIIT
I do all these exercises routinely, but then sometimes I combine a subset of them for HIIT. I also include a dance routine for 5–7 minutes that is actually a bunch of exercises that blows my heart out of my chest—the aim being exactly that. The dancing has moves like base rotations and other explosive patterns, just like a sprint.
HIIT—High-Intensity Interval Training—combines short bursts of very hard effort with brief recovery periods. This approach has been shown to improve cardiovascular fitness, boost VO₂ max, increase metabolic efficiency, and train your body to clear lactate faster. By using kettlebell exercises in a HIIT format, you get both strength and aerobic benefits in a compressed timeframe. The dance routine adds an element of agility and coordination while elevating your heart rate to near-maximal levels, mimicking the demands of sprinting. These explosive movements build fast-twitch muscle fibres, improve reaction time, and enhance your ability to sustain powerful efforts.
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