I came home from coaching my son’s rec soccer game, ran up the stairs, and felt it instantly. My back seized and locked up. And then that sinking feeling hit right away: “Not again. I was doing so well.”
And I was doing well. This was about two years without a major flare-up — roughly four times longer than my average through most of my 30s.
If you’ve followed me for a while, you know I’ve dealt with low back pain for over 20 years thanks to congenital spinal stenosis and previous injuries. So I’ve gotten pretty good at reading the warning signs and knowing when I’ve pushed too hard. This time, I had noticed. I’d been careful. And it still happened.
But here’s what I want to share. When you’re in pain, or stuck, or feel like you fell off track — especially if it’s happened before — it is so easy to feel like this is how it’s going to be from now on. Forever.
I see it with my coaching clients all the time. People dealing with chronic pain or conditions like POTS or RA. But also people dealing with tendonitis, or a tough week at work that wrecked their workout streak, or a stressful stretch that pulled them off track with food. The thought sounds like: “Here we go again. I just can’t keep this up.”
But that’s not true. It just feels true in the moment. The evidence almost always says something different.
That’s exactly why we sometimes need help reframing our internal dialogue. Because left to its own devices, your brain will happily ignore every piece of evidence that doesn’t match the “I’m doomed” story it’s telling.
Here’s what I keep reminding myself — and what I’d tell you, too:
You’re more of an expert on your situation than you realize. By this point, you’ve found some things that help. Or, almost as valuable, you’ve found things that don’t help. Either way, the pool of unknowns is shrinking. That’s progress, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
For me, I know I need short, repeated bouts of gentle movement throughout the day to help manage pain and restore function. There’s no single “magic” exercise that fixes it, and what my body needs each day will vary — so I have to be patient while I figure out what will feel good today. Before, that uncertainty felt overwhelming. Now, I know I just need to go through the process.
Every flare-up teaches you something. Sometimes it’s physical — a movement to avoid, a movement that helps. Sometimes it’s mental — a story you keep telling yourself that isn’t actually serving you. Sometimes it’s simply more empathy for others dealing with chronic pain. Try to walk away from each setback with at least one new piece of the puzzle.
You can’t rush it. You can’t force it. This is the hardest one for me. I want a timeline. It gives me a sense of certainty and control when I’m feeling most vulnerable. But sometimes the most important step is surrendering to the process and refusing to pile guilt, fear, or anxiety on top of what’s already a tough week.
“Surrender” doesn’t mean “do nothing,” though. You can’t rush the process, but you can always find your Next Available Win — not the giant comeback, but the smallest meaningful step available to you right now.
Source: What a Back Flare-Up After Two Good Years Taught Me About Recovery