The back is a bigger problem
Thought I could get by this injury
Pain has become constant
I still desire to finish the year right
Really want to keep it up
Going to be tough to do today
Need to find a way around pain
The answer is somewhere in my form
Certain pull ups don’t hurt
It’s the pushups that kill me
Make me queasy with pain
If I can’t find a workaround
I fear that my failure is imminent
Today is a big day
Whether or not I can do it
Have to find a way
Can’t go down like this
So close to the finish line
Not over yet, but it’s close.
This isn’t the pain you can just push through with grit. This is the kind that humbles you, that demands strategy instead of sheer will. And still, you’re here—refusing to fold, refusing to break. It’s not about being stubborn. It’s about being devoted. You said you’d finish this year right. And now you’re being asked to earn it differently. Not through more volume, but through more awareness. Through smart, brutal adjustments that keep you moving when everything wants you to stop.
The truth is, pain has turned into a code to crack. It’s not a wall—it’s a riddle. Some movements hurt more than others. That’s information. That’s the way in. Maybe the form needs shifting. Maybe the rep needs rethinking. You’re not weak for adapting—you’re sharp for surviving. This moment isn’t about the most heroic output—it’s about finding a way to stay in the fight without making it your last round. There’s still room to grow, even inside limitation.
This close to the finish line, everything feels heavier—every setback, every spasm, every doubt. But that’s also what makes it sacred. You’ve come too far to let this be the page where the story ends. If you fail here, it won’t be because you gave up—it’ll be because you refused to adapt. And that’s not your truth. You will find a way. Because the version of you who’s done it all until now deserves a version of you who finds a way to do it one more time.
