6 min read

Starting a Fitness Journey with Chronic Pain

For more than half my life, I told myself I was in too much pain to exercise. I recently decided that something had to change.
Starting a Fitness Journey with Chronic Pain
Photo by Sam Moghadam Khamseh / Unsplash

Pilgrimage of Pain

For more than half my life, I told myself I was in too much pain to exercise. Since some activities, like playing beach volleyball or surfing, would worsen my chronic back pain, I decided to exclude all physical activity from my life.

While my physical limitations are real, I recently realized how much I had overly protected my body, to the actual detriment of my well-being.

Backstory

Growing up, I was extremely active. I played football, baseball, and soccer, skateboarded, biked, surfed—you name it. As a freshman in high school, I was in peak physical shape, fresh off a successful football season. But after a routine stomach surgery, I woke up with severe back pain that never went away.

For the next 15+ years, I avoided almost all physical activity. Whenever I tried to play sports, like a pickup game of beach volleyball, the pain would be so bad afterward that I'd spend days in bed, regretting it. 

I convinced myself that avoiding all physical activity was the best way to manage my pain. My friends would go to the gym and join after-work sports leagues, but I sat out, believing my chronic pain wouldn’t allow me to participate.

I deprived myself not only of the physical, mental, and emotional benefits of exercise but also of the social aspect of these activities. Chronic pain is isolating as it is, but by overprotecting my back, I forced myself further into isolation and loneliness. 

Shortly after turning 30, I realized that protecting my back by avoiding physical activity wasn't sustainable. Our bodies can endure a lot of neglect in our 20s, but I knew this wouldn't last. My metabolism was going to catch up with me eventually! 

More important than staying slim, however, was being physically healthy enough to enjoy the life I wanted. I thought about my future as a husband and father, wanting to keep up with my kids and carry them around. Could I really be a supportive husband and engaged father if I let my body deteriorate? I decided it was time for a change.

A New Approach

I started physical therapy again, but this time with a completely different mindset. Instead of trying to eliminate my pain, my goal was to push myself as much as I could without significantly increasing my pain. 

I told my new physical therapist I wanted to focus on my entire body, not just core strengthening. We moved slowly, carefully monitoring my body and pain levels. I started with bodyweight exercises and gradually moved to weight lifting. Initially, I used machines to brace my back (which felt less intimidating) and eventually progressed to dumbbell and barbell exercises. 

I began going to the gym on days I wasn’t at physical therapy—a huge step, considering I hadn’t been to a gym since my high school football days. I had spent 15 years convincing myself that I didn’t belong at the gym, and I was initially intimidated and self-conscious. 

At every step, I feared my back pain would skyrocket, but it mostly stayed the same. I learned to be in tune with my body and what could start to increase my pain. For example, despite trying multiple variations, deadlifts will always increase my back pain. It’s not a debilitating increase, but it’s enough that I can’t complete my other exercises well. 

Eventually, I graduated from physical therapy and got a personal trainer at my local gym. Finding the right trainer took time, but I found someone with a solid understanding of physiology who helped me elevate my workouts and develop a consistent plan. 

It’s wild for me to look back at the progress I’ve made.

My personal record for squats is 155 lbs—not much by typical standards, but it’s a massive achievement for me. I remember the very first time I squatted just the bar (45 lbs) and was terrified I wouldn’t be able to walk the next day. Now, I can’t help but smile as I load up weights and slowly, very slowly increase my max lift.

However, my mental progress has been even more important than my physical progress. I have gained a new confidence not just in the gym, but in life as a whole. It’s incredible to prove your mind wrong when it’s so sure you can’t achieve something. Unlearning the lies I told myself about what I can and can’t do over the past 17 years has been the most valuable lesson I’ve learned in years. 

Lessons Learned:

1. The Human Body is Amazing

I was filled with doubts and fears when I started this journey. My chronic pain couldn’t let me imagine being the person who not only goes to the gym four times a week but who genuinely enjoys it!

There was a transformational moment early on when I was doing goblin squats at the gym. I was adjusting my form in the mirror when suddenly I got emotional just looking at my reflection. I never thought I could physically do what I was doing at that moment. 

It's incredible how much we underestimate our capabilities. This journey has taught me that our bodies and minds are far more resilient than we often give them credit for. 

If you’re dealing with chronic pain, know that you are likely capable of more than you ever thought possible. Work with a trained professional to help you take the first step and push through the fears and lies you've been telling yourself.

2. Slow and Steady Progress is Key

In the past, I would go all in and quit when my pain increased. This all-or-nothing mindset hindered my progress for years. This time, I approached my fitness journey with patience and caution. Instead of aiming for drastic changes, I focused on consistent, small improvements. 

Of course, I’d love to be able to squat 250 lbs. I’m a long way from that at 155 lbs, but less than a year ago, I was only squatting 45 lbs! I take progressive overload much more cautiously than the average guy in the gym, but I’m still always progressing. It might be only 5 lbs every other week, but it’s progress! This methodical approach has allowed me to make steady progress without increasing my pain. 

Remember, slow and steady truly wins the race, especially when managing chronic pain. It’s better to move slowly and consistently than to rush and risk injury or burnout.

3. Embrace Small Wins

Fitness isn't a zero-sum game, and neither is managing chronic pain. I used to believe that if a treatment didn’t completely eliminate my pain, it wasn’t worth pursuing. This mindset kept me from experiencing even minor improvements. Now, I celebrate every small victory. Just like aiming for 5% more strength each month, I also appreciate any reduction in pain, no matter how slight. This shift in perspective has been transformative. Instead of focusing on what I can’t do, I now focus on what I can achieve, no matter how small. These small wins add up over time and make a significant difference in our overall well-being.

What's Next?

Over the past year and a half, I've focused primarily on strength training. The next step will be incorporating cardio workouts. I have all of the same internal fears that running or cycling with dramatically increase my pain. I plan to apply the same cautious approach, starting slowly with professional guidance.

Final Thoughts

Starting a fitness journey while living with chronic pain is challenging, but it's possible with the right mindset and approach. I'm excited to continue pushing myself and discovering my physical limits. Now that I’ve seen how much progress I can make when taking small, careful, but very deliberate steps forward, I feel confident applying this strategy to any area of my life!

I hope my story inspires you to rethink your own self-imposed limitations and take small steps toward a healthier, more active life.

Of course, a post like this wouldn't be complete without a gym selfie...

Through this newsletter, I plan to dive deeper into my story of chronic pain and share the hard lessons I've learned.

Whether you are currently grappling with chronic pain, supporting someone on their journey, or facing hardships in other facets of life, I'd like to join you as a fellow pilgrim to help you find hope and purpose.