Day 44: A Morning of Pain, Patience, and Small Wins

A Morning of Pain and Delay

Today is Day 44, and the morning greeted me with a version of pain that felt almost personal. Yesterday’s jiu-jitsu session had already pushed the bruised rib past a safe threshold, and coupled with the weariness I felt, it was a reminder of the physical toll that this journey takes on one’s body. But waking up today… that was something else entirely. The pain was sharper, deeper, like a relentless reminder that I underestimated my body’s warning signs. Maybe I rolled onto it while sleeping, maybe I stretched wrong in the middle of the night. Who knows. All I know is I woke up feeling like a blade was lodged under my rib, a sharp intrusion that insisted on making its presence known throughout my day.

And to make things worse? I woke up late. Extremely late.

Just enough time to throw clothes on and run out the door without my usual morning routine of stretching and mindfulness. No cold shower to invigorate me. No morning ritual of brewing coffee to enjoy slowly. No grounding moment to set my intentions for the day ahead. I took the bus straight to school, ribs aching with every bump in the road, the discomfort reminding me of my physical limitations. On the way, I did my Wim Hof breathing, not out of discipline this time, but out of necessity. It was the only thing slowing the pain and letting me get through the commute without completely succumbing to the discomfort.

The whole morning was a blur of fatigue, soft frustration, and a dull throb under my chest that seemed to echo my exhaustion. It wasn’t dramatic, just heavy. The kind of day where all you want to do is escape your body and find solace somewhere else.

But as the day moved on, something unexpected happened: the pain started easing. Slowly. Subtly. To the point that I forgot about it here and there, which was a small miracle on its own. The body is a remarkable thing, full of surprises if you listen to it carefully enough.

The Day Unfolds Slowly, With Small Wins Hidden Inside

School was straightforward, with a light schedule, some supervision duty during the break, and plenty of time to work on exam prep and study guides. Since I finished my weekly prep over the weekend, the rest of this semester is mostly about building the revision structure, a scaffolding for my learning that will support me as I prepare for assessments. It’s tedious work but necessary, like laying bricks for a house you know you’ll eventually walk through. Each session of study is akin to crafting a solid foundation for what is to come. It requires care, attention, and thoughtfulness.

Then came one of the day’s highlights:

I got one free session in the morning, and somehow the timing aligned perfectly with the full Islam Makhachev vs. Madallina 5-round fight. For a brief moment, I felt anticipation replace the dull ache in my rib. My focus shifted from pain to excitement.

I watched the entire thing uninterrupted, almost like the moment was giving me a brief escape from the discomfort. It felt like a gift, a reminder of the passion that ignites my spirit even when my body falters.

Watching them reminded me of the next version of myself I’m working toward: the disciplined, sharpened, competitive version. Not for fame. Not for crowds. But for the honor of becoming someone who steps into the ring with purpose, one who can face challenges head-on without flinching.

Champions aren’t just built through hard work. They are shaped through consistency and mindset, with a deep understanding of their own limits and the courage to push beyond them. Seeing those fighters dominate in two different weight classes lit something up inside me, igniting a flame of desire to elevate my own performance to their level. I want that level of commitment. I want that level of mental steel.

Even if it’s amateur. Even if it’s just one fight. I want to earn that moment, to know that I stood for something larger than myself.

The Nap That Changed Everything

When school was over, I planned to head straight to the hospital for an X-ray. Logic said it was the responsible move, the prudent choice to ensure everything was okay. But hunger and exhaustion said otherwise, presenting an enticing alternative.

So I went home first.
Ate, savoring each bite with a mindfulness that seemed to bridge the gap between my body and spirit.
Closed my eyes “just for a bit,” allowing myself a moment of indulgence in the comfort of my own space.

And when I woke up… the pain was nearly gone, a short, unexpected break from the discomfort.

Not entirely, just a tiny pinch when applying pressure or twisting too far, but compared to the morning, it felt like night and day, a stark contrast that filled me with a sense of relief.

It was better than Thursday, better than yesterday.
That alone gave me a wave of relief I didn’t realize I needed, a reminder of the strength that lies in trusting my body’s healing capabilities.

So I made the call:
No hospital today. Give it time. Watch it. Let the body do what it does best, heal.

Choosing Recovery Over Ego

I skipped the wrestling and MMA sessions tonight.
Not proudly, but intentionally, placing my health above the desire to push through for the sake of ego.

Instead, I went for a 30-minute walk, allowing my body to feel the soothing embrace of gentle motion. Stayed mildly active as a means of honoring my body’s needs without overextending myself.
Did some school prep, meticulously working through my notes. Not everything got done, but enough to keep momentum alive, showing myself that I can be productive even in a state of recovery.
Then spent the evening eating well, nourishing my body with thoughts of healing and relaxation, and working gently on my blog, using my creative outlet as a form of therapy.

My rib barely bothered me by this point.
The boredom was louder than the pain, and honestly, that’s a win. I found comfort in simplicity, reveling in the mundane moments that often get overlooked.

I went to bed early, feeling strangely calm, as if the day had provided a clarity that quieted the noise in my mind.
No big achievements.
No intense training.
Just a day where my body showed me it’s trying to heal faster than I expected, a small kindness that deserves recognition.

And that’s something worth appreciating, a moment of stillness amid the chaos of life.

Lesson & Reflection

Day 44 taught me a quieter, more subtle truth:

Recovery isn’t passive, it’s intentional. It’s an act of discipline disguised as rest.

Sometimes the body heals fastest when we stop trying to prove we’re tougher than we are. Pain isn’t a weakness, it’s feedback. And listening to that feedback is its own form of strength, a journey toward understanding our limits.

Today reminded me that the grind isn’t only about pushing through resistance,
it’s also knowing when to pull back, reset, and prepare for the next climb, taking those moments to recalibrate our internal compass.

I’m learning that momentum doesn’t always come from intensity.
Sometimes it comes from patience, from allowing myself to be present in the moment.
From stillness, knowing that it’s okay to pause for reflection.

From letting the body repair so the spirit can keep going, allowing space for rejuvenation and growth. I’m not perfect. I’m not unbreakable. But I’m learning, and that’s enough, a gentle reminder that we’re all on our own journeys toward self-discovery. The grind continues.

👉 When your body starts healing but your mind wants to jump ahead too fast, how do you keep yourself disciplined enough to stay patient? I’m curious how you handle that edge between recovery and restlessness, finding balance amid life’s demands.