Learning to Listen: My Ongoing Cycle of Recovery and Progress

Finding Your Cycle of Progress

For most of my life, progress meant pushing harder. More miles on the road, more weight in the gym, more sweat, more grind. I grew up in endurance sports and even ran Ironmans — I thought effort alone would fix everything.

Then my body broke down.

At one point, I could barely walk. I ended up in the ER where they offered me OxyContin, which didn’t fix anything and left me feeling more hopeless. Over the years I tried it all: plasma and PRP injections, chiropractors, massages, dieting, stretching, lifting, even sitting down with surgeons (but I could never pull the trigger once I learned how mixed the success rates were). Each thing gave me a little relief, but nothing ever held.

It took me a long time to realize: progress doesn’t come from doing more of one thing. Progress comes from rhythm, from balance, from cycling through different states of movement and recovery.

I call this my cycle of progress — and it’s the only thing that’s consistently helped me move forward.

Why Cycles Matter

Our bodies are designed to adapt, but if you overload any single stress — whether it’s lifting, stretching, running, or even resting too much — you eventually hit a wall. Muscles tighten, fascia stiffens, joints wear down, energy dips.

But when I started moving through a full cycle of activation, release, synchronization, and rest, things shifted. It wasn’t immediate, and I still have setbacks, but my body feels more resilient, and the flare-ups are less intense.

Think of it like crop rotation in farming: the soil stays fertile when you change what you plant. Your body is no different — it needs variety to stay strong, adaptable, and pain-free.

The Four Phases

1. Movement & Activation

This is where strength and coordination are built. For me, this used to mean grinding through 20-mile runs. Now it means something more intentional: simple bodyweight work, mobility drills, and focused activations that wake up muscles I haven’t used in decades.

I’ve learned the hard way that when I push too fast or overload, I go backward. But when I spend time here, slowly rebuilding patterns of activation, my body feels stable and strong.

2. Decompression & Fascial Release

This is often where I have to start when pain flares up. Foam rolling, stretching, hanging, or even just lying on the floor with my breath focused into tight areas. Years ago, my chiropractor recommended a compression belt, and it’s been worth its weight in gold — especially for long flights, car rides, or days in the office I couldn’t avoid. That little bit of support gave me stability when I didn’t have it myself.

The foam roller has been another surprising teacher. Sometimes I’ll roll the same spot for weeks with no change, and then suddenly I’ll shift slightly and feel fascia release in a new place — above my knee, in my tricep, somewhere I never expected. These small discoveries remind me my body is constantly shifting and changing.

3. Synchronization

Humans are meant to move rhythmically, to coordinate chains of muscles and fascia working together. I used to think this meant I had to be running or cycling — but it doesn’t. At a minimum, it means walking.

Some of my best days are simply when I walk. Walking integrates my breath, posture, and gait in a way no isolated exercise can. Swimming has been another powerful tool — waking up dormant muscles, loosening chains that ripple through my body, and letting everything “talk” to each other again. It’s not about training hard, it’s about reconnecting.

4. Breath & Rest

This was the hardest for me to accept. As someone wired to push, I always thought “rest” was wasted time. But I’ve come to see it differently.

Sometimes what my body needs most is to lay on my side and just explore my breath. Inhaling through my nose into my upper or mid-back. Feeling expansion in different parts of my torso. Not forcing breath into tight areas, but noticing where it can flow. Other times, I simply need to step away from movement altogether and sleep.

Progress doesn’t stick unless you absorb it. Breath and rest reset my nervous system and let all the activation work actually take root.

How to Apply This Cycle

At a minimum, I’ve learned I need to touch all four of these phases every other day. Some days I lean more into decompression, other days I’m ready to push more into activation or synchronization. The balance shifts depending on my body’s signals — and that’s the point.

The cycle teaches me to listen, to adapt, and to stay in rhythm.

The Payoff

This isn’t a quick fix. I know I’ve run millions of steps and hours on a compromised body, and reversing that is going to take time. But when I honor this cycle, I notice:

• Less nagging pain and fewer flare-ups

• More energy in daily life

• A deeper connection between body and breath

• Confidence that I’m not just surviving, but gradually rebuilding

Most importantly, I’ve stopped chasing the next “cure” or miracle solution because I’ve learned the hard way around people who overpromise and underdeliver in this space. Instead, I’m building a framework for myself through exploration, one I come back to again and again. One that’s not about pushing harder, but about making steady, sustainable progress.

This is my cycle of progress. It’s not perfect, and I’m still learning every day — but it’s the only thing that’s carried me forward.