My training was a bit interrupted during the last few months of 2017. The day before posting my last update I came down with a urinary tract infection (UTI), which I am prone to because of my urostomy. It required antibiotics to subdue, and I had to take it easy for a week. Whenever I get a fever my nerve pain flares up very badly, so it was the least pleasant week in a long time. Since I no longer regularly experience strong pain, a flare-up was much more jarring than before. I am also much less heavily medicated than during the last one, which did not help. Still, it will be worth enduring worse pain occasionally if it means I can get by without medication.

I thought I was getting another UTI a while later, but either my body fought it off before it took over, or I just felt extra flat for a few days for some other reason. It meant a shorter unplanned break, anyway. Between the urological issues and some extra appointments, I only did the equivalent of three solid three-week blocks of training. Due to the shorter training cycles, I was also slightly more active than usual during my rest weeks. The temptation to cram as much into the year as possible was irresistible.

For the first two cycles, I went back to three identical days of resistance training a week, and continued to spend 30 minutes on the exercise bike before stretching on my off days. I suspect I could have managed this earlier in the year, although it might have been too much when training for five weeks straight. Most Saturdays I pedalled for 45 minutes instead of 30, which left me more wiped-out in the afternoon, but practically no worse than usual come Monday. I nearly talked myself into calling it quits a month early, but eventually decided to instead reduce the intensity of my routine, lose some weight before Christmas, and start tapering Lyrica again. I originally intended to do both at the start of 2018, but it seemed better to make a start while still active to help minimise muscle loss. The lower intensity meant I could decrease my caffeine intake, which, in combination with being exhausted from exercising, made it possible sleep okay while reducing medication. I am now down to 50mg in the morning and 75mg at night, and will attempt a final taper sometime soon.

I started cutting weight during my last rest week, and continued for two weeks after I was done for the year, so it only included three weeks of proper training. During this time I did a full-body workout in the morning on Monday and Friday, which consisted of the essential parts of my regular upper and lower body workouts. On Wednesday in the morning I just did high intensity interval training on the exercise bike, and one set for each leg on the reformer. On all three days I still did a long session in the afternoon, but this was mainly stretching plus a few dumbbell exercises, all done absent-mindedly while watching television. On the days in between I kept stretching and doing cardio.

The cut was my first extended one a long time. Since my hip replacement, I ate at a surplus whenever training, and then at a deficit during rest weeks. I also did a couple of two or three week cuts during my two longer breaks. This worked well, allowing me to always make the most of my workouts, while minimising fat gain. I was expecting my physique to be at its best yet after the cut, but when comparing the pictures I took most muscles looked no bigger than eight months ago. I suppose that is not surprising, since I did not increase the resistance for any weighted exercises, and focused mainly on improving range of motion and form. I looked bigger in the mirror, but I quickened my bulk slightly in the last half of 2017, so I might have put on more fat than I realised. It was a few weeks after I stopped training before I got around to taking the photos, and I only used creatine occasionally in that time, so maybe my muscles were just less pumped than usual. Not that it actually matters. Most of my recent improvements are not obvious from the angles I previously took photos from, but you can see here that my back is less bunched up and my shoulders are sitting better:

This next one has no before picture, so you will have to trust me that it is much better than eight months ago. (I remember years ago back in hospital I could not even touch my knees with bent legs.)

I exceeded my expectations at physio, where I added another thirty-five metres to my six-minute walk test, bringing my record up to 560m. The extra cardio was definitely worthwhile. If I cut down further to a ‘racing weight’, and continue regular cardio, I am now optimistic 600m will be achievable at some point in the future, even when turning around every 25m. More importantly, I finally got around to walking as far as possible again. I went four kilometres in forty-seven minutes! This was without stopping, apart from a few very brief pauses for traffic. Losing momentum made it harder if anything. My legs were not even fresh when I started. I rested the previous day in preparation, but apart from that it was straight after three weeks of training. I knew this would probably make the walk unenjoyable, but I did it anyway so I would be free to relax.

The first two kilometres were easy enough, but the last two were very unpleasant. My muscles tightened and fatigued, my pace dropped, and I became increasingly sore. This would have been less of an issue on a completely flat, uninterrupted path, but the unevenness when crossing streets and mounting footpaths really took a toll after a while. If fully rested I might have fared better, and in optimal walking conditions, I am sure I could last at least five kilometres without collapsing. Walking long distances will always be too taxing for it to be a practical mode of transportation, but it is nice to know that it is possible in a life-or-death situation. I was completely wiped-out for the day after finishing, but in the future, on flat ground, if I move at a slightly slower pace, up to three kilometres should be possible without sacrificing all my energy.

Although exhausting, it was a satisfying result, and with that, it was over. Rehab is done. That is not entirely true – I will continue to take some milder rehabilitative measures – but the obsessive, all-consuming Rehab of recent times is forever behind me. For this I am incredibly glad. These last few years have been trying to a greater degree than I have let on. I have been so singularly focused on exercising that there has not been room or time for much else. It is tempting to continue in this manner and finish with a thorough assessment of my progress, commenting retrospectively on what worked best, but that will have to wait for another time. I will probably be more objective once the dust has settled. Instead, in the spirit of full disclosure, I will now shift focus to some areas that have so far been secondary to my progress.

I have alluded to not feeling great before, but now that the tribulation is behind me, it seems appropriate to state in plain English that physically speaking, by the standards of an average healthy human, I have spent most of the last five years feeling utterly terrible. When asked questions such as “How are you?”, or “How have you been?”, I have interpreted them as “How has rehab been going?”, or “How are you, in comparison to when you were much worse?”. With this translation, my answer has usually been something like “Yeah, pretty good.” For I have continually improved, and it has always been easy to access a memory of feeling indescribably worse. The only way I have been able to move forward is by focusing solely on the positives. Over time, this has probably been slightly misleading of me, so I think it is worth setting the record straight.

After feeling transcendentally terrible in the aftermath of the accident, I felt far, far less terrible once I arrived at rehabilitation hospital, where working hard made things somewhat worse again. From there, exactly how terrible I felt fluctuated, with a gradual downward trend, so that after two more years, before the first of my more recent two operations, I felt far, far less terrible again. Compared to a year in hospital, life was really quite pleasant then. Hell has infinite levels, though; an unconditioned psyche would have despaired if suddenly placed in my body.

Each operation made things much worse for a while, until eventually, in the last quarter of 2016, not feeling terrible was finally an option for me. If I took it easy then, I probably could have spent most of my time feeling relatively reasonable. I was really good at feeling terrible by that point, however, so with the long term firmly in mind, one last dreary year seemed like the sensible option. I continued to work harder and harder, for longer periods than ever before, and let constant, nagging exhaustion replace pain as the main stressor for me to ignore. Working so hard for so long was taxing in ways working less hard with severe pain was not. Although life was infinitely more pleasant than when fighting off death in the intensive care unit, it was mostly far less enjoyable than the few milder months I allowed myself before surgery. Compared to the normal daily experience of someone in their twenties, it was simply torturous.

Feeling terrible for five years has certainly taken a toll. My mental health has deteriorated significantly, more so in the last eighteen months than the previous forty-two. With the isolated, self-absorbed existence required, my interpersonal skills have atrophied too. I can articulate myself well if I spend an eternity writing out my thoughts, but I usually have extremely limited bandwidth available for real-time communication. I was aware of the gradual decline in these areas, but every time I questioned whether I should let it continue, the answer always came back yes. For most of last year, after enduring hours of negative thought loops during my main workout days, I would fall into my recliner chair, begin dumbbell-assisted stretching, and, upon discovering improvements compared to even one day earlier, feel assured the suffering was all worthwhile.

Has the suffering been worthwhile? It is too early to say that with absolute certainty, but yes, I think so. Going into the future, the improvements I have made will allow me to do more with less pain. I should be able to be at least somewhat active without feeling too terrible too often. Furthermore, being far fitter will enable continued progress to a greater extent than if I scaled things back a year ago. In another five years time, the cumulative effect should leave me in a remarkably better place.

Although my internal state has regressed significantly to enable physical progress, I do not think there has been any permanent damage done. It will no doubt take a while for me to fully recover, but I am optimistic things will improve once I actually try to be happy. Between being grievously injured, heavily medicated, and pouring increasingly ridiculous amounts of energy into exercising, any sustained happiness has been impossible since the accident. Although my pain and physical health greatly improved, and I became far less affected by medication, all the gains from that were poured right back into rehab, and the end result was much the same. In recent times, with a life not consumed by fitness in sight, it was simplest to mostly let even momentary happiness fall by the wayside.

Overall, I managed to be as content as someone in my situation could be. Stoicism was the name of the game. Resigned to feeling terrible, I gleaned satisfaction from my progress, and, largely thanks to cannabis, was able to distract myself from my body and find enjoyment in some of the small things in life. But was I ever truly, lastingly happy in the way a person might normally try to be? Ha! Good one. That is not to say I went through many periods of feeling overly sad. There were some, but less than an outsider might presume. Most of the time I felt no strong emotions. I remained motivated to improve, but as the years passed by, it was increasingly the case that anything unrelated to rehab just sort of bounced off me without causing a flicker of response. Although undesirable, I considered this an unavoidable side-effect of making acceptable progress. My mental health was deemed unimportant, as long as I could still get out of bed and stick to my routine. It turns out years of tolerating strong pain makes it possible to endure much mental discomfort, and I was too numb for the sort of anguish that could actually disrupt my training. Numb, but determined. That is as accurate a summary of my mind-state during the last five years as any.

This will be the last of these updates for at least another year or two. I am glad to have kept a record of my progress, and it has been cathartic at times, but I have struggled greatly to find the energy to write them. In the last year especially, more than anything it has been a massive burden. I might try and write some other things, but I also might not do anything with this website for quite a long time. To provide a truly useful resource for others, I will need to create some accessible, video-rich tutorials to accompany the current walls of text. Doing this requires skills I do not have, and learning them will have to wait for now. I need to attend to the areas of life I have neglected since the accident, and it will also be good for my mind to have an extended break from scheming about optimal rehabilitation strategies.

Part of me wants to not even think about exercising for a good few months, but that would mean too many backward steps. After doing nothing beyond brief, gentle limbering for a few weeks, I have resumed the bare minimum amount of activity required to not lose significant fitness. That should provide greater well-being than doing nothing at all, and leave me with ample time free for other activities. In the last few years, I have been the most content during times of cerebral stimulation. With more pressing concerns, these periods have unfortunately been few and far between. (I soon lost momentum after my refreshing burst early last year.) I will now prioritise an occupied mind above all else, and thereby leave minimal space for mental agitation to occur. By leading a hermetic lifestyle a little while longer, and devoting myself to resuming the projects and hobbies I have neglected over the last eighteen months, it should be possible to break the negative thought patterns I have developed.

Compared to intense training, two months of that should make for a nice long holiday, after which I hope to be greatly revitalised. Then I will start working towards all the prerequisites to functioning independently. From my current position, that seems like a gargantuan task, but it should appear more achievable once I get started. I will also attempt to make some gains physically again, but in a much more relaxed way than before. At the very least I will work on my right leg, as it is still so weak despite slight improvement. I will acquire a proper vibration machine, and start experimenting with that. Ten minutes three times a week should be enough to assess its worth. Even if that turns out to be snake oil, conventional methods should still bring gradual results. The weakness in my right leg will probably be my main limitation from here, so any further improvement will be most welcome.

If necessary, I will be content not to progress in other areas until after I am a functional adult, but I hope to still improve the rest of my body too. Once the cumulative fatigue has fully dissipated, I should be able to resume a balanced whole-body routine. A routine that is more invigorating than none at all, with no resemblance to the draining drudgery I have endured. A routine that values time-efficiency, and leaves me able to attempt to lead a fulfilling life. A routine I will interrupt on a whim without feeling a shred of guilt, and take longer breaks from well before burnout becomes burdensome. A routine that does not require regular rest weeks or constant cannabis consumption to cope with.

Exactly what that will look like only time will tell. Initially, I will probably prioritise stretching, cardio, and mobility work, while including enough strength training not to regress. The reformer will take care of my lower body, and I might include some squats and lunges too. For my better half, I will continue a hybrid of basic bodyweight movements – mainly static holds and push-ups – and some of the dumbbell exercises I have found most useful. Eventually, once I have ironed out the remaining deficiencies in my upper body, it would be nice to get back to my roots and work towards some calisthenics goals again. I think a (wonky) L-sit should be theoretically possible, and I would like to be able to do ring dips and a few more advanced exercises with reasonable form too.

I am very proud of what I have achieved since the accident. Despite all the things thrown at me, I have done everything within my power to enable a satisfying life from here. Reaching this point took a heavier toll than I originally imagined, but I want to reiterate my optimism that things will improve tremendously from here. Finishing this post took longer than I planned, but now that it is complete, I am looking forward immensely to putting rehabilitation behind me. After all this time, I can finally move on, begin to reintegrate into the real world, and do my best to forget the last five years ever happened.