Using Setbacks to Spring Forward

I just experienced my first minor injury. A muscle strain. Nothing dramatic, but enough to stop me in my tracks and force me to step away from the gym for a few weeks.

If you lift, you know what that does to your head. You watch the calendar and you think about lost momentum. You are convinced you can see your hard earned gains slowly disappearing right in front of you. For someone who tracks progress (too) closely and thrives on putting the work in, being told to rest feels like punishment.

But I did not start bodybuilding thinking it was all going to be fun and games. I started because I wanted to play the long game, acquiring strength that lasts, and discipline that shapes character. I wanted to show others the beauty in committing to something that takes years.

But this type of long game, the one that includes pushing yourself to your limits on the regular, also includes knowing when to rest, when to show restraint, when to back off even if everything in you wants to push. It is trusting that doing less today protects more tomorrow. Even though it hardly ever feels that way in the moment.

There is something humbling about realizing your body sets the pace, not your ambition. I cannot outwork biology. I cannot negotiate with tissue that needs time to repair. So instead of chasing progress at the gym, I am choosing to work on something less visible: mental resiliency.

Can I sit with discomfort without spiraling? Can I stay disciplined without the dopamine of a workout? Can I trust that consistency over years matters more than three missed weeks?

The answer has to be yes. Bodybuilding, like any serious pursuit, demands patience and strategy. It demands the maturity to know when pushing harder is actually pushing backward. If I want to build a strong physique at fifty and beyond, I cannot treat my body like it is disposable. I have to treat recovery as part of the training plan, not an annoying interruption of it.

This setback is not the end of momentum. It is a test of whether I truly believe what I say about playing the long game.

I have learned over the years that true strength is often unseen. We can’t see it in the mirror and that makes it harder to prioritize in sports like mine. It is more about what we can quietly endure without losing perspective. What we can embrace uncomfortably at first, then come to realize were are better for having gone through it.

I know progress will come again. It always does for those who stay in the game long enough.