MS Fighter

Most people run form pain. I’ve learned to walk straight into it. Because the truth is—pain isn’t just part of this life with MS…it is the life. And if you don’t learn to work with it, respect it, even sharpen yourself against it—it’ll break you. 

I’ve been there. Those nights where it feels like electricity is crawling through your muscles. That deep, dragging fatigue that feels like your body’s been filled with wet concrete. The stiffness, the spasms, the nerve pain that flares up without warning—like your own body is playing Russian roulette against you. But pain taught me more than any doctor ever has. It became my compass, my coach, my call to level up. In the gym, pain tells me when I’ve pushed hard—and when I’ve gone too far. At home, it reminds me that even when I’m not at 100%, I still have fight in me. It’s made me more aware, more in control, and more ruthless about protecting my energy. Pain has shaped the man I’ve become. And I wouldn’t trade that for comfort. Not now. Not ever. This post isn’t about victimhood. It’s about power It’s about flipping the script on pain—and using it to get stronger.

Let’s get into it.

Pain as Feedback. Not the Enemy.

Pain gets a bad rap. People talk about it like it’s the villain in the story—something to silence, numb, or run from. But this is all wrong. Pain is intel. It’s your body trying to communicate. Especially with MS, pain is a constant presence—but not always in the same form. Sometimes it’s a dull ache. Sometimes it’s lighting through the spine. Sometimes it’s fatigue so deep you feel it in your bones. And indeed, it sucks. But the moment I stopped seeing it as punishment and started treating it as feedback—everything shifted. Pain became my coach. It started teaching me how to train smarter, not harder. When a certain lift triggers nerve pain, that’s not weakness—it’s a signpost. Adapt. Pivot. Grow around it. When fatigue crashes in after a full day—it’s not a failure. It’s data. It’s information about what you need to shift in your recovery, sleep, or training split. Pain even sharpened my discipline. It forced me to check my ego. No more chasing PRs when my nervous system isn’t on board. No more pretending I’m invincible. Pain keeps you honest. It’s a brutally clear mirror. And if you’re man enough to face it without flinching—it’ll teach you more about your body, your limits, and your strength than any “feel-good” moment ever will.

So no—I don’t hate pain. I listen to it. I learn from it. And I let it shape me into someone who doesn’t need comfort to stay committed.

Physical Pain Sharpens Mental Fortitude.

You can’t build a sharp mind in a cushioned life. And you sure as hell can’t face something like MS without learning how to suffer with purpose. Here’s what I’ve learned so far…Every moment of physical pain is an opportunity to train your mindset. There’s a moment—mid-set, mid-spasm, mid-battle—where the average person folds. But you? You breathe deeper. You get focused. You go inward instead of giving in. That’s where toughness is forged. The gym taught me this first. Grinding through a heavy deadlift when your legs feel numb? That’s mental steel. Dragging yourself to stretch or do mobility work when all you want is the couch? That’s discipline in its purest form. Indeed, MS pain doesn’t just test your limits—it carves new ones. The more I pushed through pain (with respect, not recklessness), the more I noticed something wild—I stopped being afraid of it. That fear of flare-ups, the worry about how I’d feel tomorrow—it didn’t run the show anymore. Because pain became part of the plan. Expected. Managed. Owned. It’s not about “no pain, no gain.” That’s ego talking. It’s about facing pain head-on, learning from it, and letting it make you mentally indestructible. Pain sharpens you—if you stop running from it. You stop flinching every time life hits back. You stop hesitating when the path gets steep. Because pain isn’t the end of your strength. It’s where it begins.

Embracing Discomfort. Growth Lives There.

Comfort doesn’t make killers. Discomfort does. And if there’s one universal truth in building strength—at the gym, with MS, in life—it’s the following.

The growth you want is sitting just past your comfort zone.

Look—MS already throws discomfort at you. Numbness, tightness, fatigue, pain. But instead of avoiding it or waiting for it to go away, I learned something different—lean into it. Invite it. Make it your training partner. Because discomfort is a weapon if you know how to hold it. I use it everywhere:

• Cold exposure. Not because it’s trendy, but because it puts me face to face with discomfort on my terms.
• Training with fatigue. Not recklessly, but intentionally, knowing I’m forging mental grit with every rep.
• Pushing when I don’t feel like it. Not to prove anything to anyone, but to remind myself who the fuck I am.

The moment you stop fearing discomfort and start seeking it, your life changes. You realize how much of your suffering came from resisting pain—not the pain itself. And with MS? That mindset flips everything. Instead of thinking “Why me?”—you start thinking “Watch me.”. And I’m not saying every day should be a war. But you’ve got to stop waiting for perfect conditions. Start stepping into the storm, because the storm is where strength is born. Yeah, comfort is nice, but I personally don ‘t trust it. Give me discomfort—give me that raw, honest space where I can earn something real. Because that’s where the work happens. And that’s where fighters are made.

However, there’s a fine line between being a fighter and being a fool. And MS doesn’t care how tough you think you are—if you ignore your body too long, it’ll remind you who’s the boss. Thus backing of should be considered a strategy, not weakness. And knowing when to push, and when to pull back, might be the most underrated strength a man can have. Early on, I used to think I had to train through everything. Pain? Push harder…Fatigue? Suck it up… Brain fog? Too bad—show up anyway. And yeah, that mentality gave me grit. But it also nearly burned me out. Because MS isn’t just about what you can push through—it’s about what you can manage, adjust, and survive long-term. Now? I’ve got rules. Boundaries. And more respect for my body than ever before. When the fatigue is crushing, I swap strength day for mobility. If the pain’s sharp and persistent, I adjust form, drop the weight, or skip the lift entirely. When I’m foggy or emotionally drained—I walk, breathe, stretch, recover like it’s a job. Because here’s what I know now:

Resilience isn’t about never breaking—it’s about knowing when to pull back so you don’t.

I don’t train to impress anybody. I train to be here—strong, functional, and dialed in—for my wife, my kid, my life. Fighters rest between rounds. Warriors sharpen the blade, they don’t run in dull. And in this fight with MS, rest is a tactic. Recovery is a weapon. You either learn that, or you learn the hard way.

Strength Forged in Fire.

This journey—with MS, with training, with life—it’s not clean. It’s not polished. It’s not some Instagram highlight reel. It’s raw. It’s unpredictable. It’s damn hard. But that’s what makes it real. There was a time when pain scared me. When fatigue felt like failure. When I thought strength meant never showing weakness. Not anymore. Now I know strength is built in the shadows. In the quiet moments when no one’s watching and you choose to move anyway. When you feel like hell but still step under the bar. When you’re knocked flat but find a way to rise. This blog, this mission, this life—it’s not about being fearless. It’s about being relentless in the face of fear. MS will try to take your fire. It’ll come for your energy, your clarity, your pride. But it can’t touch your spirit unless you hand it over. And I don’t hand it over. I train. I fight. I rest when I must, but I never quit. And I share this—all of it—because I know there’s someone else out there feeling that same weight. And if you’re reading this, maybe that someone is you. This life isn’t for the faint of heart. But if you’ve got the guts to lean into the pain, use it, learn from it—you’ll come out harder, smarter, and stronger than you ever imagined.

Feel the fire. Embrace the suffering. And use it—every damn drop—to become who you were born to be. You’re not broken. You’re being built. Let’s keep building.