MS Fighter

We live in the world that worships the grind. Push harder. Training longer. No excuses. That mindset can build monsters—but it can also break them. Especially if you’re living with MS. For guys like us, the grind doesn’t just mean sore muscles and sweat. It means risking flares, frying our nervous system, and waking up feeling like we got hit by a truck—just for doing one more set. Thus, the following should come to your mind:

You don’t get stronger by training harder every day. You get stronger by knowing when to pull back.

But that’s hard to accept—especially as a man. We’re wired to equate rest with weakness. We feel guilty for taking a step back. We confuse fatigue with failure. But MS changes the rules. And the men who last—the ones still fighting years into this diagnosis—aren’t the ones who go all out 24/7. They’re the ones who train like tacticians, not adrenaline junkies. They’re the ones who know that rest isn’t retreat—it’s reload. This post isn’t about slacking. It’s about learning the discipline of knowing when to pause, so you can come back stronger—and stay in the fight for the long haul.

What Deload Is. And What It’s Not.

Let me put it plainly. A deload is not taking a break. It’s not losing your edge. And it damn sure isn’t slacking off. A deload is a strategic reset—built into your training plan like an armor. Not for when things fall apart, but to make sure they don’t. You know how you tune a car engine before race day? You don’t just slam the gas and hope for the best. You fine-tune. You recalibrate. You respect the machine. That’s what a deload is. It’s the mechanic’s work. The recalibration. The sharpening of the weapon—not the swing of it.

For most people—especially those with MS—a deload week looks something like this:

• Drop the intensity: lift at 50-60% of your usual weights
• Cut back the volume: fewer sets, fewer reps, more focus on movement quality
• Scale your schedule: instead of 5 heavy sessions, maybe it’s 3 light sessions and 2 mobility days
• Swap grind for restoration: breathwork, sauna, cold exposure, stretching
• Lower the CNS stress: ditch max-effort lifts and ego-driven reps

It’s not being soft. It’s not you getting lazy. It’s not cheating on your routine. And no, it won’t undo your progress. In fact, you’ll grow faster because of it. Progress doesn’t happen during the lift. It happens during recovery. But recovery without structure is just rest. And rest without purpose leads to atrophy—mentally and physically. A deload isn’t passive. It’s tactical. It’s part of the discipline. Not a deviation from it. I’ve seen too many guys burn out trying to prove something—to themselves, to the world, to the mirror. And with MS, that burnout can knock you down for weeks. I used to treat deloads like defeat. Now I treat them like a weapon. Because knowing how to train hard is one thing. Knowing when to hold back so you can training longer—that’s mastery.

Why MS Fighters Need Deloads More Than Most.

Here’s the uncomfortable truth most guys won’t face…MS doesn’t care about your motivation. It doesn’t care how hard you train. It doesn’t care how many reps you crushed last week or how clean your macros were. MS plays by its own rules—and the price of pretending otherwise? Burnout. Setbacks. Flares. And full-on crashes that can wipe you out for days or weeks. That’s why deloading isn’t optional for us—it’s an act of control in a life filled with unpredictability.

Indeed, neurological fatigue is your hidden enemy. This isn’t just muscle soreness. It’s not I’ll be fine by morning. MS hits your central nervous system—the engine behind every move you make, every rep you push, every drop of sweat you earn. When your CNS is already under constant attack, you can’t afford to treat training like a punishment. You have to train like a tactician. Because when you push past the red line too often, you’re not getting stronger—you’re digging a deeper hole. And trust me, I’ve been in that hole. Crawling out of it takes longer than any PR is worth. The damage from overtraining with MS doesn’t always show up right away. It creeps in. Quiet. Sneaky. You start waking up foggy. Your legs feel like sandbags. That aggressive fatigue wraps around your spine like a weight vest you can’t take off. And suddenly, you’re questioning everything…Why I can’t train like I used to?…Am I getting weaker?…Is the disease winning?. No. You’re not broken. You’re just not programming like someone with a unique battlefield to navigate.

Look—anyone can push hard. But real fighters know then to pause, recalibrate, and come back sharper. They know that longevity beats intensity in the long game. They’d rather train at 85% for years than burn out at 110% and be sidelined for weeks. You’ve got one body. One nervous system. One shot at playing this hand smart. You can chase beast mode. Or you can evolve into the type of man who stays dangerous—because he listens to his body, not his ego.

How I Structure My Own Deload Weeks.

If you’ve followed me for any amount of time, you know I don’t skip training. But what I do skip is the lie that says more is always better. MS has humbled me enough times to know that training smart is training hard. That’s where deload weeks come in. Not as a backup plan, but as part of the strategy—baked into the system like armor plating on a tank.

1. Timing it right (training smarter, not softer)

For me, a deload isn’t a reaction to breaking down—it’s a pre-emptive strike to keep me from getting wrecked in the first place.

I shoot for a deload every 6 to 8 weeks, but here’s the real deal:
It’s not just the calendar—it’s the signals.

If I start waking up with:

• Lingering fatigue even after sleep
• Legs that feel like wet cement
• Trouble focusing during workouts
• A shorter fuse emotionally or mentally
  Then I know it’s time to throttle back—before I crash and burn.

2. How my deloads are built (strip it back, keep it clean) 

Deload doesn’t mean skipping the gym.
It means training with the brakes on—with intention and control.

Weights:
I keep the same lifts—compound and full-body focused—but drop the load to around 50–60% of normal.

No grinders. No PR chasing. Just smooth reps with locked-in form.

Volume:
I cut the sets in half. Maybe 2 sets per exercise, and no high reps. Just enough to move blood, stimulate the CNS gently, and reinforce patterns.

Pace:
Rest periods stay generous. No rushing. No metabolic work. I’m not here to sweat. I’m here to maintain.

Recovery Additions:
Deload week becomes a recovery week in disguise:

• Breathwork sessions after training or first thing in the morning
• Cold plunges daily (2–5 minutes) for inflammation and clarity
• Mobility drills, especially hips, shoulders, and thoracic spine
• Stretching or yoga, if I’m feeling stiff or cooked

These aren’t “add-ons”—they’re mandatory.
Recovery is the mission.

3. Staying disciplined without the dopamine

Here’s the truth: deloads are where your ego gets tested the hardest. No pump. No max-out sets. No mental high. Just you, the iron, and your discipline. It’s a week where you choose restraint over rush. Where you lead with strategy instead of pride. This is the week that separates the obsessed from the professionals. It’s where I remind myself:

“I’m not in this to burn bright for a year. I’m in this to stay dangerous for decades.”

That mindset shift? That’s the real training.

The Mental Grit to Actually Rest.

Deloads aren’t just about dropping the weight. They’re about carrying the discipline when there’s no hype, no PR, no adrenaline. Because here’s what no one tells you when you start training with MS…The hardest days aren’t the heavy ones—they’re the quiet ones. The ones where you could train harder…but shouldn’t. That’s when you face the real battle—you versus your own ego. You’ve been conditioned your whole lie to equate doing more with getting better. Push harder. Hustle harder. Outwork everyone. And when you get diagnosed with MS, that instinct gets even louder. You want to prove—to yourself and to everyone else—that you’re still strong, still capable, still the man. But the real strength is restraint. Not pulling 200 kg when you know your CNS is fried. Not chasing the pump when your body’s sending warning signals. That’s not giving up—that’s stepping up with intelligence.

Deload weeks are where you train something far deeper than muscle…patience…self-respect…mastery over impulsive action. Anyone can go hard when they feel good. But it takes real mental grit to step into the gym, stay light, move slow, and walk out with nothing but control in your pocket. Because you know what that does? It keeps you in the fight. Not for a week. Not for a month. For life. As a man with MS, you are walking a tightrope every damn day. Too much, too fast, too often—and you’ll feel it for days. The world might not see the cost. But you do. So when you choose to deload, you’re not being less of a man. You’re owning your responsibility to yourself, your body, and your future. You’re saying:

“I know when to push. And I know when to pull back because I want to stay dangerous, not just look it.”That’s mental toughness. That’s maturity. That’s what separates a fighter from a showman.

Rest Like a Warrior.

Most people think strength is forged in the grind. But the ones who last—the ones who keep showing up, year after year—know the truth…Strength is built in recovery. It’s not just about the muscle. It’s about the system—your nervous system, your mindset, your ability to stay in control when your body wants chaos. MS forces you to live on that edge daily. So deloads? They’re not just smart. They’re survival. They are the tactical pause before the next strike—not a surrender. Too many men burn out trying to be relentless. But I’m not here to burn. I’m here to endure. That means I rest with the same purpose I lift. I program my recovery like I program my squats—with intent, intensity, and non-negotiable follow-through. So if you’re reading this, fighting your own war with fatigue, brain fog, or that ever-present voice that says more is better—remember:

“It’s not the daily increase but daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential.” – Bruce Lee

The strongest warriors aren’t the ones who go full throttle all the time. They’re the ones who know when to slow down, breathe, rebuild… and come back even harder. Train smart. Recover hard. Stay dangerous. You’re not just lifting weights. You’re lifting yourself—through MS, through fatigue, through every doubt that said you couldn’t. Keep showing up. Even when the work looks like rest. Because that’s what fighters do.