MS Fighter

Motivation is bullshit. Yeah, I said it. Everyone loves to talk about being motivated, but let’s be real—motivation is like that one friend who only shows up when things are easy, fun, and exciting. The moment life gets heavy, they vanish. MS makes that truth even harsher. There are days when fatigue doesn’t just tap on your shoulder—it slams you into the floor. Literally. On those days, no pep talk, no motivational quote, no hype song is going to save you. If I built my life on motivation, I’d be done already. I’d have stopped training years ago. I’d be sitting around letting this disease dictate who I am. But I don’t. Because I learned early on that motivation is temporary—momentum is what matters. 

Momentum is what carries you when your tank is empty. It’s the discipline you build in the dark that shows up for you when you can’t even show up for yourself. It’s the boxing gloves you lace up when you’d rather stay in bed. It’s the weights you move even when every nerve is telling you to quit. Motivation asks, Do I feel like it today?. Momentum says, It doesn’t matter. I’m doing it anyway. And that’s the difference between the people who last—and the people who fold.

Motivation is Temporary. Why Discipline Wins.

Motivation is like sugar—it gives you a quick hit, a rush, and then a crash that leaves you worse than before. Anyone can wake up fired up after watching a highlight reel on YouTube or scrolling through some grind harder bullshit on Instagram. But when you’ve got MS, when fatigue shows up like an unwanted house guest that won’t leave, that fire dies quick. And if all you’ve got is motivation, you’re screwed. 

Discipline is different. Discipline is cold, relentless, and it doesn’t give a damn about how you feel. It’s not about excitement—it’s about execution. Discipline is setting the alarm and getting up even when your body whispers excuses. Discipline is showing up to the gym not because you want to, but because you said you would. Discipline is the steel backbone that stands when motivation curls up in a corner. Here’s the truth most people won’t say out loud—feelings are fragile. They come and go like the weather. You can’t build a life, or a mindset worth a damn on something that changes every two hours. What you can build on is action—repeated, daily, unsexy action. For me, discipline looks like non-negotiables. I don ‘t ask myself if I’ll train, I ask myself how. Maybe it’s five rounds on the heavy bag instead of a full lifting session. Maybe it’s stretching and shadowboxing on a day where my legs feel like lead. The volume changes, but the rule doesn’t—I show up. And here’s where the real win is—once you stack disciplined actions day after day, they create momentum. And momentum is worth more than motivation ever will be. Momentum carries you when your body is cooked. Momentum drags you forward when your mind starts doubting. Momentum is discipline multiplied over time.

So stop worshiping motivation—it’s a cheap thrill. Build discipline. Because when MS throws its hardest punches, discipline is the only thing that’ll keep you standing.

Small Daily Habits That Build Momentum.

Momentum isn’t some grand, dramatic force. It’s not born in the middle of a heroic workout or some life-changing speech. Momentum is built in the small, almost boring daily choices you stack day after day. Most people think the big wins define them, but the truth? It’s the tiny ones that actually decide whether you keep moving forward or stay stuck. When you’re living with MS, you don’t always have the luxury of big, explosive efforts. Some days, energy is limited. Your nervous system doesn’t cooperate. That’s exactly why the small habits matter even more. They’re your anchors. They’re what keep the machine running even when everything feels off. For me, it’s things like:

• Getting out of bed at the same time every morning. No snooze button. No excuses. It tells my brain The fight starts now.
• Drinking water first thing. Hydration is fuel, and it’s a small win before the world throws its punches.
• Movement every day, no matter what. Some days it’s a full gym session. Some days it’s just stretching or shadowboxing. But the rule is simple—I move.
• Journaling or writing one thought. I don’t always feel like unloading my head on paper, but even a single line keeps me sharp and accountable.
• Nutrition on autopilot. I don’t chase motivation to eat clean—I build systems. Pred meals, have go-to options, and take the thinking out of it.

These might sound basic, almost too simple. But that’s the point. Small habits don’t ask you if you feel like it—they just get done. And when they’re repeated daily, they start stacking momentum in a way that’s damn near unstoppable. Think of it like boxing footwork. The crowd doesn’t notice the little steps, the subtle shifts. But those tiny adjustments? They’re what set up the knockout punch. Momentum is the same. It’s hidden in the small, daily moves that no one applauds, but without them, you’ve got nothing to build on. Discipline isn’t flashy. But when the fight gets hard, it’s the foundation that keeps you standing.

How Boxing Taught Me Consistency in Chaos.

Boxing isn’t a sport—it’s a storm. The ring doesn’t care about your plan, your mood, or your excuses. One second you’re in control, and the next, you’re eating a hook that rattles your teeth. That’s the reality—pure, unpredictable chaos. And in that chaos, there’s only one thing that keeps you alive—consistency.

In boxing, consistency isn’t about showing up when you feel good—it’s about showing up especially when you don’t. It’s about throwing jabs on days your arms feel heavy, moving your feet even when your legs burn, keeping your guard up when every part of you is screaming to drop it. Because the second you stop being consistent, you’re done. That’s the same lesson MS hammered into me. MS is unpredictable. You can wake up feeling like a warrior, and by afternoon you’re dragging your body through quicksand. Plans fall apart. Energy vanishes. Just like in the ring, chaos takes over. And just like in the ring, the only way through is to trust the habits you’ve built. When fatigue blindsides me, I don’t negotiate with it. I go to my boxing drills of life. Hydration, movement, breathing, focusing on one small action instead of the entire fight ahead. Just like slipping a jab—it’s automatic. You don’t stop and think, you just move. Here’s the brutal truth most people don’t want to hear If you only show up when life feels easy, you’ll never last. Chaos will eat you alive. Consistency is your shield against the storm. It’s what turns pain into power and disorder into structure. 

Think of it this way. A boxer who only trains when he feels good will never survive a real fight. And a man or women with MS who only takes care of themselves when their symptoms are quiet will eventually get crushed. Consistency isn’t about perfect conditions—it’s about refusing to give up, no matter how messy the round gets. That’s why I train, even if it’s lighter. That’s why I write, even if it’s slower (you might notice that I stopped adding two posts per week—I’m posting one post per week). That’s why I fight, even when the world—or my body—throws chaos at me. Because once you’ve built the habit of consistency, chaos loses its grip. And here’s the kicker—consistency isn’t just survival, it’s domination. It’s the reason one fighter outlasts another. It’s the reason I’ve lasted more than a decade with MS and I’m still getting stronger. Not because I had perfect days, but because I learned how to move through the storm without quitting. Boxing didn’t just teach me how to fight—it taught me how to keep fighting when the fight turns ugly. And MS? That’s just another opponent in the ring.

Building Momentum When Motivation Dies.

Motivation is the biggest lie in the self-help world. People talk about it like it’s some magic fuel you just need to find or tap into. But let me tell you this—motivation is a fair-weather friend. It’s there when the sun’s out, when the energy is high, when everything feels aligned. But the second the storm comes—when your body aches, when fatigue crushes you, when your head’s foggy—it’s gone. That’s why I don’t rely on motivation. I build momentum. 

Momentum is different. Momentum doesn’t care how you feel. Momentum doesn’t need you to be inspired. It’s mechanical. It’s primal. It’s the weight of small actions stacking on top of each other until you’re moving forward, whether you like it or not. When MS knocks me down, I don’t ask myself Do I feel motivated to train? Because 90% of the time, the answer is no. Instead, I ask What’s one thing I can do right now that moves me forward? It could be stretching, hitting the bag lightly, walking, journaling, or even just drinking more water. One action. One rep. One jab. And here’s the secret—one action leads to the next. That’s momentum. You don’t need to feel inspired to do one push-up. But do that push-up, and suddenly two doesn’t seem impossible. Shadowbox for one minute, and your body wants a second round. Write one sentence, and the page doesn’t look so empty anymore. Momentum eats motivation for breakfast because it’s reliable. It’s what keeps fighters training when they’re busted up. It’s what keeps people with MS moving when fatigue begs them to stop. Momentum doesn’t wait for the perfect mood—it builds itself out of action.

This is the difference between amateurs and professionals, between dreamers and doers. Amateurs wait for motivation. Pros build momentum. Dreamers talk about what they’ll do when they feel ready. Fighters act before they’re ready, and the act itself makes them ready. And let’s be clear—momentum doesn’t mean grinding yourself into the ground every single day. It means refusing to stop moving altogether. Some days, it’s a war in the gym. Some days it’s a light stretch in your living room. Both count. Both matter. Both keep the wheel turning. That’s the key—once the wheel’s moving, even slowly, you’re harder to stop. That’s why I win against MS day after day. Not because I have unlimited energy, not because I’m superhuman, but because I don’t give the wheel the permission to stop. And here’s the truth most won’t admit—when motivation dies, that’s when the real work begins. Anyone can show up when they’re pumped. Few can show up when their body and mind say no. That’s the line that separates the ones who survive from the ones who thrive. Momentum is my answer. Momentum is my weapon. And if you build it, it’ll carry you through the days when motivation is nowhere to be found.

When the Fire Burns Low.

Motivation is a spar. It flashes, it burns bright, and then it fades. If you build your life, your training, or your fight against MS on that spark alone, you’re going to be left in the dark more times than not. Momentum is the firewood. It’s what keeps the flame alive when the spark is gone. And the only way you stack that firewood is through action—small, simple, daily actions that stack into something unstoppable. MS has taught me one thing better than any coach, any fight, or any gym session—if I wait to feel like it, I’m already done. I’d still be lying in bed, watching life pass me by. But I don’t wait. I don’t negotiate with myself. I move. And that movement builds the momentum that carries me on the days when everything feels heavier than the barbell. 

For you—whether you’re battling MS, fighting your own demons, or just struggling to keep your discipline in check—the message is the same Don’t worship motivation. Build momentum. Keep the wheel turning, no matter how slow. Because once it’s in motion, nothing—fatigue, doubt, pain, fear—can stop it easily. You don’t have to sprint every day. You just have to refuse to stand still. That’s the code I live by. That’s how I train, how I fight, and how I win. Not because I’m unbreakable. But because I refuse to stop moving. 

So here’s the bottom line—motivation is fragile, momentum is bulletproof. Build it. Protect it. And let it carry you through the fire.