From the Floor to 5K: What Recovery Taught Me About Life and Work
You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. I’ve thought about that line more times than I can count over the last 18 months, as I’ve slowly clawed my way back from a back injury that floored me — literally.
Much of 2024 was spent in pain. I lost the ability to sit, stand, sleep, walk. Everything I once took for granted was gone, and it tested every ounce of my patience and resilience. But the moment I could move again, I made myself a promise: never again. I’d never let things get that bad again — not if I could help it.
So I started walking. Just five minutes around the block at first, every step excruciating. Over six months, I built it up, slowly. The pain didn’t ease until I was a full year post-injury. I added physio. Bird dogs. Dead bugs. Clams. Side leg lifts. For a while, I joined a posh health club for gentle swims and long saunas. And slowly, I rebuilt my mobility and strength. That simple routine became a lifeline.
By December, I was back at my usual gym. Making progress, inch by inch. Now, seven months on, I’m going three times a week. Lifting heavier. Feeling stronger. And today marked a milestone I never thought I’d reach again: I went running.
Not fast. Not far. Just three-minute intervals, five times, with breaks in between. But still. I ran. I felt the pavement beneath my feet, my breath in the cool morning air, a banging soundtrack in my ears. And it felt epic.
Getting here has taken hundreds of tiny wins. It hasn’t been smooth sailing. If you’d told me a year ago I’d be running again, I would’ve cried with relief. Because that’s the thing about recovery: it’s not linear. It’s never guaranteed. But it is possible — with patience and determination.
Too many people give up when the going gets tough. And I get it — it’s hard. It’s lonely. Progress can feel invisible. But I’ve always been the kind of determined puppy who cracks on. I don’t see obstacles. I see problems to solve. I figure out what needs to happen, and I make it happen.
Getting to this stage has taught me something else, too — it’s a metaphor for life and work. Want to run a 5K? You’ve got to lay the groundwork. Build strength. Learn to warm up and cool down. Stretch. Fuel your body. Walk first. Move well.
And the same goes for building anything meaningful.
Want to build something like Creative Boom? It’s not going to be an overnight success. It’ll take years. Grit. Consistency. The ability to show up when no one’s watching. Tiny steps, every day. That’s how you build something that lasts.
You want something? Then it’s down to you. Show up. Do the tiny things. Keep going.
And trust that even the slowest steps can carry you somewhere extraordinary.