Rebuilding from the Ground Up: Redefining Progress and Rediscovering Strength During Recovery Letting Go of Old Metrics
Before my injury, tracking progress was straightforward. I saw it in heavier weights, higher reps, longer distances, and the euphoric feeling of a runner’s high. Fitness had tangible benchmarks—and I hit them consistently.
But with injury came a reset. Those familiar markers no longer applied. I wasn’t at the same level of physicality I once was, and comparing past wins to my current capabilities only left me frustrated. This shift is difficult for anyone, but especially for those of us who are competitive and used to pushing our bodies to the max.
I’ll never forget my first round of physical therapy. Just two weeks post-patellar dislocation, I attempted a full leg day. Yes, two weeks after fully dislocating my knee, I was doing three sets of Bulgarian split squats. The only concession I gave myself was lighter weight—but that wasn’t enough. I overstressed my meniscus, and after months of trying to push through the pain, instability, and frustration, my medical team brought up the idea of surgery.
Building a New Relationship with Movement
At 25, never having had surgery before, I was scared. My biggest fear wasn’t the procedure—it was how long I’d be sidelined. I kept asking:
Am I pushing hard enough in PT?
Will I be stronger post-surgery?
If I go through with this, how much longer will I be out?
None of those questions acknowledged the reality: I had a major injury, and proper healing—both pre- and post-surgery—takes time, discipline, and grace.
If you're struggling with guilt about slowing down or not "doing enough," I get it. I had to sit down and have a real conversation with myself: If you move forward with this, you have to accept that your focus is no longer performance—it’s healing.
And that shift? It was humbling. I missed the challenge, the burn, the emotional release of a hard workout. I was over the never-ending upper body days. I wanted to feel my legs work again. But I couldn’t force it. Instead, I had to rebuild, mentally and physically.
Journaling and working with my therapist helped me shift perspective. I started asking my PT team to show me more approved exercises and stopped obsessing over my old programs. We got creative. I discovered that glute- and hamstring-dominant movements were much harder than I thought. Focusing on balance and the surrounding muscle groups brought joy back into training.
With time, I could increase duration, reps, and weight. Slowly but surely, I began to feel like myself again—but in a new way. One that wasn’t rooted in comparison or pressure.
The Role of Patience and Trust
Ever hear a therapist say, “Do as I say, not as I do”? That was me—giving good advice to others but struggling to take it myself. My real turning point came when I asked myself:
Is it really a win if I crush a leg workout, but I'm in pain for a week?
What if I push past rehab and re-injure myself?
I didn’t want to live in that cycle anymore. I wanted long-term strength, not short-term ego wins.
So I leaned into trust—trusting my body, trusting the rehab process, and trusting the professionals guiding me. Reflecting on my fitness journey over the last four years wasn’t discouraging anymore. It reminded me of what I’m capable of. Just because I’m not currently performing at that level doesn’t mean I won’t again. But I had to stop fighting reality. I had to stop being my own worst enemy.
I shifted my focus from personal records and heavy lifts to mastering recovery basics. I progressed from isometric quad sets, to single-leg lifts, to leg extension holds, and eventually to squats and light resistance biking. I went from thinking these movements were “lame” to realizing how much they exposed imbalances I’d ignored for years.
And don’t even get me started on Blood Flow Restriction (BFR) days at TCO—I walked out of there sweating like I’d just done a full-body circuit.
I realized I needed more than acceptance. I needed patience and a deep belief in the process. I’m not here to become who I used to be—I’m here to become someone stronger, wiser, and more in tune with what my body actually needs.
Stronger in More Ways Than One
If I hadn’t taken a deeper dive into my mindset, I’d still be sabotaging my recovery. I had to recognize how closely my identity and self-worth were tied to my physical performance. Letting go of that helped me truly heal.
Now, I see this experience not just as a personal turning point, but as something that will help me better support my clients. As a coach focused on mobility, recovery, and performance, I’ve always stressed the importance of prehab and rehab. But now, I speak from lived experience—one filled with humility, empathy, and hard-earned insight.
Progress isn’t always linear. Strength isn’t always visible. But growth? It’s happening—even in the smallest movements.
Written by Terrina White Jr.
