I breathe
to slow down my thoughts.
Around me,
noises rise and fall—
different levels,
different tones.
I close my eyes
to see my vision,
to remind myself
of who I am
and why I am here.
I stand in the middle
of a spinning universe—
different directions,
different rhythms,
different tones.
And still, I stand.
I breathe.
I close my eyes.
I am the universe within the universe.
I choose my pace.
I choose my path.
I choose my tone.
And I take
one deep breath.
We are like two crazy people, playing with the fire of passion.
There’s this constant tug of war, the teasing whenever time allows, and somehow, in those moments, we live in a world of our own.
The restrictions and the lines are vividly drawn. We know exactly where they are. And yet, within our words and the moments we share, there is a certain freedom.
Maybe it’s simply an acknowledgement and acceptance of what is, what could have been, and what should never be.
Still, here we are—two crazy people, playing with fire.
A month ago, I sat in a cold clinic room, waiting. I had just finished an hour-long EMG test—a grueling experience that felt less like a medical exam and more like a slow form of torture.
When the specialist finally spoke, the news was heavy: Grade 3 Carpal Tunnel Syndrome in my right hand, and Grade 2 in my left.
Usually, Grade 3 is a direct ticket to the operating table. But then, the doctor paused, looking puzzled.
“In most cases, we suggest surgery for Grade 3,” he said. “But in your case, we’re opting for a steroid injection first. You still have full motor function. No muscle wasting, no loss of strength in your thumb. Honestly… we’re wondering what you’ve been doing to protect your hands. Most people at this stage have already lost their grip.”
I answered calmly: “I do strength training. I lift heavy with a coach.”
A Shield, Not a Cure
It is important to be clear: strength training didn’t “cure” my Carpal Tunnel. The sensory damage—the numbness that started last September—is real. It’s right there on the EMG. But what the iron has done is provide a biological shield.
Nineteen months ago, my coach Jonathan started me on a path of strict posture and heavy weights. Back then, it was about my knees—cartilage loss, edema, and cysts that made a simple squat feel impossible. Within a month, the pain was gone.
Now, that same commitment to strength is showing its value in my hands.
The Mystery of the Numbness
When the numbness started in my right hand last September, it didn’t fit the standard “profile” for Carpal Tunnel. My grip was strong. My hands were functional. In fact, I noticed something weird: the numbness actually felt better after I trained.
The EMG finally solved the mystery. While my sensory nerves were showing significant damage (the numbness), my motor nerves—the ones that control movement and power—were almost untouched.
The doctor’s advice was simple: “Continue what you are doing. It is slowing down the progression.”
The Critical Role of the Coach
I couldn’t have done this alone. When you are dealing with nerve damage or “nightmare” knees, you cannot afford to guess. You need a coach like Jonathan—someone who is “scary” about the details because he knows the stakes.
A great coach doesn’t just give you a workout; they provide the technical guardrails that allow you to lift heavy enough to stimulate growth without aggravating your condition. Jonathan’s insistence on perfect form is the reason I can squat with no cartilage and grip a barbell with Grade 3 Carpal Tunnel. He didn’t just teach me to lift; he taught me how to protect my longevity.
Conclusion
Strength training is a tool for preservation, but only if executed with precision. It may not always reverse the clock or erase a diagnosis, but it can significantly slow the descent. By keeping the muscles around my nerves strong and my body active, I have turned a “surgical emergency” into a “manageable situation.”
We lift not just to get better, but to stay capable. If you are facing a “downhill slope” with your health, don’t just wait for the bottom. Find a coach who demands excellence, and build the strength to slow the slide.
Disclaimer :
Not paid just a believer
http://www.eleavatecoaching.be
Last night, I did my progressive test training — the test that almost every one of Jonathan’s ( you can follow him or check his ig profile jonathan_elevatecoaching) clients knows means living on the edge (and questioning life choices).
For the last 18 months, I’ve been grateful to have a coach who pushes me, lets me curse him, believes in me, and somehow still earns my trust that every week I am looking forward of our session
As I powered through those painful supersets, I looked back and realized these 18 months have been a journey of consistency, brutal core exercises, sore muscles, and new gym buddies — the kind you just exchange fist bumps with and keep moving.
Yes, I look good, feel good, and I’m grateful to have a badass coach.
Again and again, I’m a full believer in getting yourself a coach for better guidance and results — or at the very least, keep moving and lift if possible.
So, to me: happy 18 months.
And thank you, coach. 💪🔥
Disclaimer : not paid , simply a believer
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better.
The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again—because there is no effort without error and shortcoming—but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms and great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
—Theodore Roosevelt, 1910
Man in the Arena
I love this quote so much. I first encountered it while reading Daring Greatly by Brené Brown, and it has stayed with me ever since.
In a modern society where image often holds more value than authenticity, this quote speaks volumes. It reminds us that what matters most is not the critics—nor those who stand safely on the sidelines, pointing out flaws and offering commentary from a distance.
What matters is you.
You—showing up.
You—stepping into the arena.
You—navigating your journey with courage, imperfection, and authenticity.
You know your story.
You know your passion.
You know your purpose.
So let me say this clearly: you are doing okay.
By showing up.
By facing the struggles.
By surviving the day-to-day hustle.
You matter.
And the small victories matter too.
Let us keep our courage, authenticity, passion, and purpose shining—
even in a world driven by algorithms.
YOU ARE AWESOME ❤️
Let me choose kindness
that draws boundaries, not walls.
Let me choose to be
a part of someone’s smile.
Let me choose to let go,
and let battles be
the ones not worth fighting.
Let me be the best friend
I once longed for.
Let me.
Silent smiles, downward winks—
a pulse,
a rush of something unnamed.
A glimpse of love,
the hush of peace,
the soft sunrise of hope.
Little triumphs shimmer
within this golden cage—
a secret handshake,
a quiet nod of assurance.
Tiny joys, quiet victories,
rippling through my chest,
nourishing the fragile thread of hope.
I gather them—
my moments,
my space,
my sacred souvenirs
from the life that almost was.
A life shaped before I knew
how to shape one for myself.
Yesterday made me realize just how much your friendship means to me.
With you, I can truly be myself, yet I’m afraid of being swept away. I want to face things on my own, but knowing you’re always there behind me gives me strength.
BFF, if I could have only one friend in this world, I’d wish for it to be you.
Thank you, always.
The Hero
In every story, there is a hero. She is the center of the tale, seemingly invincible, as if nothing could ever hurt her. But behind that brave facade lies a person who is deeply tired, silently gasping for breath. Her heart has been shattered into pieces countless times. Yet, just like in the movies, she always rises, fights, and pushes on until she claims victory. She takes care of everyone but herself.
Cub in us
My dear hero, it is okay to be shattered at times, to take off the mask of bravery, and to be courageously vulnerable.
It is okay to be tired, to ask for help, and to accept a lending hand.
Sometimes, my dear hero, it is perfectly fine to let someone else take care of you.
Allow the cub within us to reign every once in a while, within this lion heart of ours.
❤️
Every November, Claire reigns as the queen of our annual getaway. This year, she’s once again celebrated in her style, as we take a five-day road trip through the heart of Andalusia, Spain. Organized by me but entirely led by her whims, this journey is a tribute to her birthday and our shared love of travel.
For the second year in a row, Málaga is our base—a sunlit city full of energy, nestled along the southern coast.
Here, our days are filled with long walks, rooftop cocktails, bustling mercados, and endless tapas. One of our favorite spots is El Pimpi, the famous restobar partly owned by Antonio Banderas. It’s the closest we get to a brush with fame, and it’s now a cherished tradition in our travels.
Last year, we’d planned a side trip to Granada but didn’t quite make it. This time, however, we fulfilled our promise and ventured into Granada’s charming streets and storied hills.
Granada: A Two-Day Journey Through Time and Culture
Granada’s tranquil beauty and rich Moorish heritage made our two-day trip feel like a step back in time. We started at the Mercado de San Agustín, a bustling market that reminded us of Cebu’s shotokil tradition. We bought fresh seafood to be cooked on-site, and it turned out to be a delicious, affordable feast.
The next day, we set out for the Albaicín de Granada (historically known as Rabad al-Bayyīzīn or the Falconers’ Quarter). This historic neighborhood, a UNESCO World Heritage site, is Granada’s oldest and most emblematic district. It’s where Iberians, Romans, Muslims, and Christians left traces of their cultures.
We began our day at the Mirador de San Nicolás, where we were treated to a stunning view of the Alhambra, Granada’s iconic Moorish palace and fortress. The breathtaking scenery was the perfect start to our day.
Nearby, we stopped for tea and baklava at the Mosque of Granada and experienced the peaceful ambiance as men prayed and chanted from the Quran.
Afterward, we continued up to the Cuevas del Sacromonte, or “Gypsies’ Caves,” said to be the birthplace of Flamenco. The energy in this area is contagious, with echoes of dance and music deeply embedded in its hills and caves.
Our day concluded with a stroll along Calle Elvira, which marks the border between the Albaicín and Granada’s city center. This vibrant, colorful street, with its narrow cobblestones and bustling vibe, felt like stepping into a Moroccan souk, rich with scents, sounds, and flavors that stay with you long after you leave.
Back to Málaga
Tomorrow, we’ll return to Málaga to close out our annual November escape. Until next year! As we always say, “It’s not about the years we live; it’s about the life we choose to celebrate every year.”
Here’s to many more birthdays, adventures, and memories together.
