For an injured person, facing the activity that injured them can be demoralizing. As far as fighting, although I have been injured often in fighting and training, I have never been disabled after a fight [in training, yes]. Work however, has put me on my back for months. As a grocery clerk now these past 35 years I have lifted and moved more weight than most humans and have paid the gimp price on six occasions. There is also a common thread other than the toil, the season. All six of the back injuries that had me miss work—and which eventually resulted in bankruptcy, repossession and foreclosure, in various stages—from two weeks to seven months at a clip, occurred in the Autumn.

Now I find myself, a child of irony, limping through the season that hates me, the season I loved as a boy, trying to make it to the season that is now my darling time, Winter, when painful autumn is behind and the functional heat of summer ahead. I know, that when I resigned the management job and enrolled as an old grunt that this was the danger and here I am, the cipher of my own calculation.

In the past I ate and had a coffee on my 15 minute break and read on my half-hour lunch. Now I take three 15s and stretch. I would not be allowed this on a union job. Also, as soon as the shop steward found out I was hurt he would have been making a case out of it and getting me bumped off the site, where my nonunion bosses just ask me what they can do to help. I chose well my retirement gig. But still, I have to get the work done. Toward this end I treat myself as my own trainer and abide by the upper end of the pain scale which I inhabit during my shift:

7 hurts twice as bad as 6 and is an indication that worse things are to come. 7 is like getting kicked in the kidneys.

8 feels worse than 7 marginally, but is accompanied by some kind of weakness—your body caving in. This is like taking a kick to the liver.

9 fells markedly worse than 8, but nothing like the jump from 6-7. It is taking your body sensory system to the brink, to that last wicked step, like having a bone broken. Nine is "I want to die" territory.

10 is sensory overload, essentially like having a good Muay Thai man slam his shin into your groin and paste your nuts against your pelvis. This is kind of a nirvana state if you can maintain consciousness. There is usually a need to relive pressure, to collapse, go to your knees, curl up, moan, hiss, groan or growl depending on the level of hatred you hold for those around you. Around my lady I might moan—at work I hiss, on the street I growl.

11 is when the pain has gotten so bad your ability to appreciate it is dulled. You are probably unconscious, but if not, you have an opportunity to appreciate life from the viewpoint of an oyster at the bottom of the sea, looking up into a hazy, uncaring realm that still brings information your way. I found this state quite pleasing as a fighter, with referees standing over me discussing my condition as if I weren't there.

This is where I live at work and I use the following protocols to manage my body:

7. I work carefully, with as much balance and intelligence as possible to reduce the onset of attacks

8. I stop and do a stretch where I am or take back something that has been left in my work area to where it belongs to get a walk in. Walking helps a lot.

9. I go to the stockroom or parcel pickup and use the equipment or rails as a stretching apparatus and stretch out for about ten minutes.

10. I put myself into full squat against a flat surface in the stockroom and try and fall asleep. When I begin to nod off my head will bob, indicating that I am relaxed enough to stretch, walk or work.

11. I don't want anyone to call an ambulance and I sure as hell do not want to pass out on the restroom floor where Malcolm has been shitting himself. I go to the back dock, where Zach and Ron know I go when I'm really hurting, and take my self through the last three steps. If this happens I forfeit a break to compensate. Usually, after my sixth hour on the job everything is warmed up well enough that the last two hours require no therapy and I can stretch and walk after work.

1. Slow squats

2. Sitting on my haunches with flatfeet against a freezer door which has a warming element in it to keep it from freezing shut.

3. Waist rolls

4. Side bends

5. Knee-ankle touches bringing the knees to the outside and ankles to the inside

5. Standing hip stretch, holding ankle

6. Standing hip stretch using bar or other object to rest bent knee on

7. Hurdler's stretch on bar or object

8. Praying sacrum stretch

9. Cat and dog [Adam Swinder once told me that seeing me do this classc yoga stretch was a sign of the End Times.]

10. Standing ham string stretches in stages from thigh, knee, shin, ankle, foot and floor touches [using my fist, not palms on the filthy stockroom floor]

I have also been experimenting with slow plyometrics, a necessity as the condition is worsening. You have to quantify, track and qualify your pain, not just push through, so you can make training adjustments and inform your doctor should it come to that. On Monday I hit 10 11 times, on Wednesday 34 times and on Friday 51 times. I am introducing more mobility items into the training. Overall I walk 2 hours a day and stretch 3 hours a day. I will increase the walking to 3 or 4 hours and hopefully stave off the inevitable for a long time. In the end, the pain tolerance and body awareness from stick-fighting and boxing has made the difference in keeping me on my feet and active. The third part of the equation is to keep that going, to keep sparring and training even though I'm done as a competition fighter.