It worked, and you cannot afford to keep doing it
A program improves your numbers and wrecks your week. The distance goes up and the evenings disappear. Something is genuinely getting better while your life gets smaller around it. This is a real position, it is rarely discussed, and it needs a decision and not more determination.
Is the trade still worth it?
Five questions about a program, a training block or a return-to-activity plan you are currently running.
What are you actually gaining?
What does each session cost afterwards?
Has anything else been dropped to make room?
Which way is pain going?
How long have you been at this?
Why nobody warns you about this
Rehabilitation is designed around gains, and gains are what get measured. Range improved by so many degrees, distance up by so much, strength up by this much. Those are real and they are the whole scoreboard.
What is not on the scoreboard is the Sunday you spent flat, the walk you stopped taking with your children, the social thing you skipped because your foot had already spent its budget. Those costs are invisible to every outcome measure, which means a program can be succeeding on paper while making your life materially worse.
A gain you cannot afford to keep is not an improvement. It is a loan.
Renegotiating rather than quitting
The usual failure mode is binary: carry on until something breaks, or stop entirely and lose the gains. Almost always there is a middle option, and it is a dose problem, not an activity problem.
Change one variable at a time and give it three weeks. Less often instead of shorter. A different surface. The same stimulus with a longer gap. Cutting the hardest session and not all of them. And take the cost side to whoever set the program, framed as arithmetic instead of as failure. “this works and it costs me two days each time, can we get the same effect for less” is a question most clinicians can do something useful with.
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