A month ago, I ran the Royal Victoria Marathon.
With a spinal cord injury. On legs I still can’t fully feel.
Crossing the finish line was the easy part to celebrate. The weeks after have asked more of my patience.
Since race day, I’ve run exactly once. I’ve taken a break from running, on purpose. Some days that feels like a step back, like I’m going backwards. It isn’t. It’s what my body needs right now.
And I caught myself doing something I see all the time in my work: measuring my recovery by what I couldn’t do yet, instead of what I’d gained.
Why the small gains are so easy to miss
Whether you’re coming back from an injury, surgery, a big physical effort, or a hard stretch with your mental health, recovery rarely moves in a straight line.
The setbacks are loud. A sore morning. A rehab session that felt worse than last week. A timeline that slipped. A low day you thought was behind you.
The gains are quiet. A few more degrees of range. A flight of stairs you climbed without thinking about it. A night of better sleep. A morning that felt lighter.
Our brains are wired to notice what’s wrong first. It’s called negativity bias, and it helped our ancestors stay safe. But in recovery, it means the setbacks get all the attention while the progress slips by.
That’s not a lack of gratitude. It’s your brain doing its job a little too well.
The gains are there. They’re just quieter than the setbacks.
Gratitude isn’t just “at least it wasn’t worse”
If you’ve been injured, you’ve probably heard some version of “at least it wasn’t worse.”
If you're struggling with your mental health, it often sounds like "other people have it worse."
And that’s not a bad thing to hear. Realizing things could have been worse can put your situation in perspective. It helps you see where you stand in the grand scheme of things.
But it can’t be the whole story.
When “it could have been worse” is used to skip past the pain, it stops being perspective and starts being a mask. The hard parts are still hard. The emotional struggle is still real.
Gratitude in recovery holds both. You can be frustrated with your body and grateful for it in the same breath. Grief, fear, impatience, and gratitude can all sit at the same table.
In 2013, I broke my neck while coaching. It was a near-death moment, and parts of me felt like they died with it. My mindset didn’t heal my spine, but it shaped how I met whatever recovery I was given. And a big part of that was learning to see the inch I gained, not just the mile I lost.
Gratitude isn’t a cure-all. But it does help. In one well-known study, people who wrote down a few things they were grateful for each week felt better about their lives than people who wrote about daily hassles (Emmons & McCullough, 2003). It’s one tool. A practical one.
You don’t need an injury for this to apply
Here’s the thing. Everyone is recovering from something.
A heavy season at work. A training block. A stretch of short nights with a newborn. A season of anxiety or low mood. A year that took more than it gave.
Since the marathon, I’ve been leaning into gratitude on purpose. It’s how I’m getting ready for ski season and the adventures ahead, and how I’m showing up for my family and my work. For me, it’s skiing. For you, it might be a sport, a physical job, or just having energy left for the people you love at the end of the day.
The practice is the same. Notice what’s moving forward, even when it’s small.
If you’re working through pain right now, you might also find Pain is a Signal, Not a Symptom helpful.
Try this: the small gains check-in
Pick one time each day. Morning coffee works. So does the last five minutes before bed. Give it two weeks.
Name the setback honestly. One line. “My knee was sore today.” Or “Today felt heavy.” Don’t argue with it. It’s real.
Find one inch. What did your body, or you, do a little better than last week? Make it smaller than you think it needs to be.
Feel it. Stay with it for ten seconds. Gratitude has to be felt, not just listed.
Name who helped. A physio, a partner, a friend who drove you to an appointment. Gains are rarely solo.
The more you practice looking for the inches, the easier they are to spot. You’re not ignoring the hard evidence. You’re making room for the rest of it.
None of this means pushing through pain or skipping your medical or physio guidance. If something feels off, get it checked. Gratitude shapes how you meet your recovery. It doesn’t replace care.
If recovery, physical or emotional, feels heavier than it should, you don't have to work through it alone.
A Thought:
Recovery is measured in inches. Count them.
What I’m counting this month
I’m grateful for a body that carried me 42.2 kilometres. For the break from running since then, and what it’s teaching me about patience. For a stretch at home with my family and the chance to stay consistent with my routines. For the opportunity to rest and recharge. And for Remembrance Day this month, a chance to honour my grandparents who served in the Second World War, and the freedoms they helped secure.
Small things. Every one of them counts.
I hope this helps. Let me know if it resonates!
With gratitude,
Mike Shaw
If recovery feels heavier than it should, you don’t have to work through it alone. Book a free consultation or learn more about injury and recovery counselling.
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References:
Reference: Emmons, R. A., & McCullough, M. E. (2003). Counting blessings versus burdens: An experimental investigation of gratitude and subjective well-being in daily life. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 84(2), 377–389. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.84.2.377
