Before today’s workout, AI checked my Garmin data—sleep, HRV, Body Battery and recovery—then calculated what sort of gym session I should do. The verdict? Body Battery: 60 Fitness age: 38 Today’s instruction: RELEASE THE HOUNDS. So I laughed—and did exactly that. I’m 43, but today I trained weight-wise like I was 38 and absolutely smashed it out of the park. Today, I did things I didn’t know human beings could do. I lifted weights that made me look at the machine afterwards and wonder whether it needed counselling. I’m fairly sure one of them is currently filing a grievance with HR. For most people, the laws of physics are rules. Today, I treated them more like suggestions. I did things in that gym I once wondered whether I’d ever do again—never mind while living with RRMS. I genuinely feel as though I’m planting a red flag for future MSers to follow. Sorry, boys and girls, but I’m showing the world what can still be possible with RRMS. I’m not the man I used to be—but I can still unleash absolute hell for six minutes. They say a boxer’s power is the last thing to go. That suits me perfectly because I’ve still got the great equaliser: A right hand that can change the entire conversation. From a boxing perspective, 99.8% of opponents aren’t getting through the first round. The remaining 0.2% will quit on their stool. Six minutes is enough time to scale a wall, move a mountain—or remind MS that it picked the wrong bloke.