When My Back Flared Up (Again): Why I Didn’t Panic, and Why We Should Treat Our Bodies Like Ecosystems
Last Thursday, at the top of my final deadlift rep, I felt a familiar tightness in my lower left back. That sensation lingered throughout the day, and sure enough, I found myself in the midst of a four-day acute flare-up.
First, let’s get one thing clear: deadlifting is not dangerous. There is still nothing inherently wrong with the movement, and yes—I’ll be deadlifting again this week. This wasn’t about the lift being bad; it was about how my body was responding in a specific moment, with a specific set of internal and external conditions.
This is why I want to talk about recovery from pain not just in terms of biomechanics or “fixing” a part, but in terms of treating the body like an ecosystem. One small disruption in a forest doesn’t mean the whole thing is broken. But that disruption does give you data—if you’re willing to listen.
Step 1: Don’t Panic—Send Safety Signals
I’ve had discomfort in this same spot before, so I had some idea of what my nervous system might respond well to. Rather than rushing to “correct” something or stretch it into submission, I focused on movements that give my system a message of safety. For me, that meant:
Lying on my back
Pelvic tilts and rotations
Double knee sways
Walking
The goal was not to force mobility or strength, but to coax comfort back in by finding ways my body could still move without threat.
Step 2: Modify Without Catastrophizing
Last time I flared up, I pushed too hard, too fast—and paid for it with prolonged discomfort. So this time, I took a different route. As Greg Lehman says, “poke the bear, don’t hump the shit out of it.”
I made small modifications to support healing without giving up everything I love:
I used a footstool at my desk to keep my hips more flexed (which felt better)
I skipped my aerial rope class (which would have demanded too much)
During a weekend continuing ed course, I changed positions often to avoid getting stuck
Step 3: Support Recovery (Even When You’re Moving Less)
Pain often decreases movement, but it doesn’t mean the rest of your health habits should fall apart. I kept my body nourished and supported:
Continued to eat enough and kept up my protein intake
Stayed hydrated
Prioritized sleep (aided by a heating pad at night for comfort)
Movement is medicine, yes—but so are food, sleep, and stress reduction. They’re all part of the ecosystem that supports healing.
Step 4: Stay Engaged With Life (Don’t Let Pain Isolate You)
It’s tempting to hole up and wait for pain to go away. But social connection, enjoyable activities, and even light distraction are crucial to nervous system regulation. I:
Took my dog for walks
Hung out with friends
Caught up on my book club reading
These weren’t distractions in the negative sense—they were reminders that my world is still rich and meaningful, even when my back is grumpy.
Step 5: Zoom Out—What Else Is in the Ecosystem?
This wasn’t just a “back” problem. And it wasn’t just about the deadlifts. If I look at the broader landscape, I can see other contributing factors:
I had company in town
I’d been sleeping less
I drank more alcohol than usual
My general stress load was higher
This pattern has shown up before, and now I have more data. Next time I have visitors, I’ll lower the RPE (rating of perceived exertion) of my workouts and give myself more margin. That’s not “giving up” or “being fragile.” That’s being adaptive—like any good ecosystem learns to be.
Final Thoughts: Healing Isn’t Linear, and Bodies Aren’t Machines
We’re often taught to treat pain as a problem to be solved by finding the “cause” and applying the correct “fix.” But human bodies don’t really work that way. Pain is rarely a single-cause, single-solution issue. It's a reflection of the whole system—your movement, your stress, your habits, your environment.
Treating our bodies like ecosystems means understanding that everything matters a little, and nothing matters alone. It’s not just about the lift, or the muscle, or the joint. It’s about the context.
And in that context, healing doesn’t require perfection. Just curiosity, compassion, and responsiveness.