The Fitness Zombie Is Waiting on Answers

When the Comeback Hits a Wall

I wish this was one of those comeback posts where I tell you the workouts are improving, the walks are getting longer, and the undead husk is slowly rejoining the land of the living.

That is not where we are.

Right now, the Fitness Zombie is less “training montage” and more “why is the dashboard covered in warning lights?”

The First Warning Light

For about a year, I’ve been dealing with persistent numbness and intermittent pain in my left index finger. At first, it felt like one of those annoying body glitches you hope will go away if you ignore it long enough.

Shocking development: ignoring it did not fix it.

The main issue started in the fingertip of my left index finger. The sensation is reduced all the time. Sometimes it burns. Sometimes I get an electric shock feeling, because apparently my nervous system decided to install haunted wiring.

The sensation seems to follow the thumb-side of the finger down toward the palm. The pain is mostly near the joint closest to the fingertip. Hot shower water makes it more sensitive, which feels deeply unfair. Showers are supposed to revive sore zombies, not make one finger scream from the control room.

That was annoying enough.

Then the Rest of the Body Filed Complaints

Then the rest of the body decided to join the complaint department.

I’ve been dealing with hip pain. My legs feel exhausted and unsteady. My left leg has trouble lifting and has limited mobility. That part is especially frustrating because it affects things I care about, like mounting and shifting a dirt bike.

When dirt bike mobility starts disappearing, the zombie takes notice.

My stamina has also crashed. I’m not talking about skipping workouts because I lost motivation. I’m talking about not really being able to work out anymore. Very short walks have become difficult.

That is a different kind of scary.

There is also numbness in my shoulder, with an electrical shock feeling that shoots down my arms toward the elbow when I sneeze. Sneezing should not feel like someone jump-started my nervous system with bad jumper cables.

The Emotional Part I Didn’t Expect

On top of all that, I’ve become extremely emotional.

That one is harder to explain. Pain is one thing. Weakness is one thing. Numbness is one thing. But when your emotions start feeling like they are sitting too close to the surface, everything gets harder to sort through.

I’m not just tired. I’m worn down.

I’m not just frustrated. I’m raw.

The Fitness Zombie can joke about dragging the corpse forward, but some days the corpse is tired of being dragged.

Getting Past the Easy Answer

So I took all of this to my doctor.

And this time, we got past the easy answer.

Yes, I have Type 2 diabetes. Yes, diabetes can cause nerve issues. But that explanation did not feel big enough to cover everything that has been happening. To my doctor’s credit, we did not stop there.

We agreed there are likely multiple problems to solve.

That is both reassuring and terrifying.

Reassuring because I felt heard.

Terrifying because the possible causes we discussed ranged from scary to really scary.

The Testing Season Begins

This is where the waiting begins.

I now have about three weeks’ worth of tests scheduled, including multiple MRIs, EMGs, blood tests, and whatever else needs to be done to start separating guesses from answers.

We are far from a firm diagnosis. I am not trying to solve it with internet research, denial, or the classic zombie health plan of “walk it off unless a limb falls off.”

This is doctor territory now.

The goal is to figure out what is connected, what is separate, what is serious, and what can be treated. Maybe this is a pile of smaller issues that decided to form a terrible little committee. Maybe there is one larger thing tying some of it together. Maybe the answer is something I have not even considered yet.

Waiting Is Its Own Kind of Hard

That is the ugly part of waiting.

Your brain fills in blanks.

And when the symptoms are physical and emotional, those blanks get loud.

Still, I am trying to focus on what I can control. I made the appointment. I listed the symptoms. I pushed past the simple explanation. I asked better questions. I agreed to the tests.

That counts.

It does not feel like progress in the usual fitness sense. There are no celebratory step counts here. No heroic workout recap. No “small win, big zombie energy” moment where I pretend a short walk fixed my entire outlook.

Still Moving Counts

But this is progress.

Sometimes progress is not lifting more weight.

Sometimes progress is not riding farther.

Sometimes progress is not dragging yourself through cardio while making undead death noises.

Sometimes progress is finally saying, “Something is wrong, and I need help figuring it out.”

That is where I am.

The Fitness Zombie is tired, emotional, sore, unstable, and waiting on answers.

But the corpse is still moving.

Slower than I want. Wobblier than I like. With more tests than jokes on the calendar.

But still moving.

And for now, that has to count.