When Your Body Says “Slow Down”

Yesterday was one of those days that reminds you… yeah, I’m not 25 anymore.

Isabella and I were working on her 2016 Subaru Forester, swapping out the rear wheel bearings, hub assemblies, and struts. The disassembly went smooth enough, at least at first. Passenger side hub? Popped out like a dream. Driver side hub? Oh no. That thing had other plans.

We tried it all: penetrating oil, hammers, staring, swearing… the usual. After an hour of fighting, we tapped out and went back to the passenger side. Smooth sailing. New hub in. Strut removed and installed. Easy. The whole side took maybe an hour.

But that driver side hub was waiting to teach me a lesson.

We headed to O’Reilly and rented a 5-pound slide hammer, fabricated a plate to attach it, and went to war. For fifteen minutes I pounded and pulled, arms burning. Then I made the mistake of changing my stance. Instead of letting the tool do the work, I let all that rebound force transfer straight into the palm of my hand.

This morning? My right palm is entirely bruised, and every movement is a reminder.

The Ache That Teaches

Here’s the thing I’m learning as I get older: your body and mind whisper before they scream.

• The whisper was my arms telling me they were tired.

• The scream came when I ignored that and drove the slide hammer’s shock straight into my hand.

Life, leatherwork, and even car repair have a way of teaching patience the hard way. You can push through sometimes—but it costs you in recovery.

Listen to the Signals

I’ve learned that hustle without rest leads to burnout or injury. Whether it’s the shop, the driveway, or just life in general, I try to:

• Take a body check before and after a heavy day.

• Give my mind space to recharge creatively.

• Accept that slowing down or asking for help doesn’t make me less capable—it keeps me in the game longer.

Even leatherwork teaches this lesson. If you try to rush carving, stitching, or dyeing when your hands or mind are tired, the mistakes follow. Crafting, like life, rewards patience, rhythm, and respect for your limits.

Closing Thought

If you’re reading this and you’re feeling that same grind in your bones, take this as your sign to give yourself some grace. Rest your hands, rest your mind, and listen to your body. You can always pick the tools back up tomorrow.

As for me, coffee in one hand, bruised palm in the other—I’ll be back under that Subaru with Isabella this morning. But I’ll be listening this time.