It was around the two-week mark when I noticed something shifting.

Not fully settled — but adapting.

Mornings had started to look the same. I’d wake up, still stiff, still a bit slow, but not surprised by it anymore. The first stop was always 7-Eleven. An M150. Granola. Natural yogurt. Honey. Nothing fancy. Just enough to get going.

I’d bring it back to the apartment, eat, drink the M150, and head out to training.

When I was training at Kiatsongrit, it meant a long walk. Five kilometres there. Five kilometres back. Early in the morning, before the body had really woken up, it felt heavy. Legs still stiff. Head still quiet. But it worked. By the time I arrived, I was warm. Switched on. Ready enough.

The gym itself was open to the elements. Typical Bangkok heat, but no wind, never cold. It was an easy place to be. Nothing flashy. Just space to train.

Before sessions we ran around a small business complex near the gym. About thirty minutes. Roughly five kilometres. At first I had to think about pacing. About not going out too hard. By this point, it was automatic. You just ran.

That was becoming the theme.

Wrapping hands happened without thought. I knew where to stand. I knew who I’d be doing pads with. I knew when to start warming up on my own, when to move to the bag, when to be ready without being told.

Earlier on, everything felt new. You watched constantly. You waited for instruction. Now, you just fitted into the session.

Training stopped feeling like an event.

It wasn’t a job — but it wasn’t a novelty either. Some days, if I’m honest, I would have preferred to be doing something else. The body was still adapting. Hips sore. Legs tight. Feet feeling every step of the day before.

But you went anyway.

That was the difference.

There was less emotion attached to it. No excitement. No dread. Just turning up because that’s what the day involved.

Walking back after training, the same five kilometres, tired in a quieter way, I realised Bangkok had started to feel smaller. Not easier — just familiar. I didn’t need to think as much. About where I was going. About what came next.

The routine didn’t make things lighter.

It made them manageable.

And that felt like progress — even if nothing else had changed yet.