Garnet Santicruz is a professional with extensive experience in injury prevention and recovery, including being a Certified Matrix Repatterning Practitioner, Registered Massage Therapist, and Certified Strength and Conditioning Trainer.
After years of treating Thai boxers, I’ve understood that pain is curious. It twists and bends depending on the person, and what it means to one may be utterly alien to another. For most people, pain is a warning, a clear sign to stop. For fighters, it’s just another part of their journey—another step in the dance. And what matters is that dance. The fight, the match, the moment where everything comes together, where the body pushes beyond what anyone ever thought possible. That’s the only thing in focus.
Now, your average athlete knows discomfort. They feel it after a long day of extra reps, as muscles burn, or when they decide to add more weights just to see what they’re made of. But Thai boxers—fighters—they’re on a different path. Their gaze is fixed on something much deeper than just strength or endurance. There’s a strange alchemy between body and mind that takes place in the heart of a fighter. And once you’ve spent enough time with them and seen it up close, you realize there’s something almost magical about it.
The Mind of a Fighter: A Different Landscape
In all my years of working with fighters, one thing remains true: their relationship with pain and recovery is unlike anything I’ve encountered. For most athletes, pain is the thing you work around. You feel it, you deal with it, and then you rest. You heal. But a fighter? A fighter doesn’t see pain that way. Time off? It’s almost a foreign concept. They don’t ask, Should I rest? Instead, they ask, How do I get back in there faster? Their minds are steely fortresses, fortified over years of gruelling training, and no one—not even pain—gets past those gates.
There’s discipline in the way they handle it, a stoic acceptance that comes with pushing past what you thought your limits were. It’s as if they’ve learned to coexist with it. And maybe that’s what Muay Thai is at its core: a method of survival, of transcendence. It’s a way of marrying the spirit with the body, forcing them to endure and evolve together. That’s what their training is. And they don’t do it alone.
The Kru: The Keeper of the Fighter's Flame
Enter the Kru, the teacher, the mentor, the shaper of fighters. There’s something almost mystical about the relationship between a Kru and their fighter. They aren’t just there to teach technique—they’re the keepers of wisdom, the guides through an ancient tradition where pain is but a piece of the puzzle. They mould not just the fighter’s skills but their mind. They help them understand that pain isn’t the enemy but a companion on the journey. This connection between Fighter and Kru is sacred, and it’s one that I, as a therapist, have often found myself admiring.
My work with these fighters mirrors what the Kru does in many ways. I help them balance pushing forward and knowing when to pull back. In a sense, I am the one who walks beside them, ensuring that the fire burns but doesn’t burn them out.
Blood and Bruises: The Price of the Path
It’s not uncommon for me to see a fighter leave the gym with bloodied fists, bruised shins, and weary eyes. Muay Thai is not kind to the body. Imagine this: a fist striking a heavy bag, again and again, a thousand times a day. A shin is cracking against it with relentless force. The body hardens, but not without a price. And yet, for all the blood and bruises, for all the aches that linger long after the final bell rings, there’s a strange sort of joy in it.
For these fighters, it’s not the pain they relish but what it represents. Every bruise and every sore muscle is a testament to their journey. It’s proof that they’re moving forward, that they’re evolving. As their therapist, I become part of that journey. I guide them, not by telling them when to stop but by helping them understand how much further they can safely push.
Becoming a Champion: A Metamorphosis
A transformation happens in a fighter that goes beyond muscle and bone. It’s not just about winning matches or gaining titles—it’s about becoming something more. Something more substantial, something more resilient. I’ve watched this transformation over the years, and it never ceases to amaze me. A fighter doesn’t just train their body—their mind and soul. They learn to quiet the part of them that screams for rest, that begs for mercy. They learn to listen to the deeper part, the one that knows they’re capable of more.
And then, one day, they cross the line from fighter to champion. It’s not the medals or the belts that define this transformation—it’s something intangible. It’s the look in their eyes when they step into the ring, how they carry themselves, and how they face fear and pain without flinching. That’s when you know they’ve become something more than they were when they started.
The Delicate Dance of Healing
But no matter how strong or resilient, the body has its limits. And that’s where I come in. For fighters, healing isn’t about retreat—it’s about survival. They don’t want to sit out, to take time off. They want to heal while they’re still in the fight. So, my role is to help them find that balance and offer them the tools they need to recover while continuing to push forward.
This is a challenging task. Fighters often don’t see the value in resting and letting the body repair itself. But in those moments, my job is to show them that healing is another part of their training. It’s not a sign of weakness—it’s what will keep them fighting longer and stronger.
Muay Thai: The Ancient Path of the Warrior
Muay Thai isn’t just a sport. It’s an ancient art that weaves the physical and spiritual together. Those who dedicate themselves to it aren’t just athletes but warriors. There’s a depth to this martial art that goes beyond the strikes, the blocks, and the footwork. It’s a tradition, a way of life that shapes every aspect of who they are. As their therapist, I get to witness this process of refinement.
The fighters I work with are not merely training their bodies. They’re conditioning their minds, hardening their spirits. The pain, the struggle, the long hours of training—they strip away everything unnecessary, leaving behind a focused, driven individual who is deeply connected to their purpose. It’s this connection that allows them to transcend pain and achieve greatness.
The Human Spirit: Unbreakable, Unyielding
I’ve learned from these fighters that the human spirit is unbreakable. Pain, for them, is not an enemy to be feared—it’s a teacher. It shows them where they are weak but also where they are strong. It guides them, sharpens them, refines them.
As their therapist, I witness this resilience. I am a part of their journey, walking alongside them as they push themselves to new heights. Muay Thai is more than just a sport. It’s a crucible, one that forges warriors out of ordinary men and women. It’s a path that demands everything, but the rewards are beyond measure for those who walk it.
