Moving Forward And Not Looking Back

(song: Coming of Age/artist: Foster the People)




On my 40th, I wrote about my burgeoning mid-life identity crisis. I hired a therapist. At 41, I was recovering from back surgery and feeling hopeful -- Thanks to my therapist. Two months later, the crushing loss of my father would make back surgery feel like a stubbed toe in comparison. My therapist worked overtime. And just like that, I'm 42. My body is almost completely functional, my heart is still broken but the passage of time has helped to ease the pain. My therapist is never getting rid of me.


So, what does 42 look like so far? Pretty good, really. When the bar is set so low, there's nowhere to go but up. 







First, my body. On December 14, the 1st anniversary of my surgery, I reunited with my BBSPT ("Before Back Surgery Physical Therapist"), Tony Ellis. I LOVE Tony! He's so kind, incredibly good at his job, and, like me, he's from Georgia so that automatically makes him the best physical therapist in the world. Tony got me running again after I bonked my left ankle and wound up with tendonitis. After lots of hugs and "I've missed yous!", we got down to business. Tony poked, prodded, nudged, pushed and assessed. The verdict: I have full feeling in my left shin and foot, my right shin still has numbness, and I still have foot-drop in my right foot. Both ankles are still very weak and my balance is pretty sucky. I also still have pain from the tendonitis in my left ankle, and I have plantar fasciitis - My left foot is a mess. I fully admit I have been terribly inconsistent with physical therapy so I own my (lack of) progress. I told him I had been doing easy running intervals. He told me to stop. Not because I can't run, but because I shouldn't until I'm stronger, more balanced and not a trip hazard. I begrudgingly agree to abide by the rules then we review exercises I've done in the past, and add a few new ones. Since I don't need to go to PT every week, we agreed to see each other after I've done some work on my own for a couple of months. I'm now consistently doing my physical therapy, going to Tabura, working out with light weights, and walking with my Achilles family every Thursday. I'm focused on rebuilding my strength and achieving my goal of becoming a RUNNING Achilles guide. I am taking back my body!






Tony makes me so happy.


On the nutrition front, I am finally tackling my weight gain, "the grief weight" as I like to call it. I am currently on day 24 of a Whole30 and I'm feeling great! The depression that accompanied my grief was my excuse to eat any and all shitty food I wanted for the past year. My sick dad only ate sweet stuff. Who was I to tell a dying man I couldn't join him in a meal of key lime pie, followed by ice cream, then topped off with more pie? The low point for me was having to buy a new winter coat - IN MARCH - because my coat couldn't zip around my ample hip region. Yep, that was rock bottom. (Pun intended.) It's been an easy 24 days so far. I will reintroduce grains, dairy and alcohol in moderation, but sugar is out for awhile. I don't even miss it. You're not supposed to weigh yourself during a Whole30 but I expect I will be down 5 to 8 pounds by day 30. I have 15 pounds to lose, and the Whole30 is a great way to kick-start that goal. Resetting my body and my mind.



Letting my freak flag fly in Tabura class.


I got myself a little part-time job too! My first job in 9 years. My friend Nicoletta, who is the chapter leader of Achilles Brooklyn, is the director of a non-profit youth running program called Run4Fun. I work with 2nd and 3rd graders, one day a week, and I love it. I also help manage Run4Fun's Instagram and Facebook pages. I specifically love working for Nicoletta because of her commitment to empowering kids of all socioeconomic backgrounds through running and staying active. She is a favorite among the members of my Achilles family and I'm thrilled to be a part of her growing business. She has given me the purpose 40-year-old me was so desperately seeking.





I get payed to play outside!

I still carry the weight of my grief every day but, I am simultaneously happy about the direction my life is taking. 
This year I celebrated my birthday in Ireland with my family. As I hiked the Cliffs of Moher (a.k.a. The "Cliffs of Insanity" if you're a Princess Bride nerd like I am) on a beautiful March afternoon, it occurred to me that just 12 months earlier, I was still using a cane to walk. I've come a long way, and I'm excited about the future.

Okay 42, let's do this! 





INCONCEIVABLE! 

I Keep Crawling Back To You

(song: Crawling Back To You/artist: Tom Petty) 

REJOICE! For I have seen Leandro! Almost five years to  the date of my first day in his test group, we reunited for a small group workout at his new studio. When Leandro sent a text message inviting me to come to class on Valentine's Day, my knee-jerk reply to him was, "I've gained so much weight, I hate for you to see me." But of course, I went. Leandro knows about the back surgery and my dad's death so he understands that fitness has been neither a priority nor a possibility for the past yearish. But once you've been a poster child for the The Butt Master's program, you're gonna feel a smidge self-concious when it all goes due south.

With Leandro and Gloria. Sweaty, already sore, so happy.

Walking into his studio and seeing him for the first time in almost two years was so joyful.  His sweet and welcoming smile was a  beautiful reminder of all the good in my life. We spent a few minutes hugging and catching up then we reviewed some modifications I would make in class. Leandro understands the neuropathy of and nuance of back surgery recovery and nerve damage so I felt very safe in his class. I pushed myself harder than he pushed me (Which was not the case when he was torturing me during the test group, m'kay?).

Oh my God, it was hard as hell, but it felt so good to be in his class again! And even though I weighed 20 pounds more than the 5 other women in the class (seriously, my left thigh was bigger than the perfectly sculpted butt in front of me), it didn't matter. It was the happiest I've felt in months. 

During the test group, Leandro had "sexy Thursday" classes, which involved us dressing up in Brazilian carnival-inspired outfits and dancing most of the class. The first time we did this, I literally cried. I was so self-conscious and uncoordinated, and I hated my body in every way. Five years and a lot of life experience later, I dance with the reckless abandon of a punch drunk toddler. Pure joy, and no fucks to give.  

It Has Been Quite A Year

(song: Aperture/artist: Sleeping At Last)


It's a new year, y'all! Thank sweet Baby Jesus, 2016 is OVER!

I don't know who created this, but I love that person.

I rang in 2016 on a cane, then later in the year, my dad died. So, yeah, it pretty much sucked. I'm still dealing with all of that. Suffice it to say, I'm still sad and I still cry at least once a day (usually for less than 30 seconds, but occasionally the wave hits hard and it's a long, ugly-face cry), and I still struggle with my anger. I've got great support, and I'll get there. My feet are much better but I still have numbness in my shins and mild foot-drop in my right foot so my physical therapist advised against any running until I'm not a risk to myself. I've got great support, and I'll get there.

My goal for the new year is simply to keep getting better. Keep doing my physical therapy, stay in psychotherapy, eat healthy, exercise, be a good person/wife/mom, be patient...keep getting better. That seems like a good place to start, right? Oh, and I want to write more, eat less, lose weight, learn guitar, sing more, run again...but that's it!
 
But hey, despite all the sad shit that happened in 2016,  a lot of good came out of it. The trips to Georgia during my dad's illness afforded me the opportunity to strengthen and renew relationships. The experience healed a lot of lingering childhood angst.  The past year would have been impossible without the support of my southern sisters (and mamas), or their northern counterparts. I learned I have really good people. My affiliation with Achilles brought incredible new friendships into my life.

Jan 3 with my beloved Achilles Brooklyn family at NASDAQ's closing bell. An extraordinary start to the new year.

I joined a grief support group. I rediscovered the reason I moved NYC - I saw plays, concerts and dance performances. I participated in a race with a group of women I had never met in person. I participated in races even though I couldn't run. I learned to appreciate just being able to move. I learned to appreciate the little things. I listened, I talked, I laughed a lot.  

I don't know how 2017 will end for me, but I sure am happy with the way it's starting. My focus is forward and positive. One step at a time. 

A cane in January, a race on Thanksgiving. Not bad for almost a year. (Color scheme purely coincidental.)

It's Such A Shame Our Friendship Had To End

(song: Purple Rain/artist: Prince)

I had a social media intervention with myself. I freely admit that I spend entirely too much time surfing Facebook and Instagram, but I was also wasting precious time by trolling my running apps and peering into the lives of my able-bodied running "friends".  

Recently, I ran into a cyclist pal that I noticed hadn't been logging his rides on our shared social media running/cycling app, Strava. When I asked him why, he told me he had quit using Strava. In fact, he had quit all social media. I was shocked. I mean, if you don't Strava your ride or run, did it actually happen? He said he got so caught up in "how far, how fast and how often everyone else was riding that I stopped enjoying my own rides". Light bulb moment. 

I literally CAN NOT RUN, yet I found myself refreshing Strava 500 times a day to see what other runners were logging. Was it boredom? Regret? Wishful thinking? Envy? All of the above? I don't know. I do know that trolling splits and sweaty post-run selfies was a form of self-inflicted torture. I am not physically capable of being competitive right now. Instead of focusing on my current ability, I was wishing I had the ability of my fellow Strava runners. Longing to run the Brooklyn Bridge or be a part of a group training run. Wasting precious time. I deleted the app and my account (just in case I was tempted to log in and reminisce about my past runs...). I also temporarily deactivated my personal Facebook account and man, was that hard! What the hell am I going to do with all this free time?

Because I'm totally cheating on Strava and Facebook with real life.

Don't get me wrong, I loved the encouragement from my fellow social media runners, but I need to place more importance on self-validation rather than counting the number of kudos I get after a 6-mile walk. Actually being present in the moment.  Listening to the sounds around me, instead of the lady in my ears telling me how fast and far I've walked. I miss that lady, but I will get over her. And eventually we'll get back together. Right now, a break is a very good thing. 

The first Strava-free walk is the hardest.  One day at a time....

I'm Bigger, One Whole Year!

(song: Birthday/artist: David Weinstone)





March 26, 2016



Today I am 41 years old. Just after my 40th birthday, I wrote this post about my feelings of inadequacy and how I let my fear of, pretty much everything, hold me back from personal growth and progress. When disaster struck in November and I needed emergency back surgery, I was devastated. But when I started the outline for this post, I realized that despite the super shitty way 2015 ended, A LOT of great things happened between ages 40 and 41. I've spent the better part of a year working with a great therapist who is helping me overcome my fear and identify what triggers my self-doubt. He never lets me go to that "I suck. I've always sucked. I'll always suck." place that I've spent most of my life retreating. And once I started letting go of that fear, great things began to happen.

Okay, I'm also getting older but still...

For starters, I got a great opportunity to start learning the ropes of producing theater. Last January I saw an off-Broadway musical about teens at a weight loss camp, produced by my friend Michael. Michael's one of those annoying people that sees the possibility in every situation and is super positive all the time. If he weren't so awesome, I'd hate him. When I called him to ask if I might borrow lyrics for a future blog post (about my own experience as a teen at weight loss camp...stay tuned for that one), the phone call turned into a live meeting, that turned into introductions to industry professionals, like producer Kari Lynn Hearn, who is a human ray of sunshine and with whom I clicked immediately. She encouraged me to attend workshops at the Commercial Theater Institute, which I did, and where I met even more great people.  20 years ago, I moved to New York for acting and, largely due to my lack of belief in myself, never made anything of it. To come full circle and once again be a part of the industry that brought me here, is an exciting possibility. The old me would have never had the courage to call Michael and ask to use those lyrics. When I saw him last week - having last seen him two weeks prior to surgery when I was so very blue - he said, "I can see a change in you. I don't see the fear." It felt wonderful hear that and to know that I'm radiating positivity.

Kari Lynn, whom I totally want to be when I grow up!

On the fitness front, I joined the Prospect Park Track Club at the encouragement of my friend and fellow PPTC member, Tony Ellis. Because I spent nearly two years as Tony's patient he knew that the social element of a running club (of ANY club, really) scared the hell out of me. He also knew that it would be a great way for me to overcome that insecurity and be a part of a positive, like-minded community. And I am so glad I did! Even though I was only able to participate in one group run before I lost my feet to nerve damage, I got so much support from the club members after my surgery. I went to the annual awards dinner - by myself, on a cane, barely knowing anyone in the club, super nervous and awkward, but I did it anyway - and it turned out to be a wonderful experience. I met Michael K. and Nicole and Juan, all of whom were once overweight and are now fit, healthy running machines. I met Geoff, who came back to running after breaking BOTH ankles in a climbing accident. I met Denis, who had footdrop (just like me!) and no longer has it. And I met Michael Ring, who hates to be called "an inspiration" but truly is. Michael was diagnosed with Acute Motor Axonal Neuropathy, a rare variant of a rare disease called Guillain-Barré syndrome, and basically in 24 hours went from being a marathon runner to being wheelchair-bound. I stumbled upon Michael's blog right after my surgery, when I was crying every day and feeling like the world had come to an end, because my feet died. I loved his honesty, his anger, his humor, his willingness to express himself un-apologetically, and his will to fight when others (me) would have given up. When I finally met him in person, I asked him how he got through the first year without wanting kill someone (or himself). He said, "I just don't get that mad about stuff I can't control." And now I hear those words every day, as  I go for my walks and my stupid feet flop awkwardly onto the pavement. I don't have the urge to cry anymore because...I just don't get that mad about stuff I can't control.

Micheal Ring: inspiring me, one laugh at a time.

Michael encouraged me to join the Brooklyn chapter of Achilles International, an organization that "enables people with all types of disabilities to participate in mainstream running events in order to promote personal achievement".  I'll be participating in my first run/walk with the Brooklyn chapter next month.  If I had let my insecurity win, I never would have joined PPTC, and I would have missed out on being part of a community that I need. And that I hope, needs me.


In addition to joining the track club community, I reconnected with Marisa, one of my fellow fitness models from the Brazil Butt Lift segments on QVC. We recently got together to talk about our blogs and brainstorm ideas for nutrition and fitness collaborations. But we didn't just talk about business, we talked about everything. We talked, and laughed, and probably would have cried if we had had more time. Having grown up in a house with a single dad and two brothers, building relationships with women has been challenging for me, but as I get older, I realize the importance of female connections, and the past year has seen a swell in my friendships with women. Again, shedding the fear that I'm somehow not worthy or likable has opened up a world of human connections that have been sorely lacking. I need my sisters!

Just a few the women that inspire me. (And Michael, the world's happiest producer.)

And despite still not being able to run, I have made incredible strides since my surgery three months ago. I can walk fast and I can walk far. I walked five miles the day before my birthday! My longest walk to date. I have been cleared to do all normal exercise - except running (obviously), jumping and weighted squats - and am now doing regular workouts in addition to my daily physical therapy exercises. And just 12 weeks after undergoing major back surgery, I did this:

Imagine what I'll be doing in 12 months. There's so much possibility for me. Finally, I believe that. I am excited, and not even a little afraid, about what this year has in store for me.   

How Long? Tell Me, How Long?

(song: Wait For Spring To Come/artist: John Butler Trio)



Jan 21, 2016

On the advice of my surgeon at my 3-week follow-up, today I saw neurologist Dr. Dora Leung at Hospital for Special Surgery. The purpose of the visit was to assess the extent of the nerve damage and (hopefully) get some idea of a time frame for my recovery. 

Ready to be (literally) poked and prodded.

After I got dressed in the all-too-familiar hospital gown, Dr. Leung performed a series of tests ranging from banging on my joints with a rubber mallet to test my reflexes, to poking me with a tiny pin EVERYWHERE. She started around my shoulders and gradually worked her way down. Once she got around the area affected by the saddle paresthesia, okay my butt, the pricking became less and less painful until I finally said, "I have no idea where you are."In addition to my numb lady parts, there's still some numbness in my shins. I'm not going to bleed out if I cut myself shaving so it's not all that worrisome.

She really lost me at S5...

And then we did a series of balance and strength tests in the hallway. My balance sucks, I can't lift my toes off the ground or walk on my heals. I can walk on my toes though, so that's a huge post-surgery victory. I'll take it where I can get it.

After I got dressed, she gave me the straight dope:

• The saddle paresthesia is sensory nerve damage, most likely sustained during surgery since "hammers and chisels are involved in order to get the bone off the nerve". And while nerves have the ability to regenerate, apparently sensory nerves are not as "hearty" as motor nerves so this may never completely go away. She recommends I see a urologist since my new-found bladder control superpowers are of concern. On the plus side, painless bikini waxes for life. Cup's half full? 
• The nerves that control my feet are (fortunately) the heartier motor nerves, which can better sustain surgery trauma and are more likely to recover completely. Hooray!
• She recommends continued use of the cane as an indicator to others that, while I may look normal, speed and balance are not on my side so it will serve as a "FALL RISK" prop. And let me tell you something, when you're using a cane, people get the hell out of your way. I feel like Moses on the subway platform.

Cane coming through!

• She tells me that PT (which I started the week before) is the way to go and advises lots of stretching so the Achilles doesn't get too tight and cause compromised walking. She tells me that tonic water, quinine specifically, is good for muscle cramps. She didn't say I shouldn't add gin, so I take this an open invitation to develop a raging drinking habit while I recover.
• She recommends shoes with more ankle support for longer distance walking so I immediately buy these jazzy numbers.

Hip Cripple.

I ask her to ball-park a time-frame, while promising not to sue if she's wrong. She's reluctant to give me what I want so she says things like, "your legs are long and the nerves go all the way down" and "very slow process" and "like watching grass grow". And then she FINALLY says, "You're young and healthy. I think you have potential for a full recovery. Be patient. Give it 12-18 months."

All I heard was "12-18 months"...

This Is Your New Thing Now

(song: New Thing Now/artist: Shawn Colvin)


I had an epiphany of sorts during therapy (psycho, not physical) this week.

In 2011, I got an email from Beachbody®, telling me about an audition two days later for the Brazil Butt Lift® infomercial. Without hesitation, I went, got the job, and one week later I started a three-month intensive that would change my body - and my life - for the better. Had I been able to mull over the decision, knowing how hard it was going to be, I would have been way too scared to do it. Because of the time-sensitivity, I wasn't allowed to let my head talk me out of it.

It was so hard. It hurt a lot. I cried, I cursed, I wanted to quit sometimes. But I didn’t quit. I was focused and determined and disciplined, and I finished. I learned that I’m so much stronger - physically and mentally - than I had ever given myself credit. And I got an unimaginable new lease on life that led to great opportunities and experiences. Being fit became my thing. Five years later, it's still one of my things.

And I've got the Facebook (and Instagram!) page to prove it. 

So as I was chatting with my therapist, I thought out loud, "Perhaps this is a formula that works for someone that overthinks EVERYTHING". Because of the dangers associated with a crushed nerve, I didn’t get to mull over the decision to have back surgery. I just consented and was under the knife 48 hours later. And it sucked. And the work I have to do is so hard. It hurts a lot. I cry. I curse. I want to quit sometimes. But I won’t quit. I’ll stay focused, and determined and disciplined. And just maybe this is the catalyst to another new lease on life, that leads to even greater personal growth and experience. Unlike 2011 me, I already know I'm capable. 

Now recovery is my thing.

Light bulb!

I've Seen This Room And I've Walked This Floor

(song: Hallelujah/ artist: Leonard Cohen)

I started physical therapy on January 14th. Prior to being cleared for PT by my surgeon, my only sanctioned activity was walking for 10 minutes at a time. That usually occurred in and around my apartment while wearing pajamas.

My first photographed PT walk. I was so high on pain meds.

I can go anywhere for PT but because I loved my experience at HSS, I decided it's worth the twice-a-week schlep from Brooklyn to Manhattan's upper east side to stay at the facility "where the world comes to get back in the game". I've been to PT many times before, for back and ankle issues. I knew HSS would have everything and everyone I needed to ensure I come back stronger and better.

See! It's right there on the logo.

When I first started, I couldn't even do a bridge without severe cramping because my poor glutes and hamstrings had been dormant for 6 weeks.  My physical therapist had me do "mini squats" (because there was no way I could press myself up from a real squat) and, oh my god I could not believe how dead my leg muscles were! I was exhausted after one set of 10. (If the Butt Master saw me now, his heart would break. There's no way this ass could pass the pencil test.) I practiced the staircase, and then got sent home with some simple exercises to do between sessions.

Jan 14th, 2015: First day of the rest of  my life.

At home, being the best PT patient ever.

                     

Graduated to Bird Dog by session 5. BOOM!

Because I'm determined to be the best PT patient ever, my 7 sessions of PT have seen me graduate to heavier resistance bands and more advanced leg work. I'm getting stronger. Balance is an issue but that's part of the nerve damage stuff as well as lack of strength. I have to be patient. Which is so damn hard for me.

Pretty much.

Condition: Grounded, But Determined To Try

(song: Learning to Fly/artist: Pink Floyd)



Jan. 5, 2016

Today was my 3-week follow-up with Dr. Rawlins, my surgeon from Hospital for Special Surgery.  You might recall that we didn't have a lot of time to get to know each other as I only met him 48 hours before he sliced into my back, so it was nice to see him under slightly better circumstances. We reminisced about the day we met. He said, "You were essentially paralyzed when you came in." And we laughed and laughed...

A hell of a lot happier and ready to make recovery my bitch.

I update him on my post-surgery progress. Three weeks after surgery:

• I am now able to slide my feet into my shoes all by myself! (Seriously, I couldn't do that for the three weeks prior to surgery.) My toes have feeling and they can mostly grip again. I still can't use my toes to ease my shoes off the back of my foot, but I'll get there. 
• The tops of my feet are no longer numb! Hopefully this is a positive sign that means I didn't sustain permanent nerve damage. Cautiously optimistic. 
• My shins are still numb.
• My lady business is still numb. (If you're a medical professional, this is called saddle paresthesia. If you've ever sat on a bike seat or had a Brazilian bikini wax, it's that whole area...)
• I still have footdrop. Though it's not as pronounced as it was before surgery, it's still there, and that sucks big time. 

Now that I'm used to being asked about my bathroom functions, when that subject comes up, I tell him that while I get the sensation of needing to go to the bathroom, I am now able to sleep through the night without getting up to pee. If you've ever given birth vaginally and/or you're over 40-years-old, you know that's not normal. (In 2008, I was diagnosed with stress incontinence after I peed through my Spanx while dancing to Jump Around at a wedding, so yeah, my newfound ability to go for more than eight hours without peeing raises a flag.) For this and the other remaining numbness, he refers me to a neurologist for further testing of the nerve damage.

He was happy with my progress but warned that "some of the numbness may never go away". And while I do not find this remotely comforting, if it only means a lifetime of pain-free bikini waxes, that's pretty much like gaining a superpower so I can totally live with that outcome.

Then he cleared me for physical therapy! He says, "Getting the strength back in your legs is completely up to you now." No shit. It's going to be so fucking hard and tedious and frustrating and I just wish I could blink myself one year into the future a la "I Dream of Jeannie", but I can't, so I'm going to work my ass off because I hate being like this more than I hate hard work. So...here I go!

Is it 2017 yet?!