Hold the Vision Trust The Process

I recently heard the quote,"Hold the Vision, Trust The Process" from Julian Edelman, New England Patriots wide receiver.  It struck a chord at the time, I just wasn't sure why. I was staying the course using two poles, exploring new surfaces, and feeling like I could run a race. I was doing almost eight miles a day. I was moving to the rhythym of the clicking poles. One of my friends asked if I was training for a half marathon. (I wasn't.) I kept driving myself toward that elusive eight miles, then maybe nine, then maybe ten. 

And then one day I was invited to sit in on a discussion about rehabing from pain.  The importance of feeling the change, feeling what needs to improve, internal focus rather than number of steps, number of miles. This session for me was an aha moment in many ways. I had never grieved the loss of the things I had missed out on, not only from the original accident, but later when I was toe walking. Comments about the pain and the feelings of what you miss out during those years struck home. I felt like I had been fighting my whole life to beat this thing called pain, while making sure to appear strong emotionally and physically. Someone finally understood what that feels like, not from a medical perspective, not from a friend perspective, but from the perspective of having gone through a similar experience. I felt so relieved I burst into tears. In my house, alone, listening to a zoom call, I was finally able to break down the wall, and now I was going to do something about it. 

I wasn't sure where to go from here, but I knew I had to try.  So I began to reflect on what they were saying. What difference did it make if I did eight miles or five miles. What was important is how I felt when I wasn't using the poles. Was I making real progress? Was my posture different? Did I still have a rhythm to my gait? And most important, had my balance improved to the point I wanted it to be and beyond? I was so focused on the numbers, I had lost site of the vision. I had created almost a competitiveness with myself. Competitiveness driven by the numbers. Competiviteness to appear strong. Competitiveness to avoid feeling. And so embracing the opportunity and trusting the process of learning, I accepted the need for change. I began a different path, same journey, but a path that included more self-care and more reflection. A path that included internal observation and communication.  

The first day I didn't use the poles was a challenge. I had a rhythm, but not as natural as when I had the two poles to remind me. I did not focus on the speed or the distance, I slowed down the process, seeking an internal connection. That day was like starting anew. I had an internal battle still going on; still trying to hit that eight mile target. I knew I needed to go with the flow and work all my surfaces and feel the changes. My posture felt different, it felt more upright. My strides were slower, but still straight. My leg and ankle felt strong, no pain, but it felt like there were new muscles being used on the top of my foot. I went up hills and slopes and down, and actually felt my calves responding. I was able to walk on the sloping sidewalks without hesitation. It was a good observation and I have vowed to continue this process. But could I continue without the challenge of being the best, doing the best, going the furthest. I felt like I had come to a fork in the road; continue as I have done, or look inward and connect 

with what my body is saying and needing. Continue using self-care, both when I was using the poles and when I wasn't. Only time will tell. 

So each day I try something new to connect. It was suggested to observe which foot stays on the ground longer. That has developed into which foot comes down stronger. It was interesting to observe 

that my hip side has the stronger step. This is not surprising as it was always the steady foot that provided the balance before the hip degeneration.  I added more hills to my walks and watched the legs strenthen in the calves, as well as the feet. Using the poles and keeping the internal focus. Not using the poles. Taking a day off from walking. All of these are so important to my new world of self-care. 

I met a runner this week, someone I see every morning, if I walk early enough. About a month ago, I saw him running, then again a bit later on his way to work. He saw me and stopped, amazed that I was still walking (with the poles). We chatted briefly. He was amazed at the distances I was going and I felt great because he called me "an animal." One so strong I can overcome anything! Yesterday, he saw me without the poles and slowed down to a jog and said, "No poles? Wow, your frame is lifted. You look so much stronger than when I first saw you. That's amazing!" Then he jogged away with his usual "Stay Safe." In that instant, I knew my new direction was working. 

My learning continues as the process continues; change is growth and growth is change.  

Have a great week!