Regenerative Medicine

I’m highly skeptical of our modern medical industry— not because of practitioners so much as insurance companies’ influence on patient care. I’ve heard of boutique medicine, which as I understand it is essentially cash-pay for individualized treatment outside the bounds of insurers, but I’d never had experience with that type of doctor. I already pay more than my mortgage every month for our health insurance, then still owe co-pays and deductibles if I actually use the insurance, so the idea of paying fully out of pocket isn’t appealing at all. But desperation breeds willingness to try new things, so I went to an open house for a regenerative medicine doctor who practices outside the confines of insurance interference.

The facility was nice and clean, but not overly ornate. It had less of a clinical feeling and more of a personal vibe, and the doctor and physician’s assistant were welcoming and engaging as they greeted visitors. Instead of a waiting room full of literature about prescription drugs, I saw holistic supplements and bone broth for sale. The doc and PA looked extremely fit and healthy, and while of course looks can be deceiving, as an athlete, I was impressed that they appeared to work hard for their physiques. Cautiously, I began to feel hopeful and wonder if I’d finally found some real medical help. I registered for my first appointment, then went home to fill out a dozen pages of online paperwork.

The questions asked by the clinic’s online health history program were shockingly personal, in a good way. Even for the gender identifier, their were options beyond just male/female. I’m not transgender, but if I were, there was a space to identify as myself. What a breath of fresh air! I listed the various diagnoses I’d received over the years (fibromyalgia, cervical dystonia, guttate psoriasis, etc.), but also answered questions about my diet, exercise, and sleep habits. The forms were more thorough and probing than anything I’d seen at an insurance-accepted place.

A few days later, I sat in my truck outside the office and tried to calm myself with a few deep breaths. I wasn’t nervous about what would happen at the appointment, but I was very nervous that even the cash-pay, uninhibited-by-insurance doctor couldn’t help me. I’d put so much hope in the hands of medical professionals in the past and usually been slapped with disappointment, so I’d mostly quit seeking medical interventions. But May was a really, really hard month for me, and I needed help ASAP.

My appointment was over an hour long— 60+ minutes with just the doctor and me! No interruptions, no hurried feelings, no bullshit. It was more like a conversation than a medical appointment, even though he examined my back and talked about symptoms and tests and nutrition. I pulled out my usual stack of photographic evidence— pictures of my ghost-white fingers (Raynaud’s), rash-covered torso, and a few other oldies-but-goodies. He listened, talked, and drew diagrams on a dry-erase board. Unlike every other doctor’s appointment I’ve ever been to, I never once felt like I was keeping him from something more important than our time together.

I left with orders for comprehensive blood work and a kit for finger-prick testing and urinalysis. The doctor would start investigating from the most basic upward, and would look at everything from my cholesterol levels to potential food sensitivities. Only one lab in town could perform the tests, which told me how out-of-the-ordinary this doctor’s protocols were compared to most MDs. The first test was SpectraCell’s CardioMetabolic Panel (plus a few other things, like hormone levels), and next week I’ll find out the name of the next test.

I also bought several supplements that he recommended, including a highly concentrated and purified version of fish oil capsules. His goal is to attack the systemic inflammation in my body, and while he looks for the cause through blood work, he wants to knock it down as much as possible in the meantime. And no NSAIDs! That was one of the most shocking things he said. I’ve been on and off (mostly on) the NSAID train for so many years, but he’s adamant that NSAIDs actually inhibit healing. I’m sure there are skeptics, but after years of NSAIDs and chronic pain, I’m very willing to try new theories.

I’ve had one blood draw already and will go for the next one next week. Once the results come back, maybe I’ll finally have a path to wellness. Of all the things I’ve tried over the years, this line of medical treatment seems to make the most sense, and for the first time in a long time, I’m hopeful again.

Tuft & Needle Mattress Review

tuft and needle
The box for my twin mattress is 4 feet tall and 1 foot wide. The mattress was tightly compressed in the box but expanded without issue.

I bought a Tuft & Needle mattress last week and it arrived yesterday. I’d heard great things about their mattresses and ordered one to try. I hate the high pressure and high prices in mattress stores and have never felt that lying on a bed in a showroom gave me a realistic impression of how the mattress would perform at home. Tuft & Needle has a great guarantee and their mattresses are made in the US. Their prices seem fair— not dirt-cheap, but they shouldn’t be, since they’re good quality— and they use a patented type of foam that’s supposed to be awesome. The mattress arrived within a few days, as promised, and was tightly rolled in plastic for shipping. It was heavier than I expected, but two of us were able to get it into the house and out of the box.

After we cut away the plastic, the mattress expanded. It was like magic. Not only did it get much bigger than its shipping size, but it quickly took nice, firm shape. Tuft & Needle advises waiting 2-3 hours before lying on it, so I let it air out in the bedroom while I went for a long walk and played with my dogs. The mattress had a bit of an odor, but nothing like the horrific, chemically smell I’ve experienced with other new mattresses. When it was time for bed, the odor was only detectable if I put my nose against the mattress.

I stretched out on the mattress with high but cautious hope. Sleeping—especially getting comfortable at night— is still a major problem for me. I’d done a two-hour private yoga session that morning to try to work on my rigid legs, and my back was aggravated from the new movements. The Tuft & Needle mattress had to be perfect if I was going to get any sleep at all.

And it was perfect. I mean, literally perfect. I still had to stack pillows under my knees to keep my back comfortable, but that’s no fault of any mattress. Once I arranged myself into my usual sleeping position, I laid there and closed my eyes and waited for discomfort that never came. The mattress was absolutely awesome— the best surface I’ve slept on in many years.

I needed to shift to my side once during the night, and because the T&N is quite firm, I had to make sure the fatter part of my cervical pillow was stuffed under my neck just right. Twenty seconds or so of pillow placement yielded good results, and I slept for another two hours without disturbance.

When I woke up this morning, my usual aches and pains weren’t cured (and I didn’t expect them to be), but I’d slept well and actually look forward to going to bed tonight. I haven’t looked forward to going to bed in as long as I can remember, because it’s usually a disappointing battle that leaves me stiff and in pain. Assuming the T&N keeps up its quality, I can see where sleeping on it could be life-changing.

This afternoon, I contacted one of their customer service reps to ask if they make camping versions of their mattresses. They don’t (yet?!), but the rep was not only instantly available via online chat, but extremely helpful and polite. What a relief, and a departure from the norm for a lot of purchases— a good product, good customer service, and made in the United States.

I have no connection at all to Tuft & Needle. I paid full price for my mattress and only wrote this review because I hope other people will read it and potentially find something that may help them sleep comfortably. Night-night, y’all.

Running, Renewal, and a Pretty Good Month

cheaha sunset
Gorgeous sunset at Cheaha.

I’ve had as good an October so far as I had a bad September, health-wise. It’s been a almost six weeks since I’ve needed a chiropractic adjustment (although I have to twist, roll, and traction myself daily), and I’m back up to running multiple times per week and lifting weights. Until a few days ago, I was sleeping pretty well, too. Chronic health problems are often cyclical, and I was reminded of that a few days ago when my hips and low back felt locked and painful and self-care wasn’t cutting it. I didn’t do anything out of the ordinary to cause the issue, and I’m hoping a quick trip to my beloved chiropractor will fix my woes.

I bit off more than I can chew with work, and some of that stress is probably contributing to my tight muscles and sore back. The teaching semester will be over in about five weeks— not that I’m counting— and getting down to one job plus writing will be relieving. I don’t know if it’s age, health issues, or what, but I just can’t work as many jobs as I used to without feeling overwhelmed.

sunset cheaha
Sunset at Cheaha.

I had a business meeting at an office about twenty miles from the state forest, and I knew a good run in the clean air would help clear my mind. I saw an awesome rattlesnake and enjoyed the solitude. I had to stop a few times to try to work the kinks out of my back, but otherwise it was a great run. I hope I can get out there again soon. And speaking of awesome runs– I had a great one at Cheaha State Park in Alabama. The mountain views, the morning mist…it was one of those days when it’s great to be alive and aware.

Feeling Better, Looking Ahead

bayou sunrise
Sunrise over the bayou while I ran at an hour when I’m usually still in bed.

I had a rough September, starting with a flareup of cervical dystonia. I’d been working out pretty hard for a couple months, and I suspect some of the exercises I did were too much for my neck. As I began to recover, I got a cold, and the next day got the stomach flu. It was almost comical except that I felt awful and got super dehydrated.

Now that I’ve been close to 90% normal (my normal), I’m increasing my exercise again. I got up at 5 this morning and went for a run, happy to avoid the 90-degree temps that will come later today. The sunset over the bayou was enough to encourage me to stop and enjoy it even though I knew I had limited time to run before the heat rose to a miserable level.
As I regain running strength, I’m alternating ten minutes of endurance training– slow, steady pace– with five minutes of speedwork– fast (for me) pace but not sprint. I’m comfortably up to 35 minutes of running each session, and I’m sure I could do more, but I don’t want to relapse into another battle with neck spasms.
I bought a new peanut, which is essentially two lacrosse balls joined to form a torture device. I hate using it, but it’s highly effective at breaking some of my cervical and thoracic spasms. I was super stiff and headed toward immobility last night, but the peanut came through for me and I feel much better this morning.
I’ve also gotten more dedicated to rolling, which I intended to mean I’m rolling twice every day, but what actually means I’m rolling about five days a week. I use a solid foam roller and it’s helping a lot to reduce the tension in my legs and back. Rolling the outside of my thighs makes my eyes water, but, like the peanut, the results are totally worth the temporary discomfort.
One of the weirdest, lingering effects of my September health issues is a major shift in my appetite. I lost four pounds when I had the stomach flu, and I’m pretty sure most of it was fluid loss. However, since then, I’m alternately ravenous for random food (like beans, rice, and salsa for breakfast!) and unable to finish my meals. I’ve been a mega-portion eater for many years, so this shift is very odd. I’m giving myself some leeway and allowing, within reason, whatever meals I want. I draw the line at pure crap, like the serious cravings I’ve been having for milkshakes, but I admit to eating corn chips and Mexican food for breakfast this morning.
I’m not one to wish time away, but I’m really looking forward to October. I hope the ridiculous high temperatures will finally drop. I can’t wait to actually feel cold when I walk outside. This October marks three years since my back started giving me major trouble, but I’m not dwelling on that anniversary. I’m ready to do some serious hiking and backpacking when the weather cools off, and I’m certain October will bring the cool breezes and nights that I crave.

Three Weeks, Three Ailments

I’ve had a tough three weeks. Technically, a tough three weeks and three days. I woke up three Mondays ago completely unable to turn my head. It was nothing new, just an aggravation of persistent cervical dystonia, but I’d really thought my body was doing better than ever. I’d been feeling strong lately and had upped my workout intensity. I’d been lifting heavier weights than usual and doing more core work, especially planks, than I’d ever done in my life. I felt pretty great, all things considered. Then I woke up and couldn’t move my head.

My awesome chiropractor, who I’m truly not sure I can live without, helped set my vertebrae back where they belong. He found most of the issues in the thoracic spine, and it took a few days and multiple adjustments, but I started feeling normal (normal for me!) again. My talented PT friends worked on me, too, and after a couple sessions of Dolphin Neurostim, I was looking left and right without turning my entire body. I took a week off from exercise, which I hated, but I thought some rest might help me move on from neck trouble faster than usual. It seemed to work, and by day 8, I was walking comfortably for an hour and lifting a few light weights.

As the middle of the second week approached, my head was turning pretty well without chiropractor help, and I set my sights on returning to running and other challenging workouts. I actually missed planking and couldn’t wait to return to it. Then my throat got sore, a headache came on, and I was super tired. Symptoms of a common cold were alarming enough, but then I felt sick. Really, really sick. I spent the night throwing up and generally feeling like death. Every joint in my body ached. The next day, I was dizzy and exhausted and a nurse at a walk-in clinic said my blood pressure was 80/50 (hence the dizziness) and my pulse was 118. Dehydration is a scary beast.

I hate going to the doctor. Dealing with chronic pain and medical conditions has already required too much time in doctors’ offices, so the idea of going even for severe dehydration is off limits. Stubborn, stupid, whatever. We all make our choices. My wife bought me some crackers and Gatorade and we went home rather than to the hospital as the nurse suggested. One of the only bonuses about being that sick was it gave me the ability to sleep. I slept more the last several nights than I have in years.

After a miserable weekend, the stomach stuff and dehydration were under control, but the cold was back with a vengeance. My neck was super tight and painful again and I felt defeated. After three weeks of fighting one ailment after another, I’d lost three pounds and watched the visible muscles in my abdomen begin to disappear. I could tell my legs and arms were getting weaker, too. Everything I’d worked so hard for was literally wasting away. I allowed a five-minute pity party, then got out the Wii. There’s nothing like a hearty game of Wii Fit Plus hula hoop to make me feel alive again. I was stiff and sore, but it was great to get moving again.

My chiropractor loosened up my t-spine again, and I’m eating normally without any stomach trouble. Mostly all that’s still hanging on are the cold symptoms, plus the usual stiff neck. I’m so ready to be back to a full life. I charged up my old Garmin watch and am ready to go as soon as I can breathe through my nose again.

In the midst of all this, the weather has gotten cooler—finally. We still hit daytime temps of 90+, but the evenings are less humid and more tolerable. I’m really hoping that by this weekend I’ll be able to get out and enjoy the taste of fall in the air. One of the hardest things about being hurt and sick is being forced to take a break from life. I’m ready to get out and explore my corner of the world.

Dirt Road Running and River Tubing

red dirt road
The T described by the shuttle driver was an intersection of wide dirt roads. Perfect for running.

I planned to run eight miles on forest roads yesterday morning and meet friends for a day on the river afterward. Despite careful planning, I realized my chosen route wouldn’t work when I found out from the kayak shuttle driver that my friends’ drop-off point was going to be more southerly than I thought. If I ran the route I chose, I’d come to the river north of them, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t catch their kayaks with my 99-cent tube. The shuttle driver saved the day by giving me fantastic directions for a pig-trail route to catch up with them further south. The new plan made me a little uneasy but sparked my curiosity. As my friends boarded the shuttle, I repacked my bag, ditching my iPod in favor of a compass and adding extra Gin Gins in case I got lost and hungry.

The shuttle driver’s directions were spot-on, even though he failed to mention a few turnoffs that made me more than a little nervous. Every time I passed another trail, I wondered if he’d forgotten to mention a turn. I decided to run out for an hour, and if I didn’t find the river by then, I’d turn around and follow my footsteps (and compass) back to my truck. I love adventures, but I hate going off road without a map. None of the forest maps I own—not even the official Forest Service map—shows the route I was on yesterday.

jurek endure bottle
Rationing my water from one of two 10oz bottles on my Jurek Endure waistpack.

At the eighteen-minute mark, I found the T the driver told me about. “You’ll come to a place where you’ll either have to go left or right,” he said. “Turn left.” I’d written his words down on a tiny piece of paper and stuffed it in my waistpack so I wouldn’t risk my memory playing tricks. I turned left like he said, and within ten minutes I was at the river.

Unfortunately, my friends were way upstream, so I had time to kill. I turned around and ran a bit more, than came back to the river and talked with a family who’d arrived via shuttle for tubing. What I witnessed—and the conversations I had with that family—is too powerful and emotional for me to talk about yet, but suffice it to say I felt the convergence of tragedy, unfairness, hope, and resilience. Rather than wait for my friends, I decided to hike further upriver and process my encounter with the family of strangers.

I found another unmarked trail, this one narrow and crisscrossed by spider webs, but it was a decent hike. I followed the route upstream for a mile until I hit an impasse. A huge patch of wetlands suddenly appeared, and I don’t think I could’ve even made it through with snake waders and boots, let alone in running shorts and sneakers. I dipped down off the trail onto a sandy beach and sat under a cypress tree in the river. My back and neck were really bothering me and I hadn’t slept more than three hours the night before, but the cold water felt great. I wished I could figure out a way to float on my back and completely relax without being carried by the current.

blackwater river
My riverfront view as I waited for my kayaking friends to paddle downstream.

My friends arrived eventually, better late than never, and their kayaks were loaded with food and supplies. It was great to see them paddling their kayaks toward me, and I sat with them on the beach and pigged out for a while before we headed downstream. I’d run with a deflated tube bungeed to my waistpack, and once I got it blown up, we took off down the river. Note for future adventures: tubing on a 99-cent piece of crap is a lot slower than going down the river on a kayak. I ended up getting towed a good portion of the way by three generous friends who switched off paddling duties as I clung to the tails of their kayaks. I told them I’d be fine and would catch up eventually, but they stayed with me anyway. Five slow miles later, we floated under the last bridge before the river becomes non-navigable, and I walked up the bank to my truck. Changing into dry, cotton clothes felt great after being wet literally all day.

It was a very successful trip in terms of nothing going wrong, but I was so ready for something crazy to happen that when it didn’t I was almost a little let down. I’m excited about the future, though—after seeing all those pig trails, I’m ready to go back and explore more uncharted territory. I’m going to take my GPS and make my own map of the trails. Who knows? Maybe I can sell copies of the map (to that one other person besides me in the whole world who would want to hike there?). Better keep my day jobs.

That Time I Hiked 16 Miles By Accident

 All photos shot by a refurbished iPhone 4 and a GoPro Hero3+.

What I planned: a 6-mile hike, then a leisurely tubing trip down the creek. What actually happened: a 16-mile hike, a massive thunderstorm, and nothing leisurely at all. I respect the difference between a well-planned expedition and a stupid one, but I’m prone to getting overzealous about new adventures. I get giddy with anticipation. It’s a pre-exercise endorphin festival that often leads to questionable choices.

starbucks doubleshot vanilla
There’s a fine line between liquid courage and stupidity.

Almost immediately, my plan hit the crapper. The wooden walkways over the swamp were coated in slime and were dangerously slippery. I had to inch along, adding a lot more time and effort to my hike. Banana spiders’ webs crisscrossed the trail, mostly at face-height. I walked into so many that I stopped counting. I took those webs to the face because I was constantly looking down for snakes. Perhaps if I’d been looking up, I’d have avoided the webs but stepped on a water moccasin. Write your own ending to that one.

lifejacket backpack
Lifejacket strapped to backpack. Ready to go tubing.
wild hibiscus
One of the many beautiful flowers I carefully stepped over on the trail. I think it’s a wild hibiscus, but I’m no botanist.

The air was 90 degrees in the shade. As hour two arrived but the creek did not, I should have turned around, but I so badly wanted to swim. I’d lugged a lifejacket and an inner tube all those miles and didn’t want the effort to be for nothing. So I kept going, despite the common sense alarm going off in the back of my mind.

juniper creek trail sign
New junction signs made me feel more at ease compared to the last time I hiked this section. By the time I snapped a selfie, I was drenched in sweat and really looking forward to swimming in the creek.
gopro blackwater sky
My view of the forest, plus a bit of my hiking pole in the top left corner. No sign of any impending storm.
juniper creek small beach
Finally on the first small beach, marking the sand so I’d know where to get out of the water later as I floated downstream. The sky was getting cloudier but still showed lots of blue. Sweat dripped off my face and I was quite ready to swim.

I got to my tube-launching point about the time I realized I hadn’t packed enough food for my efforts. No matter, I thought. I just have to relax and float for a while, then hop out of the creek and hike a short distance back to my truck. I raised the lifejacket above my head. In that instant, lightning shot straight down to the beach. Thunder slammed the air, and rain pelted my face. There was a backcountry shelter about a quarter mile from the beach, and it was the only place of refuge for at least six miles in any direction. I sprinted for it through rain so thick I couldn’t see three feet in front of me.

juniper creek big beach
Thick but not threatening cloudcover as I finished blowing up the tube that would float my backpack.

The rain beat so loudly on the metal roof of the shelter that it sounded like someone was shaking a tin can full of pennies. Two huge spiders—not banana spiders, but ominous and gray—lurked above me, and rain blew in the open side of the shelter. My feet vibrated on the shelter floor with every blast of thunder.

juniper creek trail shelter
The little backcountry hut where I took refuge from the rain and lightning. Well aware of the metal roof, I stood in the middle of the shelter and didn’t touch the walls as the storm pounded the forest.
juniper shelter
Drenched after running back to the shelter when the sky broke open. The lightning and thunder were almost simultaneous. I was directly underneath the worst of the storm.

The storm stopped almost as suddenly as it started. The trail was flooded and of course I didn’t have snake waders. I worried that another storm would hit while I was on the open water and realized I needed a Plan B. I looked at my map and planned a return route along forest roads instead of risking the flooded trail. I knew I had to hike a little over a mile to get to the closest road, but the rest of my calculations were terrible. I’d never driven the roads on the map and definitely hadn’t walked on them. I had no idea what to expect but I hoped my map was accurate. I badly underestimated the added distance of my new plan.

country road
The road ahead. Nothing but state forest and farmland.

Other than being several miles longer than I anticipated, the roadside hike was pretty awesome. The state forest is dotted with small sections of private property, so I got to see some interesting pieces of civilization. I fantasized about someone bringing me a ham and cheese sandwich, even though I eat neither ham nor bread. I briefly considered hitchhiking, but was only passed by three dilapidated trucks during my entire walk, and each one was going at least 80mph and seemed like stock from a horror movie. I kept my thumb to myself.

you shoot we prosecute
“YOU SHOOT WE PROSECUTE.” I can definitely get on board with the idea of not shooting.

Rationing the last of my homemade granola muffin was an exercise in self-control. I wanted a supreme pizza and a ride home, but I could tell by the map that I was in for a longer haul than anticipated. The forest alongside the road was beautiful, and I focused on the power lines that paralleled my route and pretended I was zip-lining along them. A church sat like a mirage at the top of a long hill. The chapel was completely surrounded by forest, except for a cemetery and an open field. No cars were parked in front, but a decent-sized overhang looked like a great place to rest for a while and get out of the sun. I’d been walking for more than four hours without once sitting down, and since the storm, I’d been sockless. My feet looked like white raisins.

church in blackwater
Take me to church! Or at least to the church’s porch. Sign says “The light in the forest.”

The concrete was as welcoming as a new mattress. There were no spiders, no ticks, no mud—just a blessedly clean, level surface. I took off my pack and stretched out my legs, enjoying the stillness of my body. I’m generally a person who loathes keeping still, but I could’ve laid down and slept on the church’s concrete. I knew, though, that if I didn’t get up soon, I might not be able to. I’d already felt the fatigue give way to threatening spasm in my calves, and too much sitting would allow lactic acid to settle, rendering me useless. I pulled out some dry socks, scooted them over my damp feet, and reluctantly put my shoes back on. I wanted to call someone to pick me up, but I’d made the mess, and I was intent on cleaning it up. Besides, I wasn’t sure if anyone could find me.

compass
Checking my compass to make sure I was heading where I thought I was heading. I got worried that I was hiking the wrong way. I wasn’t—I’d just underestimated the distance I needed to travel.

By the time I reached the road where my truck and a cooler of watermelon waited for me, I was exhausted. I tried to appreciate the beauty around me and feel some sort of satisfaction about my soon-to-be completed adventure, but mostly I just felt stupid and tired. The chrono feature on my watch said I’d been hiking for 6.5 hours. Traffic started appearing, so I knew I was getting close to the parking area. A man on a golf cart rode toward me, and I flagged him down. He stared at me with one eye, a fleshy hole where the other one used to live. He told me he’d seen my truck “1,000 yards” up the road. “No, I meant 1,000 feet,” he said, changing his estimate. I thanked him and felt a weight lifted, but he was wrong. Fifteen minutes later I finally got to my truck. It was a very long fifteen minutes filled with colorful language.

gopro fisheye forest
The disorienting fisheye effect of the GoPro pictures summed up the way I felt by the sixth hour of hiking—like everything was distorted, surreal, and unsettling.

I ignored the healthy food in my cooler and went straight for the potato chips. I sat on the bed of my truck and drank a can of La Croix in under a minute. I demolished the family-sized bag of Lay’s in even less time. My feet, swollen and sore and hideous, hung toward the pavement and throbbed. I’d walked ten more miles than I originally planned, survived a biblical thunderstorm, experienced life in ways I never imagined, but still hadn’t gotten to go tubing. Maybe next time, I thought, and a little bit of that familiar adventure-planning tingle danced in my blood.

juniper creek trail bridge
Crossing a bridge high above the water around hour 2 of my hike when it was all still fun and games.

Stabilizing SI Joints for Air Squats

squat si joint
No, I’m not about to go to the bathroom in my yard. I’m descending into a squat while holding my SI joints!

My re-acquired (or earned!) ability to squat is absolutely awesome. Many years—yes, years—of persistence, hard work, and dedication finally paid off the day I realized I could finally squat again after so much time of squat=excruciating low back pain.

Since the breakthrough day, I’ve slowly added squatting back into my workout routine. The benefits, both psychological and physical, are obvious already. I have more energy because I feel like I’ve accomplished something major. My workouts are more challenging, in a good way, because I can squat. I’m better able to strengthen my body, which helps keep my joints safe and stable. And I’m so, so excited!

My squats come with a caveat. I’m up to sixty air squats in one workout, but I have to do every single one while using my hands to hold my SI joints in place. If that sounds weird, I promise it looks weird, too, but it works for me. I dig my fingers into the divots near the joints that attach my pelvis to my spine, apply pressure, and squat without pain. I can’t go beyond parallel without sacral nerve irritation, but I can squat! I can squat!

Did I mention I can squat again? J My newfound squatting ability has injected life into my strength-training workouts. I’ve recommitted myself to doing as many resistance exercises as my body will allow, and I feel great. My posture is already improved, and I can hold my puppy with more confidence when she pulls on her leash. I’ve been doing a good core workout plus basic arm weights for quite some time, but squatting has really reminded me of how much a strong body can protect itself—even when it needs to protect itself from itself (thanks, autoimmune issues).

I can’t add weight to my squats since my hands are busy holding my SI joints in alignment, but I have faith that one day I’ll progress. Just the fact that I can do the basic movement again is a huge victory. Every time I squat, I smile. It’s a great feeling to be able to squat, and I’ve worked hard and long to earn it.

Earlier Mornings and Organization

I’m making a major effort to organize and restructure my life. The reasons are varied, but the bottom line is I need to be more productive if I’m going to have a shot at accomplishing my major life goals. Lately I’ve dedicated a lot of thought to what I want my life to look like, and I realized (no shock) that my lack of Type-A tendencies hold me back from getting the most from my days. My brain is scattered, my workspace is scattered, and there’s no way I’m maxing out my potential in the midst of chaos. I could make excuses, some of which are legitimate (like how exhausting it is to fight chronic health issues), but the crux of the problem remains the same—I have goals, and I can’t accomplish them if I don’t get organized.

inspirational quotes
I put together some inspiration to hang over my newly organized desk. These are just simple notecards I wrote on and laid out before tacking them onto a cork board.

I printed a simple Excel spreadsheet to itemize my days and times, and started yesterday by filling in what I did with each time block. My ultimate plan is to write myself a schedule and adhere to it come hell or high water, but for now I’m just feeling out what a truly organized life will be like. I spent three hours going through stacks of paper, drawers of random stuff, and bins with pens that don’t write anymore. I chose to work meticulously rather than just tidying my space, and the task definitely started to drag. However, when I was done, I had a usable, organized desk. A large paper grocery bag full of recyclables proved just how much crap I’d kept for years.

I also confirmed what I suspected—I’ve let my health problems dictate too much of my days. There are times when that can’t be helped, but overall, even attention to a health crisis can be scheduled in a spreadsheet. I’ve been nearly killing myself by running too late in the mornings. By the time I get around to running, it’s usually 92-95 degrees in the shade. I struggle with getting comfortable at night, which means I often don’t sleep well, which, in turn, means I don’t move very efficiently in the morning. When I do get up, I take a lot of time to traction and stretch my back, rub Cryoderm on my neck, and/or do whatever else my body demands. It’s sometimes 10 a.m. before I run, and that’s not the smartest routine in the summer in the Deep South. It’s also a productivity-killer.

Fix number one was definitely organizing my desk. I’m not entirely sure if it’s true that a cluttered space equals a cluttered mind, but I feel better when I look at my newly arranged workspace. It’s been a source of embarrassment for years, and the piles of junk on it have definitely hindered my productivity. Now it’s a place that signifies pride in myself and my work and dedication to my future. Seriously, it seems that important.

Fix number two is saying to hell with my health problems and insomnia and getting up early anyway. (I used to work the 5 a.m. – 5 p.m. shift, so it’s not like I’ve never had to get up early.) I set my alarm for 6:30 a.m., but when I still couldn’t get comfortable enough to sleep at 1 a.m., I grabbed my phone and changed the alarm to 7. It felt a little like defeat, but I respect my body enough not to punish myself too much for my pain. Guilt over health conditions is absolutely counter-productive. At 6:57, I woke up anyway and turned off the alarm before it could blare. That small action empowered me, and I headed to the kitchen to wake the dogs and put them out to do their business.

Side note—as far as “doing business,” like many runners, I much prefer to do mine before I run. I knew there was a possibility that last night’s dinner wouldn’t get moving at such an early hour, and I was right. Luckily, nothing catastrophic happened, although it was a little weird to head out the door to run before using the bathroom.

I drank ½ a cup of coffee and ate a Larabar, rubbed sunscreen on my face, and put on the running clothes I’d laid out the night before. I paced around the house as a preliminary warm-up, and played with our puppy for some dynamic movement. I sat on the porch stairs for a minute and self-tractioned my back, then knocked my SI joints into alignment against the tiled steps. So far, so good, and I was out the door before 8 a.m. to start my warm-up walk.

5.15 miles run
Electronic proof of a solid run. I used my refurbished iPod Nano and the Nike+ app to track my route, and the nice background pic belongs to the app.

The run wasn’t glorious or amazing or any of those other words I’d hoped would apply, but it was pretty damn good. The sun was still low enough that the mature trees in our neighborhood blocked it from directly cooking me, and the asphalt hadn’t heated up to the point of steam and odor yet. The bayou looked peaceful, almost like it was just waking up, too. I was covered in sweat by the end of my five-mile route, but not completely drenched like I am when I run later. The best part was, I wasn’t exhausted. I came home completely sold on running early in the morning and determined to back that alarm up to 6:30 and eventually to 6.

So far, my time log looks a lot better than yesterday’s. I couldn’t sleep two nights ago, partly because a nasty outbreak of psoriasis itched so bad that it kept me up. The skin calamity was the main reason I didn’t get up until almost 9 yesterday, but it had a strong effect on my productivity. What I’ve also realized is, staying in bed later doesn’t make me any less tired or any less itchy or really affect my pain and discomfort at all. In fact, I was less stiff this morning than usual after less time in bed.

Today’s To Do list is long, and it’s a good feeling to be partway through it at only 10:25 in the morning. I’m figuring out that I thrive off the sense of control I get from being extremely organized. Chronic pain demands so much attention, and it’s nice to fight back by telling my body that it’ll still get the help it needs, but that it’ll have to be helped efficiently and within my schedule. I truly feel empowered (also somewhat due to being able to squat again, which I’m sure makes me mentally and physically stronger!), and “empowerment” is something I haven’t really experienced in years. It’s a damn good feeling.

Daily Gratitude and Appreciation

I have three things to celebrate today. Nothing extraordinary, but focusing on the positive always makes me feel good.

I had a good run this morning. A thunderstorm was building, so the air was cooler than usual and clouds covered the sun. Lots of birds sang in the trees, and I saw a redheaded woodpecker gather nesting material. It was a nice break from the sauna-like atmosphere of Florida in the summer. There wasn’t anything spectacular about today’s run, but I always appreciate every chance I get to explore the world on foot.

balega socks
I love these Balega socks and am proud to have gotten them dirty on their maiden voyage.

I tried out some new Balega socks. I got them on clearance, which is the only way I can afford them, and WOW, they’re nice! They held up well to a five-miler through several parks. They didn’t slip at all and my feet felt great—no blisters, no temperature issues, no constrictive fit. I’m glad I bought two pair.

 

 

 

 

puppy with ice
Roo is a sweet soul and loves to play with giant ice cubes.

My puppy is growing up and becoming a great dog. She has truly boundless energy, and she’s energized the whole household. There’s nothing like watching a puppy greet every day with excitement and curiosity. She’s sweet and soft and makes adorable groaning sounds when she stretches. The vet said I can start running with her when she’s eight months old, which means we’re on a short countdown. In about two months, I’ll have a new running buddy!