So, I can’t run yet, but I can walk.  I decided to experience “running” from whatever condition of self is available to me.  Perhaps my neural and muscular self would recognize new options from a partial re-enactment.

I donned my running gear and simply walked my running route of several miles through the neighborhood.  The morning air, with breezes from Puget Sound, the Spring foliage, and the many songs of migrating birds, as well as seagull calls and crow chatter, drifted happily through me.  Expanding my picture beyond what I can’t do brought the joys of what I can do to awareness.  I can attend to my use without fear of pain or potential falls, and experience the possibility of running again.  Quieting myself, hearing my own noise and not reacting to that incessant noise, refusing to narrow or shorten, and welcoming the wide world resulted in a very happy faux run.

The only detail missing was actually running, which may well occur in time, with faux runs as my new means-whereby.  Attend to overall use and the thing will do itself is my constant theme.  Progress toward full recovery proceeds incrementally, but it does proceed.

Before injury, I ran most mornings to hear my own noise and to disperse that chatter into motion.  I also ran to hear the morning birdsongs, to view trees and foliage through the seasons, and to allow a creative approach to my teaching day.  Running balanced my emotional levels and resulted in a calm sense of well-being.  Movement provided stillness.

It has been a deeply challenging adjustment to remain emotionally balanced during a year of high pain levels and dramatically reduced mobility.  All of my previous coping skills were removed, and I was left with my own noise, as well as with extreme pain and frustrating mobility limitations.

Now I am seeing how this experience has presented an incredible opportunity to respond to my internal chatter with a newly urgent and continuous request for quiet.  This has not only augmented my teaching skills, but also made me far more patient and tolerant of students who struggle with doing too much, chattering internally, and coping with the challenges that pain and injury bring to daily life.  I know the struggle experientially now, and have a hard won compassion.

I went for my annual physical exam this week.  I was thrilled and surprised that my height had increased by half an inch! My PT, Heidi, says that this height increase is due to an expansion and lengthening in my back.  So, with all the good work I am doing to recover, old habits existent previous to injury have relinquished their grip.  Recovery work has resulted  in an overall improvement in springing up from the ground, allowing lengthening and widening.

I have been forced into quieting and learned new coping skills.  Recovery from injury has resulted in old structural patterns shifting to a more elastic mode.  With the help of many people, and the skills of the Alexander Technique, I have made the best of a deeply difficult year.  I can’t run (yet) , but I can walk, and I have new tools to quiet for further possibilities.

I have come a very long way in a year, through much travail, dismay and difficulty.  I can walk without a limp on a good day, and I fully intend to be able to run sometime in the future.  I learned to live life with, initially, a fully extended leg, then with incremental increases in knee flexion.  I managed to teach private lessons and to run a teacher training course with a full leg brace for 12 very long weeks just two weeks after surgery.  Daily life was challenging in ways that were previously unimaginable.  The experience of serious injury changes entire perspective about possibilities.

The lessons of injury have been life-changing, terrifying, informative and deep.  My very definition of self, and of my self in the world, have been shaken, questioned and renewed into a form that is still unrecognizable to me.  But I survived, which at some points was questionable this past year.

My stubborn determination was not sufficient for recovery, however, nor was my impatience helpful.  Assistance was required.  The Alexander Technique gave me a means for framing my recovery with dynamic non-interference, direction and inhibition, and the skills of allowing a bigger picture than the distressing sensations of huge pain and limited mobility.  The skills of other professionals were essential to proceed toward full recovery.

What has helped me most, thus far in the journey, in renewing mobility independence are the following, all equal in importance:  Alexander lessons with John Nicholls for an overall reorganization of self with respiratory support as a key note; Osteopathy to nudge me gently toward a structural balance; Physical Therapy with very attuned and big-picture PT’s, Heidi and Janette to provide intelligently active means of recovery;  Gyrotonic exercise guidance with Lindsey for strength in a deep sense;  acupuncture to reduce inflammation from Yoshiro; and just teaching Alexander lessons daily, which required me to use myself well, despite physical limitations.

Friends and family have been patient and kind, as well as tolerant of my occasional meltdowns. My cat Carmella, dog friends Ella, Georgie,  Oliver, Ruffles have all insisted that I am fine however I am, and can we play now?  These critters have also conveyed affection and acceptance that was vital on days when I was deeply discouraged.  Paddy the horse and equestrian teacher Eileen gave me hope for intention in recovery.  And my dear, dedicated, patient students, who have had the confidence in me to continue learning in tandem with my recovery, have made many levels of recovery possible.

There are many gratitudes implied in the lists above.  My recovery to this point is due in huge part to the skills, guidance, kindness, patience, acceptance and confidence of many people and animals.

There is still a long road ahead.  Although pain is not such a constant presence, it is still a daily possibility.  My mobility is not anywhere near where I hope it will be.  The many athletic pursuits that I enjoyed previous to injury, the ease of daily life activities, are currently either impossible or  only partially available to me.  I still struggle with accepting limitations in movement, still mourn what I can’t do with ease or at all.  But, a year has brought progress, much learning and the news of more to also not know.

Thank you to all who have so generously contributed to my recovery this year!!   The story continues…

This morning, I walked a half mile down very steep hills with constant inhibition of narrowing and shortening myself, as well as refusal to become impatient and irritated by my glacial pace, to a Tai Ji class.  Although I studied Tai Ji many years ago, I entered the studio as a mere beginner, with a quiet unknowing, and an eagerness to allow the form to do itself.  Our teacher, Derryl Willis, created a welcoming and serene environment, as well as offering clear direction, skilled teaching, and a deeply compassionate attitude.

Tai Ji has myriad possibilities for application of Alexander principles, of course.  Dynamic non-interference, elastic response to gravity, invisibility of effort, and moving from intention and attention are some components of this ancient and ageless learning.

At my current condition of self, Tai Ji is an ideal exploration.  I was deeply pleased that I could physically manage a 75 minute class with relative ease.  The form did itself, and I willingly followed.  When my knee signaled for a rest, I rested.  A sense of the ground as support increased and deepened as fear of pain quieted.  My breath moved my limbs and stillness informed motion.  The challenge of allowing was continuous but not defeating, with the skilled guidance of our teacher.

Metaphors for healing abound, and the story continues!

The long flight to Kauai did my knee no favors.  A pressurized cabin combined with long hours of sitting added up to inflammation and rather acute knee pain.  I could feel all the hardware in my knee with nauseating clarity.  Nonetheless, I hobbled off the plane happily into the warm floral air of Kauai.

Previous to my injury, my typical Kauai morning delight was to walk several miles before dawn on the hard and wet sand of our Waimea beach.  The stars are so astonishingly visible in Kauai that they are reflected in the black volcanic sand.  Then, I would turn  around and sprint barefoot through the surf with stars reflected under my feet.  As dawn arrived, the sea would turn blue, and the ocean froth became rose-tinged.  I would splash through stars and the dawn’s pink hues until the day glowed.  This was all kinds of fun, and an experience I have every intention of enjoying again.

Obviously, I couldn’t run during this visit, but I could walk. I got quite overenthusiastic on my first morning beach walk, and did a weird sort of prance-run through the surf, foolishly attending to my prance rather than to the huge and powerful ocean.  A wave knocked me down suddenly and thoroughly.  This made me laugh with joy!  I have been so very afraid of falling ever since The Fall a year ago.  Being knocked by a wave onto sand was safe and awakening (pay attention to the ocean).  My fear of falling was washed away.  I was unhurt, chastened, wet and very happy.

Despite my conscientious PT’s kindly warning that soft sand might not be the friendliest footing for my knee, I threw caution to the trade winds and walked on soft sand into the water on another beach.  After diving into the warm, delicious sea,  I found I couldn’t swim with any ease, as the injured knee protested any kicking.  No problem, I was happy to float, with blue skies above, tropical fish below, palm trees rimming my view.  Bliss!   After much floating happiness, I decided to emerge from the water.  I stood, knee deep, and found that the soft footing gave less than no support for my wobbly knee.  I was stuck, unable to move, it seemed.  Hopping, crawling or walking out of the water were not available possibilities.  A rescue request from the lifeguard seemed hugely absurd.  With every ounce of attention to my use I could muster (refusing to narrow, allowing a new coordination, remaining amused rather than panic-stricken), I finally succeeded in walking the 3 feet to shore.  Henceforth, I not only chose water access with firmer sand, but took a driftwood walking stick with me for assistance.

Another of my Kauai joys is taking riding lessons with Eileen Donahue, a superbly gifted and deeply experienced equestrian who trains horses and teaches riders.  Despite my status as a mere beginner, Eileen is patient, encouraging, compassionate, wise and very observant, as well as an incredible guide to horse-human interactions. She teaches from a perspective of dynamic non-interference, and has an innate sense of the quiet timing and allowance that can best inform horse-human communication.

Well, I may be able to mount a horse (with help) just now, but I can’t think I would be able to dismount with any ease. (Perhaps I need a construction crane available for beach and equestrian rescue possibilities.)  So, Eileen taught me the nuances of grooming, leading, and directing a horse without mounting, as well as very intriguing ground work techniques.  Her instruction included being attentive to my own presence, eye contact with the horse, my gestures, internal quiet, timing, and primarily, my intention.  My knee pain distracted me, and Paddy the horse always noticed  when my attention narrowed.  During the few moments when my fear of failure quieted, and my intention and attention widened and clarified, Paddy was interested and very cooperative.  Use of the self clearly determines quality of horse-human interaction.

So, I couldn’t swim, but I could float.  I couldn’t run, but I could walk.  And, I couldn’t ride, but I could learn to communicate otherwise, and most likely with better use and clarity.  And, by the time I came home, my knee was pain-quiet, my walking had increased in speed and ease, and my sense of further recovery had deepened in confidence.

Thus, a hugely instructive and deeply restorative adventure in Kauai!

An opportunity is presented in long term recovery, which is not in any way fun or easy.  Old habits of response can be examined and addressed as one learns anew basic movements such as walking and descending stairs.  Pain becomes a new and relentless cue to misuse.  And the habit of checking for pain becomes another opportunity  for quieting sensation as any sort of reliable inquiry.  Progress in recovery involves attention that includes pain as a clue, but is also wider, bigger and attentive to the whole.

I can walk today with ease  and speed, but I may hobble and limp tomorrow.  Predictable outcomes are not the deal anymore, at least for now.  My knee will never be the same as it was previous to fracture. I can ask for more mobility with less interference, more ease with less contraction, more interior volume with less noticeable effort.  I can allow the breath to do itself as a reflection of my entire coordination. so that there is less of me  doing, more of not-me doing itself.  This is not easy, but it is all I can do: asking for more and doing less. Laughing at myself while I ask for both more and less!

After several days of dramatic setback, I am now functioning better than previous to the setback.  Pain and immobility necessitated rest and ease in activity as priorities, and new choices in use.  The tissues, nerves, emotional self and perceptions were allowed  time to know a new response.

After 11 months of recovery, I no longer dive into dismay and depression when a setback occurs, as I know now that change is constant and unpredictable.  Often, there are no answers, only the continuing question of how to use myself best with the conditions of Self that are current.  The choice of continuing with good use, of quieting and refusing to narrow or shorten, even with mounting pain and frustration, has thus far served me well.  Directing and inhibiting has saved me from the self-pity trap.

This morning, my canine friend, Oliver, ran to greet me with his big tail wildly wagging.  He thinks I am fine, even on days when I limp and lurch.  I will take a cue from Oliver, and join him in the idea that I am fine as I am now, with hopes of spiraling improvement included.

I have been coming along pretty well in the past weeks.  Reduced pain and improved function have cheered me.  With the solid experience of nearly a year since injury, I have increased daily activity with incremental steps and with respectful attention. Nothing sudden or accelerated has been attempted.  Yet, for no reason I can fathom, pain and reduction in injured knee mobility have returned with lazarine vigor.  Add to this the fact that my non-injured knee is now loudly complaining after 11 months of asymmetrical weight-bearing.

How to use myself well with two acutely (but differently) painful knees is a challenge I will need to address.  Living, thinking, even sleeping with good use becomes hugely important with these conditions of Self.

Given that change is constant, and that recovery goes along in unpredictable shifts, I will trust that attending to good use will result in a surprisingly new ease once again, and a pain free mobility after this weird interim of difficulty and challenged mobility.  I intend to respond to the current conditions of Self with the best means I know:  a dynamic non-interference that may reveal new solutions in overall coordination.  As yet unknown lessons will be learned!

Previous to injury, I was not only physically active, but also active in viewing film on the big screen, as well as attending performances of music, dance and theatre.  Since injury 10 months ago,  it has been nearly impossible for me to sit comfortably for even a brief amount of time.  This has limited my cultural pursuits and my social interactions.  Even dinner with friends was difficult in terms of pain limits for sitting.

So, I was very pleased and encouraged this past week to be able to view some films on the big screen!  I did have to carefully choose a seat that would allow me to wiggle and move and stretch out my leg without disrupting other viewers (usually the very back seat in the “disabled” section), but I can tolerate a few hours of (wiggly) viewing now.  I am so very thrilled to be able to see films again!  Although this may not sound like improved “mobility”, a level of visual mobility is now, once again, available to me.

The continuing application of Alexander principles figures in here.  I could not, until now, push ahead of the condition of Self I found myself in, and had to wait (inhibit) until I could find a means of using myself well to pursue desired activities.  The emotional and psychological consequences have been a struggle.  Depression lurks like a shark in the shadows, but knowing I have a choice in response in my intention and attention has saved me from utter dismay.  Noting each small step in recovery, celebrating the renewal of life activities, marking how far I have come is how I continue to defeat self-pity and depression.

I am slow and careful, but I can now accomplish this simple activity!

Hurray!