No one I know actually remembers learning to walk, it's just something that we do. Though our parents and other indulgent relatives may shout out heaps of encouragement, by and large we figure it out for ourselves. No one gives us instructions, one day we're crawling, the next we are standing and soon after we take our first steps. It's all as natural as breathing ... or so it seems.
A couple of years ago when I was in London with my nephew, he noticed my habit of catching my feet and stumbling on perfectly flat sufaces The joke of the trip became that I needed walking lessons and he offered to do the honours. Yet despite his best attempts, my feet kept going as they chose and I kept stumbling at the most random (and sometimes hilarious) of moments. ?It was just the way I walked, something I'd lived with all my life, something I couldn't change ... or so I thought.
When we embarked on our training for Coastrek, all sorts of aches and pains surfaced the further we walked. Some were old and some were new and we had a choice, live with them and maybe give up on our goal or find a way to do things differently. At the physio, Neil discovered that he had one leg shorter than the other and the longer leg had an extra bone in the ankle. All good reasons for HIS pain, and curable by new orthotics that worked properly. But for me the journey was far more circuitous. The great roller blade accident of '97 had taken it's toll and my back ached when I stood too long and sitting was painful. Walking was fine, I just was crippled when I stopped.
The physio did all the usual stuff with out much improvement. After a month or two he started to study my walk. Using the word 'ataxia' in what sounded like a very derogatory sense, he started to change the whole way I walked. Literally one step at a time until I reached the point a week ago where I completed our 50km walk. I was still full of energy at the end of the trek and when I woke up the next day all I wanted to do was go for a run. It was off to the gym on Monday and life is pretty awesome. Sure a few muscles need a bit of work but I still in awe of the fact that I could relearn to walk and the difference it has made.
They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks but I'm living proof that you are never too old to learn, never too old to change and that help can come from the unlikeliest paths. Now I look at life a bit differently and I wake up every day wondering who I might become rather than simply accepting who I am. It's an exciting adventure and one well worth a try.
