Walking
When I make plans to go for a walk in Central Park, it is not without apprehension.
Along with my Parkinson’s diagnosis 12 years ago, came a very unpredictable gait. It happened gradually, showing up as a limp and a swinging forward of my right leg. My toes hit the ground first instead of heels, which can make it treacherous on NYC’s cement sidewalks. I have yet to fall, but I’ve had some close calls.
Before the pandemic started, I generally told friends that I couldn’t take walks. I was fearful. I knew my gait would suddenly turn on me and I didn’t want to get stuck far from home, unable to take a normal step. So I began to believe that I could not take walks and when I would take the dog out, I hobbled my way back home, leash in hand, hoping nobody saw me. I walk by my doormen and sometimes I’m walking normally, while other times I’m pitched forward taking large steps, my foot slapping down on the floor and I’m running involuntarily toward the wall turning right to the elevator, (sometimes while holding grocery bags in each hand) completely breathless and thankful to be by myself.
I met friends only close to my apartment and was afraid to stray too far from the lobby. I would take taxis around the corner to a nearby restaurant. One day, not too long ago, I woke up to the fact that I was being defeated and I asked myself if I really wanted to be that person. I’m 57 years old. I love to hike and be in the outdoors. Did I really want to go down that rabbit hole without a fight? The answer was no.
My husband is always telling me that I can do more than I think I can. I began walking with him and the more I walked, the more I saw improvement in the length of time I could walk well. I used to think I could only walk in the morning, but I found that I was walking well at other times of the day. I know about the importance of neuroplasticity, the ability to change the brain by creating new nerve pathways to compensate for the parts of the brain that are no longer working. The brain will remember the more you continue to do something.
With Parkinson’s you learn early on to “use it or lose it.” So I made a decision. And that decision was to say “I can walk” and I showed that by doing just that: walking. I found that when I changed my mindset, I got results. I walked and suddenly I can walk longer distances for longer periods of time. I feel empowered and confident. I enlist friends to join me. I get a lot of takers since walking is largely the way us New Yorkers can socialize safely in the wintertime during this pandemic. One friend said to me just the other day, “You are so inspiring. At the beginning of the walk you were struggling, but you didn’t let it discourage or defeat you. You just pushed through.” My initial instinct was to downplay it. To me, it is just what I do!
I’ve seen first hand that a shift in one’s thinking can literally change physical handicaps. I’m not saying I don’t struggle with my gait anymore because I do. But I’m fighting the good fight and enjoying my wins. There is something mystical and mysterious about what we can achieve when we embody our aspirations and wholly embrace our intentions.