The elevated state.

The light that was born in the darkness to help us find our way.

We’ve always recognised the importance of our physical state and its role in helping us feel, function and flow in a particular way.

Go back to the teenage years and the entire fourth term spent bed ridden.. unable to move, communicate or experience life.

At 12 years old.. going on 13.. and always active.. this was a pretty hard chapter for me and for those around me.

We investigated the could-be’s.. from brain tumour, to ross river.. eventually labelling it as Chronic Fatigue after many weeks.

It started off with general lethargy.. 

which then got worse and worse.. 

no warmth or vibrancy.. no energy.

Weeks went by and we’re now in bed for almost 10 weeks..

Not walking, not talking, not living.

The moment that pushed us over to go and find more help.. was when the desk chair was the only way to get from the bed to the bathroom and back.

So, we looked further and found hope within the Chronic Fatigue Program which was lead at the time by Paediatrician Lionel Lubitz.

Finally, someone that not only listened to us, they heard us.

From here, I was moved into the Austin Hospital for several weeks to participate in the CFS Program.

Daily hydrotherapy, daily physiotherapy, daily nourishing food.

Key word.. DAILY.

Going into hospital in a wheel chair and challenged by just the thought of having to sit up when in bed.. this wasn’t your normal hospital stay.. it was a training camp.. I just didn’t know it yet.

Every day there was work to be done to build my body.

Every day there was endless thoughts telling me to give up, stop.

Every day there was a choice to make.  

Sure.. there were many people supporting me and helping me “do the thing”, but ultimately it was up to me.

Then, the moment that changed it all.

From the physiotherapy rooms to the ward.. there was a long connecting hall way.

We’d been in for weeks and progressing, slowly sure.. but progressing.

The physio sat me down at the end of the tunnel and said I want you to walk back to the room.

I thought they were joking.. but when they walked away with my at-the-time necessary walker, things just got real.

So, I balled my eyes out.  

There was simply no way.  

It was too far, I was too tired, I was too weak.

After what felt like a lifetime, I realised they weren’t coming back.

That for me to continue, I simply had to do something I didn’t think I could do.

Slowly but surely, I stood up from the bench.  Step one.

I then made my way along the hall slowly, assisted by the wall but it was me.  Step two.

Into the lift, up to the the right floor and into the ward.  Step three.

I had freaking done it.

I hadn’t walked on my own for months and now, I had?  How could this be?  Was I fixed?

Tired.. emotional.. but that feeling of doing the thing that I “couldn’t do” (well, didn’t think I could do).. that’s always stuck with me.

I’ve ridden from Adelaide to Melbourne, completed the 7 peaks, crawled down 21 flights of stairs to see how it would feel and what the body is capable of.. along with plenty more..

But still to this day, getting through that hall way is one of my greatest accomplishments and an important reminder for us all.

You’re not on your own but to move forwards you need to take the first step.

For us at Northside, it’s never just been about training.