The Vitality In Action Blog

2016

noreply@blogger.com (James (Rusty) Stout) — Thu, 07 Jan 2016 18:26:00 +0000

Though it's been a while—more than a while—since we've posted here, we have been busy building friendships and continuing our work in the community over that time. And, now that it's the new year, we want to let you know about all of our exciting plans for 2016. Stay tuned for our next post in a couple of days.

Goodbye to Vitality in Action

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 09 Feb 2012 18:43:00 +0000

The time has come for me to say goodbye to all of the wonderful people at the Vitality in Action Foundation. It has been such a pleasure to work with everyone involved in this foundation. I have learned so much about the value of Vitality in Action and their mission to help members of the community with mobility impairments to live a more vital life through recreational activities. I am walking away from this internship with many memories, but my fondest memory is from the Vitality Fair.

My first month at Vitality I was able to be involved with planning the Vitality Fair. The Vitality Fair was the first event for Vitality in Action. This event was an ice show that debuted to the community what Vitality does for individuals with mobility impairments. It also included a performance by Olympic Ice Dancer Shae Lynn Bourne. I learned just how hard it is to plan and put on such an event. It takes many long hours and teamwork with colleagues to put on an event and to get people to come to the event. Once all the hard work and planning was over, it was time to sit back and enjoy the show. Watching the founder of Vitality in Action, Rusty Stout, a below the knee amputee, skate on the ice with a World Champion and Olympic Ice Dancer, Shae Lynn Bourne was truly inspiring. He never complained or said he could not do something during the demonstrations. He was out on the ice the entire time with the biggest smile on his face. Whenever I begin to make excuses and say I cannot do something, I think of Rusty ice skating with his prosthetic leg and use it to push me forward. This internship not only gave me faith in myself and taught me to let go of all excuses but also renewed my faith in the community. When people can come together and help one another, amazing things can happen.

I have met so many wonderful people working with the Vitality in Action Foundation and have made many great memories. It makes me sad to say goodbye for now to all of these people but I know my time with Vitality is not over. I want to thank Anjali Arnold, Rusty Stout and Zachariah Falconer Stout for the opportunity to work for such a great foundation. I hope to be involved with this foundation in the future and can’t wait to see the amazing things that come from this foundation.

Trans-theoretical Moldel of Behavior Change: Presentation

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 09 Dec 2011 09:11:00 +0000

Human behavior is at the center of global health challenges today. Whether trying to decrease smoking, increase active lifestyles, or advocating more balanced diets, changing a few key behaviors holds more potential to improve overall human health and wellness than just about any treatment-based solution. Consequently, it occupies a key place in public health - the core preoccupation fueling the growth of the entire sub-field of health education.

It's also key to what we do here at Vitality, where we examine the barriers that disable healthier behaviors and focus intensively on community and social solutions that transcend those barriers.

Behavior change campaigns - or in the case of youth, often negative behavior prevention campaigns - also happen to be at the center of my work with Peace Corps Moldova's Health Education Program. Everything our program does, from classes to community initiatives, is essentially part of a broader strategy tackling the slow and difficult process of helping people to take control of their own health for the better.

Needless to say, I've spent a lot of time thinking about behavior change these past couple years, and hope to have some thoughts on the broader process of behavior change in a future post. In the meantime, last month it was my pleasure to lead a 5 day In-Service Training on community-based behavior change campaigns for 33 Health Education Peace Corps Volunteers, Moldovan nurses, and community partners (social assistants and teachers).

Below is the presentation I gave on behavior change theory, primarily focused on the Trans-Theoretical/Stages of Change Model. Contact me if you'd like to use; on the off-chance somebody is interested, slides are also available in Romanian.

Zachariah is currently serving as a Health Education Specialist with the U.S. Peace Corps in Moldova. This entry is cross posted at his personal blog, “Embarkations.”

Marathon Motivation

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 15 Nov 2011 20:42:00 +0000

Motivation and inspiration have proven to be two important components in my journey to training for a marathon. Journey has become the best word to describe my marathon training because it has been full of ups and downs, twists and turns and has given me insight into myself that I did not realize before. I have needed both inspiration and motivation to get me through each step on the journey, but sometimes they are the hardest things to find.

Inspiration and motivation can come from many different places. It can come from work, movies, music but for me it has come from those closest to me. Ever since I was much younger I have watched different members of my family run marathons. For many years, I watched my cousins and uncle run The Pikes Peak Marathon and the St. George Marathon. I would hear stories about all of the other races they had run across the country and how accomplished and amazing they felt after finishing each race. I was inspired by their strength and determination to cross the finish line of such a long and demanding race. I made a promise to myself that one day I too would run a marathon. I never imagined myself winning a marathon or even coming close to winning. What I envisioned is crossing the finish line after running the entire 26.2 miles and feeling that sense of pride in myself, that pride that I had seen in the faces of my cousins and uncle when I was younger.

When I was in high school I started running. I had always been very active playing sports and dancing, so running long distances was not a difficult thing to attempt. During the season of my senior year in high school I fractured my Tibia. I started noticing a lot of pain in my lower leg. Doctors told me that I had shin splints from all of my dancing, running and playing sports, but I would be fine as long as I did not push it too hard and rested it for a week. After a week of rest, I started back to all of my activities but was still in pain. It took many doctors visits, X-Rays, and MRIs to find the problem: a fractured tibia. It had started out as a small stress fracture that continued to get worse the more active I was. I had to be on crutches for three months during the winter of my senior year and in an air cast for another month after until it was finally healed. Unable to compete in any of my sports my senior year in high school and missed out on all of my dance and Pom competitions devastated me.

Once I was out of my air cast and could finally get back to all of my activities, I was scared to do anything that might have re-injured my leg. The doctors told me to start back slowly and to rest if I felt any pain at all. I would start running again but would stop because I was afraid. I would give myself any reason why I could to not get up and run. I would use school as an excuse or say that I was too busy. I even began using my grandma who was diagnosed my senior year in high school with liver disease, as an excuse. I would say that I was too depressed, or worried about her to go out and run. Most of all I did not think I was deserving to achieve the things I wanted in life because she was sick.

There would be days that I would go out and try to start a running routine. Finishing a run felt amazing, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Then, I would get a call that my grandma was in the hospital again. After hearing this, that feeling of joy was gone and all that remained was guilt. I thought to myself, “How can I feel so amazing and calm right now if she is so sick and in so much pain? It is not fair.” I was in a dark place in my life and they cycle of sabotaging my training would start all over again.

I continued to fight this battle of ups and downs for years. In college I would find just as many excuses, if not more excuses than before, not to run. I was either too tired, too busy writing papers or studying for tests, or too ill from a night out on the town to go out and run. I would put it off and would tell myself I would go out and run the next day, but I never did. It seems silly that something like running can bring so much satisfaction yet so much pain and frustration to someone, but in my life that is what is has done.

A year and five months ago, my grandma had a liver transplant. Her transplant has been life changing not only for her but for me as well. For two years I watched my grandma get sicker and sicker to the point where some days she could barely get out of bed. She could not eat, walk, get dressed and most days she was too sick to talk. But now, she pushes herself everyday to improve and get her life back. She is still afraid that she will get sick again, and some days she still has that mindset that she will not make it, but she does not let that stop her from doing the things that she loves. She is able to get up, eat, walk, and most of all go shopping (her favorite thing in the entire world). What I have realized from her life, from her ups and downs, is that I can no longer make excuses for why I cannot do things. We can make a million and one excuses everyday for why we cannot do things, but if we find one reason why we can do something, that can be the motivation we need to reach our goals.

Ironically, my grandma has become my motivation to return to marathon training and to cross that finish line like I have envisioned for so long. I still have a long journey ahead of me and I know there will be days where I say, “I can’t today” but I will use that vision of crossing the finish line and of my grandma walking the mall as the inspiration I need to push through a work out.

It is a fresh start. I have let go of my fears and the ways that would sabotage myself in the past and just focus on the present. I am taking my training one day at a time and one mile at a time. I have learned that it is important to keep that final goal and vision in mind, but that it is also important to celebrate the small victories along the way on this journey. Last week, even though I had to work two jobs and had a million other things going on in my life, I made it to the health club everyday to train, even if I was exhausted or sore. Now, I’m up to running 6 miles. That in itself is a small victory. It may only be six miles out of the 26.2 miles of a marathon but it is a step in the right direction.

My next goal is to run a race. I am going to start off with a 5K race and work my way up to the marathon. Acknowledging my competitive nature, I know, I will train even harder for any race I run. Now, alongside my grandma, my mom has become a great motivation, too. She wants to run races too and has been my training partner in this journey. It has been nice to have her there, pushing me harder every time we go out for a run.

What I have come to realize from all of this is that you can find a million reasons why you cannot do something but all you need is one reason why you CAN do it to push yourself to doing what you love. My grandma has become my motivation and my inspiration. I want to not only prove to her that I can run a marathon and cross that finish line, but now, I want to prove to myself that I can do it. I urge anyone who is unsure of something or scared to try to let go of all the reasons why they cannot do something to find a good reason why you can do something and let that be the driving force to do it. I know it sounds cheesy and is definitely easier said than done but if I can do it, anyone can too. I remind myself everyday not to lose faith in myself and not to let my fear of getting hurt define me or stop me from doing something that I have always wanted to do.

I have a long road ahead of me with my training, but by next October I WILL be crossing the finish line of the St. George marathon in under 4 hours.

To be continued....

Vitality Awards

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Mon, 12 Sep 2011 21:45:00 +0000

Board of Directors Treasurer Bill Gugerty presenting Anjali Arnold one of two first ever Vitality Awards

Rusty Stout receiving the second of the first ever Vitality Awards from Bill Gugerty

Anjali and Rusty embrace while receiving their Vitality Awards as Vitality Ambassador Uschi Kessler and Adaptive Skating Coach Yvonne Dowlen applaud

The Vitality In Action Foundation’s first event, The Vitality Skating Fair at Apex Center on July 30 in Arvada, CO, was full of surprises and even tears of joy. The Fair, which was a demonstration of the techniques used in the adaptive ice skating program proved to be an extremely moving and emotional event for the audience and for everyone involved from Vitality In Action. The most surprising moment of the ice show for Rusty Stout and Anjali Arnold came at the end of the event. After putting together a truly inspirational and fun event and ice show, they were each presented with the first ever honorary Vitality Awards in the history of the Foundation.

Rusty Stout, the Founder and President of the Vitality In Action Foundation, received a plaque recognizing his “immense efforts and contributions without whom the ideas embodied by the organization would be mere hopes of individuals rather than the action of an organization.” Rusty was completely shocked and surprised by the award. He described his emotions saying, “We did what most people consider impossible with too few resources, people and money, but we are very pleased with the outcome.”

The Vitality In Action Foundation and the Vitality Fair embodies a lifetime of work for Rusty, without whom the organization would not touch the lives of so many in the community. With tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, Rusty recounts receiving the award as “extremely gratifying and the most precious award he has ever been given.” Rusty is a truly amazing and inspirational person for his strength and his vision for the future of the foundation and for the community. He teaches people how to take risks, so even if they fall down they are able to get back up again and continue living a vital life. Rusty is living proof that anything is possible and truly embodies the words printed on his honorary plaque.

Anjali Arnold, the Managing Director of the Adaptive Skating Programs, was also honored by the Board of Directors, which unanimously voted to name the Vitality Skating Program the Anjali Ability Academy. She was also recognized with a plaque commemorating her “immense efforts and contributions without whom the concepts of Vitality would remain mere ideas.” Anjali describes this moment as “a truly surreal experience because she was in complete shock.” The first thoughts that came to her mind upon hearing the news at the Vitality Fair were, “How ridiculous,” “how wonderful,” “but what are they thinking?”

After a having few days to regain her thoughts, Anjali was able to comment on her true feelings about the awards. “As it so happens,” she describes, “Anjali, in Sanskrit, means ‘offering’ and also means ‘receiving’. So by definition, my name represents the universal process of giving and taking, the continuous spontaneous natural flow that stems from the quintessential force of affinity that causes all effects in the universe. This is the way I teach, simultaneously, the way I learn. My name is who I am. My soul, for the first time in this incarnation, feels validated in ways that words cannot express.” Anjali helps people to recognize the everyday “miracles” that each person possesses within themselves. She has touched and changed so many lives by her amazing gifts and incredible heart. There is no one more deserving of these two awards than Anjali.

Needless to say, there was not a dry eye in the room after the Vitality Fair. Even now, looking back, Rusty and Anjali continue to re-live the powerful emotions they experienced that day from the Vitality Fair and from receiving their awards. There are no two people more deserving of the first Vitality Awards than Rusty Stout and Anjali Arnold. With them at the reigns, we look forward to many great things for our community and a very high bar for future Vitality Award honorees.

Reflections on Joining Vitality

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Fri, 19 Aug 2011 21:54:00 +0000

Very few times in our lives are we truly inspired to do something greater, not only for ourselves but for others. I feel like this is the first time in my life that this has happened. I have been greatly affected and inspired by the Vitality In Action Foundation and the amazing people that work for the foundation. I know that I will forever be touched and changed by this organization.

It all began when I was working at a restaurant in Arvada. Working as a server at a restaurant, you meet all kinds of people on a daily basis. Sometimes, people come in to simply enjoy a great meal with family and friends, while others come and try to strike up a personal conversation. Anjali Arnold, the Managing Director of the Adaptive Ice Skating Program for Vitality In Action, came into the restaurant one night and changed my life.

Anjali is a regular at the restaurant and is very close with all the staff. That night was the first time I had served Anjali and her husband. As I served their food, we began talking. I had just graduated from the University of Colorado at Boulder a few weeks before meeting Anjali and began telling her about my hopes for the future. Like other students fresh out of college, I had no idea what I wanted to do. Graduation day snuck up on me. I remember it was one of the “best but worst” days of my life. It meant facing reality. I started looking for jobs, and although I had an idea in my head of what I wanted to do, I was still lost and confused. I knew that I wanted to use my Communication degree to work in the Health Communication field and to do something that would help others.

After hearing about my future aspirations and how I was struggling, Anjali started to tell me about this amazing organization that she works with called, Vitality In Action. Anjali began to explain the significance of her adaptive skating program and shared some of the stories of the people that she works with in the skating program. I was in complete awe after hearing the stories of the people who have overcome such huge mobility obstacles and are pushing every day to live a better life. I knew right then that fate had stepped in and that this was an organization that I had to be involved with. Anjali and I had an instant connection and I thought to myself “if there are others like her working with the Vitality In Action Foundation, I will absolutely love this job.”

After applying for the Communication Intern position online and going through interviews with Anjali and Zachariah, I received an extremely warm welcome into the Vitality In Action team. It was immediately evident that this organization was not only established to serve a great cause, but it is also composed of some extraordinary people. I met Rusty, the Founder and President of Vitality in Action my first day on the job with Anjali. Anjali and I stopped by his house to pick up some materials for the Vitality Fair and to introduce me personally to Rusty. I was a little nervous at first, as anyone is when they meet one of their bosses. But, when he walked out of his house with a stack of posters in his hands and greeted me with a huge smile on his face, I felt instantly at ease.

We all began working together on the upcoming Vitality Fair. Glen and I started on my second day with Vitality hitting the pavement to market the fair to the community. As a team we all worked hard together to get every piece of the Fair in order before the day arrived. It took a lot of hard work and dedication right off the bat, but I gained incredible experience and enjoyed every minute of it. I was also able to bond with Anjali, Rusty and Glen while we worked. I learned a little more about each of them and the amazing feats they have overcome to get to where they are today.

The Vitality Fair that took place July 30 at the Apex Center was a success! All of the hard work and planning that everyone put into it paid off in the end. The show was beautiful and visually communicated the mission of the Vitality In Action Foundation. People left the fair in wonder after seeing the show. I felt so proud to be part of it and to be a part of the organization.

My first few weeks working with Vitality have been so eye-opening and amazing that it is hard to think of what life will be like when my internship ends in December. I know even after my internship is completed, I will remain a part of the Vitality group. It really feels like it was fate the night I met Anjali because I feel like this is where I am meant to be. I feel very happy and very lucky to be where I am today, and even plan on learning how to ice skate. After watching the show at the Vitality Fair and seeing what Rusty and everyone else can do, I realize that I have no excuse not to get out on the ice and try it out for myself.

Looking towards the future, we have started to plan for the next event that will take place in December. The Vitality Fair in July was a great success and I only hope that the event in December will be even better so that people in the community are able to be part of the Vitality In Action Foundation mission. I am so happy and proud to be part of this organization and am looking forward to good things to come in the future.

Thank You Remarks by Rusty at the Vitality Fair

noreply@blogger.com (James (Rusty) Stout) — Fri, 05 Aug 2011 18:46:00 +0000

We've been stunned at the incredible reception we received last Saturday at the first ever Vitality Fair. We drew a crowd of over 150 and international skating talent, all in support of our Adaptive Ice Program. After the program, Founder and President James (Rusty) Stout took to the mic to thank the community that came together in mutual support. As our first large public event, it was a moment for both celebration and reflection. As such, we thought it fitting to post Rusty's remarks from the evening.

Good evening Vital People! Thank you for joining the Party. We do hope you've had some fun. Mom always taught the two keys to community are Please and Thank you. So first, three Pleases:

PLEASE join Apex Park and Recreation District and the Vitality Community for Cheap Skate after the show. We'll have a good time and get to know each other a bit better. As you leave this evening, PLEASE take care so that you can PLEASE keep coming back to have some fun recreating – however you choose to participate!

And now it's time for the Thank You's – there are a lot more than three of those so please bear with me – it's an emotional time and I am a passionate guy.

Everyone here is participating in the launch of the world's first adaptive skating program aimed at mainstreaming elite ice skating. That's a really high bar for human achievement and we're doing it right now, right here, the right way – EVERYONE IS WELCOME and EVERYONE here has given their time, money, and talent to build this community, the necessary FIRST STEP on this particular journey. Everyone -- audience, cast, crew, mothers, fathers, sons, daughters, all of us make up the Vitality Community. Folks, WE ARE VITALITY – THANK YOU! And Thank you Apex Park and Recreation District. You have graciously accepted Us into the Apex Community and given Vitality a home.

We are a community of pretty normal people and that really means, in the most Vital community, no one is indispensible. However, in the organizational phase of creating something new, there are some indispensible individuals. First among those is Anjali Arnold who pulled off this marvelous day of activity and I ask everyone to join in thanking Anjali.

Not quite four years ago three individuals agreed to join me in building an organization that could support any individual's aspirations to move around the neighborhood quite comfortably and participate in normal recreational activities -- especially the ICY PART that impairs everyone's mobility pretty much the same way. In order to move comfortably on the ice, we all strap on prosthetic devices, train our capacity, and overcome a common mobility barrier – ice is a very slippery surface to move around on. Katie Barth, the Vitality Community's Founding Board Vice President continues to serve in that capacity and yesterday, skated for the first time. Thank you Katie. Right now she is on her way back to Rochester Minnesota where she teaches deaf education and I'm sure will continue to have a really good time skating.

The other two members of that Founding Board, and our first two Directors Emeritus are Alan Schauf of Wichita Kansas and the Reverend Sherry Lohman of Iowa City Iowa. Thank you Alan and Sherry. Their participation has been indispensible.

Thank you to the sitting board members of Vitality In Action Foundation: Our Treasurer is Bill Gugerty. Bill is soon off to Moldova in Eastern Europe where he will be a Fulbright Scholar. Thank you Bill. Paul Maricle has guided the board as our legal counsel and Secretary. Thank you Paul.

The three continuing board members are Jessica Butala of Colorado Springs, Griff Morgan, Jr. of Westminster, and Karen Venier, now of Golden. Thank you Jessica, Griff, and Karen. We have added two new board members, Dan Kelly of Arvada, and Joanna Coil of Lakewood. Thank you all for your past and future service to the Vitality Community.

There are two other individuals whose participation has been Vital to the Community. Zachariah Falconer-Stout is our Director of Special Projects and is currently serving our nation in the Peace Corps, stationed in

Moldova

. He's been a primary intellectual driver of our organization. Thank you Zach. I also want to give a special thank you to Yvonne Dowlen, my skating coach/partner/friend. Mom taught me to dance – Yvonne is teaching me to Ice Dance. Thank you, Yvonne.

Now, this will be a bit difficult for me to get through but we do have a very special thank you tonight. About a year and a half ago I met an incredible individual right here on this particular ice rink. We skated and talked about adaptive skating and there was an obvious connection right then and there and that person offered to provide a talent that was, from my perspective, way underappreciated. Then just a year ago, we went to work together in earnest and the result is what you see before you tonight. Anjali is the definition of Vitality!

Anjali, by Special Resolution of the Board of Directors of Vitality In Action Foundation, we hereby christen our elite adaptive skating program:

The Anjali Ability Academy

It is the best name for a place where anyone can come and discover the miracles inside themselves.

Mobility Gratitude

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Tue, 19 Jul 2011 15:24:00 +0000

By Jessica Gingold

Tonight, after too many vinyasas to count, a wobbly, but convincing headstand, low lunges, high lunges, half splits, full splits and the happiest baby pose you could imagine, I was instructed to thank myself. I was told to have gratitude for my healthy body that allows me to do all the physical activities I want. In that moment, I was grateful. I was grateful for the practice I had just had. I felt a deep strength in the prior 90 minutes I rarely encounter in the day-to-day. Still, underneath that gratitude, I felt a sadness. The truth is, my body is limited. I can do yoga, but frog pose hurts. I can walk briskly, but it’s been ages since I went on a run.

From age eight to eighteen, I spent more time gliding on ice than walking. I never fully fit into the competitive figure skating world. My first skating outfits were bought at a dance store from the sale bucket. I had a skating dad, thus I did my own French braids and they were often a little lopsided. One of my early programs was to Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin; even when I would skate a clean program, the judges never really warmed up to it. I did not cut back on school to pursue my dream of going to the Olympics. Still, I was a figure skater.

Skating was my outlet and my balance. I was a straight A student with a social justice activist family. Most minutes of life were full of intense, complex ideas. When I was on the ice, it was just me. I loved the challenge. I was never the best skater, but I was solid. I landed my double axel early, and successfully earned my gold medal in Moves in the Field and Freestyle. When I was 16, I had to write about my spirituality for my progressive Unitarian church group. God is still something I am growing to understand, so at age 16, God was not the subject. Instead, I wrote about the transcendent feeling of landing a clean double axel. So while I was perhaps a non-traditional skater, it was deep in my soul.

When I got to Colorado College, the first order of business was setting up the Colorado College Figure Skating Club. Our club went on to host two regional competitions and several shows. However, I never got to compete freestyle at our competitions.

Two months before our first show, my brothers came out to visit for our annual sibling trip. We naturally planned a weekend of skiing. I am four and six years younger than my brothers, so I take pride when I can compete with their skill level or possibly even outshine. We were at Arapahoe Basin Ski Resort, the slightly edgier, far cheaper resort. The top bowl is steep and thrilling. All day we watched more experienced skiers hit a small jump that sent them gracefully flying. As I conquered slope after slope, my confidence (er, cockiness) climbed. I leaned into my brother Adam and said, “I’m going to do the jump.”

As to be expected from an older brother, the response was, “Go for it!”

He did not offer to accompany me on the venture, which only heightened my commitment to the task. I was going to tackle something physical that my older brothers had not. For a little sister, these opportunities rarely arise. I had to do it.

I hit it straight on. I flew. I felt limitless. I landed it. Oh my god, I landed it! My brother is hootin’ with pride. Oh wait. I’m going really fast. I’m bottoming out. There goes my left ski. I’m down. My right ski is still on and not in the right direction. That hurt. But, I landed it. Adam is coming to help. Act cool. You landed it.

I skied down the mountain, refusing to admit defeat. I stumbled to the car. Three weeks later I had my first of four knee surgeries. It was a torn ACL. I like to say it was my right of passage for moving to Colorado. But, it never quite healed. I never quite healed. For ten years, my body, my mobility had been a defining factor of my identity. It was the skating rink that kept me humble and opened up my inner artist. I had been struggling at skating practice prior to the incident, but it was exactly that struggle that kept me whole. I would never know that precise struggle again.

I would come to know an entirely new struggle. My first knee surgery never really healed. The doctors said I needed the scar tissue removed, so a year later, I went under the knife again. During the recovery of that one, I was at our annual family picnic. We used to do the picnic in Northern Ohio, but have more recently relocated it to my aunt Kathy’s farm in Morrow, Ohio.

My Aunt Kathy has MS. She is in a wheelchair and over the past 10 years has lost her ability to walk, stand, move her legs, pick things up and operate her electric wheelchair. She was a cheerleader in high school. She is a countrywoman who raised sheep and chickens. I used to spend the night out at the farm when I was little. We would wake up early and go on egg scavenger hunts. We would jump on wool to make felt. We would do yoga videos, each carefully balancing on one leg desperately trying to perfect holding our foot out in front without collapsing. This is a woman who used her body to the fullest, and is now confined to experiencing mobility only by relying on those around her.

This particular family picnic, I was crutching around, feeling a bit sorry for myself. My aunt rolled over to me. She asked me about skating and how my recovery was going. I expressed that I was not really able to skate to my fullest anymore. I was careful not to whine too much. I mean, I was going to walk again, possibly even run. I had glided on ice in the past year, just not landed any double axels. It really was not that big of a deal in the big picture.

Still, Kathy looked me in the eyes and in the most sincere acknowledgment said, “I cannot imagine how you are feeling. It must be really hard.”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. A woman, who had lost her complete free agency of mobility, was looking at me and genuinely expressing sadness for the fact that I would maybe never be able to skate again as I once did. I felt a little silly taking her support. But, at the same time, perhaps she is the only one who really could understand what it feels like to adjust to a new physical state. It is about far more than the pain one endures in surgery or the inconvenience of the recovery. It is about adjusting your identity. It is about finding new depths of your soul and spirituality. I was a competitive figure skater. I was never going to be an Olympian, but I had plans to land double axels at age forty. Kathy got that. She got that deeper suffering and she gave me the strength to confront that deeper, more significant pain. And in confronting it, she gave me strength to find gratitude for all I still have.

Jessica is the Education Council Program Coordinator at Mikva Challenge, an organization dedicated to developing the next generation of civic leaders. Prior to joining Mikva, she was as a Princeton Project 55 Fellow working for a nonprofit healthcare organization in Chicago, Illinois.

Small Successes: the Mahala Boys

noreply@blogger.com (Zachariah) — Thu, 07 Jul 2011 11:13:00 +0000

Mahala is a word deceptively simple given the complex construct it houses. In fact, it is probably this complexity that makes the word so thoroughly Moldovan. In Moldoveneşti, mahala means neighborhood. It is descended from the Turkish (and in turn Arabic) word mahalle, a term introduced throughout the Balkans during the period of Ottoman rule. In literary (i.e. Romanian) Romanian, however, mahala has come to mean more of a slum. Before even arriving at the complexities of the actual Moldovan mahala then, the word itself is a signpost showing the historical fork between Romania and Moldova. It is a very Eastern European dark irony that the word for neighborhood in Europe’s poorest country means “slum” in the same language spoken by its richer neighbor to the west. If Romanians often point out politely that Moldovan Romanian is an archaic and rural dialect, then the word mahala captures the subtler unspoken chauvinism between these richer and poorer neighbors.

Even in Moldova, however, a mahala is so much more than a geographical boundary. It’s an agricultural system, a living map of generations of familial histories, and a complex network for the exchange of gossip and information.

Peace Corps Volunteers, on the other hand, come from outside the community – we arrive mahala-less. So often, we are reminded of the frustrations that implies when trying to work with our adult colleagues – not knowing the right person to talk to in order to cut through the red tape, not knowing a particular history that prevents two potential partners from working together. But our tabula rasa also grants us some potentially powerful freedoms, particularly with students.

The Moldovan education system is fairly formal, with the respect and distance between students and teachers we would associate with bygone ages. But in the villages, the school corridors are also inlaid into the twisting streets of the mahalas, where mutual support and the community is literally what enables humans to cultivate food by hand and live through harsh winters. At the same time this formality dictates distance between teacher and student, then, it is never forgotten who is neighbors or relatives with whom, and thus who a student or teacher can best turn to for help in a moment of need.

With the benefit of our blank slate, volunteers fall along all points of the spectrum in how formal we are with our students. We all have our own classroom style, from the very formal to a level of informality that can be borderline radical within a traditional educational structure.

Bouncing around the broader neighborhood of Peace Corps’ northern

Moldova

volunteers earlier this spring, one of my most lasting impressions was the style of my colleague Lindsay Toler, who has an incredibly close connection to her students. The inevitable glazed over eyes or skeptical brow showed that they don’t always hear or believe her teachings about health. But the parade of enthusiastic students coming to talk to her in every break made clear that they all appreciate her, and a few she has truly reached even deeply trust her.

Reaching my mahala’s dusty road, returning travel wearied to a house that is increasingly feeling like home, I resolved to emulate Lindsay’s success and foster closer relationships with my students. Perhaps it has been this resolve, or perhaps it is simply the passing of time as I near the one year mark since my arrival, but in the two months since my return this effort has begun to bear fruit, and nowhere more so than in my mahala.

Whatever the cause, it is clear that I am increasingly the one being called out to from the gate, or the one stopping to trade gossip with neighbors as they seize the opportunity for momentary respite from whatever labors await them beyond their fence.

With spring, I have also begun jogging again, or as it is referred to here, simply “cross” (said with a Romanian flip of the r). In

Moldova

, jogging is a clear identifier of somebody who is either crazy or actively fleeing something. Hence when my host mother sees me putting on my running shoes, she does not ask whether I am about to go running, but rather if I am about to go fleeing.

Recently, some of the boys in my mahala took a less skeptical notice. In yet another sign of how odd the activity is, the news that Domnul Zachariah jogs quickly became regularly discussed amongst the 350 student body. Then students started asking when I would next be jogging. And eventually, some of those mahala boys even joined me.

I have been teaching Health Education in Moldova for a year now, and it is often unclear what, if anything, even my best students are taking to heart. With a single exception, the mahala boys who have joined me are not amongst those best students. But stretching before and after, measuring our pulses, and making us take a cool down walk together, I cannot help but think I am definitely succeeding in some small health education outside the classroom. As we jog, I slip in casual references to aerobic exercise and cardiovascular health. They cut me off to show me the alleys and shortcuts of our mahala, but I know they’re listening.

Jogging with an older student – the aforementioned “single exception” – our conversation follows the road through the mahala, twisting me through the histories of the families and fields we pass. Veering towards the country, these breathless histories follow as our conversation turns towards Moldova’s path to democracy, a path that has been as rough as that we are jogging, filled with muddy patches and long ruts. Treading upon the topic of his graduation just a few days future, we move to the high level of outward migration from

Moldova

. I put to him the paradox of his own good versus that of his country: he is amongst the most able to leave the country and find a good job abroad, but it is exactly those capable individuals like him who will be necessary if his country is ever to pull itself out of this rut. He considers this silently. By now, we are far from our mahala, past the outskirts of the city, and breathlessness has finally caught up to us, turning thoughts inward and sparing our lungs any extra labor.

Jogging in silence, I appreciate that these are the students I can most influence, and that my best lessons may be taught in classroom of my mahala. As we near the village again, our labored conversation resumes, my student pointing out his aunt’s field in the dwindling blaze of the sunset. I make a mental note – his aunt is also the Chief Nurse at my medical center. And so it is that while I push him to consider his future, he is also giving me the tools needed to succeed in my next year, slowly extending the network of neighbors I can call upon in this or that project. And then we stretch as the mahala stares, perhaps not such a small success after all.

Zachariah is currently serving as a Health Education Specialist with the U.S. Peace Corps in Moldova. This is a repost from his personal blog, “Embarkations.”

Just snap them off for a bit…PLEASE!!!

noreply@blogger.com (Anonymous) — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 20:37:00 +0000

By Nancy Ester-Sager

That’s my lifetime plea, but of course I know I can't just snap off my legs. If I did, I'd probably misplace them. I must have been meant to do something with them, or they wouldn't be mine.

They are mine!! They hurt. They fight me, and I would never trade them.

Up until recently, I have felt like I belong (or didn't belong) in two different worlds, the disabled world, and the normal world. Now I realize I am in the right world, it’s not like anybody else's. It’s just mine, and it's the exactly where I need to be.

I have a condition called Myotonic Muscular Dystrophy. At first glance, I don't look like I have anything wrong, but very few muscles in my body have the ability to ever fully relax. I have often become dizzy from the pain that it causes me. I can get very stiff and have difficulty getting my brain and my body to work together. I prefer to think of myself and my body as two different things, because that is exactly what they are.

Not being able to get them in sync with each other has caused me an endless amount of frustration. Many years ago, I took some very bad advice. I was told, "Don't give in, don't let it win, you have to fight it". Well, that might be good advice for some people, but it was completely wrong for me and my body. Once I decided to let my body win, I was able to work with it. My body wasn't bad, it just needed to be treated differently. My legs got tired, and they wanted to sit down. There is nothing wrong with that.

Overcoming challenges can be a long process, that’s what makes life challenging, and in the end rewarding. To get to where I am now, I've taken a lot of little steps. I have surprised myself by also taking some really big ones.

In 2007, I received a service dog. He literally and figuratively helps me move forward when I get stuck. He alerts me to situations that might be harmful to me. He has given me validation, and he doesn't see me as the weird person I had always seen myself to be. With him, I wasn't as frightened to take the steps I needed to move myself forward.

When I was in high school, I used to be able to run for long periods of time. It seemed odd to me. I had a lot of pain, and I got really stiff, but once my body got into a rhythm, it was able to run well. In my last year of high school, I was no longer in the PE program, so I stopped running. When I tried to pick up running again after a couple of years, I was unable to get it back, because my legs had become too weak.

Over a long span of 25 years, I mostly took care of my kids and home. I spent 12 of those years home-schooling my children. I also ran an in-home day care service, then later worked with special needs high school students in the community. I received funding through the state of Colorado for my home sewing business called Golden Pear. I specialize in making children's vintage style clothing and toys from original patterns and fabrics.

In June of 2010, I started hand-cycling through Adaptive Adventures. They meet in Wash Park in Denver during the summer. Once I got the hand-cycle figured out, I went as fast as I could make myself go, and all those lost years between running and hand-cycling were sandwiched together. The years no longer seemed lost, and I found the person I used to enjoy being.

I was able to keep the hand-cycle at my home through the winter, and would often ride even when the temperature was below freezing. I found that even though my legs and left arm were weak, my back and right arm had the ability to get very strong. I started wondering what other things I could do if I just kept trying.

In February of 2011, James "Rusty" Stout from Vitality In Action left his business card with my mother who works at Swim 'n Things, a local swimming suit store. I contacted Rusty, and asked him if he knew of a way I could try swimming.

It was only a week later that I was working with Vitality and taking swim lessons with Beth Graf at the APEX Recreation Center in Arvada. Beth had the insight to teach me the way I needed to be taught. She told me what I needed to hear, and when I had setbacks with my legs, she helped me find ways to work with them, instead of fighting against them. Through trial and error, I was able to realize I can do a lot more than I thought possible. I don't have to accept being in pain in order to participate in a life I enjoy. I didn't know how to swim before I went to Apex. I've been going for two months. I finished last week by swimming 22 laps.

There's a saying, "Pain is just a state of mind". That’s bugged me for a long time, because my pain is real. It’s not just in my head.

Aha...now I get it. Now I finally understand. I am sure it’s a different meaning for everyone who has to face it. For myself, I needed to stop being embarrassed. I was needlessly ashamed of my body's quirks. I limited my joy by not adjusting my brain to accommodate my body's needs. I didn't have to limit my fun, I just needed to realize it’s OK to make a few life adjustments in order to find the fun. My pain was a state of mind. I have been able to find again that rhythm I once knew while running in high school, through hand-cycling and swimming. Now I have less pain at the end of a good day.

Is there truly anything nicer than a good day??

Nancy Ester-Sager is a mother, educator, and entrepreneur living in Centennial, Colorado. This is her first guest blog as a participant in Vitality’s Aquatics Program.

Vitality Skating: Welcome to a New World

noreply@blogger.com (Anjali Arnold) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 20:22:00 +0000

My whole life on skates has been spent trying to get used to being on blades - literally - to find my feet and to feel them through the prosthetics we call skates is still my main task after 35 years. In perfect irony, Vitality In Action has asked me to devise programs on ice for people who may very likely have no feet at all, or just one foot. And I am all at once humbled in a way I can’t even express. We wear shoes – those can be considered prosthetics. We have to learn to walk in them and to use them. I get that. By logical extension, skates are no different. But after all these years on the ice, as a scientist, I’m still studying and experiencing how we learn to skate.

As Managing Director of Vitality In Action’s Adaptive Skating Program, I put together the foundational skills curriculum, both on-ice and off-ice for people who could have an artificial foot or leg, people who are aging or are recovering from injury or habilitating from surgery. A Vitality Skater could even be someone who’s been too scared to ever get on the ice…but always wanted to. Something I’ve dreamed of my whole life– my own skating school – has literally been handed to me through Vitality In Action. Vitality Skating is the US Figure Skating Association-registered house of the Adaptive Skating Program. As the director, I develop, formalize and solidify the learning bases that will be individualized for each and every skater based upon his/her own special needs. Vitality Skating programs offer the creative modifications to help those who never thought they’d be able to skate to do so.

Reaching out further for professional expertise than any other skating program, Vitality Skating engages the quality of resources that are required off-ice, just as much as on it. Connecting skaters with physiotherapists, neuromuscular therapists, pilates, yoga and personal training specialists etc… is important, instructive and invaluable. Managing pain, preventing injury and mitigating risk succeeds from skaters being educated, strengthened and prepared in many ways that most skating programs do not address. This includes body alignment, core strength, neuromuscular issues, reaction response, and kinesthetic mapping at the foundational level. What Vitality Skaters learn, experience and master in the Adaptive Skating programs and Vitality In Action’s Mobility Laboratory will provide information toward ground-breaking research in kinesthetic-encouraged neuroplasticity (the ability for the brain to change, to neurally fire in new paths according to new stimulus, the ultimate form of adaptation).

When coaching, I teach all my skating students (new or experienced) according to the principles of “hydroblading”, a technique that incorporates a solid knowledge of blade use in conjunction with body alignment. I have found that basic skating skills are strengthened right from the onset if these techniques are integrated from the moment that skaters step on the ice. Creative moves demonstrating the power and stability of this technique were well-demonstrated in the early 1990’s to the world by 2003 Ice Dance Champions, Shae-Lynn Bourne and Victor Kraatz. International Elite level coach Uschi Keszler, who runs her Hydroblading Academy in Aston, PA, coined the term, and was the one to develop and teach her unique method of training these techniques. Today we see applications of “hydroblading” in the form of deep-edge drape positions and lifts and low-to-the-ice highlight moves. The foundational fineries of these techniques teach skaters a universal deep knee action, powerfully strong edges, liquid-like ankles of steel and a kind of bladework ‘butterinesse’ that makes both skaters and viewers melt to watch it. Students of hydroblading-based stroking and edge technique skate in the safest, the cleanest, the deepest and the quietest way. There’s a structural safety not just in their glide, but in their true connection with the ice.

What’s so special about what we do at Vitality Skating? In this brave New World of metal on frozen water, confidence and self-empowerment grow. It’s that intangible connection, the synergy, the co-learning between coach and skater that creates the setting for blade to caress ice. And this is where I come in with my experience: Ms. Keszler told me that a hydroblading-based program for adult or new skaters simply does not exist. At a foundational level, the world needs it… and with the Adaptive Skating Program, we’ve got it.

Why IOWA?

noreply@blogger.com (James (Rusty) Stout) — Fri, 17 Dec 2010 23:12:00 +0000

Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa, is an excellent demonstration of normal human vitality. It's in Iowa, after all, which is the definition of normal according to North American cultural standards. If you find it in Iowa, it's normal, and if it's normal, you'll find it in Iowa. Perhaps it's because everyone seems to have been through Iowa at one time or another and they inevitably have a conversation with an Iowan in the process. Iowans love to talk and they really do try to include everyone in the conversation. Unlike Las Vegas, where what goes on there is supposed to stay there, what goes on in Iowa gets mainstreamed to North America, meaning really spread around. While Iowans may not have witnessed something personally, they've heard about almost everything from "reliable sources." There are very few secrets in Iowa. That's why the US states grudgingly tolerate letting Iowa act first in the Presidential nomination process. The rest of the continent may not like the choices Iowans make but at least the conversation is out in the open and it is something we can normally trust. That open conversation is vital to individual achievement and mobility.

It is the nature of the Iowa City community to include people with disabilities in the health conversation mainstream and you can see it in the spontaneous interactions between strangers. In early June of 1995, I had been driving the standard thirty minute commute to Iowa City on a daily basis. Just after entering the city, I once again observed a fellow, our hero, moving along the sidewalk, controlling his motorized wheelchair's joystick with mouth and tongue. On this particularly pleasant late spring afternoon, he was headed south on the walk as normal. He picked his way through the obstacle course of broken concrete in typical fashion until an odd bounce of the chair dislodged the joystick from his mouth and knocked it out of reach, stopping him immediately. He needed a jump start at that moment, just as a graduate student type wandered toward him. Our hero made a quick request for assistance, the student moved the joystick back into its proper position as though he'd done it countless times before even though he hadn't, they exchanged pleasantries, and both proceeded on their way to forgetting the incident even happened at all. That simple yet powerful act of support was all that was necessary for our hero to achieve normal mobility. The abnormal nonchalance, the sophistication of the interaction made it extraordinarily memorable. It was an encounter between two individuals who were both in the mainstream of the community and interacting as peers. That's when I started looking for a place to live in Iowa City.

The ability to move around physically, socially, and intellectually with ease is the essence of our vitality. In Iowa City, people with the most serious mobility impairments achieve uncommon vitality because there is a tremendous amount of sophisticated support for doing so at all levels in the community. That provides a most excellent environment for Vitality In Action Foundation to take the action necessary to make our Mobility Laboratory successful and develop innovative recreational opportunities for everyone. That's why the path we've charted in "creating mobility for a lifetime," will go via Iowa. We're excited to be at work in Iowa and we have already been warmed by a hearty (normal) Iowa welcome.

Going with the flow: Whitewater Kayaking as an Amputee

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 03:57:00 +0000

The analogies are endless: life brings us ups and downs, ebbs and flows, currents and eddies. We need to stay balanced, take things as they come, and not get too far ahead (or behind) the situation in the journey. We need to be flexible—both literally and figuratively—in order to achieve the best outcome. Set-backs are inevitable, and our reaction to these situations are what will help determine our success. Yes, kayaking is very much a metaphor for life.

I recently returned from a phenomenal week of kayaking with other young adult cancer survivors (for those of you unfamiliar with the term "survivor", this includes anyone from the day of diagnosis, to the day they leave this earth—whether this is the result of cancer or not). The camp I attended was funded and run by a wonderful organization called First Descents. In the kayaking world, a first descent is one where the kayaker is the trailblazer for a river that has previously not been kayaked. The campers were not blazing any new trails, but in our worlds, these were all first descents in their own ways.

Along with 16 other campers ages 20-39, I arrived to the tiny airport in Kalispell, Montana on Sunday. I met a few of the other campers at the airport, then others at our campground (6 cabins with a main cabin with bathrooms and a kitchen). When I replied, “Abbey” to the question, “What’s your name?” I was immediately told, “We’ll work on your nickname.” By that evening I was Popcorn--my favorite food.

On Monday we headed into the park to a small lake. The scenery was a gorgeous as could be, but with all the nerves and emotions, it was hard to fully appreciate it at that point. We were taught how to get into our dry-suits, PFDs, helmets, and into our boats. Before we even learned about paddling, we were shown, and then required to demonstrate, the “wet exit”. Remembering that we were in glacial water, I wasn’t thrilled, but knew it had to be done. They taught us in a systematic 4-step approach, and shortly after I was upside down in the water, I was out of my boat, and once again breathing fresh air. Knowing I could do this maneuver really helped calm my nerves. The heightened emotion at this point was now almost all excitement.

After a while of being on the lake, we headed for a pretty calm river. The calmness of it didn’t prevent all the campers from flipping over, but I found myself to be one of the lucky ones who did not. I was able to make it in and out of the eddies without too much of a problem. I felt I was ready for the next step by the second day.
The whole week we were watched after very closely. Safety really was the first priority, but this never got in the way of fun. The volunteer counselors were so friendly, and constantly were checking to see if they could do anything to make our experience a better one.

Most of the week I didn’t have any complaints, but as the week wore on, I couldn’t help but notice something that bothered me. I was the only amputee present at camp, and one of two people with a disability. The other camper had experienced a traumatic brain injury nearly 10 years prior that left him with a shaky/weak left side, slowed speech, and short term memory loss. He wasn’t as determined to kayak independently, as he seemed more concerned with just staying up-right. I certainly did not want to flip over, but by the last day, I realized that I had not flipped over other than the wet exit. I figured part of this is due to my light-weight body (I’m just over 85 lbs currently--that's what missing a hip and entire leg will do). I likened it to a rubber ducky floating on top of the waves and being able to keep his head up between his shoulders. There were times that I had to shift my weight to stay balanced, but I was able to do so before I flipped.

The other reason I stayed dry (besides the waves) was because I had a one-on-one counselor paddling with me. I knew it was not my counselor’s fault for sticking to me like glue, but by the last day I had had enough. I am sorry I let it get to its boiling point, but my pot was sure bubbling. In exasperation I lamented to another counselor, “Everyone else is being given the chance to do it on their own if they want to. I am not. I want to have the chance to prove that I can do it or not do it—but I need to be given the chance!” The message was relayed, and it was a success. I kayaked on my own for all but two of the rapids, and I still made it in one piece. I was able to feel proud of myself, knowing that I did it on my own—and still never flipped. It wasn’t a perfect run (on one rapid I ended up with my back facing downstream), but I was happy to know it was all mine.

The experiences I had, the skills I learned, and especially the friends I made are all irreplaceable. I would do it all over again in an instant if given the chance. Now, it’s time for my plug: www.firstdescents.org. Visit the site, check it out, and please make a donation if you feel inclined. This opportunity is worth so much more than the monetary value that it takes to send the camper. I can’t say it enough, “This camp rocks!!”

Welcome!

noreply@blogger.com (Zachariah) — Thu, 03 Jun 2010 00:38:00 +0000

Dear readers, members, and future collaborators,

Welcome to the new Vitality In Action Foundation Blog! This launch comes during an exciting week for us, coinciding with the public rollout of our other social media platforms and our website launch, as well as our first full Board meeting.

This blog represents far more, however, than just a social media platform. We fully intend this space to be a community meeting place to collaborate on mobility and mobility impairment - a forum for new ideas as well as simple thoughts, critical discussion and constructive engagement. It is, above all, a dynamic online tool to facilitate new thinking about overcoming mobility impairment.

We're excited for you to become a part of this discussion, so please take a minute to "follow" us or subscribe to a news feed, as well as start posting comments. No comment is too short or too long, this is, after all, a discussion, not a lecture.

In fact, encouraging a vitalizing discussion goes to the very core of our mission:

Vitality In Action Foundation challenges all individuals who aspire to lead more mobile lives by drawing on adaptive sporting expertise to increase mobility through innovative recreational opportunities for everyone. We accomplish this mission by developing and distributing the knowledge of adaptive habilitation that enables all individuals to participate in these recreational activities.

This discussion is a natural part of developing the knowledge of Adaptive Habilitation, and it's also the first step in distributing that knowledge in a transparent, accessible manner.

We have some very interesting posts in the works already. Over the summer, we'll be covering topics including: a recent seminar discussion on language and ability VIA facilitated in Chicago, the story behind some of the pictures on our website, and a series that will follow an individual through knee replacement surgery as well as take a look at another individual who tore her ACL 5 years ago.

In the meantime, we hope you'll also take the time to look at our website, VitalityInAction.org, and connect with us on Facebook.

We look forward to seeing you back here, and collaborating with you in Creating Mobility for a Lifetime!