Mud, mud, glorious mud

Parkinson’s is a cruel thief that steals many of our skills and abilities. I thought I’d lost my balance forever, but I’ve stolen some of it back.

I’ve just returned from a marvellous weekend of orienteering in Staffordshire. The Jan Kjellström International Orienteering Festival is a regular Easter feature on the orienteers’ calendar, bringing together around 2,400 people from toddler to 90. I hadn’t been for a few years as I’d started to slow down and take fright at complex navigation and tricky descents, and I really didn’t enjoy myself.

Since we moved from Cumbria to Suffolk, however, things have perked up, as I related in an earlier blog, Into the Woods. The generally flatter terrain has given me the confidence to have another go and try more events.

Restoring equilibrium

So what’s made the difference? One word: balance.

Balance in my life, settling down after moving and slowly turning a house into a home. Making new friends while still in touch with friends from my previous life.

Balance in my meds, adding a magic ingredient that’s helped to even out the peaks and troughs.

And balance on my feet. For this I have first to thank the team at Neuro Heroes who twice a week bring their magic to my living room. Into their hour-long sessions they pack a challenging and fun variety of cardiovascular, strength and core training, co-ordination, Parkinson’s-specific exercise and balance.

The balance section is my least favourite. I wobble – a lot –  but it’s made easier and more fun when they applaud the wobble. As Neuro Heroes’ Anna Kharin said in my earlier blog I’m only human after all :

“We applaud every wobble completed safely. Our bodies need to feel the edge of what is possible. When adults acquire a balance difficulty, they need to relearn how to move through exposure. The central nervous system and muscles work hard to maintain balance and to create the flexibility needed between the different balance systems.  

By practising and pushing yourself you refine your balance through exposure, which enables you to function confidently and efficiently in the real world.”

Risk it for the biscuit

In other words – nothing ventured, nothing gained. Well, I got shedloads of exposure in the Beaudesert forest at the weekend. Even on the simplest of courses there were steep descents, shoe-sucking mud, brambles, tree roots and faster people wanting to overtake. Looking at the map while not falling over is a triumph of multitasking. It offers lots of opportunities to slip or fall. I didn’t take them! I couldn’t possibly have done this a year ago.

My second big thank you goes to Martin Christie for introducing me to WALX xcelerator poles. I’ve been using these since last summer and I prefer them to traditional Nordic poles as they are sturdier and come with a more stable foot. I can put more power through the strapless grip.  Regular use has helped to even up my gait and put more rhythm into my walking, along with the brass band marches I play in my ears.  I recommend them to anyone newly diagnosed who is feeling a bit wobbly, lopsided and fragile.

At the moment, I feel confident to leave them in the car even when I know the terrain is going to be challenging. I can get round the Parkrun without them and, dare I say, put in a bit of a run. They would have been a liability this weekend, tripping up all other runners on narrow paths.

And of course I must thank my husband Robin, who drove us there and back safely and put in two pretty good runs of his own in the M70L category – 13^th out of 65 and 16^th out of 48.

It’s easy to assume that once a skill or ability has gone, you can never get it back. Don’t give up on yourself, and remember every wobble is a fall you haven’t had. For my part, I will remember that pride traditionally comes before a fall, and I’ll try not to be complacent!

Play > The Hippopotamus Song > Flanders and Swann