For many of you who know me now, may not know that I am a former cheerleader. Can you imagine that? My hair all slicked back in a high curly pony tail, vaseline on my teeth (a trick we used to do to keep a forever smile), the skirt, glitter galore (ok that one stuck with me even to this day) and bouncy bubbly attitude. I was even in an edition of the “Cheer and Dance” magazine. I got my hair and make up done professionally, and they photographed me cozied up in a “set bedroom” that had me sitting in a chair reading with a photograph of my supposed football boyfriend by my side. Another shot I was standing with a couple girls having a good time and I think I was holding a kite? I started competitive cheerleading in 3rd grade and did it until I was in high school when I was bullied into quitting by a now real estate agent. Even though I had never even kissed a boy, she called me “slut” constantly and told people not to be friends with me, and they listened. I still do not know what I ever did to make that girl treat me so poorly. But that is not the point in this blog post.

Cheerleading was my life, my dream. I absolutely loved it, and I think, I was good at it. I loved the intensity before and during performing, the challenge it was to my body, and the energy and work out it was. My body was able to do shit I never knew was possible. I was able to overcome fears and have people throw me around without a care.

My coach told me one day, “Ok Savanna, it’s your turn do a back handspring.” 
“But Jamie, I don’t know how…..”
“Just try” she said.

So I attempted. I chickened out and landed in the middle of it….right on my head. Ouch!

Coach said, “Do it again.”

I protested, but she insisted.

And I got it. Sure it wasn’t pretty, I probably pulled a muscle somewhere. But you only have to land on your head once. I was HOOKED. Not to mention, I was always a “flier” the smaller ones they let stand on peoples hands and toss around in the air.

In my entire life, I have somehow managed to never break a bone.

I have always been semi cautious, and not very daring in many ways, but I am absolutely shocked that I have escaped cheerleading, extended biking trips, druken biking, hiking, and everything in between unscathed.

But, in my almost 37 years (my birthday is the 15th of this month) my body is falling apart! Or at least it seems that way sometimes.

As you may know the birth of my second daughter Marlena was really hard on my body. Her delivery ultimately separated my pelvis and it couldn’t realign. For almost a year I begged doctors to look at me, to help me, but either doctors weren’t accepting appointments from me (I am confident this is because I am a medicaid patient, and I get it people get paid WAY less with a medicaid patient) even if I wasn’t a “new patient”, or they would see me and say, well there is pain after birth. I couldn’t put weight on my heels or a sever shooting pain would radiate throughout my entire pelvis. Turning over in bed was a nightmare so I tried to move as little as possible, and my children couldn’t even sit on my lap at times. I knew this wasn’t normal, but I couldn’t get anyone to listen. Over a year after giving birth to her I was finally admitted into a physical therapy where the work has been life changing but slow.

In that time I have developed many other problems in my body, especially in my feet. Getting diagnosed with morton’s neuroma has been helpful to referring me to another physical therapy where I’ve learned I also have a collapsed arch and a weak ankle with a bunch of scar tissue from rolling it multiple times. I haven’t been able to walk much more than three miles at a time, and I generally walk about 5 just doing chores around the house.

It has been really hard to accept this body getting older, changing, and not being able to do the things I could when I was younger. I guess that’s what a lot of people struggle with. As a child, I remember my dad being able to walk on his hands across the yard. He made it look so easy. He was small built, strong and had endless energy. I’ve always remembered my mom as a beautiful energetic mom who kept up with the kids. But I remember her always complaining that she couldn’t sit for too long because her butt hurt. Or the floor was too hard and it hurt her ankles. Then, I could never understand it, but now….I’m fully aware of not only what toll age has on you, but children (my mama had 5 I can’t believe it!)

So today, I did two pull ups. And I have one to go. I’ll get on Bobbys routine and start building strength. Now that my PT has been covering my ailments, and my very very soft mommy core (before I get any comments on that, I will just say I am happy to have a soft place for my babies to snuggle, but I’m looking forward to getting those “razor sharp abs” my watch workout has waiting for me LOL).

My point is “youth is wasted on the young”. Is that the saying/quote? Where did I hear this? I cannot remember. This applies to not just the body, but the mind too. And in a less depressive way of looking at it, I’m feeling optimistic, that I am still young now, considering human life and experience. And I have a lot left to go, God willing. I’ll take this year to dedicate to building my health and strength and use my body in a way I’ll never be able to again.

Cheers to the new year.