Lemonade Break

You will get to hear about another one of our beloved Lemons soon enough, but right now I want to talk about what got me to where I am in life, right now.

     Four years ago, I was working at the Foothills Hospital in the kitchen, pushing an extremely heavy food cart up and down the halls of Unit 37. Now, when I say extremely heavy, I mean it was the size of a smart car, and in order for me to get it moving, I had to kick off from the wall. I worked there for a year, serving food to renal patients who sometimes could only eat jello and popsicles. This wasn't a glamorous job by any means; I had to wear hospital scrubs that were two sizes too large for me, and a hair net, but after a year there, I got pretty good at this job. It was the kind of job where you actually wanted to work faster, you wanted to beat the clock, because that meant you got more of a break. So, I started everyday at 10am, when my shift was supposed to start at 10:45. I got the cart up to Unit 37 by 11, and was out of there by 12, ready for my lunch break while everyone else was still in the kitchen, sending food down the conveyor line for the rest of the Units whose patients didn't have specialized diets like the renal patients did. Sometimes I ended up having two hour breaks because I worked so fast. The only downfall to how fast I worked was that I still couldn't start serving supper until about 5:30, which meant that I was usually back down in the kitchen by 6:30, or 7, which meant that, if I started at 10, I was always working longer hours than I should have. Even after only a year, being the most efficient food cart operator at the hospital still managed to take a toll on my body.
      In February 2008, I got carpal tunnel syndrome in my right wrist. I couldn't lift a pencil, let alone push a small car through the hospital, so I had to stop working. I lived off short-term disability for a few months while I went through the lengthy, bureaucratic process of applying for worker's compensation, to finally find out, in April, that I wasn't eligible. At the end of April, I headed to Europe, and while my wrist wasn't perfect, it had drastically improved thanks to the amazing work of my Active Release Treatment chiropractor. When I got back from Europe in June, I had the choice to return to the hospital, but two things were a deterrent for me: one, that job gave me carpal tunnel, so why would I want to go back? And two, I had just come back from an amazing continent, so the thought of donning baggy scrubs and a hair net a few days after climbing a mountain in Greece to see where the Delphic Oracle used to reside was out of the question. Amazingly, I'd saved up more money for Europe than I needed, so I decided not to work for that summer, because I could afford not to. This proved to be the best thing for my wrist. Without the stress (physically and emotionally) of work, my wrist was able to heal nicely and I barely had an issue with it all summer.
     By September, I was broke and bored, so I got a job as a receptionist at a talent agency. Exciting, right? Well, at times, yes, if by exciting you mean both mine and the talents' checks bouncing, angry extras barging into the office demanding payment and someone else, other than my boss, having to sign the bottom of the cheque before the extra's angry eyes burnt a hole through our skins. Oh, and not to mention all the computer work causing my wrist to ache all the time. I lasted at that job until late November and because that was the year when the economy crash hit us pretty hard, I didn't find another job until February. And get this, I was doing administrative work for an oil and gas company. So, in other words, a lot more computer work.
     First of all, I still don't know why they hired me considering I had zero experience or interest in the oil world, and second, I don't know why I stayed as long as I did (only two months, but still) at a job where I was the only girl, the only one who hadn't a clue what was going on, and where my boss was so absolutely rude and disrespectful that I don't know why he even wanted me there, and then proceeded to try to guilt me for quitting. Anyway, yet another job I had to quit because my wrist just couldn't handle it. By the way, it wasn't really just my wrist feeling it, either. The pain spread up my forearm, into my shoulder, and down my back as well. I had to enlist many a friend and family member for massages almost every day I got home. Miraculously, though, because I worked for an oil and gas company, I was paid a lot more than I should have been considering how inexperienced I was in the field, and was once again able to take the summer off. The pain almost instantly eased up and I felt happy and healthy again.
     But, once again, by September I was broke, so I got a job at a coffee shop downtown, called deVille. Now, this was one job I wish I didn't have to leave. I adored working there. I loved being on a first name basis with the customers; I loved wearing whatever clothes I wanted to wear, and drinking as much coffee as I wanted to drink; I loved knowing how to make latte art, and knowing we were making drinks far more delicious than what was across the street - Starbucks. I would have stayed there forever, but not only did working the espresso bar all day activate my carpal tunnel, but my right hip/leg/back started giving me trouble. It got to a point where I would limp around the store and it took me hours to fall asleep because sharp pain would shoot up and down my I.T. band to my knee to my calf, and back up again.
     By then, I was dating my boyfriend Sean, and he bore the brunt of my pain because he was around me the most, and eventually he convinced me I had to quit. He told me he would pay for all my chiropractor appointments and massages until I got better, but he insisted I stop working until then. It was a hard decision because I loved my job, but I knew he was right. When I told my boss I had to quit, he knew it was coming. Apparently I'm more obvious with my emotions than I thought, because he could tell something was wrong, and that I wasn't happy anymore. One of his recommendations was yoga, which at that point I had never done, and I truly valued his advice and opinion, so the very next day I went to a Hatha/Restorative class at Yoga Passage with Gord, who Stacey refers to as the yoga auctioneer, and fell in love with all of it. I left the studio with a literal newfound stride in my step. Before, I used to walk so awkwardly, trying to balance out the unevenness in my hips by leaning more to my left side, but after that yoga class, I walked straight, I walked even, and my steps were wider, more intentional. I also felt happy. I didn't even realize how unhappy I was before that class until I noticed just how happy I was afterwards. The sun seemed brighter; the smiles of the strangers on the street were friendlier; and the vice that seemed to clench around my chest was released. I knew I'd found a type of healing, different than chiropractic and massage, that I couldn't let go of.
     The only problem was, I didn't have anyone to go with. I went that first time on my own because I knew it was extremely important for me to do, but I've always been the type of person who, if I don't have someone there motivating me, I'm much less inclined to go. Sean wouldn't go with me because he refused, and still does, to work out in front of me. I think he's either afraid of me seeing him all sweaty, or the other way around. And, while he obviously wanted me to get better, he was way too understanding of me if I didn't end up going. He was almost too loving, if that's possible. I needed someone who was going to hold me accountable for the change I wanted to make.
     The summer went by, and I went to a handful of classes, and I always felt better after them, but I still wasn't going religiously enough for there to be a permanent change in my body. Then, I was introduced to Dr. Kevin Toth. He was a chiropractor my friend recommended to me because he had worked wonders on her after she hurt her back in a car crash. I wasn't getting the desired results from my current chiropractor, so I decided to check out Dr. Kevin. After a consultation and X-Ray, he set me up on a year-long plan that would end up costing almost 4,000. Luckily, I could pay monthly instalments, and luckily, I had a boyfriend who loved me enough to pay them for me (I still wasn't working at this point).
     Months went by, I started school, and I improved tremendously. My right hip started lining up with my left hip; my wrist was rarely sore, even after hours of writing essays; and the thought of being on my feet again for extended periods of time didn't make me nervous. It was high time I looked for a job again, not only because my student loans were running low, but because Sean was running out of money to help pay my monthly chiropractor fee. That's when lululemon came into the picture. I had never tried the clothes on before and I didn't care whether or not there was a discount; I wanted to work there for the community, the culture. I wanted a job where like-minded people would light a fire under my butt.
     Still at this point, I went to a yoga class once or twice a month, but I knew I needed more. Going to the chiropractor every week was helping me a lot; it was the reason I could even get a job again, but I still needed that extra little bit of healing to feel 100% again. I needed to know people who motivated me to go to a class and who didn't love me too much to not care if I didn't. I should also mention that while I was taking that last summer off to get better, I gained a lot of weight. I was eating healthy enough, but because I spent most of my time inactive, watching tv all day because it hurt to stand or walk, it was inevitable that I would put on the pounds. I would not go so far as to say I was overweight, but I was definitely bigger, and you could tell I was unfit. I had no muscle definition and very little stamina. Meeting everyone at lulu, from all walks of life, all with a similar goal, to be active, was a real breath of fresh air.
     I will never be a competitive athlete. I have never had an interest in that (except for the odd time that I dream of being a prima ballerina) and so it never upset me that I couldn't run the fastest, or swim the longest, or go deepest in a yoga pose. But being active has always been important to me. I'm a very jittery, hyper person. As a young kid, I was the one bouncing off the walls, dancing around the room at all my parent's parties, climbing trees, spending long hours in the sun biking and swimming and rollerblading. And when none of that was available, I was rolling around in the huge mounds of dirt left on our street after all the construction men went home, leaving their bobcats and backhoes to sit silently throughout the night. Like I said, I'll never be an athlete. I was in track and field in grade five, and placed last in my race, but I'll always be a person who needs to constantly move.
     Before I came to lulu, I wasn't moving anywhere, and I'd lost the motivation to start. Since coming to lulu, I've done a 30-day yoga challenge, been wiped out for the afternoon after an hour of jumping and kicking and skipping with Phillip at Fitness Palooza, swam 30 laps at the Mount Royal pool when I swore I could only do 12, and sweat out of every single one of my pores to 'Moves Like Jagger' at Zumba. Now, I'm on day 49 of P90X, more than halfway done, and while I still wake up every day and try to bargain with myself a way out of doing it, I still check off each day on my whiteboard with a sweaty hand and a smile on my face.
     A year ago I wouldn't have considered starting P90X; I would have laughed it off as something I could never do, would never do, and leave it at that. Now, the thought of NOT doing it is laughable. Not when I have a group of athletes encouraging me every day; not when I have a group of athletes pushing me one step further; not when I have a group of athletes who love me too much to let me quit.