Sunshine. It never ceases to amaze me.
There is an inherent beauty and power to the sun and it's shining prominence in our galaxy. Sure, there is the perspective of the awesome energy produced by the center of our universe. Yes, it fuels the growth of the flora and fauna of the earth. But there is something so much more elemental about it.
Sunshine. A glimmer of it in the wintertime - and we smile with it's radiant warmth upon us. Having spent many years living in Canada before moving to Texas, I truly understand why "Seasonal Affective Disorder" exists. A long hard winter without the sun can leave you without energy and depressed. It takes but a moment in the sun, a brief fleeting moment of sunshine, to get us to relax, to let the stresses of our days ease away ... to smile. A hard day will always be better with the sun shining down upon us. The world suddenly becomes a better place ...
I am fortunate to have lived a rather eclectic existence thus far - with no signs of that changing any time soon. My days go from left brain, problem-solving-oriented activities, to right brain, creative activities. This variety has added perspective to my world in many ways - and as my thinking skills continue to evolve, so do my creative skills - and vice versa.
I mention this today because I have been thinking about a concept that I apply on a daily basis in my professional world - and how it applies to my everyday life. It is that of "Specific Adaptations To Imposed Demands". From a cellular perspective, this simply means that the tissues of the body adapt to the demands imposed upon them. For example, weight bearing activities foster an in crease in bone density, and strength training fosters muscular strength and power development. Both are examples of very specific adaptations that the human body makes in order to adapt to the demands placed on the system. Within this concept, we traditionally think of the primary tissues of the human body - muscle, bone, cartilage, tendon, and ligament being the main examples.
I've found myself considering the concept of "balance" a lot recently - not so much in the "maintain a vertical posture in space" realm, but more so with regards to "muscle imbalance". The idea of muscle imbalance isn't what causes me great consternation so much as the perceptual reality defined by someone who has "it".
Allow me to explain.
Patients will generally come into our offices with three primary issues - I am in pain, I am unable to move as I normally would, and I have lost some level of function because of one (or both) of these issues. At this time, the perspective is essentially one of "help me understand this problem so I can move on with life".
The talk of the town (in Anytown, USA) is "Evidence-Based Medicine". If you're in the health professions, I am sure you've become familiar with the phrase. The same holds for those in health insurance - and clinical research. "The evidence" is driving everything these days.
For the record - I am a true believer in the power of good clinical research. I do think that as clinicians we need to provide care based on true evidence-based medicine. We must hold ourselves to high standards of practice, and we must continue to challenge our thought processes and clinical reasoning skills - as uncomfortable a process as this may be. It involves reflection on our practice patterns and perhaps even challenging our belief systems - about our role in patient care or the methods we advocate.
... I learned in kindergarten ... or at least that's how the book is entitled, yes?
Admittedly, Robert Fulghum gave us a delightful exploration of this in his 1986 novel. I read it after much cajoling from those around me. Friends said that it was a "must read" - but I always get a little conerned about the "must read" list because it usually involves some level of "pablum for the masses". Eventually, I read it - and it was definitely a necessary addition to my bookshelf.
Yesterday, I found myself wondering - if perhaps "all I really need to know" was something I learned in utero. Perhaps kindergarten was merely my graduate degree. If that were perhaps the case, then my PhD would be life-long learning. Of course, this evolved into the thought of "if PhD stands for 'Piled Higher and Deeper' then day-to-day life was definitely given me a doctoral dissertation"!
There are moments that defy description. Words may not adequately describe them, and they could be fleeting at best - but you definitely know you're there when it's taking place.
This morning, I got to revisit one that I'd forgotten from years past - and again, although fleeting, was truly incredible.
There is a left hand turn at about mile 4 in the 3M half marathon course (which I've now run for the past 4 consecutive years). You're heading down Mesa, then you turn left onto Spicewood Springs. If it's a crisp, clear January morning (which it has tended to be over the past few years), you might arrive there around 7:30 am or so - just after the sun has started to rise. To this point, you've been in relative shade (and probably a little chilly). As the road starts to descend, your pace quickens, taking advantage of gravity as your legs unwind underneath you. Then - that turn - and this blazing sunlight just over the tree tops in the median. The sun's rays are warm and almost blinding - sunglasses barely help to protect you from the glare. It is a moment of beauty, one that reminds you of how great it is to be out running on a Sunday morning. It's almost as if the temperature rises while you face the sun, dropping down to the fifth mile marker.
Allan Besselink, PT, DPT, Ph.D., Dip.MDT has a unique voice in the world of sports, education, and health care. Read more about Allan here.