Dopamine fuel, danger money and fear of falling

The unexpected joy of having a body and mind that, mostly, work

Heaven is not always a halfpipe, as I discovered 20 years ago when I tore my rotator cuff while snowboarding. I was working at a ski resort in New Zealand at the time, in the decidedly unglamorous job known as “fryer bitch, no. 2”. If you’ve never manned an industrial deep fat fryer, and spent your days raising and lowering a basket in and out of viscously hot oil, then I suspect you have managed to avoid experiencing the worst type of chin-dwelling whitehead imaginable. It was not a pretty winter. But the danger money did make up for it slightly.

Anyway, I digress. I was on my lunchbreak at the end of the season and, during an impulsive moment (because this is how unidentified ADHD tends to work when it manages to steal the wheel from the the safety-seeking autistic nervous system), decided to go for one last run through the park. The joy of landing a kicker carried me onwards and upwards, until I was staring down the side of the halfpipe. It wasn’t my first time going in, but it was my last. And the dopamine fuel of flying was quickly replaced by the agony of falling.

Photo by Pablo Heimplatz on Unsplash

RIP The Cardrona Bra Fence, I would have happily contributed but was living from a backpack that year and my undies were too precious to share

I didn’t have the time or the money to properly rehab my shoulder back then. Instead, I spent years avoiding doing anything that triggered the pain, giving the weights section of the gym a wide berth. It didn’t help that, during a ‘welcome to the gym’ type induction, a personal trainer told 20 something year-old me that I had the worst upper body strength of anyone she had ever seen. Not exactly an encouraging pep talk. Being strong got filed away into the ‘opportunities missed’ section of my brain that day, where it stayed for a very long time. Given the emphasis on cardio back then, it didn't feel like the greatest of losses.

Now, after a couple of years spent strength and stability training via CrossFit, combined with regular physio sessions to keep breaking down the scar tissue, I’m starting to feel the childlike joy of climbing, spending time upside down, and swinging from bars once more. I’m also thinking about bone density and balance, and - as

Elizabeth Davies

so perfectly puts it - “training for my old lady body”. And yes, you can get that on a t-shirt.

In my thirties, my budget prioritised trips to the hairdresser and manicures. And travel and books, always travel and books. Now it’s monthly maintenance therapy, plus physio. Neither approach is right or wrong (and both may also be an option), but on reflection I can say that investing in my physical and mental health has had a much deeper, lasting impact than those aesthetic wee boosts ever did. That’s not to say I’ll stop dopamine dressing though. Pink and orange, with a side of leopard print are forever.

Progress takes time, and can’t always be seen from the outside, but it’s worth each step and setback when it begins to filter through into every aspect of your life. For me this week, that looked like being able to hold a handstand for a minute, and climbing a rope to the (scarily high!) gym ceiling. It was getting my first Toes to Bar. But also, being able to carry the overloaded grocery bags without hurting, and sleeping without pain. It was finding my way through a mental health wobble without spiralling, and landing on solid ground once again. 

A few books I highly recommend on this topic - Stronger by

Poorna Bell

, The Joy of Movement by Kelly McGonigal, Weathering by Ruth Allen (I’m saving this as a post thesis treat but already know it will be brilliant, because: Ruth), and How To Grow Through What You Go Through by Jodie Chariss and Chance Marshall.

P.S. The song currently living rent-free in my brain, and possibly now yours, is of course OPM’s Heaven Is A Halfpipe.