Seven Miles, 1,700 Feet, and No Back Pain

When you’re in the midst of pelvic health care, it can be hard to gain perspective. Questions arise like: How long will this take? Will I always have to live with some version of these symptoms? Will my body unlearn these unhelpful old habits? Am I capable of adopting new patterns?

I know firsthand that it can feel like a winding road of ups, downs, twists, and turns. You commit and recommit to your healing. Maybe you’re in the middle of that right now. But one day, when you don’t expect it, you may realize something big has shifted, and you feel completely different. You emerge as a new version of yourself; you have severed the tethers to pain, discomfort, worry, and fear. And often, this day comes again and again over the course of many years.

For me, that day showed up this August when my husband and I were on a bucket-list trip to visit all three National Parks in Washington. Our first stop was North Cascades, and on the agenda was our biggest hike of the whole trip. The Cascade Pass Trail was seven miles and gained 1,700 feet of elevation! This was the biggest hike I had done in years. Since moving to the East in 2015, I have longed for the type of hike we call a “butt buster” in my family.

I grew up in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, and have been a hiker all my life. I love to trek on, step by step, waiting to see what the path reveals. Expressive appreciation for nature’s beauty materializes, wildlife sightings cause you to pause in stillness, and challenging scrambles help you find your strength and trust yourself. But my trail travels never seemed complete without low back pain upon arriving back at the car.

This low back pain has been a part of my life for decades now. I always tried to activate my core and pay attention on hikes, but it was always there at the end, like a familiar friend greeting me at the finish line. But I never wanted to high five… This pain represents just one “patch” of my symptoms; I have worn a patchwork coat of various lumbopelvic pain symptoms, including bladder, bowel, and sexual dysfunction, for over 15 years. You can read more about my “origin story” here.

But back to the good stuff.

After more than three hours of putting one foot in front of the other and experiencing an incredible view from the Cascade Pass summit, we arrived back at the car, and my back pain was completely absent. I almost didn’t realize at first how profound this was. As we bumped along a road of potholes to come out of the pass, I reflected, pain-free, on what had changed in the past year to finally bring me to the parking lot without my familiar friend.

In February of 2025, I finally started to see my own pelvic health physical therapist (shoutout to Dr. Lynn). After self-treating for years based on my growing knowledge of pelvic health, I had made incredible strides, but I needed to surrender to becoming the patient instead of the clinician. I finally asked for help, and after twelve visits with Dr. Lynn, my chronic, low-level, nagging symptoms began to dissolve. Here, I met another layer of unlearning old habits (they really do die hard!).

One of our main targets was decreasing the dominance of my spinal muscles, which often prohibited me from activating my core appropriately, both of which fed the cycle of low back pain. We also utilized visceral mobilization to support my digestion, which, interestingly, helped my hip flexors lengthen. With my hip flexors unlearning their protective contracted state, I got better hip extension and could activate my glutes better, which took pressure off my low back. These new patterns were reinforced by a larger goal that I pursued that year: becoming a Pilates teacher.

In January of 2025, I had enrolled in an 18-month comprehensive Pilates Instructor training program through Polestar. I had only practiced Pilates a few times, but I just knew it was something I had to learn for myself and for my clients to maximize their core strength and pelvic wellness. It was a calling. Another path meant for me that both helped me to continue to heal and inspired me to help others. After finishing the training in April of 2026, it was clear that my body had transformed and that my core stability had changed. It wasn’t until the hike that it became abundantly clear.

Don’t be fooled: over the years, there have been many other symptoms and changes. Some have resolved completely. Some have changed shape. Some have returned in new ways. And some have simply taught me something new about my body.

This is the work of pelvic health. We are continually unlearning old habits and creating new patterns. Sometimes we have to revisit the same patterns again and again. Our bodies don’t change overnight, and neither do the ways we move, breathe, brace, hold, protect, and respond.

So we have to be patient with ourselves.

We have to trust that the small things we are practicing today can add up to something we cannot yet see. We have to allow ourselves to be beginners, to ask for help, to recommit, and to start again when we need to.

Because if you had asked me a few years ago whether I would one day hike the biggest hike I had done in years and arrive back at the car without my familiar low back pain, I probably would have struggled to believe you.

But there I was.

Pain-free. Surprised. Grateful. And realizing that something I had lived with for decades did not have to be waiting for me at the finish line.

I don’t know what your version of that moment will be. Maybe it’s hiking. Maybe it’s exercising, traveling, sleeping through the night, laughing without fear, having sex without pain, trusting your bladder, or simply feeling at home in your body again.

Whatever it is, I hope you leave room for the possibility that it can happen.

Because unthinkable things are possible. Sometimes, we just need time, support, patience, and a willingness to keep creating new patterns until one day, we realize our body has changed.