My Story

How I Got Back Pain-Free After 23 Years of Spasms & Suffering.

When I was 11, a lesson pony named Dandy deposited my small body into the middle of a crossrail in a lesson.

Twice.

I can’t say I blame him - lesson ponies are saints until they are devils, and rightly so. I wouldn’t want to carry bouncing children armed with crops and braids around, either.

From age 11-34, I had back pain.

And not just pain. I had spasms. I had days when I couldn’t get out of bed. I retreated from trying other sports because of the fear of pain. It was so much safer to stick with what I knew and already loved - horseback riding - and leave it at that. It worked for me. Mostly. 

I went through PT when I was 12 for incorrectly diagnosed scoliosis, and it was torture. My dad “helped” with the exercises as best he could, but the stretching and maneuvers were awful. Plus he counted so s-l-o-w-l-y. Those 30-second holds became hours, I swear.

So PT didn’t work.

My mom had a chiropractor she’d seen for decades at that point, and would continue to see for several more. He was ahead of his time - manual muscle testing, working with the body’s electrical system, no major adjustments, just gentle activator clicks to coax the body back into alignment.

This worked for me, for a while.

But inevitably, I’d have major spasms several times a year, the kind where you freeze because any sort of movement is agony. You can’t turn over in bed without holding your breath or moaning in pain as your muscles seize and try to stop the movement. 

And then, slowly, the spasm would release.

Maybe 3 days, 4, sometimes more. And I’d go back, tentative at first, but then confident in the way we can be when our brain erases pain memories. Until it happens again, or I tried out for softball in high school and my first time sliding for home was just scary enough that I remembered what could happen and never went back.

I didn’t have spasms as much in college, or when I was working at my first barn. I was physically active, managing a barn with 40 horses and doing all the turn-out, feeding, stalls, etc. I wasn’t riding again yet (I took off from 14, when my last pony died, to 24, when I got Elsa, my current ride-or-die mare). I was around horses, doing the labor, working my fanny off. I was lifting weights as well as hay bales.

I was not, in hindsight, getting massages, chiropractic, or any sort of external modalities other than the occasional pedicure.

When it came time for me to get a bit more serious about my future (aka there was a guy I needed to get over and I needed to move home to get him out of my system) (as well as, you know, getting a job), I went back to the two things I’d always loved: cooking/baking, and giving massages.

Massage school was enrolling first, so I went with that.

And, wouldn’t you know, the more massages I got (so, so many in school - was a good idea at the time), the more my back started acting up again. I started to feel the pain in my low back again, the right side always angrier and guarding. The back spasms resumed, and fuck they were awful. I stood up from brunch at a friend’s house and went into a full spasm. I had to stay for three extra days because I couldn’t walk, and once I finally was able to drive home (CT-MA), I was in bed for another two days.

I was 27. Tell me how that’s quality of life.

This was a time when I had 12-20 clients of my own per week. Every three weeks, I’d alternate between myofascial release and regular massage. I had a thriving practice in a small town, and I was the massage therapist on staff with the Boston University Men’s Ice Hockey team, one of the top teams in the country.

And there were days when I had to wear a dress to work because my body hurt so much that I couldn’t pull on my own pants.

All the treatments in the world, dispensing advice to my clients, seeing powerful D1 athletes in their prime - we all still had back pain.

So it wasn’t a treatment issue. It wasn’t a strength issue. It wasn’t a sedentary vs active issue.

What was it?

In 2018, I took a course called Neurokinetic Therapy. The theory here was correcting muscle tension and pain by testing which muscles were working properly and which were not.

The analogy I like is when you have a quarterback like Tom Brady at his peak, you cannot ask him to throw better. But if you’re not getting on the board, something has to change. It Tom is throwing perfect passes, he can’t work harder; so you look to the receivers and see how they can improve.

More to the point: I started seeing pain and muscle tension as symptoms, not problems.

In myself, as well as in my clients. Instead of just getting rid of the tight muscle, I started investigating why it was tight, and why that tightness kept coming back. In 2020, I took a course that finally taught about Internal Pressure Systems, and all the pieces came together.

When we have proper internal support (air pressure in our gut), our external scaffolding (muscles) don’t have to work so hard to keep our spine/skeletal system in alignment.

Finally I had the cause, the effect, and the way to treat. I started on myself, adjusting the way I breathed, the way I supported my spine, the patterns I always went back to, and found equilibrium for my body. I was back pain free.

I haven’t had pain, spasm, or a twinge since.

And let me be clear: I am not particularly gentle with my body. I powerlift 3x a week, deadlifting upwards of 220lbs on a PR day, and backsquatting 160+lbs. I compete in the Highland Games several times a year. I hike with an 80-lb bloodhound who pulls like a freightrain when she's on a scent. I regularly have days where I walk over 15k steps.

95kg - 109lb deadlift

And I have no pain.

And on the occasions when I deadlift heavy and I feel myself wanting to compensate or guard, I have the immediate tools to stop the pattern before it takes root.

It’s not just pain relief. It’s pain prevention.

And it’s so stupidly simple. It takes minutes and can be done nearly anywhere. 

I wish I’d had this knowledge when I was eventing competitively - it would have made such a difference in my spine support, my seat stability, my communication to Elsa, and in being prepared for those awkward jumps where I got tossed around a bit. 

It would have helped my hollow low back if I’d known the “ribs down” cue and how to support myself through natural breathing instead of bracing or bearing down.

Heck, it would have helped me stay stronger when I was doing barn chores.

Now, it’s a simple 4-step method I pass along to my clients so they can benefit, too, whether it’s back pain relief or improving position in the saddle.

Support - Breathing to develop your Internal Pressure System

Align - Spine cues to protect and respect your spine curves

Stability - replace old movement patterns with new ones so you don’t fall back into the same habits once you’re out of pain.

Integrate - put it together in the saddle, as an exercise program foundation, or a warm-up.

Since you’re here, I’m going to assume you’re looking for something - a piece of your riding or back pain journey that isn’t fitting any more, or doesn’t make sense. I’d love you to try the EquiForm Supported Rider Assessment - it’s a series of questions designed to help you figure out what your IPS is and feels like in your body, how it’s working (or not) to support you, and how it connects to your riding. You can sign up here and get the assessment within minutes; you’ll also get the 4-step guide with videos to help you get started.

Let me know how it goes for you. It’s been a life-changer for me.