by Amy Chapman
If you’d asked me two years ago, I would have told you I knew a lot about fitness. I’ve been a competitive runner since I first joined track in middle school. I’m also a massage therapist who specializes in treating chronic pain and helping athletes reach their full potential, and had just become an ACE-certified Personal Trainer.
My new ACE certification revealed a gap in my own fitness. Even though I ran upwards of 40 miles most weeks, ate a healthy vegetarian diet, and received regular bodywork, I did zero strength training. Sure, I occasionally did some sit-ups or push-ups while watching reruns of The Office, but weight-lifting didn’t seem that relevant or important to my running performance.
Amy on a training run for the Rut in Paradise Valley.
Also, I hated it. I hated the crowded, earbud-wearing environment of gyms. Each winter, I would half-heartedly restart my college cross-country weight-lifting regime (high reps, low weight), promising myself that this year I would stick with it, cross-train and get stronger for the next racing season. I’d go three times a week, start easy and light, go slow and safe, and a few weeks in, I’d notice a familiar pain begin to throb in my neck and shoulder.
“Ah hello again, my Monster.” This age-old complaint showed up in high school and plagued me with constant pain until my mid-twenties. Massage helped when I could afford it, which eventually informed my career choice.
In massage school, I received regular bodywork, and for the first time the ache in my neck and shoulders turned off completely. The freedom, the space I found in my life without that pain completely changed my personality – I suddenly had the mental space for patience and kindness that before had been absorbed in dealing with my pain.
For the next seven years, as long as I received bodywork, the pain stayed away, and I felt deep joy in helping others discover freedom from their pain through massage. The problem was, for me and my clients, that if I didn’t get regular bodywork, or if I tried to lift weights, the pain came back.
Then, as part of my personal training course, I learned that after a certain point, age 30 for most people, the body switches from being able to build muscle mass to losing muscle mass. After that point, you’ve built the muscle tissue that you will have for the rest of your life. Your only hope after that point is to use strength training to prevent or slow down the process of losing that muscle forever. I read this sobering fact just a month before my 30th birthday. I decided I needed to find a way to incorporate strength training into my life without pain. I knew my individual attempts to do so had failed, so I looked beyond myself for a resource from my community.
My research led me to Daniel. What drew me to Daniel was his bio – we had a lot in common (both lived in Telluride, both massage therapists/personal trainers, we had even used the same online journaling platform).
Yet he had gone on to accomplish some of my career goals – he’d massaged at the Olympics as a member of the Athens Health Services Sports Massage Team. So based on what I knew of Daniel, and without any real knowledge or expectation regarding his program, I reached out and asked if I could come and give his workouts a try.
What I found, in my first week of Daniel’s classes, were ordinary, well-rounded people doing incredible, impossible things. Women doing seemingly endless rounds of pull-ups, deadlifting over 100kg, walking on their hands and doing crazy things with jump ropes.
All of a sudden, I was forced to confront a lot of preconceived limits I set for myself. “I can’t do pull-ups,” I thought, as I struggled to stick my foot in the resistance band Daniel wrapped around the bar to assist me. “I can’t do handstands,” I thought, as I clumsily walked myself up a wall. “Um, what’s a snatch?” I asked as I found myself somehow learning about the previously unheard of the sport of Olympic lifting.
Amy repping pull-ups during the 1130 hr group WOD.
I didn’t even know how to stack weights on a barbell. For someone who considered herself to be a top-level athlete, the inexperience and ineptness I felt in those early months was both humbling and, surprisingly, liberating. I had zero background in any of this, my expectations couldn’t have been lower. The only direction to go was up!
Despite my cluelessness, I loved the format – the workouts, that looked impossible on the board, were often done in under twenty minutes, many of them under ten. “I run over an hour a day; I can do anything for twenty minutes,” I would remind myself, take a deep breath, and give it my best shot. At the end, although I was covered in sweat and boggled by what I had just accomplished, it was always shorter and easier than I had expected.
Over the first early months, it’s difficult to say exactly what kept me coming back. I certainly felt like a goofy, hopeless beginner the whole time. Maybe it was my pride, a sense that if I truly want to be a fitness professional, I should at least know what these movements are, let alone perform them with proficiency.
Likely it was the community, a small group of similarly health-conscious individuals who inspired and encouraged me along the way. Maybe because it was the first space I entered where what was asked of me forced me to face, and often overcome, harmful and limiting self-beliefs.
It took about six months to get comfortable and about a year to start kicking ass. But the things I can do now, they take my breath away. Not only can I do pull-ups – I can do 100 pull-ups with a twenty-pound weight vest on as just a part of the annual “Murph” challenge. I write that, and still think, “Damn! What!?”
My body composition has changed dramatically, “leaned out,” as Daniel says. Even more amazingly, I don’t care. Daniel’s coaching has helped me fall in love with what my body can do, and I’ve overcome a lifelong pattern of obsessing and worrying that I was fat.
Amy crosses the monkey bars during the 2019 Montana Spartan Beast as her husband, Luc, cheers her on.
Like when I first lived without chronic pain, I have now found a whole room of love, for myself and others, that before had been stuffed with compulsive worrying about how my body looked.
And hey, what about that chronic pain? Didn’t it get in the way of all those awesome pull ups? No, it didn’t. Here’s my theory: Something in my neck and shoulder was weak, and the pain came from everything around it working so hard to compensate.
Massage released the tightness and pain temporarily. The progressive loading and constantly varied movements in Daniel’s program slowly but surely targeted every single muscle in my neck and shoulder, even the weak ones. On the heaviest days, even the weakest muscles had to wake up and join the party. Through this process, I actually retrained the neuromuscular relationships so that the underlying weakness that caused my pain is gone.
Overuse injuries in my ankles and knees that I had accepted as the badges of a lifetime runner – gone. By forcing me to address all the areas where I was weak, self-doubting or fearful, Daniel’s fitness program has transformed me into a pretty formidable athletic beast.
I can’t wait for tomorrow’s workout!
About the author: Amy Chapman is a Montana licensed massage therapist and ACE-certified personal trainer. When not massaging, she can be found running up and down Mt. Sentinel, traveling, snowboarding, or snuggling with her miniature poodle, Poppy. To find out more about Amy, visit her at https://missoulabodyworks.com/