Friday, April 24, brought a walking session I had been counting down to for over two weeks. Some days arrive with that kind of weight behind them – days you have circled in your mind, rehearsed, anticipated. This was one of those days. And it did not disappoint.
A new vest
The team had a new vest ready for the exoskeleton. I chose to try it, not entirely sure what to expect. It runs slightly slower than what I had been using, and the moment I put it on, I knew it was right. The fit was better – the weight sat differently on my chest, more secure, less like something strapped to me, and more like something working with me. The slower pace meant I was not just being carried through the motion. I was being asked to participate. That distinction – between being moved and actually moving – is everything.
Hip-flexor mode
My favorite setting is the hip-flexor mode, and it remains my favorite for a reason that matters deeply to me. It is not the easiest setting. It requires my muscles to lift my feet, rather than relying on the machine to do it for me. When I am in that mode, I am not just practicing walking. I am rebuilding a relationship with my own body – reminding muscles that have been quiet for a long time that they are still there, still capable, still mine. Every session in that mode is a step toward reclaiming something I had grieved. I can feel the difference, and that feeling is irreplaceable.
The discipline of the first steps
I noticed something important about my own process on Friday. I need to put my phone down before I begin. Those first few steps require everything I have – full attention, full intention. When my concentration is split, even slightly, the quality of those opening steps suffers. It sounds simple, but naming it matters. Now I know to protect that moment at the start of each session. The beginning sets the tone for everything that follows.
Why I film myself
I record every session, and I want to explain why – because the reason is not what it might appear to be.
It is not mainly about sharing. I am genuinely glad when my videos reach someone who finds them useful or encouraging, and yes, perhaps my sense of fashion does not hurt. But that is not the reason I pressed record.
I film myself because the footage shows me things I cannot feel. When I am walking, I am focused. I am concentrating on every signal my body is sending, every instruction I am giving my muscles. I do not have the capacity, in those moments, to also observe myself from the outside.
The video gives me that outside perspective.
On Friday, I rewatched my session and saw that my head was tilting. I had no idea. I had assumed my posture was straight – I was certain of it, in fact. But there it was, plain on the screen. My head was not where I thought it was.
That is the kind of feedback that changes everything. Because now, going into my next session, I know exactly where to direct my energy. Not toward lowering the assistance level, as I had planned. Toward keeping my head aligned. One clear, specific thing to work on. That is so much more useful than a vague sense that something could be better.
The videos are my mirror, and my coach rolled into one.
Gratitude
I left Friday’s session with that particular kind of exhaustion that feels like proof of something. My body had worked. My muscles had been asked to remember things. Progress had been made – not in dramatic, visible leaps, but in the quiet, incremental way that real recovery actually happens.
I am grateful for every session. Grateful for the tools that make these sessions possible. Grateful for the people who build and maintain them, who adjust and improve them, who show up ready to try something new. And grateful for the process itself – imperfect, slow, and profoundly worth it.
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