When I was a kid, I saw my dad as some kind of cross between MacGyver and the Crocodile Hunter.

He was always tinkering or fixing something. And if he came across a critter, he had to stop and catch it, check it out, tell us something cool about it, and then send it on its merry way in a safe spot. I can't tell you how many turtles and snakes we moved across roads after a quick check of their condition.

He also used to be one of those people who jogged all the time.

He jumped on the trampoline with us. He kayaked. He surfed.

He was present.

He had back problems even then, but they were minor and didn't usually interfere with his life.

Then an injury slowed him down for a while. He had to spend some time in bed. He gained some weight and hated it. So he decided that wasn't what he wanted. He got back to working out, lost the weight, and kept moving forward.

But some of those "my back is out" days remained.

It was the first time I saw him slow down, but he didn't stop.

Then, some years later, another injury at work completely changed his life.

It forced him to retire. To live with constant pain. To give up so many of the things he loved. And for years, to depend on pain medication just to get through the day.

I watched pain take pieces of my dad's life away.

Eventually, he had the opportunity to experience some hands-on therapy. The relief he experienced was the first hint that maybe his life didn't have to be defined by pain.

Seeing that made me curious.

Very curious.

I became fascinated by how the body works and by the possibility of helping people who were hurting find a way forward. I went to massage therapy school without ever having had a massage myself. I just knew I wanted to help people like my dad.

After becoming a licensed massage therapist, I spent years learning, growing, and searching for better ways to help people with pain and movement limitations.

And years later, I got to help the person who started it all.

After his second treatment, my dad walked his first continuous mile in about 20 years.

I'll probably never stop getting emotional about that.

Because for me, this work has never been just about pain.

It's about what pain can take away from a person.

It's about the things you stop doing because they hurt. The activities you miss. The freedom you lose. The ways your world can slowly become smaller without you even realizing it.

And it's about what can happen when you start getting some of that back.

That is why I do what I do.

Today, my focus is helping people who are hurting move better, feel better, and get back to the things that matter to them. My approach is targeted and movement-based, with the goal of helping your body move in a better direction—not simply giving you a temporary escape from discomfort.

I know that every person and every pain story is different. I don't promise that I can fix everything or that every person will respond the same way.

But I do believe that pain doesn't have to define your life.

And I believe that sometimes, the path from pain to possibility starts with finding the right person to help you take that next step.

I'm honored to be that person for my clients.

And I'd love the opportunity to help you get back to living your life.