Still Moving Forward: A Pilates Teacher's Journey from Scoliosis Surgery to Living Fully with Lumbar Stenosis

At 13 years old, I underwent scoliosis surgery that would shape the course of my life in ways I couldn’t possibly understand at the time. I had a Harrington rod placed and a spinal fusion from T3 to L3—major surgery for anyone, especially a teenager.

Back then, I just wanted to feel normal again. I wanted to move, dance, be with my friends, and live my life without thinking about my spine every second. And somehow… I did.

For over 40 years, I lived an active, healthy, pain-free life. I exercised, stayed strong, and embraced movement in every way I could. Pilates eventually became one of the greatest gifts in my life—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too. It taught me body awareness, strength, balance, and trust in my body again.

Looking back now, I truly believe that consistent movement and my Pilates practice helped support my spine for decades. While my fusion limited movement in most of my back, the rest of my body learned how to compensate beautifully. Pilates strengthened the muscles that supported my spine and helped me maintain mobility, posture, and stability through the years.

One of the most empowering parts of my journey has been discovering that a fused spine does not mean movement has to stop—it simply means movement has to evolve. Over the years, I’ve been able to successfully modify most of the classical Pilates repertoire to work safely and effectively for my fused spine.

Then, after four decades of feeling strong and capable, things began to change.

What started as occasional discomfort slowly became persistent pain. Sitting and standing for long periods and walking distances became more difficult. My lower back felt compressed and fatigued in a way I had never experienced before. Eventually came the diagnosis: lumbar stenosis and spondylolisthesis.

At first, it was hard not to feel discouraged. After all those years of doing “everything right,” why now?

But the reality is, there’s science behind it.

When you have a long spinal fusion, the levels above and below the fusion naturally take on more stress over time. Since those fused vertebrae no longer move, the adjacent discs and joints work harder for decades to make up for that lost motion. This is called adjacent segment disease. Over time, that extra wear and tear can lead to arthritis, disc degeneration, instability, and narrowing of the spinal canal—also known as stenosis.

In my case, my spine had been compensating for over 40 years.

And honestly, I think movement saved me for a very long time.

Today, my Pilates practice looks different than it once did. I’ve had to learn new modifications, embrace pain management strategies, and listen to my body on a deeper level. I no longer approach movement with the mindset of pushing through. Instead, I focus on moving intelligently, strengthening what I can, and honoring my body's needs and limitations each day. That shift hasn’t been easy—but it’s been empowering.

Because this journey has taught me something important:

A diagnosis does not mean the end of living fully. Yes, stenosis changes things. Chronic pain changes things. But it does not take away our ability to adapt, grow, stay strong, and continue finding joy in movement and in life.

One of my biggest missions now is helping others who are navigating spinal conditions, chronic back pain, or physical limitations feel less afraid and less alone. My experience has given me a deep understanding of how to adapt movement for different bodies and limitations, and it’s become one of the greatest strengths I bring to working with others. I want people to know there is still so much life available to them. Movement is still possible. Strength is still possible. Hope is still possible.

You may have to modify.You may have to slow down sometimes.You may have to learn your body all over again.

But you are not broken.

My story began with scoliosis surgery at 13 years old. It continued through decades of active living, strength, and resilience. And now, even with lumbar stenosis and spondylolisthesis, I’m still moving forward—just with more wisdom, more compassion for myself and others, and an even greater purpose. Our bodies may change over time, but our capacity to live a full and meaningful life does not disappear. Sometimes it simply asks us to find a new way forward.