After a motocross accident that severely injured my spinal cord left me paralyzed at the age of 20, I was told by doctors that I had a one in a million chance of ever feeding myself again.
Good news: I can hold my forks just fine. I've walked across Death Valley, biked in three Los Angeles marathons, and pedaled my way across the country twice.
The Road to Recovery
Prior to my injury, I had always been very athletic and very competitive. Although I had to give up my involvement in motocross, I shifted my priorities and committed to healing myself.
Largely propelled by the motivation and hard work of my mother and family (my mom's outlaw-ish spirit wasn't going to allow a negative prognosis to affect my actual prognosis), I was able to pour all of my energy into regenerating myself.
Within the first year, I went from unable to move, to wiggling my toes, to standing in water -- a huge progression. Unfortunately, I faced a significant hurdle after only one year when I was discharged from physical therapy and left with no options to continue working on recovery. I felt like I had nowhere to go to help take me to the next level. I became dejected because I had a fire inside, and no outlet for it. My thoughts became dark and it felt hopeless.
I truly credit my mother for what happened next: she scoured the country for the next step and connected with Taylor-Kevin Isaacs, a former Professor of kinesiology at California State Northridge. He and I formed a partnership to work on my long-term recovery, and in that time we also sowed the seeds for a business idea that could address the gap in rehabilitation services for people recovering from injury or disability.
A Movement Begins
My journey of recovery has helped me find my passion for service and a powerful way to address the gap between rehabilitation and regular fitness for people with disabilities and chronic conditions. Along with Isaacs and my mother Laquita Conway, the Center of Restorative Exercise (C.O.R.E.) was born. The inclusive gym provides accessible and customized training for people of all abilities. We experienced the gap in our health care system firsthand, but now we're here to fill it.
C.O.R.E. Centers LLC. is a fully accessible fitness and performance facility that welcomes people with and without disabilities. Taylor's methodology (The TKI System of Function) provided the basis for our gym's exercise programming, which focuses on seven components of function: musculoskeletal conditioning, flexibility, cardio, balance/stability, posture, gait mechanics, and performance.
To promote the idea nationwide, my mother, my best friends and I biked across the country and visited hospitals and outpatient centers to discuss the idea of starting a facility that would assist people with disabilities with restorative exercise. The response we got validated that this type of facility would be useful. The general public recognized that there was a massive gap between rehabilitation and regular fitness, and that nobody was filling that role.
While we've created a successful business, we also worked hard to created a strong and supportive environment. The gym's members include people from all walks of life, including young athletes with orthopedic injuries, middle aged individuals interested in losing weight, veterans, stroke patients, high-level quadriplegics, and people of all other abilities. We don't want members to feel like they're in rehab, but that they're in a space where the human spirit is prominent.
Looking to the Future
In addition to my ventures with C.O.R.E., I've found other ways to extend help to others, too. I've become involved with the Red Bull Wings For Life World Run, a global running and wheelchair race that happens on May 8th, 2016 in 34 locations across the world at the same time. My connection to Wings For Life is a powerfully organic one. As an athlete, I resonate with the spirit of Red Bull itself, and my individual experience allows me to identify strongly with Wings for Life, an organization dedicated to finding a cure for paralysis.
I'm also currently working on a soon-to-be-released documentary called Coming to My Senses, which will cover my 20-mile walk across Death Valley, as well as touching on the challenges I've overcome. When I was first recovering, the journey covered in this film would have been impossible. Looking back, it is amazing that I was able to do this.
My greatest inspiration and motivation comes to me when I'm connected with others -- either in a one-on-one conversation, speaking to a large group and vibing with the energy in the room, ripping it up outdoors with friends, or in peaceful silence in nature.
But what's truly rewarding is when I get a chance to assist someone doing something they thought was impossible, or had never done before. Their smile says it all, and reaffirms my mission.
True healing requires more than just medicine and treatment, which is why we've teamed up with Dignity Health to discuss how compassion and a human touch can benefit our health and our lives in myriad ways.
Do you have a personal story about compassion or big acts of kindness that you'd like to contribute? Let us know at PowerOfHumanity@huffingtonpost.com or by tweeting with #PowerofHumanity.