‘When I turned 40, I had the desire to become even more active’ … Patty Azzarello (left) and her sister Kerry, in the Alps. Photograph: Courtesy of Patty Azzarello View image in fullscreen ‘When I turned 40, I had the desire to become even more active’ … Patty Azzarello (left) and her sister Kerry, in the Alps. Photograph: Courtesy of Patty Azzarello A moment that changed me Life and style A moment that changed me: I was terrified of my own body – until a surprising 20-mile bike ride I grew up with spinal conditions that solidified my sense of being ‘weak and weird’. By my late 30s, I was feeling burnt out. But an invitation from a colleague set me on an unexpected and exhilarating new path
Prefer the Guardian on Google I n 2023, I was in the Alps trekking the 80-mile Tour du Mont Blanc when there came a moment I was no longer trekking, exactly. I was on my hands and knees. Frozen. And then I started to cry. Others were casually bopping past me, up and over like water around a stone. But I was stuck. Why can’t I move? I thought.
I was not always fit enough to trek 80 miles in the Alps. As a child, I was the one who always got picked last in gym class. I would have picked me last too: by any measure, I was the most physically awkward kid in my year group. Other students bullied me and I was ashamed of my body. I felt weird, weak and sad.
Then, when I was 10, I was diagnosed with scoliosis. I also had a severe lordosis, where part of my lower spine runs almost parallel to the ground, and a condition called spondylolisthesis, where one vertebra sits noticeably out of line with the others. When I first saw the X-rays of my spine, I was stunned by the abrupt angles and unnatural twists. It looked like chaos. At that moment, the feeling of being “weak and weird” settled in for good.
Searching for answers, my parents took me to a hotshot orthopaedic surgeon in New York. He told me that the displaced vertebra was very dangerous, and with any fall or bump, it could slip forward, sever my spinal cord and leave me paralysed. Then he said I needed a big operation to chisel enough bone from my thigh to fuse together seven vertebrae in my lower back. I would be in a body cast for a year. The surgery was scheduled. I was horrified.
In the meantime, the world became an unrelenting obstacle course where every bump, staircase or crowded hallway seemed specifically designed to paralyse me. I became afraid to move at all.
View image in fullscreen ‘Before long, we were doing 100-mile rides’ … Patty Azzarello pictured in Carmel valley, California, in 2020. Photograph: Courtesy of Patty Azzarello After seeking a second opinion, another orthopaedic surgeon told me that many people live with this condition and that the risk of paralysis was actually quite small. He suggested we skip the operation and just keep an eye on my spine.
I took his advice, but for decades I carried a low-level terror inside my body and I became timid about any physical activity.
By my 30s, I was working in increasingly senior executive roles, with endless travel, long hours, and lots of stress; I was exhausted all the time. I would be in agony after standing for an hour. I feared that my weak body would sabotage my career.
When I relocated to Colorado, a colleague invited me on a bike ride to explore my new home town. I said yes, thinking we would go for coffee and probably cycle for no more than 30 minutes. But our first ride was 20 miles into the countryside. I was astounded…