THE BACKSTORY

End range is where the magic happens.

— The McKenzie Institute

As I grew professionally, I continued to keep my personal journey in the background — in part because I didn't think my story was that interesting. I was simply raising three kids and working part-time while my husband started an orthopedic practice in his hometown. We moved a few times, just like everyone else. I really wanted my physical therapy practice to be about the patient, not about me. In the end, maybe my story is meaningful because it sounds like everyone else's. I have now realized that we all have the same story — just with different details.

I grew up one of three kids in the Bay Area of California. My father was an ear, nose, and throat surgeon. He is officially retired now. My mother is a physical therapist who continues to practice despite being "retired." They were working parents. Growing up, we took regular family vacations, which included frequent exposure to the outdoors and non–city dirt. We also ate steak, potatoes, and salad regularly. We rarely indulged in processed foods. Most of the time, our dessert was homemade blackberry pie made from fruit picked on our property and with butter. I was a healthy and vibrant girl growing up. Like many kids, I had the normal issues; I needed braces because my jaw was too small for my adult teeth. This was probably the first signal of poor nutrition, but it had become so common that no one noticed. I speak more about epigenetics, the study of how external factors influence development, in chapter 2.

Physically, things began to change for me in high school. It wasn't initially dramatic; it seemed like normal teenager stuff: acne, growth spurts, and the like. And even though I wasn't kissing anyone, I even had mononucleosis, the "kissing disease." No one believed me — could you imagine that? I played sports such as basketball, volleyball, tennis, and soccer. I dealt with back pain and getting my period. I struggled with schoolwork and college applications. This doesn't look unusual, yet for a kid who was never sick, feeling pain and dealing with mono were new experiences. When I look back at it now, I was doing mostly okay. I slept well, and as a member of multiple athletic teams, I was getting my exercise. I appeared to be thriving because I was getting good grades — but one thing was dramatically off: I was not eating real food.

My parents had put me in charge of making my own breakfast and lunch; it's not their fault that I simply didn't