It didn’t take me long to figure that out…
From a young age, I liked doing things my own way. At school, in sports, and in my social life. Finding my own path has always given me energy. As a physiotherapist, I understand the value of protocols: identifying common patterns, recognizing what you have seen before, and using that knowledge well. But I also clearly see their limitations. Sometimes, protocols can make you miss the person standing in front of you. That is the ongoing challenge. And it is exactly this constant learning curve that makes me enjoy my work every single day. A dancer, an acrobat, a mountaineer, or someone living with a chronic condition: with every person, there is always the possibility to do things differently from what you are used to, in order to achieve the best possible recovery. It is about looking at what someone truly needs in that moment. Is it one of my treatment techniques, coaching, or someone in my network who can best help this person reach their goal? That ability to adapt gives me a sense of calm. When I can switch quickly, and get results, I feel at my best. The logical step would be to work mostly with people who have short-term goals. And yet, I mainly work with long-term goals. Did I already mention I’m a little stubborn… ;-)
I recognize this in my personal life too. I like doing twenty things at once in any given week. At the moment, I am a father to a young family, working as a physiotherapist and practice owner, studying for a Master’s in Health Sciences, playing basketball in a team that is still growing (as the veteran, of course) and helping to build Alpine Hub.
I am lucky to be able to do all of this with the incredible support of my family, colleagues, and teammates. But in the middle of all that busyness, there is one place where I always find calm: the mountains.
Everything I feel I “have to” do falls away the moment I see those peaks in the distance from the car. It feels like a form of instant meditation: knowing that I am about to be immersed in nature. Whether it is about the next step up or the next descent down, the mountains bring me into the present moment.
Last summer, I was in Norway with my family, and it was clear to see that this immediate effect of nature can be passed on to the next generation. That made it even more beautiful. My children, who were four and two at the time, were not focused on performance. They were simply having fun and making their way up to the top. It brought me back to my first overnight stay in a mountain hut on the Schesaplana, on the border of Austria and Switzerland. I must have been around ten years old. Crossing a snowfield, step by step, and eventually standing on the summit. It was not an extreme route, and perhaps not the highest peak, but for me, there is still something magical in that memory.
With my brother, cousins, and our own little family ski school, we would follow my grandfather down the mountain, our very own ski instructor. Skiing was sport, not just a social activity. Practise, ask for feedback, and try to improve. That is how he taught me to look at sport.
Not as a ski area simply for fun and après-ski, but as a place where you continuously try to improve your skills. Slightly different from what most people around me expect when I go skiing. Maybe that stubbornness is hereditary after all.
Every winter, I still make sure I go skiing, even if it means driving there and back for just a weekend, simply to feel the mountain, sharpen my skillset, and find focus. I love the fact that the same activity in the mountains is never really the same. The conditions are always changing. Whether it is the weather or the terrain, you are forced to be fully present.
And this is exactly what I recognize in my daily work environment too. The difference is that it is not the conditions of nature that change, but people and their context. Even with the same person, things can look completely different from one day to the next. Applying that nuance and truly learning to “read” someone well is the challenge of daily practice. I am always looking for possibilities within the existing options and limitations.
One size does not fit all.
It is one of the reasons I enjoy working with the people I see in practice. It also says a lot about how I try to shape my own life. Find the challenge within the routine, enjoy it, and make the important things fun.
Sometimes, a phone call is enough to explore what is possible. Whether it is advice for an acute injury in a mountaineer who wants to head into the mountains, or a dancer about to go on tour, a short call can often provide enough information to help someone move forward and share the right knowledge. The focused analysis you make during a first conversation creates the space to assess what someone needs in that moment. Small adjustments can make a big difference, as long as you do not lose sight of the bigger goal. In my conversations with Marjolein and Wouter, I saw how a small shift in direction could make a major difference in their mountain goals. I have worked with Taidgh for years: a coach who works from the same vision and helps me offer people what they need in training to reach their goals in a sustainable way. The conversations we had as a team eventually shaped Alpine Hub. It became our answer to something we kept seeing again and again: people with a true passion for the mountains, but who were missing what they needed to make their goals genuinely achievable in a sustainable way.
Big mountain goals require personal preparation. It is not about speed, but about consistency in the steps towards your goal. And that preparation has to fit your own situation. With our team at Alpine Hub, this is exactly what we are building. With my experience and knowledge in injury recovery and prevention, I am proud to contribute to helping you reach your goals.
Are you working towards a mountain goal and wondering how to truly prepare your body? Get in touch with us or sign up to stay informed.
Welcome to Alpine Hub.Mountain fit. Mountain spirit. For life.