『Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior』のカバーアート

Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior

Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior

著者: Angie Heuser
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概要

Breaking through mental and physical barriers to becoming your best self, living your best life.©2021 Be-YOU-tiful Adaptive Warrior Podcasting 衛生・健康的な生活
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  • Stop Waiting, Start Leading
    2026/02/04
    Using the Energy of the Fire Horse-Part 3 What if the thing holding you back isn’t your circumstances… but your waiting? That’s the question I’m asking myself—and you—in this episode of Be a Warrior. As I move into my seventh year as an above-knee amputee and step into 2026, I feel a shift happening. A deep, unmistakable pull to stop waiting for life to feel easier, cleaner, or more predictable—and instead start leading, exactly where I am. This episode is part three of my five-part series inspired by the Year of the Fire Horse, and if you’ve missed the first two, I highly recommend going back and listening. This series is building intentionally, because growth doesn’t happen in isolation—it happens in layers. In the first episode, I talked about movement, momentum, and fearless expansion. Not fearless in the absence of fear, but fearless in the willingness to move through it. As amputees—and honestly, as humans—we live with a lot of fear. Fear of pain. Fear of falling. Fear of how our bodies will feel tomorrow. Fear of what people see when they look at us. Expansion doesn’t mean fear disappears. It means we don’t let it decide our future. Last week, we explored the bold, passionate energy of the Fire Horse and how powerful energy can work for us—or against us. Energy doesn’t discriminate. If you’re prepared, it can propel you forward faster than you imagined. If you’re unprepared, it can feel overwhelming and destabilizing. This year is not subtle. It’s loud. It’s demanding. And it’s asking us to participate instead of sit on the sidelines. Which brings me to this week’s focus: leading instead of waiting. If you’re not an amputee, let me pull back the curtain for a moment. Amputee life—especially in the early years—is dominated by waiting. Waiting for wounds to heal. Waiting for insurance approvals. Waiting for appointments. Waiting for test sockets. Waiting for remakes. Waiting for your limb to shrink, change, adjust, stabilize. Waiting for your body to feel like it belongs to you again. There can be more time spent waiting than actually living, and that kind of waiting is exhausting. I’ve watched so many people—myself included—get stuck in that space. Not because we’re weak, but because the system trains us to wait. And at some point, that waiting becomes a habit. We tell ourselves, Once this socket fits better… once I heal… once this next thing happens… then I’ll start living. This year is calling us out on that. The Year of the Fire Horse is designed for people who are ready to lead instead of wait. And leadership doesn’t mean having all the answers. It means choosing not to put your life on hold. You can lead from a wheelchair. You can lead while healing. You can lead while waiting on insurance or surgery or the next prosthetic adjustment. Leading means asking yourself: What can I do today, with what I have, where I am? Because sitting and waiting doesn’t just pause your life—it quietly erodes your confidence, your joy, and your sense of purpose. I know that when I wait too long, I stop meeting people. I stop moving my body. I stop feeling good about myself. I start complaining. And that’s not the life I want—and I don’t believe it’s the life you want either. The Fire Horse only comes around once every 60 years. When the energy of fire and horse combine, it’s powerful, fast, and transformative. But everything I’ve read says the positive outcomes come from preparation. From intention. From deciding ahead of time that when the energy hits, you’re ready to ride instead of getting knocked over. For me, that preparation has meant getting quiet, introspective, and honest about what I want my next 12 months to look like. How I want to lead myself. How I want to show up for my family. How I want to live—not someday, but now. And that’s why I’m inviting you into action. On February 17th, the Fire Horse energy officially begins, and I’m hosting a Year of the Fire Horse Virtual Challenge for women. It’s a 5K, 10K, half marathon, or marathon—done virtually, at your pace, in your way. This isn’t about speed or perfection. It’s about momentum. Accountability. Community. About proving to yourself that you can start before everything feels perfect. To Join the Virtual Challenge click HERE Get 30% of when you use the discount code: JOLLY Waiting doesn’t have to be your full-time job. This episode is a call to stop postponing your life. To stop telling yourself you’ll start when conditions improve. To recognize that leadership begins the moment you decide to move—even if that movement is small, messy, and imperfect. You don’t need permission to live fully. You don’t need your circumstances to cooperate. You just need to decide that waiting no longer gets to run the show. This is your year to lead. Not tomorrow. Not when it’s easier. Today. I’ll be right here, walking it with you. ...
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    23 分
  • Energy-Fast, Bold, and Passionate
    2026/01/28
    Using Your Momentum to Accomplish Great Things (part 2) Today I invite you into a deeper conversation about movement, momentum, and what I believe is a powerful energetic shift ahead of us: the Year of the Fire Horse. As an above-knee amputee, a lifelong horse girl, and someone who has learned to rebuild life step by step, this theme resonates with me on every level. The Fire Horse represents bold energy, passion, speed, and expansion—but only if we’re willing to meet it with intention and preparation. Last week, I challenged you to focus on movement. Not perfection. Not comparison. Just movement—forward motion, wherever you are in your journey. Because movement creates momentum, and momentum opens the door to growth. That growth is what I call fearless expansion. And let me be very clear: fearless expansion doesn’t mean the absence of fear. Fear is always present, especially as an amputee. Every literal step forward requires trust—trust in my prosthesis, trust in my body, and trust in myself. Early on, I couldn’t even imagine carrying laundry with my vision blocked, let alone trusting my leg to land where it needed to. That confidence didn’t come overnight. It came from doing the thing scared, over and over again, until fear loosened its grip. This ⇑ leads to this ⇓ And that’s why setting goals and staying focused on them matters. I want to remind you that this journey is never linear. Prosthetic life is full of pauses, setbacks, socket changes, surgeries, and seasons of limbo. There are times when pushing harder simply isn’t possible—and that doesn’t mean you’ve failed. It means you’re human. I’ve taken years off from pushing my pace, not because I was lazy, but because my body wasn’t ready. And that’s okay. We are not competing with anyone else—especially not the curated versions of people we see online. The only comparison that matters is who you were yesterday. This brings me to the next layer of the Fire Horse energy: boldness, speed, and passion. This is the kind of energy that’s impossible to ignore. It can fuel incredible growth—or become overwhelming if we aren’t grounded. That’s why preparation matters. Before my amputation, I did something that changed everything: I set goals before surgery. Month by month. Not because I knew how things would turn out, but because I didn’t want fear to be my focus. I wanted my eyes on the horizon. These virtual races kept me focused and helped me get stronger. These medals tell my story, one I am proud of. Those goals didn’t start big. My first win was simply getting out of the house alone. That one decision led me to adaptive sports, sled hockey, skiing, virtual races, surfing, and eventually completing a 10K with a running blade. None of it happened by accident. Every step required intention, planning, and a willingness to try—even when I wasn’t sure I’d succeed. Virtual races, in particular, saved me. They gave me accountability and something to work toward when motivation was low. I wouldn’t even open the medals until I earned them. On good socket days, I pushed myself. On bad days, I rested. But I kept showing up. And every time I finished something I once thought was impossible, I felt alive again. Capable. Limitless. That’s the power of momentum. It builds confidence. And confidence changes everything. As we approach the Year of the Fire Horse, I want you to pause and ask yourself: What do I truly want to accomplish in the next twelve months? Not what feels “realistic.” Not what others expect of you. What lives in your heart? What lights you up? This energy can either propel you forward or spiral into negativity if you’re unprepared. The difference is mindset and planning. This week’s call to action builds on last week’s. Keep moving—but now, zoom out. Create a one-year vision. Look at your calendar. Are there trips coming up? Experiences you’ve avoided because of fear, injury, or amputation? Hiking, traveling, trying a new sport, or simply walking confidently in your neighborhood—none of these happen overnight. They require preparation, strength building, and patience. And that preparation starts now. I’ve never jumped blindly into anything. When I returned to skiing, I sought adaptive instruction. I practiced balance, core strength, and walking long before I hit the slopes. Every year, I have to rebuild again. That’s life. The work never truly ends—but neither does the growth. Amputation is not the end of life. It’s a beginning. A reinvention. And the truth is, anything goes. If you try something and it doesn’t work, so what? You tried. You learn. You pivot. You try again. I never surfed before my amputation—and now it’s something I love. You don’t know what’s waiting for you on the other side of fear. This year carries powerful energy. If you open yourself up to it with intention, incredible things can happen. Dream ...
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    24 分
  • A Year of Movement, Momentum and Fearless Expansion
    2026/01/21
    The Year of The Fire Horse Part 1 As I sat down to share this episode, we are in that weird blur between the holidays and the start of the new year—January 21st to be exact. Somehow we’re saying goodbye to January already and I’m still not sure how time is moving this fast. To be honest, I am a little under the weather today. A trip back home to Chicago gifted me more than nostalgia—sniffles and congestion that love to linger. But if there’s anything amputee life has taught me, it’s how to show up anyway. Healing isn’t always linear, progress isn’t always pretty, and sometimes the real strength is simply being here. If you’ve been with me for a while, you already know how excited I am about 2026. This is the Year of the Horse, and I have unapologetically embraced it. Horses are my heart—right alongside my pups—and spending time with them is healing in motion. I was out loving on them earlier that morning, enjoying Arizona sunshine that feels a little too warm for January. (I’m still waiting for winter to show up so I can actually appreciate the desert heat again.) But weather aside, the symbolism of the horse couldn’t align more powerfully with the season I’m in—and the season many of you are in. What makes this year even more rare is that it isn’t just the Year of the Horse. It is the Year of the Fire Horse, a cycle that doesn’t come around often in the Chinese calendar. Fire brings imagery of energy, power, movement, and drive—big, explosive energy that demands expansion. When I learned that, I immediately knew I wanted to infuse that symbolism into our lives this year, especially within the amputee community. Now, if you’re not an amputee, don’t tune out. The beauty of this journey is that the lessons apply to anyone navigating hardship—whether your challenges are physical, medical, emotional, relational, or even professional. Struggle doesn’t discriminate. But neither does growth. I’ve never been a fan of New Year’s resolutions. January feels messy—physically, mentally, and emotionally. We’re recovering from holidays, reorganizing homes, resetting routines, trying to remember what vegetables look like, and wrestling with motivation that hasn’t thawed out yet. I spent those early weeks decluttering my body from holiday eating and drinking, refreshing my home, and re-establishing rhythms that support who I want to be—not just who I’ve been. For me, that looks like eating cleaner, scheduling movement, and taking care of my mind, my leg, my family, and my horses. I’m not a rigid scheduler by nature, but with so many things I love doing, I can’t always choose—and then nothing gets done. So sometimes structure serves us. While reading about the Year of the Fire Horse, five symbolic themes showed up. I decided I’m going to break them down over several episodes and explore how they can shape our growth. Unless something major happens in my own life (because I always speak from personal experience first), we’re riding that theme for a bit. The first Fire Horse theme? Movement, Momentum, and Fearless Expansion. Three words. Three mountains. Three invitations. Let’s start with movement. If you’re an amputee and you’re unhappy with where you’re at—maybe you’re watching others do things you wish you could do—the number one thing I’ll tell you is this: do not compare yourself to anyone else. Amputee life is not one size fits all. Body types, limb levels, insurance coverage, prosthetic technology, pain tolerance, terrain, weather, confidence—all of it changes the picture. Someone in snowy Minnesota isn’t out hiking in January. Someone in Arizona isn’t out walking at 115°F. Our seasons look different literally and figuratively. And that’s okay. But movement matters. In fact, movement is everything. Movement is how we reclaim our bodies. Movement is how we rebuild trust. Movement is how we protect our mental health. Movement is how we remind ourselves we’re alive. Prosthetics don’t move us—we move us. Insurance coverage doesn’t give us grit—we give us grit. And movement isn’t pain-free, effortless, or pretty in the beginning. It’s awkward. It’s exhausting. It’s uncomfortable. And some days it just feels unfair. But movement is life, and life demands movement. Even if you’re not on a prosthetic yet, wheelchairs, crutches, walkers—pushing yourself counts. Motion burns energy, heals the mind, and keeps you connected to your body and your environment. And with movement comes momentum. Momentum isn’t about speed—it’s about direction. It’s about choosing to walk to the end of the driveway today, past the neighbor’s house tomorrow, and maybe around the block next week. Those baby steps are not insignificant. They are data. They are discipline. They are the quiet stacking of strength. I still remember thinking I could walk a mile as soon as I got cleared for my prosthetic. I didn’t make it ...
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    27 分
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