Excelsior’s practitioners are manual therapists and coaches who banded together to bring the science of Functional Range Systems® to Lancaster County. Our own experiences with injury and illness led us to seek long-term health solutions beyond traditional models. We specialize in Functional Assessment and Release, Functional Range Conditioning, Kinstretch, and the Internal Strength Model.
A few years ago I struggled with severe neuropathy in my feet and legs. I was completely numb from the ankle down and my calves often cramped so tightly I couldn't walk. None of the doctors I consulted had any relief or even any answers for me. My condition was a result of months of chemotherapy. I was thankfully alive, but the quality of my life was severely compromised. Somewhat out of desperation, I made an appointment with a manual therapist.
By the end of the session I felt my toes for the first time in years. I cried real tears of joy. Before I got home I had decided to pursue this knowledge, to learn the techniques and study the body in hopes of being able to help others in the way I had been helped. I can't promise you an experience as transformative as mine, but I'm nearly certain that together we can find you some relief and begin the process of unwinding inhibiting patterns, finding more space and strength in your body.
Before becoming a manual therapist, I spent more than a decade in service roles alongside refugees, women on the margins, and families navigating challenge. I mothered children who needed steadiness, played sports with people whose language I couldn’t speak, planted, tended animals, cooked for hundreds, and navigated situations of socioeconomic and cultural turmoil. Those years changed me. Having been a target of trafficking, assault, and coercive control during that time also changed me. I swallowed the bait that being strong in life meant powering through. That carried me—until it couldn’t. After a fluke exposure to an environmental toxin, my system didn’t bounce back—it broke. I was left with neurodegenerative autoimmunity, pain and loss of body control, and 40 pounds to regain. After all I experienced, I realized I had to relearn everything I thought I knew about strength.
When conventional wisdom offered no lasting relief, I sought simpler science. My first day at Excelsior wasn’t to teach—it was to fight for my body, hoping the person within it stood a chance. I gained results I’d been told were impossible, making possible things I’d nearly given up on. That quiet, daring unfolding revealed a different kind of strength—no miracles or quick fixes, beyond deadlifts or being unbreakable. Strength was my deepest breath in years. Moving vertebrae I’d lost touch with. Asking for help. It was real food and real talks at the dinner table. Training self-defense moves I’d needed long ago. Dusting off paint brushes and throwing clay at the wheel. Listening to others’ stories of loss and overcoming. Working with rescue horses and their herd of humans. It all mattered. And I began to realize—for me and those in my past; for anyone navigating challenge, risk, and uncertain times—we need more spaces to build strength in body, mind, community, and life. That is what I now dedicate my time to.
