We often take the simple act of walking for granted. It is the background rhythm of our lives—an automatic, subconscious action that carries us from point A to point B. But for the last six months, walking has not been automatic for me. It has been a battle. It has been a conscious, confusing, and often painful calculation of every single step. For half a year, I lived with a body that felt like it was at war with itself. My gait was broken. My right side had become a tyrant, dominating every movement, while my left leg had become a ghost—lagging, dragging, and refusing to participate. I was misaligned,…