Poets and pop stars have called it many things. I prefer “invisible string.” Often, the invisible string is something we can only see in hindsight, the thing that connects the dots in our lives. The guiding force.
José Armijo, an exercise physiologist, is our newest ambassador. At first glance, his path to PMD Alliance may seem arbitrary and winding. But that’s not how he sees it. When José retells it, it is undeniably shaped by a guiding hand. When we spoke on the phone, he told me before we started that he doesn’t like to talk about himself. “But as you’ll see, this story isn’t about me,” he said. It’s about everyone and everything that has brought him here, including the Parkinson’s community. He said, “God has truly blessed me with you all.”
José grew up around sports. For forty-two years, his dad coached baseball, track, cross country, and basketball. He was the trainer at football games. “He’d be taping players while we were on the sidelines,” José said. And José was an athlete. “I was in sports as far back as I can remember. I think I’ve had a bat and baseball helmet on since I was three.” In school, he played baseball, basketball, and ran track and cross country.
But becoming an exercise physiologist was never his plan. He wanted to be an engineer. But when engineering suddenly didn’t feel like it fit, he switched his major to architecture. Still, his heart wasn’t in it. “I was very confused,” he said. He had been given a full scholarship to school and he didn’t want to squander it. He just wanted a simple major to get him through college and be done with it. He spoke with a dean. She boiled it down to one question: “What do you like?”
“Sports,” he said.
“If you study exercise and sports science,” she told him, “you can work at the Olympic Training Center in Colorado.”
Frankly, José thought the course load would be easy. He had already been taking classes like Applied Physics and Calculus. This was going to be a piece of cake. It wasn’t. But José has never been one to shy away from a challenge. He dove in head first, preparing himself to work with the best of the best: elite athletes.
The thing is: The best made plans often go awry. Straight after earning his Master’s degree, José got the opportunity to work with elite runners. It was everything he had wanted. He hated it. “I didn’t like the arrogance of the individuals I was working with,” he said, “thinking they could learn nothing from me because I didn’t look like their typical athlete.”
He moved to Albuquerque. He knew no one there, but a beloved professor of his suggested he get in touch with the professor’s own mentor there. The professor’s mentor worked at a retirement community and he wanted to pass his skills and business onto someone else. José had just worked with elite athletes; he wasn’t interested in retirees. He pictured a depressing nursing home. But the mentor insisted: “I want you to shadow me,” he said. “Just come, walk around the facility with me.” Out of respect for his own beloved professor, José agreed. But he had no intention of anything more.
When José toured the facility, he was blown away. “It was like five-star living,” he said. “And the people were very active.” He recognized what was happening: it was the invisible string. “I was working with elite athletes,” he said, “but God had a whole different path for me that I never would have imagined. Working with seniors was the furthest thing from my mind.” But he fell in love with it. “I fell in love with the residents, with how much they appreciated me for what I did for them, with how much I could impact their lives.” But what he loved most, he said, “was the wisdom and knowledge I received from them.” “This was not my plan,” he went on, “but it brought me to what I was meant to do.”
For nearly six years, José worked at the retirement community. But the drive to work was long and as he prepared to welcome his daughter into the world, he knew it was time to find something closer to home. He got a job at an outpatient clinic doing cardiac and pulmonary rehab. And they had a Parkinson’s program, which put him in touch with a wide swath of people with movement disorders. Still, something was missing: “It always lacked the family feeling I had at the retirement community.” As the hospital he worked in emphasized quantity over quality, he saw people fall through the cracks. He yearned to create a business of his own.
He was feeling depleted in his work and his life by the time his dad passed away. After five years at the clinic, he left. He left not only that job, but the health field entirely. For two years, he worked as a mechanic and plodded through life. He couldn’t feel the invisible string, but it was there. Waiting for him.
In April 2022, two years after he left the health field, he got a call from Clemie, PMD Alliance’s Director of Community Engagement. “I didn’t know her,” he said. “She called me randomly.” She started telling him about an upcoming event in Albuquerque. “It sounded wonderful,” he said. But their wires got crossed. Five minutes into the conversation she said, “I hate to ask, but you don’t have Parkinson’s, do you?” Somehow, the spreadsheet she was working from had listed José as a person with Parkinson’s. They both laughed.
José was undeterred. “I hadn’t been doing anything health-related for nearly two years,” he said, “but I asked, ‘Do you need any volunteers? Whatever you need help with, I’ll do it.’”
At the event, José helped people get to their seats. He handed out food. A doctor had been invited to speak. “She was young,” José said, “and she was amazing. Really amazing.” She spoke about medication and its effects. “I kept waiting for her to tie in how exercise therapy assists medications in being better absorbed by the body. I mean, if she would have added that in, she could have walked away with a mic drop, she was that good.” But she ended her presentation without mentioning it. “I didn’t want to take the spotlight,” José said, “but I was burning inside.”
With permission from the PMD Alliance staff members at the event, José eventually stood up to speak for five minutes, talking about the power of exercise therapy. By the time he finished, people with Parkinson’s were coming up to him: “We want to work with you. Where’s your business?”
When José parted ways with the hospital two years prior, he left on an “empty note.” He said, “My dad had passed. I felt like I no longer had it in me to serve people in the way I did. I had needed a break to heal. But that moment at the PMD Alliance event reminded me: I had a huge passion and my work was not done.”
At the end of the event, Kelly Papesh, PMD Alliance’s Clinical Director, came up to him: “If it’s in your heart, you really need to chase that dream.”
José said, “It about made me cry. I realized people believed in me, believed I had something to offer.” Another invisible string.
The PMD Alliance event was in May. By October, José had formed his own business, G.R.E.A.T. Fit L.L.C., and had his first client. Today, José runs a mobile clinic. He goes to retirement communities and does group classes. He works with individuals in their homes. “I like to teach people things about their own living environment,” he said. “I don’t just do exercise work; I do cognitive awareness.” He helps people learn how to navigate their homes, paying attention to their gait, for example, as they move from carpet to tile. He wants them to continue enjoying the homes they’ve worked hard for and filled with love over the years. He wants them to feel comfortable and safe in their beloved spaces.
José works with most of his clients in person, but his client Bill is in Colorado. They work together online. José often wonders, “Am I really making an impact? I could do so much more in person.” But, recently, Bill’s wife told him, “Bill really loves you. You always put a smile on his face no matter what you do.”
José has realized that’s his definition of success: “to make a good, positive impact in someone’s life.” José works with an array of clients: people with Parkinson’s, people who’ve had strokes and spinal cord injuries. “A lot of times,” he said, “they just want to give up. They tell me, ‘I remember when I used to do this, this, and this, and now I can barely do this.’ That is my biggest motivator: If I work with a client and don’t make them smile, then I didn’t do my job. People get so much more out of therapy when they’re enjoying it. We must have joy in our hearts.”
For José, joy is another sign: he’s doing exactly what he’s meant to. None of it planned, all of it a blessing.
