About Alec
A career that started with a pretty random decision.
I didn't grow up knowing I wanted to be a massage therapist.
I was 19 years old, working full-time as a landscaper, when my aunt called and invited me to move to Florida, live with her, and go to massage school.
As a 19-year-old kid, my response was basically, “Sure, sounds fun.”
And somehow, that decision turned into a career I’m still excited about nearly 16 years later.
When I started massage school, most of what I was learning was what you'd expect: relaxation massage, effleurage, petrissage, aromatherapy, hot stones, and the other techniques designed to help people relax.
And I enjoyed it.
But every once in a while, one of my instructors would come in and teach something completely different.
Orthopedic massage.
Suddenly, massage wasn't just about making someone feel good for an hour. We were learning to assess movement, look at how the body was functioning, work with trigger points, and figure out what might actually be contributing to someone's pain.
That got my attention.
That's when I fell in love with the problem-solving.
After graduating, I moved back home to New Hampshire and began working at the Mount Washington Hotel in 2011.
About a year later, I needed continuing education to renew my license, so I headed back to Florida for a large conference hosted by the Florida State Massage Therapy Association.
There, I took an orthopedic massage course with James Waslaski, a nationally recognized teacher in the field.
That was a turning point.
I came home and started practicing what I had learned on pretty much anyone who would let me. The more I learned, the more I realized there was an entire world of bodywork that went far beyond simply giving a massage.
I wanted to understand why something hurt, not just where it hurt.
That curiosity has driven my education ever since.
In 2014–2015, I studied at the National Academy of Osteopathy, and over the years I've continued taking courses in clinical soft-tissue therapy, orthopedic techniques, trigger point therapy, manual osteopathy, and other approaches to working with the body.
Today, nearly 16 years into this profession, I hold certifications in trigger point therapy and manual osteopathy.
But here's the thing I've learned:
Having a lot of techniques isn't nearly as important as knowing when to use them.
I'm not following a recipe.
Every person who walks through my door is different.
Their history is different. Their movement is different. Their pain is different. And their nervous system is different.
So I don't want to approach every body with the same treatment plan.
I think of my role more like a chef than a line cook.
A line cook follows the recipe.
A chef looks at what's in front of them, understands the ingredients, knows the techniques, and decides what the situation calls for.
That's how I approach bodywork.
I assess. I test. I treat. I pay attention to how the body responds. Then I adjust.
Sometimes the answer is a specific technique. Sometimes it's movement. Sometimes it's working on an area that doesn't seem related to the original complaint. And sometimes the best thing I can do is slow everything down.
The goal is always the same: figure out what your body needs and give it the right input at the right time.
One of the experiences that shaped how I work.
One of the first experiences that really showed me the power of this approach was working with a coworker who had developed an acute frozen shoulder.
She was in a tremendous amount of pain—around a 10 out of 10—and had very limited range of motion.It would have been easy to think, “We need to really work on that shoulder.”
Instead, I used very gentle contract-and-relax techniques along with compression and movement.
As her nervous system began to calm down, her pain became much more manageable, and we were able to work with the shoulder rather than fighting against it.
That experience stuck with me.
It reinforced something I continue to see every day:
The body doesn't always need more force. Sometimes it needs the right information.
Clinical work doesn't have to feel clinical.
This is probably the biggest thing I want people to understand about my approach.
I take the work seriously. I care about assessment, anatomy, movement, technique, and getting to the bottom of stubborn problems.
But I also want you to be comfortable.
I want you to feel heard. I want you to feel like we're working together. And I want you to be able to relax while we're doing it.
Sometimes a session is focused and therapeutic from beginning to end.
Sometimes we need to slow things down.
Most of the time, it's somewhere in between.
Clinical when it needs to be clinical. Relaxing when it needs to be relaxing.
Why I still love doing this
After almost 16 years, the part of this work I enjoy most is still the same thing that caught my attention in the beginning:
the detective work.
I love working with people who have been dealing with chronic or recurring problems and helping them make sense of what's going on.
Especially when they've already tried a few different approaches and haven't gotten the results they were hoping for.
There's something incredibly rewarding about seeing someone move differently, feel differently, or finally get some relief from a problem they've been dealing with for a long time.
And I feel pretty lucky to get to do that work here in northern New Hampshire.
A little bit about me outside the room
When I'm not working, I like to take advantage of the seasons.
I'm a golfer when the weather is warm and a snowboarder when the snow arrives. One of my favorite things about living in northern New Hampshire is that there's always something different to look forward to as the seasons change.
I've built my life and my practice here, and I genuinely love being part of this little community.
After accidentally stumbling into massage therapy at 19, I never really expected I'd still be doing it nearly 16 years later.
Turns out, I'm pretty happy with how that random decision worked out.
— Alec
