Wasn’t There a “Little House” about This? May 15, 2007

So at the chiropractor, I learned that I am horribly misshapen and a freak of nature.

Ok, perhaps I exaggerate, but it does turn out that the right side of my pelvis is 8-10 mm lower than the left side.

Chiro-man says it’s probably because of a leg length discrepancy. He asked me if I’d ever been tested for that. Instead of simply answering, “no,” I told him I didn’t think so, but I was a little nervous because I’m pretty sure there was a Little House on the Prairie episode where one of the boys in town — it might have been Albert — had one leg longer than the other, and he needed special shoes so he could play comfortably with the other children, and it was quite a big deal in Walnut Grove.

Chiro-man is about my age–if not probably a little younger, which weirds me out. He’s also disturbingly tan and kind of frat-boy looking, if very nice and well-intentioned. But as I go on in life and more and more people in my generation are getting real jobs, I’m getting more and more nervous. I want the people giving me medical, financial, and life advice to be older than me. If for no other reason than it seems fair to assume that their advice will get me at least to their age. Doctor my mother’s age? At least I know I’ve got another 30 years or so. Optometrist in his fifties? Yes, please–at least when it comes time to treat cataracts, I’ll know he’s dealt with them. Chiropractor who might have gone to a kegger last weekend? Not so much.

But this was just our initial courting visit. And I’m realizing that I’m going to have to accept that I’m finally old enough that I’m not going to be the youngest one in the room anymore (with a few job-related exceptions, but that’s not why we’re here today). So, since the offices were clean, there were no outstanding warrants taped to the door, and the other doctor in the office looked to be a good 15 years older than me, I’m going to give it a shot.

But the fact that, when I made my crack about Little House, he just looked at me blankly, made me weep a little inside. What’s the world coming to when ’80s television references are no longer common cultural currency?

Insomnia May 15, 2007

Sometimes I can’t sleep.

It’s not really insomnia per se…I just have these periods of a few weeks two or three times a year where I don’t sleep much. I go to sleep ok, but at like 3 in the morning, I wake up and can’t get back to sleep.

I mention this here only because it occurred again this morning. Last time, a few days ago, I was in the middle of a book I couldn’t wait to finish. This morning, not so much.

So it’s all about obsessively and repeatedly posting on the blog.

Chiropractical May 15, 2007

I went to visit a chiropractor yesterday. It was the second of two initial meetings, so there was no actual bone-crackiness to be had.

I’m still stuck in the land of a back that’s not quite healed, and showing no signs of progress now that I’ve got sitting, standing and walking back in my bag of tricks.

Last week, I happened across a local chiropractic office doing its expo show hustle for new patients, and got an initial visit that was 10% of the cost of an initial visit at my medical-insurance-approved physical therapist (with whom I just happened to have scheduled my initial appointment for the next day).

So, being relatively frugal and generally doubtful of the medical institution as a whole, I canceled the physical therapist, scheduled a visit with the chiropractor, and used the difference to pay my student loan bill for the month.

To say I’m distrustful of the medical world does not mean that I go for witch-doctor voodoo like chiropractic. I started running, in part, to get in better tune with my body. After the back thing, you’d be hard-pressed to convince me that my body and I aren’t singing profoundly off-key. I don’t tend to think that getting all woo-woo puts you in harmony with your inner being. Rather, it just makes for terribly dreary dinner conversation. So instead of trying to start singing in tune, I’m now convinced that I should just put on a nice, soft pair of noise-canceling headphones and curl up for a nap.

I’m feeling a little petulant about the medical profession right now, so maybe it’s just that my defenses are down. I’ve never enjoyed doctors. Especially since the rise of the HMO and the decline of civilization that followed. Over the years, I’ve tended to find much greater relief in prescription painkillers and a fluffy pillow than I have in a visit to the McDoctor’s office. Last Fall, I finally discovered a doctor that I like. She mixes actually listening to her patients with a healthy belief in better living through chemistry, and I found myself a convert to the world of medicine. Maybe I’d been wrong about doctors! Maybe I just hadn’t given them a chance!

Turns out I was just swayed by one huckster who actually tries to do it right.

I wasn’t able to get in to see my doctor when this whole back thing went down, so I’ve been seeing one of her cohorts. In whom, I have to say, I was much more inclined to have faith because she shares an office with WonderDoctor. Admittedly, she did set me up with some nice painkillers and muscle relaxants, but when I tried to discuss the fact that this one spot still hurts like a bitch, she asked her assistant to get me some handouts on how to lift heavy things the right way.

I am distinctly not impressed, and the only reason I made the damn appt for the physical therapy was because trying to run still creates a pain sharp enough to make me gasp.

So at this point, I’m weak and an excellent target for the cult of alternative medicine to scoop me up into its fold.

Sssh…..It’s a Secret…. May 9, 2007

So I feel like a traitor.

My back is healing rather slowly and I’m finding that the people at the gym on treadmills next to me don’t take kindly to me yelling, “Ow…Ow…Ow…” every time my right foot hits the mat.

Heathens.

So I’ve been looking into biking.

There’s a century ride (that’s 100 miles. Not, we hope, that it takes 100 years to complete it.) this season as well, and my back is, so far, much more able to handle biking.

But I totally feel like a traitor. I have all these books and magazines and web sites bookmarked about running. I try not to talk about it, but I know what splits are (not just for cheerleaders!), I understand under-and over-pronation, and I know 800 different ways to treat and/or avoid shin splints. Being the slowest, lamest running nerd in history has become this wonderful pet project.

On the other hand, I am so not a biking nerd.

I don’t even know where to begin with a bike. The bike has always been an alternate mode of transportation, not a sport.

In fact, I understand that it’s very “out” to call it biking. Apparently, when you wear tech fibers and toe clips, it’s called “cycling.”

[And when you judge someone because their word choice isn't what your little club deemed appropriate, it's called "asshole." Just sayin', guy at the bike shop. Just sayin'.]

But my hope is that, if I make cycling my sport this season, I won’t permanently cripple myself by trying to run too soon, and I’ll be able to keep it up as a cross-training kind of thing.

Because, although I like the word, I’m not changing the name of this blog to “bikey.”

you’ve just got to start to get started May 4, 2007

It feels like it’s been a hundred years since I posted. And a hundred years before that since I posted anything that wasn’t me whining about my back.

I decided to go ahead and go for the Portland marathon. I’m a little worried about doubling the already freakishly long distance of the half-marathon, but hey. If I’m going to go to all the trouble of training, why not go all out?

Coach Joe seems to think it’s doable. Then again, he’s a man who runs 50k races for fun. So maybe he’s not the best barometer.

It’s not official yet because I need to find and turn in my paperwork. There’s about a week of correspondence that I do remember, but only through the filmy gauze of Vicodin…every few days I remember something else I was supposed to do, call or email whoever it was I dropped the ball on, and apologize profusely. Luckily, I’m relatively efficient when pressured….and luckily it was mostly stuff in my real life, not my professional one.

My back is aaaaaalmost better. I had a setback (ha–setback, get it?) last weekend, and had a rough Saturday. But I took it easy, muddled through, and am back to just having this one crappy spot on the lower right. And it hurts like a bitch, pardon my use of the vernacular–but it sure as hell beats writhing in pain on the bathroom floor, barely able to crawl to the bedroom.

I went to the gym twice this week. It’s been ages. And it was absolutely incredible to be back. I didn’t do much…and when I was on the treadmill, I only walked. But the pain in the back actually tends to ease up once I get warmed up. I tried running a little bit yesterday morning….for a grand total of about 15 seconds. It sucked. Hard. My hip’s actually been killing me ever since, so so much for that experiment. I guess I’m not ready yet.

So while I try to be patient and not make it worse, I’ve got a chiropractor appointment on Friday, a physical therapy appointment on Thursday, and another personal trainer Alexander’s mom uses that I’m probably going to go see. Hopefully one of them will have some answers or suggestions beyond, “have you tried ibuprofen?”