Friday, November 20, 2009

Week 7 continues

Another 25 minute run today as I did Week 7 of the Couch to 5k running plan from coolrunning.com and it was my coldest run yet. I started before sunrise and it was foggy and the fog had frozen to my car so I had to scrape my windows to drive to the nature trail I was going to run on near Omaha, Nebraska. The fog looked creepy and cold. It felt cold but not creepy.  When I finished my run it was 30 degrees Fahrenheit (-1 Celsius) and the sun was up so it had warmed up a bit although the fog hadn't burned off, just gotten more silver and less gray.


The day before my hip hurt a bit when I would walk and I was worried for the run this morning, but it was fine, no soreness at all. The chiropractor appointment I'd made for over my lunch hour seemed a waste of time now but I went anyway and he said my hips were out. (He always says my hips are out so that he can work on two areas of my back and charge more so this wasn't new to me or news to me.) As soon as I told him I was running and explained the pain he had me shuck off my shoes and stand in front of him. "Ah HA!" He exclaimed, putting his finger under the arches of my foot and jabbing upward painfully. "Does this hurt?"  When I indicated that it did by ramming my knee into his face and then kicking him in the face while he writhed on the ground clutching his now bleeding nose he said through his hands that clutched his disjointed proboscis that I had flat feet and was probably over (or maybe under?) pronating but that he could help with some custom fit orthotics for only three-hundred American dollars. (That Faulkneresque sentence brought to you by the words "Run" and "On.")

I was thrilled to hear there was a cure and the cure evidently involved my lining his shoes with money so he could line mine with something made of, if price is any indication, moon rocks. I promptly dashed home on my obviously deformed feet to do the foot pronation detection test. I got them wet and stood on a brown paper sack and then looked at the footprints left there and it appears that my feet are the picture perfect examples of perfect middle of the road feet. There's no over arching or flat-footedness indicated. Now the thick-padded running socks may have made it appear to him that I had flat feet, but I suspect the three hundred dollar price tag on them caused his glasses to fog up when he looked at my picture-perfect clod-hoppers so as to mis-diagnose me.

I hate to say it, but I don't think I'll be back to see the old fella. He's great with my neck, but I don't think I trust him with my feet.

Photo Credit: Thanks go to limaoscarjuliet from flickr for the creative commons allowed use of the photo in this post. Great picture!
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