At the chiropractor today, I had less optimism than normal.
In my last visit, I had high hopes, expecting to walk out of Killer’s office with a new lease on my running. So much faith I put in his abilities that I won’t run a marathon or half marathon without visiting him first. And pretty much every ailment I’ve experienced as a runner has been fixed by Killer.
Until the visit last month.
But I went there today anyway, and quite honestly, expected bad news. I expected Killer to say that I needed to shut it down and go to a physical therapist.
Right away, he asked how I was doing. My response, I bluntly said, was that I’m a wreck. And I went on to explain the pain and problems.
Moments later, he offered this up: One of my hips was misaligned – essentially it slipped out of place – and my knee had been hyper extended. And he pretty much put everything back in place.
Less than 30 minutes later, I walked away with renewed hope. And as a runner, how can you run through the pain and long miles without hope that the discomfort is all worth it? That’s what has always driven me in the worst of times – that by keeping the faith, things will turn out and I’ll come out the other side better.
So, after Killer worked on my legs, I drove back to Bemidji. And for the first time in months I didn’t feel the shooting pain from my knee to my lower back while I sat behind the wheel. Maybe I’m closer to a fix – and closer to normal – than I believed.
All I know is I can’t wait to find out the next time I lace up my running shoes.