Common Injuries in Triathletes

As we enter the peak of the triathlon season, I am beginning to see more and more athletes suffering from injuries in two key areas: the rotator cuff of the shoulder, and the hip. In fact, these are the two most common injuries I treat in my office. And this is with good reason: During a typical triathlete’s training program – from early spring into late fall – the body is put under tremendous stress which leads to a lot of wear and tear and, ultimately, related injuries. These injuries are frustrating, especially because they’re caused by activities done in the name of fitness, and perhaps to raise money for charity. Here, I’ll give you the rundown on how and why these injuries typically set in and the protocols for treating these injuries.

The Shoulder: When Muscles Pitch in For Each Other
First, let’s take a look at the shoulder, which is a ball-and-socket joint that allows for the arm to have complete circumduction (circular movement). When swimming, whether in a pool, a lake or the ocean, a majority of the strength required to do the work must come from the rotator cuff muscles (the supraspinatus, infraspinatus, teres minor and the subscapularis). These four muscles hold the ball part of the shoulder to the socket. If one of these muscles is injured, an athlete will have great difficulty completing a full swimming stroke – but when the other muscles step in to take over to allow the athlete to complete the distance, overuse injury often results. (So much for teamwork, muscles!)

The two most common muscles to be injured are the supraspinatus and the subscapularis. Both muscles suffer the most wear and tear when training for long-distance swims because they are used the most during the pulling stage of the freestyle stroke (also known as the crawl). If an overuse injury should occur from either the supraspinatus or subscapularis muscle, a swimmer can experience pain (as much as radiating pain) up into the neck, into the front part of the shoulder, and down the arm (and sometimes into the fingers), all on the same side. The treatment protocol for both of these muscles involves a combination of electric stimulation, soft tissue massage, ice, active release technique, chiropractic adjustments to the thoracic spine (upper back)/shoulder/scapula/lower cervical (neck), and corrective and rehabilitative exercises.

The Hip: How This Workhorse Gets Hobbled
If we look at the hip, we see it is also a ball-and-socket joint. The two most common muscles that can limit hip range of motion are the iliopsoas and the psoas muscles (also known as your hip flexors). Both muscles are responsible for hip flexion, or bringing the knee to the chest. Most commonly, these muscles are injured in triathletes due to the wear and tear of running. The most common complaint I hear from triathletes after an event is, “I have extreme pain in my groin.” Then the person invariably points and presses deep into his or her hip.

When triathletes make the transition from biking to running, their bodies have a tendency to not (that’s right, not) transition properly. The longer an athlete is on a bike, the more the iliopsoas and psoas tighten. By the time an athlete jumps off the bike to enter the run, her legs are usually extremely heavy because her hip flexors cannot loosen – and neither can they stop firing. Though tight and exhausted, typically the hip flexors will simply step in to do the work of the also already-tired quad (primarily, the rectus femoris) and the gluteus medius. We’ve already discussed the “payoff” for those poor, industrious hip flexors. If an athlete chooses to ignore the discomfort or the pain that has been created after the race and continues to run, an overuse injury can set in.

The treatment protocol for this injury involves a combination of electric stimulation to the iliotibial band (does the term “ITB” sound familiar?) and medial meniscus; soft tissue massage; active release technique; chiropractic adjustments to the lumbar spine (low back)/pelvis/hip/ knee; and corrective and rehabilitative exercises.

About the Author: Dr. Gansel is a neuromusculoskeletal practitioner specializing in proper spinal/articular alignment, muscle imbalances and soft tissue injuries. Her degrees include: Doctor of Chiropractic and Athletic Training/ Sports Medicine. She has additional certifications in: Personal Training, BOSU Balance Training, Ergonomics, and Holistic Medicine. At graduation from Palmer West Chiropractic College, Dr. Gansel received the Clinical Excellence Award for outstanding achievement throughout the clinical system.

Dr. Gansel works closely with the fitness industry and was a faculty instructor for American Aerobic Association International and International Sports Medicine Association. She is the owner and sole practitioner of Head-To-Toe Chiropractic, LLC and Fitness Matters, Inc. in Stamford, Connecticut. In her practice, she works with a wide range of people and athletes who sole goal is to get better and to continue to function at optimal health and performance.

Dr. Gansel is also the CEO/President of CORE: The center for fitness and chiropractic care, a franchising company.

Am I A Biker?

I loved my bike when I was a kid. I got my 10-speed in third grade and was over the moon with excitement. It was blue and the tiniest little thing ever. (I’ve never been especially tall). My friend Kelly and I spent all day, every day of the summer between sixth and seventh grades on our bikes. To me, that bike represented freedom and being “grown up.”  Then I began to drive and bike helmets started to be required, and I just stopped riding. Don’t get me wrong, I believe in and understand the helmet requirement. I just grew up without them and making the transition was hard.

Point is, I can’t tell you when I was last on a bike. And, using a bike to exercise — to get a good workout? Well, I just can’t get the image of all those women I’ve seen at the gym for years, pedaling away on the stationary bikes, day after week after month after year, never losing an ounce. Fair and rational assessment of the sport? Of course not. Are you rational all of the time?

However, at my last appointment, my physical therapist told me that he was stumped. We’d gotten me stronger, but the root cause of my pain was eluding him. He suggested that I get a second opinion. I really appreciate his honesty. However, when he said, “Maybe someone with fresh eyes will look at your situation and have new ideas about how to get you back to 100%,” what I HEARD was, “You can’t be fixed.  You will never run or play soccer again.”

And that wasn’t all. In my head he continued, “You will gain 50 pounds. No one will ever love you again.”  (Before you judge me too harshly, ask yourself what you’d have heard! – and didn’t we already cover the whole rational thought thing?)

Thankfully, rational thought came back by the next morning. I asked some folks here on Charity Mile for a recommendation, and I will see a new therapist shortly. And, I began to think about cycling as a cross-training activity and a way to scratch some of the running endorphin itch.

So, I stopped in three different cycling shops in two days and spent about 90 minutes researching online. I have more information, but boy am I overwhelmed and confused. (And, honestly, just thinking about taking up cycling has made me poorer.) The consensus from different sources is that to go from zero to having the basics to get started in cycling is going to put me back somewhere in the neighborhood of $2,000.

I was not expecting that. But neither was I expecting the cycling community to be so embracing. Everyone I talked to was incredibly nice and helpful. I went in, told them I knew nothing, was a runner and had a generally suspicious attitude about cycling. They listened to my incredibly basic and sometimes-stupid questions, walked me through Cycling 101, and were willing to tell me where I could skimp and where I’d be sorry if I did. And there are clubs with group rides and picnics and trips. Seems like you can get a killer workout AND hang out with fun people. I could make friends in this sport…

So, I’m thinking about it. I’m not going to give up running. But I might just also become a cyclist. What’s your experience?  What’s your advice for me? Should I be a biker? Are you?

About the Author: Abby Anderson used to live by the code that one should only run when there was a ball in front or a bear behind. After realizing that running is a very cheap way to stay in shape when you’re a poor nonprofit employee who put on 25 pounds by eating like the athlete you no longer are, Abby took to the roads. Ten years, two marathons, five half marathons and tons of 5Ks later, she’s jealous of other people who are running when she isn’t. When not running, playing soccer or practicing yoga, Abby is usually reading, napping or fulfilling her duties as Executive Director of the Connecticut Juvenile Justice Alliance.

How an ‘Extreme Philathlete’ Gets the Job Done

Of the many questions that are sent to us here at Charity Mile, one of the hottest topics is the challenge of raising money. It’s easy to understand that even when you’re pledging to take time out of a busy day to walk, run, bike, ping-pong or what-have-you for a worthy charitable cause, putting your hands out to everybody you know for donations can sometime feel a bit, well, awkward. (Even if you’ve carefully washed and sanitized those outstretched hands before making your rounds.)

This time of year, I’m almost tempted to respond to some fundraising queries by simply saying, “Talk to Jason Atkins” – because this guy is one of the most “extreme philathletes” I have ever encountered. Since his days in grad school, Atkins’ cause has been the American Cancer Society’s Relay for Life, with which he first became involved as a participant Soon after, he lent his hands (and feet) to Relay as a team organizer, and is now in his eighth year as a Relay for Life captain for his employer’s team (in Norwalk, Connecticut). To date Atkins’ team has raised nearly $150,000 for ACS.

I’m not aware of Atkins breaking any land-speed records on the local tracks during those eight years, but along the way he has managed to enlist hordes of coworkers, friends and family to contribute in some way to Relay for Life. One key to his team’s success has been hosting many often-unusual ancillary events that are fun, build camaraderie and of course raise money for a good cause. Charity Mile recently managed to get some time in with Atkins (who, in addition to working and Relaying, is an already busy dad) to learn more about his involvement with Relay.

Charity Mile: Why did you get involved in the first place?

Atkins: Back in grad school a friend of mine asked me to join her team. Her younger sister (who happened to be the same age as my youngest sister) had recently been diagnosed with a rare form of melanoma, so my friend was Relaying in honor of her sister. It sounded worthwhile enough, so I went. It was a 24-hour Relay, and there were only five of us on the team, so we took turns walking. Of course sometime that evening, it started pouring. The event was at a park, and the ‘track’ we were walking happened to be around a pond. Well, the pond starts overflowing, the track is flooded, we’re all drenched, so they end up sending everyone home around 2 a.m. We come back at 8 a.m. to walk the last couple of hours to finish up. So yeah, it was long, tiring, miserable, and painful – I loved it!

The next year, my high school (in Okemos, Michigan) was hosting its first-ever Relay. I was teaching at Kalamazoo College (also in Michigan) at the time, and organized a team of ‘K’ students to participate. We didn’t raise much money (college students and professors don’t have a lot of that), but we had fun. And it didn’t rain, which was nice – it snowed! There were literally icicles hanging off of our tents. I believe I got stuck with the 3 a.m. to 4 a.m. walking shift. I ended up jogging most of it just to stay warm.

Year after that I moved to Connecticut and started working for FactSet Research Systems. It’s a very active, collegial company, so I figured something like Relay would be a natural fit. This year was my eighth year running FactSet’s Relay For Life team!

Charity Mile: What keeps you going at it?

Atkins: At first, it was simply the event itself. Not having done anything like it, I enjoyed how a large, varied group of people can come together to support a good cause. And the Relay itself has some very inspirational moments. Every Relay begins with a Survivor Lap, where local cancer survivors walk the track while the rest of us line the way and applaud. At dusk is the Luminaria Ceremony: the track is lined with paper bags, each decorated and dedicated to a loved one either currently battling cancer, or one we’ve lost. Candles (or glow sticks, if the venue doesn’t allow flames) are lit in each bag, thus lighting the track for the rest of the night. There are also inspirational speeches by cancer survivors. Basically, I felt like I was doing something good, and I enjoyed it, so kept doing it.

Every year, though, I’ve added more and more reasons to Relay. About five years ago I became involved with Camp Rising Sun, a weeklong summer camp for kids in Connecticut who have been diagnosed with cancer. My campers are 120-ish of the neatest, strongest, coolest, funnest (yes, that’s totally a word!) kids around. I can’t imagine what they’ve been through, and I take pride in being able to help give them one carefree week every year. And of course the campers inspire me to keep Relaying so other kids don’t have to go through what they’ve gone through.

During my time with CRS, we’ve lost four campers to cancer. It breaks my heart that kids whom I’ve played with, laughed with, hung out with in August can be gone just a few months later. They are definitely in my thoughts while walking the track at Relay.

This year it got even more personal. Back in February, my father-in-law was diagnosed with lymphoma. He started treatments several weeks ago, and will continue with treatments through the summer. He’ll then need to spend a month or so in the hospital for a stem cell transplant. The overall prognosis is good, and he should be good to go after all of that, but it’s still going to be tough few months for everyone.
Charity Mile: Fundraising is not an easy thing. A lot of people would probably love to know how you’ve been so successful.

Atkins: My first few years were pretty pitiful – I raised maybe a few hundred bucks. Once I got to FactSet (and started working with people with actual jobs!), fundraising got a lot easier. The first couple of years at FactSet we didn’t do much by way of organized fundraising – we would email friends, family, and coworkers and ask them to donate. FactSet itself chipped in a few bucks, and we probably raised about $5,000 each of the first couple of years, then maybe $10,000 the third year.

But yes, it isn’t always easy to get people excited about donating money, so we decided to up the ante. The following year, we got the company’s CFO, as well as one of the more recognizable higher-ups (the guy’s about 6-10!) to agree to shave their heads if we reached certain fundraising milestones. And since I couldn’t ask them to do something I wasn’t willing to do, I put my hair on the line as well. We set lofty goals: $15,000 for my hair, $20,000 for the next person, then $25,000 for the CFO. To my surprise, and with a little help from various other executives at FactSet, we hit the $25,000 mark, and we soon had three bald heads around the office.

That became the bulk of our fundraising: coming up with silly things for executives to do if we raise enough money. The next year was a karaoke fundraiser, followed by a dunk tank. Last year we bought some banana costumes and made them run a little obstacle course. This year we’re putting on a “FactSet Feud” game show, which will hopefully be somewhat entertaining.

We also do various events to help with fundraising. We’ve put on a comedy show each of the last five years, with the generous help of a local improv group called World Class Indifference. We’ve gotten local bars to help us host happy hours where we sell bracelets good for drinks and appetizers and then split the proceeds with the bar. Bake sales at the office are also quite popular. We did a jewelry party for a couple of years, with the help of a teammate’s mother’s jewelry designer friend. None of them break the bank individually, but at $500-1000 each, they really add up.

Having a good, solid team helps, too. I’ve had a handful of people that have been involved in all or most of the FactSet teams over the years, and there are always new people coming in to replace those who are stepping back.

Charity Mile: How much time do you spend with Relay-related activities?

Atkins: Relay takes up a decent chunk of my time. In addition to helping run Team FactSet, I’m also on the planning committee for the event itself. I’ve been the “online chair” for the last few years, which basically means I’m responsible for our event’s website and handling participants’ questions about it (and there are many). All told, probably one to three hours a week starting in November, ramping up to 5-10 hours a week in the last weeks before the event.

Charity Mile: What advice do you have for other people trying to succeed with these types of fundraising efforts?

Atkins: Have fun! Asking people to donate money – even to a good cause – isn’t all that fun. We’ve found that people are more willing to donate -or at least pay attention – if there are fun things attached to it.

- Jo

“Keep running, keep going, keep giving.”

Women: Ready to Try Your Hand(s and Feet) at Tri For The Cure?

Female philathletes, the Denver Metropolitan Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure has a great challenge for you on Aug. 1: Colorado’s Tri for the Cure, which bills itself as the largest sprint-distance triathlon in the United States.

The course includes a half-mile swim, 11.4-mile bike ride and 3.1-mile run. Interested, but think you might need some conditioning preparation? Participants can begin training with tools provided on the Tri’s website and through classes conducted by the Tri’s professional triathletes.

Race registration costs $95 for individuals and $160 for teams of two or three, with 100% of donations and pledges directly benefiting the Denver Metropolitan Affiliate of Susan G. Komen for the Cure. During the past six years, through a combination of registration revenue and pledge dollars, participants in this event have raised over $700,000 for The Denver Metropolitan Affiliate of Susan G Komen for the Cure.

To register or get additional event information, visit http://www.triforthecure-denver.com/.

How I Became a Mid-Strike Runner: A Philathlete’s Back Story

We runners usually love a challenge, which is probably why I married a woman that kicks my arse every time we run a race together. Not by much, but just be enough to make me think, “Maybe I’ll get her next time.” Fat chance. That’s right, your favorite Charity Mile maven Jo Bennett is both my wife, and a pretty fast runner. I’d follow her anywhere, but when we run together I usually have no choice.

As you may know, I usually dispense little pearls of legal wisdom on this blog. But as a member of the philathlete and running community, I thought I might also share a personal life experience with all of you about running, injury, recovery, and a few other things. Hopefully it will resonate with some of you, and maybe help in some way. It starts in the water, and ends on a road in an experimental new pair of running shoes, but the course actually runs over some pretty interesting terrain.

The thrill of a challenge is almost always a good thing, but two summers ago it led me to make a questionable (in hindsight) decision: paddling a kayak 13 miles across the Long Island Sound, from Norwalk, Connecticut to Long Island in what’s known as “KFAC – Kayak For A Cause.” KFAC is a wonderful, amazing event that raises money for a host of very important charities. But I probably should have known better, because as luck has it, I have a bad back – long before the summer of 2008, I had been diagnosed with degenerative disc syndrome (erosion of supporting intra-disc material), and had suffered through two serious bulging disc episodes. My 47 year-old back is basically always stiff and a little sore and balky. Ordinarily, I just deal with it and move on. But three hours straight in a kayak across Long Island Sound?

But I can do anything, right? I know, you can too. That’s the point. And I had assured my friend and team leader Dave, over libations on St. Patrick’s Day (of course), that I was up for the trip. I trained, took a safety course, and took to the high seas with my teammates on that fateful summer Saturday. Roughly two hours and forty-five minutes later – a good finishing time I am told – my friend Andrew and I proudly paddled ashore at Crab Meadow Beach in Huntington, New York, exited our craft, and promptly fell over onto the sand. We were really, really tired! What I didn’t realize, however, was that I had begun to completely rupture my L5 lumbar disc on the paddle over, and it was slowly leaking out of my spinal column and beginning to press against a very important bundle of nerves leading down my right leg and foot.

On the boat back to Norwalk, I began to notice that my right foot was pretty numb and my right leg was aching pretty badly. I couldn’t make the pain stop positionally, no matter how I stood or sat down. In the back of my mind it occurred to me that I might be in a little trouble. But I didn’t dwell on it. Too many stories to tell about the crossing.

A LOT of Trouble
Later, we went to the after-party and danced and made merry with the rest of the KFAC folks. I wasn’t prepared at all for what was to soon happen.

The next morning, Sunday, I was stiff and my back hurt pretty badly, but I expected that after the long paddle. Monday morning, however, I woke to pure, searing, mind-blowing pain in my back and my right leg and foot. Indescribable pain, which culminated in an ambulance ride to our local hospital, where I was immediately admitted.

The next part of the story, the hospital, is kind of a blur, which I can largely attribute to the joys of dilaudid (holy sh*t!), and morphine (OMG!). I remember taking little grandpa walks down the hospital corridor at 3 a.m. in one of those back-tied “gowns” (another “back” story altogether!), and I remember silly people asking me to measure my pain between 1 and 10. It’s a bleeping 100, you idiot!! I don’t think any of you would want to wallow in hospital details, but basically, I was there for a week and it sucked. Terrible weather, horrendous service, and there were absolutely NO beach chairs left after 9 a.m. Hard to believe, I know.

In any case, there actually is some point to this: I know a lot of you reading this have probably been injured, and maybe have even spent time in a hospital with an injury. Not big news. I have broken bones, and I have had concussions, and I have been in the hospital before. But a back injury is very scary – anything involving the spinal column is really frightening, especially for a runner or any athlete. And I was really scared. I can tell you, though, that being a stubborn, slightly loony runner actually helped save my bacon and helped me with the fear. And I can also tell you something that I probably wouldn’t have before this happened to me, which is that belief – in something, in anything – can be a very, very powerful thing.

The long and short of it is that my disc had completely “extruded” during the kayak trip and just afterwards – that is to say, the spongy disc material that is supposed to cushion and lubricate my spine had actually completely exited the disc cavity within my spinal column at the L5 lumbar disc, and was pressing up against and damaging a nerve. As a result, I had developed what is termed partial “drop foot,” which means that I could not easily, if at all sometimes, lift the front of my right foot with the heel down. I had absolutely no strength in the muscles along my shin, and my right foot and the right side of my leg below the knee were both completely numb. I couldn’t walk far without exhaustion and a tell-tale foot dragging limp. What a stud. My doctor even went so far as to warn me of a condition called “cauda equina syndrome,” which rarely occurs in extruding disc cases, but results in a person suddenly becoming completely numb from the waist down  – and incontinent. He told me that if this were to occur, it was a surgical emergency. Zoinks!

But honestly I was less concerned about gimping around or crapping myself. I mean, most of you know that runners are a little crazy, so it will probably come as little surprise to you that when the doctors told me that I should have surgery on my L5 but even that might not bring my foot strength back, my very first thought was, “What, you mean I might not be able to run again?!” I was hearing that even a couple of hours under the knife would not be a slam dunk fix. What they could promise, basically, was a month-long recovery at least, more pain, and no guarantee that I could ever lift my foot properly afterwards. Basically, surgery would make it a lot worse before making it somewhat better – if it made it better. I was freaked out.

A Little Help From Friends
But as it turns out, our quirky little ol’ health care system intervened on my behalf. My surgeon – Dr. Mark Sanderson (an awesome doctor, by the way) was not on my health plan, so he told me that I would have to come back into the hospital in the emergency room complaining of acute back pain. He could then operate, and the procedure (a “micro diskectomy”) would be covered. He also told me that I should wait a week before I come back in. Maybe, he said, maybe your condition just might start to improve on its own. Given the risks of surgery, if I did improve without it he would not recommend that I have the operation. Neither Dr. Sanderson, nor my orthopedic doc, however, seemed too hopeful about a non-surgical recovery. They thought the extruded disc was just too big to go away on its own, and that my nerve was likely too damaged to recover at all on its own.

I went home pretty depressed, at least initially. And several of my friends, some of them athletes, warned me against back surgery. I heard horror stories about how people who have had back procedures are just “never the same.” Everybody basically said “Don’t do it if you don’t have to.” And what I really wanted was to be able to do what I loved to do before the injury – maybe not quite as well, or as fast, or as far – but to at least do it. I just wanted to be able to run with my wife. Even if she had to slow down so I could catch up to her. And nobody, not even my doctors, could tell me that if I had surgery I would be able to do that.

Luckily, I ended up getting some of the best advice I have ever received in my life from my cousin Doug (a technology advisor to Charity Mile), and from other members of my family. They just reminded me over and over again that the body has an amazing ability to heal itself, even when you don’t think it can. And they told me that there was no shame in “asking” the universe – however I chose to define that for myself – to help that process along. Call it what you want – I am not a religious guy at all, but at the time I had no problem with asking for a little help. So that’s what I started to do.

I started in the mornings, taking hot showers, stretching and talking to … whomever, whatever. Maybe it was to nobody, or maybe it was to myself. I don’t really know, I had no real experience with it, but I tried most of all to believe that it could work. I had to, because at the time that was really my only alternative. And, lo and behold, my leg and foot did actually start to get better. Not all at once, but slowly and steadily. Each little twinge here, or lift of a toe there, signaled to me that I might actually be okay, eventually.  My body was trying to heal itself. I mean, we all know that the body heals, but this was a little more than a cut or a bump or bruise. A week went by, and since I was actually getting better, Dr. Sanderson told me to wait another two weeks. I stretched, used heat and ice, and did physical therapy exercises. I read Runner’s World for inspiration, but mostly I admit that I quietly asked the universe daily – hourly sometimes – to intervene on my behalf. To let me be whole again.

Two weeks later, I could lift my whole foot a little bit. Four weeks later, I could lift it a lot more. I couldn’t believe it, but at the same time I could actually feel my body healing itself. Each time the nerve got a little more free from the disc material (which I think was shrinking), my back would hurt that day, but the next day my foot would move just a little more easily and further. It was amazing to experience, because my doctors had told me that with nerve damage it just didn’t work that way. I kept talking to the walls of my shower stall, sometimes apologizing for being so greedy, but always anxiously waiting the next step forward. I saw Dr. Sanderson after six weeks, and he said that I was making a wonderful recovery and might actually come all the way back. And I finally exhaled.

The Point Is…
You know, running is really an amazing thing. It is sport, it is spectacle, it is meditation, it is personal, it is social, and it is a lifestyle of its own. I have been doing it for almost 35 years, ever since my mother used to ride next to me on a bicycle, snapping an imaginary whip and yelling “mush” (Sorry, Mom!). To think that something that is essentially more enjoyable to finish than to actually do (I know that is not really always true) is only easy to understand for those of us who do it. But for us, running is not something we do. It is something we have to do. If we hurt, we run less distance, or at a forgiving pace, but we don’t stop. And if we for some reason cannot run, we are not ourselves and we are not happy. I am only a recreational runner, a weekend warrior of 5Ks, 10Ks, and half marathons. But it is not so much that I run as I am a runner. And I am pretty sure you know what I mean.

And two years ago, being a runner meant that when I got hurt, I had to figure out how to keep being a runner. At least I had to try. So I did something that I had never done before, and it worked, which is really, really cool.

Now, I basically have fully recovered. My right foot will never be quite as strong as it used to be, but we are talking only about a 5% to 10% difference. Eight months after I entered the hospital with little hope of ever running again, Jo and I ran our first race together “post-back.” Since then, we have run numerous races together, including two half-marathons. And recently, less than two years after my injury, I won my age group in the Breathe For Cystic Fybrosis 4.2 mile run in Westport, Connecticut, taking 10^th place overall. Not too bad.

A Little Help From Running Technology
I do want to say in postscript that I have also been greatly aided in my recovery by running technology and the surge in interest in “barefoot” and mid-strike running styles.  When I started to run again in the spring of 2009, I went to the Runner’s Roost on the Post Road in Darien, Connecticut to see if they could recommend a good shoe for someone recovering from

drop foot. I know there are a lot of good running shops out there, but for anyone out there within driving distance of Fairfield County, Connecticut, I highly recommend Runner’s Roost. The folks there hooked me up with the New Balance 800, which at the time was New Balance’s “experimental” mid-strike shoe. Nothing to look at, but what a great shoe – the NB 800 literally took six months to a year off of my recovery time by promoting a mid-strike style that did not require me to raise my toe during foot strikes. I bought another pair when my first pair wore out, but New Balance discontinued the 800 for 2010 in favor of a lighter model (the 801). Unfortunately, it is not the same shoe – I can’t pinpoint why, it just doesn’t work for me like the 800 did – but fortunately my drop foot has recovered to the point that mid-striking is not as essential for me as it used to be. I am now running on NB 905s, which are New Balances’s new ultra-light stability shoe. They rock, and they look really cool, too!

So, what’s the next challenge?

Keep running, keep going, and keep giving!

Jeffrey Rollings, Charity Mile Board of Advisors

About the author: Jeffrey Rollings is a senior attorney at the intellectual property law firm of Lachenbach Siegel LLP, located in Scarsdale, New York, specializing in trademark, copyright, and Internet law.

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