Seeing proof that your body's turned against you

"Can I see?" I asked the doctor behind the half-wall who was looking at the computer, my X-Rays displayed on the screen.

"Sure," he replied, then pointing to the black and white images of my skeleton said: "Most people's necks curve forward and yours is curving slightly backward," or something like that. The exact details didn't matter at that point. You just know you've officially received word that you're messed up.

"Really?" I said, drawing out the word to reveal my fascination.

He went on to point out some other things of interest, some vertebrae tilting and out of alignment (You know? Small stuff.), and said the other doctor would be meeting with me to go in to more depth.

How I ended up in the X-Ray room of a chiropractor's office on a Monday morning was not how I foresaw the beginning of my week, but a recent, unrelenting stiff neck was my cause to be there.

When I get a stiff neck, I usually medicate with Advil, take it easy and in a few days it's gone. When this began to occur, it was a few days before a mayoral debate I was planning for our newspaper, and I just assumed the pain was from stress. Several days later, the pain was still there, traveling outward and getting worse.

I don't know what, in particular, led me to the chiropractor after years of not seeking their consult for back pain that has ailed me for years, but there I was. I'd heard good things about these folks and was just open for a new opportunity for relief.

"Yes, your right hip is higher than your left hip, and your right shoulder is higher than your left," the attending doctor told me before the X-Rays were taken. He tested my range of flexibility and some other basic functions, sent me for the X-Rays, hooked me up to these electrodes on my neck and lower back for 10 minutes and then had me cap-off my morning's activities with a massage.

I'm feeling better, but I'm still sore. I go back in a couple days for a consult and a treatment plan.

I'm registered for the Flying Pig Half Marathon on May 1, and I could probably run it, but it's hard to think about running hard when you've seen the vertebrae in your spine misaligned and wonder how far away you might be from some sort of physical tragedy. (I know I'm probably being somewhat paranoid.) I could walk the 13.1 miles of the race, but I'd be dying to run the whole time.

Here's to hoping these guys have some kind of answer about my spine being out of whack so that the season ahead - to which I'm so looking forward - doesn't become the same.