The young and the miserably malaligned

Hello. My name is Amy, and I’m miserably malaligned.

How it started: I sprained my ankle in June 2007 at my friend Chris’ wedding, shortly after finishing my first and only marathon in April 2007 (Tip: If you have a drink in one hand, your high-heeled shoes should be in the other). I spent a week on crutches before seeing a sports ortho, who gave me the OK to run again.

Months later, my wonderful physical therapist guessed that muscle imbalances from that week on crutches led to the crazy, mysterious string of injuries that followed. They came to a head the week before the Marine Corps Half Marathon in Jacksonville, Fla., in October 2007, when I felt a little tickle in my hip. I Adviled. I stretched. I ran the half-marathon in the pouring rain and sticky Florida heat, vomiting from the Advil and limping from the hip, finishing in 2:24 — far slower than each half of the full marathon I’d run, and half an hour slower than my previous half. Afterward, I couldn’t walk without limping.

Fast-forward through months of physical therapy and a cortisone shot for a possibly-torn hip labrum and funky hip flexor. I started running again, and my IT band got kinda sore as a result. My doctor prescribed orthotics. When I hopped on the treadmill for my running analysis, the physical therapist designing my orthotics furrowed his brow and widened his eyes.

“Hey, Mike,” he called across the crowded room. “C’mere. You’ve gotta see this.”

Mike hurried over.

“Whoa!” he said as he looked at the video of me running. “I’ve never seen THAT before.”

Eventually, I asked them to let me in on the joke. Turns out, I’m miserably malaligned, which is a fancy way of saying I am both knock-kneed and flat-footed, with every joint in my legs built at the wrong angle. Yes, this is a real condition, with a Web site featuring soft-focus photos of active-looking senior citizens and tabs like “recovery and renewal.” Seriously. I’m not making it up. Complicating matters further is the fact that I’m circus-freak flexible, which means my joints slide around in ways they just shouldn’t.

The PT who designed my orthotics gently suggested I may not be built to be a runner. I fought back tears, imagining a running-less life.

I’m not the only one. A lifelong runner and Runner’s World editor was told he’s “not meant to be a runner,” too, according to this post.

Here’s how I dealt with that information: I listened to my other physical therapist, who said I could successfully run IF I vowed to never, ever give up the leg lifts and other horrid strengthening exercises that keep my hips aligned.

And I started training smarter. I use the FIRST three-day-a-week running schedule, though I’d rather run every day. I cross-train like crazy, swimming as much or more than I run. I faithfully do my leg lifts. And I listen to my body as soon as it starts whining at me, as I’d rather get my body in good working order now than sacrifice weeks or months later in the marathon-training season.

Have you had a running injury? How did you cope, and what do you do to prevent getting injured again in the future?