Having spent the last 13 years seeing a couple of hundred patients a day, I’ve pretty much seen and heard it all.  Although the lay population finds new and interesting ways to hurt themselves every year, some crowd favorites clearly rise to the top.  I resist writing posts like this for fear that I am reinforcing the false popular notion that chiropractic care is for “people with bad backs.”  However, I do recognize that there is a growing population of better-informed people who sincerely want to learn more about curbing the likelihood of joining the masses side-lined by low-back injury.

Here is a quick survival guide for those of us who are fortunate enough to live at a latitude that seems to mock the global warming projections.

1.  How to shovel snow:

• Practice the 2015 Technique:  Find a 15 year old and give them $20 to do it for you.
• If this is not possible, follow these rules:

i.  Warm up for fifteen minutes before you begin.  (See Rule of Fifteens) Never exert yourself without sufficiently warming up – go for a walk, jump on the treadmill, do 50 burpees…whatever.  Never shovel “cold” (pun intended).

ii.  Walk Quietly and Carry a Small Shovel:  Using a smaller shovel will reduce load and strain, and prevent the terrible.  The shoveling position puts your spine at risk by nature of mechanics (your discs hate the coupled motions or combination of rotation, flexion and lateral flexion).  The last thing that you should do is put a heavy weight at the end of a long stick, twist, and try to throw it.  Paraphrasing Bill Clinton’s infamous comment on the economy, “It’s physics, stupid.”

iii.  Keep it Below the Belt.  Good shoveling form takes place below the belt.  Think of shoveling as a highly dynamic deadlift.  Start with your feet.  When you shovel, stay on your heels.  Keep your lower back flat (in extension) to keep your posterior chain engaged (read: your hamstrings and buttocks).  Always point your feet where your hands are working.  Never twist; move your feet instead.  When you exert yourself, engage your core muscles.  Find these by imagining someone punching you in the belly.  Inhale and hold your air as you lift or toss, tightening those core muscles.

iv.  Ice When You Are Finished.  There is no excuse; there is always plenty of ice around if you are shoveling snow.  Ice is God’s anti-inflammatory.  It’s free and readily available – and as long as you don’t put it directly on the skin or use it for more than 20 minutes, there are no side-effects.  No one has ever gotten a bleeding ulcer from using ice.  90,000 Americans a year cannot say the same thing about Ibuprofen.  Stop.  Think.  Ice.

v.  See Your Chiropractor Regularly.  Adjustments are preparatory, not custodial.  Yes, it is wise to get your spine checked after any physical stress or trauma; but a more effective strategy is to get adjusted before strenuous activity.  Think about it.  Spinal subluxations are weak links in your structure.  You are much less likely to experience an injury without a pre-existing weakness.  I’m just sayin’…

Stay tuned for Doc’s Winter Survival Guide Part 2 and Part 3 in upcoming blog posts.

Now go book that vacation.

In Health,

Dr. Stephen Franson

• This activity burns approximately 395 calories per hour for an average, 145-pound person.

Hearing your name announced across the public address system at the airport is never a good thing.  It’s not likely that they’re about to reward you for being the 1 millionth traveler served and hand you a pair of tickets for a free flight to Tahiti.

“Are you Stephen Franson?” the Southwest agent asked.  She was dead-pan serious and visibly concerned.  Now I was concerned.

In moments like this, a part of your brain called the amygdala high-jacks your inner dialogue to a worst case scenario, and your physiological stress response is not far behind.  I had just stuffed my kids into their car seats and kissed them and my wife, Camilla, goodbye as I took off for the west coast.  We each drove off in different directions as we’ve done a thousand times before.

I confirmed my identity to the agent and asked her what the problem was.  She avoided my question with a “come with me,” and handed me off to a couple of TSA agents waiting nearby.

They repeated the exercise.  “Are you Stephen Franson?”  I confirmed my identity again and suddenly four more TSA agents were behind me.  This was interesting.

“What seems to be the problem, officers?”  My mind was now reeling with possibilities - none of them pleasant.

“We’ve found something in your checked luggage that we cannot identify, and we have some questions for you,” sputtered the young officer, the only person in the group that appeared to be more nervous than I was.

I knew exactly what they were referring to.  In my relief, I laughed out loud.  Judging from their response, they did not share my sentiment.  “It’s a fat model,” I said.

I spent the next twenty minutes explaining to the officers that I was presenting in California, and that the object in my bag was a teaching tool.  I explained that this strange looking, amorphous blob of rubber was actually a replica of 5 pounds of human fat.  The article in question was not a bomb or a drug-smuggling device, although I did not miss the chance to educate these men on the very real threat that it did represent.

I taught them about extra calories and explained to them how easy it was them to gain this unwanted mass.  I spoke in terms of muffins and large, regular coffees.  I told them how few days it would take to pack one of these on.  Disgusted, but satisfied, they nodded their heads collectively and let me get on the plane.

I spent most of the first half of the flight answering questions from inquisitive passengers.  They had seen me pulled aside by the authorities and watched my interrogation.  In the course my explanation; I went from the Uni-bomber to the Fat Guy to the Wellness Expert.

I finally got settled down and was able to work on my presentation.  I knew that the time that I had just spent educating the folks around me was well worth it.  I shared a quiet smile with my travel partner as we heard the chorus of “No, thank you’s” coming from our neighbors as the flight attendants passed, offering their cookies and chips.  Mission accomplished.

Now go teach someone.

Dr. Stephen Franson