On a daily basis patients ask questions about trigger points: what exactly are they? How are they treated? What can I do to prevent them? The following article was written by Dr. Rich Berkowitz and published in our Fall '09 newsletter.
Life demands physical exertion. In response to this exertion, muscles are fatigued and become "tight". If prolonged, this tightness (called hypertonicity) can result in the formation of trigger points in the muscle. Trigger points are areas in muscles that are painful and tender when pressed upon. Trigger points can interfere with normal muscle function, restrict normal range of motion, and weaken the muscle. Trigger points can also refer pain to other areas; for example, a trigger point in your shoulder muscles can create a pain in your neck. These trigger points presenting themselves as pain may be associated with long term difficulties, deconditioning, and injury.
Both direct and indirect stimuli can result in the formation of trigger points. Direct stimuli include acute overload, overwork fatigue, gross trauma, or chilling. Indirect stimuli, such as other trigger points, visceral pain, arthritic joints, and emotional stress, can created these painful areas as well.
We regularly come in contact with these stimuli during our daily activities. Getting bumped from behind while driving and receiving a whiplash-type injury is an example of acute overload. The muscles in your neck are forced to contract quickly to prevent your head from traveling forward and backward. The sudden, forceful contraction of these muscles leads to the creation of tender areas, or trigger points.
Overwork fatigue can be the result of repetitive or sustained contraction, as one may find with poor posture. If this posture is assumed day in and day out, this may lead to hypertonicity of the muscles. Many occupations tend to create the postures (commonly seen in hairdressers and auto mechanics) due to the constant raising of the arms and bending at the trunk.
Trigger point therapy done by a licensed chiropractor can help relieve the pain and spasm. Using hand, finers, elbow, or a small instrument, the muscle is compressed with sustained pressure to relax it. In addition, proper instruction on body mechanics, gentle stretching, and adjustments of the spine and other joints can help to prevent trigger points from occuring. When used in conjunction with chiropratic treatments, trigger point therapy is a highly effective way to reduce muscle spasm, restore nomral range of motion, promote faster healing, and reduce pain and discomfort.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Wet & Wild Sunday
The weather, that is.
On Sunday, April 25, seven of us from CHCC completed the More/Fitness Magazine Women's Half-Marathon in Central Park. Two years ago Dee, Tina Haig (Bryan's wife) and I walked in this race, kind of on a whim, and had a great time. So this year we recruited several more of our colleagues to join the fun: Kari and Elaina (whom you'll see manning our front desk in Lawrenceville); Liz, who may have set you up with heat and electric stim; and Val, our part-time PT who was Bryan's fill-in on Monday evenings. We walked every Sunday morning in Tyler Park in Newtown, the one place we could find with some formidable hills not unlike Central Park.
We were ready, mentally and physically. The only thing out of our control was the weather - and was it ever out of control. Saturday evening before the race, we gathered at Dee's house for excess carbs and a pep talk. We could no longer deny what each of us had been fretting about all week - the rain. All reports indicated a Nor'easter would be squatting right over top of Central Park from 8am to 11am - precisely race time. We quickly rethought our plans for footwear, gear, and travel, then parted to try and get a good night's sleep.
I awoke at 4:30am Sunday morning to a slight drizzle, which, as the morning progressed, became a solid downpour. Dee's husband Larry was kind enough to drive us through a mess of wind and rain on the NJ Turnpike and deliver us almost to the start point of the race; yet even that short walk to the start point was enough to drench us. Still, our spirits were high; I remember thinking, this isn't so bad.
The rain was relentless, then joined by a cold wind about 90 minutes into the race. We did our best to stay together throughout, since this one was more about camaraderie and fun than personal records, but keeping track of your friends amongst thousands of women - all looking the same as you, sopping wet in hoods and baseball caps - was nearly impossible. By mile 8 I was alone, soaked to my skin, cold, and in a battle with a thought that kept pushing itself to the foreground of my mind: this just sucks.
While we spent most of the time walking, there came a point where breaking into a run was actually a relief. So run I did, splashing through the rivulets running down the side of the path, fighting the blasts of cold wind, scanning the crowd for a familiar hood. Aside from the additional weight of my saturated shoes, running felt right.
Two miles later I heard a voice: "JILL!" It was Tina, and she, too was alone. So she caught up to me and we finished the last 1.1 miles together. As we rounded the last bend, I saw Bryan under a dripping umbrella, his jeans soaked up to his knees, running along the side with us. (He spent the morning criss-crossing the park in that mess, looking for at least one of us, never able to discern a familiar face in the crowd of women). It was nice to cross the finish line with a companion.
So we finished, all of us: soaked, frigid, plastered with wet leaves, starving, tired, but triumphant. Later, as the bedraggled lot of us sat in a warm restaurant on the Upper East Side eating omlettes and giant hamburgers, I momentarily thought of asking cheerily, so who's ready to do this next year?!? I reconsidered, deciding that the warm slices of raisin bread I would probably be pelted with were too valuable at that moment to be wasted.
Almost two weeks later, all our aches and pains have dissipated and we're none the worse for wear. I think it's safe to bring up the subject of next year to my compadres. My answer: sign me up!
On Sunday, April 25, seven of us from CHCC completed the More/Fitness Magazine Women's Half-Marathon in Central Park. Two years ago Dee, Tina Haig (Bryan's wife) and I walked in this race, kind of on a whim, and had a great time. So this year we recruited several more of our colleagues to join the fun: Kari and Elaina (whom you'll see manning our front desk in Lawrenceville); Liz, who may have set you up with heat and electric stim; and Val, our part-time PT who was Bryan's fill-in on Monday evenings. We walked every Sunday morning in Tyler Park in Newtown, the one place we could find with some formidable hills not unlike Central Park.
We were ready, mentally and physically. The only thing out of our control was the weather - and was it ever out of control. Saturday evening before the race, we gathered at Dee's house for excess carbs and a pep talk. We could no longer deny what each of us had been fretting about all week - the rain. All reports indicated a Nor'easter would be squatting right over top of Central Park from 8am to 11am - precisely race time. We quickly rethought our plans for footwear, gear, and travel, then parted to try and get a good night's sleep.
I awoke at 4:30am Sunday morning to a slight drizzle, which, as the morning progressed, became a solid downpour. Dee's husband Larry was kind enough to drive us through a mess of wind and rain on the NJ Turnpike and deliver us almost to the start point of the race; yet even that short walk to the start point was enough to drench us. Still, our spirits were high; I remember thinking, this isn't so bad.
The rain was relentless, then joined by a cold wind about 90 minutes into the race. We did our best to stay together throughout, since this one was more about camaraderie and fun than personal records, but keeping track of your friends amongst thousands of women - all looking the same as you, sopping wet in hoods and baseball caps - was nearly impossible. By mile 8 I was alone, soaked to my skin, cold, and in a battle with a thought that kept pushing itself to the foreground of my mind: this just sucks.
While we spent most of the time walking, there came a point where breaking into a run was actually a relief. So run I did, splashing through the rivulets running down the side of the path, fighting the blasts of cold wind, scanning the crowd for a familiar hood. Aside from the additional weight of my saturated shoes, running felt right.
Two miles later I heard a voice: "JILL!" It was Tina, and she, too was alone. So she caught up to me and we finished the last 1.1 miles together. As we rounded the last bend, I saw Bryan under a dripping umbrella, his jeans soaked up to his knees, running along the side with us. (He spent the morning criss-crossing the park in that mess, looking for at least one of us, never able to discern a familiar face in the crowd of women). It was nice to cross the finish line with a companion.
So we finished, all of us: soaked, frigid, plastered with wet leaves, starving, tired, but triumphant. Later, as the bedraggled lot of us sat in a warm restaurant on the Upper East Side eating omlettes and giant hamburgers, I momentarily thought of asking cheerily, so who's ready to do this next year?!? I reconsidered, deciding that the warm slices of raisin bread I would probably be pelted with were too valuable at that moment to be wasted.
Almost two weeks later, all our aches and pains have dissipated and we're none the worse for wear. I think it's safe to bring up the subject of next year to my compadres. My answer: sign me up!
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