This Way Up: Foot injury leads a runner to a shoe fitting

Nearly seven years ago, while I was tugging a rusty shock absorber from an old jeep, the jack slipped, and one of the wheel hubs - and most of the vehicle's weight - landed on my kneeling leg, bending my right foot in a way nature never intended. Result: several broken bones and a crippling injury that sidelined me for months.

The memory of that accident persists in manifold ways: a deformed foot, chronic arthritis, recurring plantar fasciitis (inflammation of the band of connective tissue that runs along the length of the sole), and an irregular gait that makes it difficult to accelerate and causes biomechanical woes in other parts of my body.

Over the years, I've consulted podiatrists and orthopedic specialists. I've tried different shoes, strengthening exercises, orthotics. So far in vain.

I'm too addicted to give up running, but it would be nice to minimize the discomfort and maximize the pleasure. So the other day, anticipating spring, and knowing that my running shoes were shot, I visited Phil Clark, who owns and operates the Training Station on the third flour of the cylindrical Rialto Building.

It's part of the chic Piazza at Schmidts in Northern Liberties. If I were inclined to join a gym, Clark's would be mighty tempting. Large windows form the outer wall, flooding the place with light and offering a panoramic view of the city skyline, and the music Clark plays is actually enjoyable and inspiring.

Clark, 38, is an Olympic-caliber triple jumper who has trained, and trained with, elite athletes. He is tall (6-foot-5) with a lean, lanky body. A graduate of St. James High School in Chester, he's a Yalie who has immersed himself in exercise science and physiology. His gym gleams with the latest, most effective equipment, such as a treadmill that can handle a four-minute miler, a rowing machine that works against the resistance of water, an elliptical trainer that enables you to alter your stride and increase your range of motion. His unofficial motto: "What works best for the best works best for you."

From the Penn Relays in the spring to the Philadelphia Marathon in the fall, Clark leads an hour-long running clinic on Saturday mornings in the Piazza. He also sells running shoes and specializes in fitting them properly, which is why I went to see him.

The barefoot running craze has led some to question the value of shoes. Clark believes in them. They are indisputable performance enhancers ("the more force you apply to the ground, the more your feet require protection," he says). On the other hand, shoes can hurt your feet, he concedes, if they're "dead" (old and unresilient) or ill-fitting. Many people wear athletic shoes that are too small and tight because they match the size of their casual shoes, Clark says. As a rule, athletic shoes should be a half to full size larger.

"The best shoe is the one that fits and is new," Clark declared.

Clark's practice when selling shoes is to film and to measure. While I ran on a treadmill, he performed a gait analysis, recording my feet from platform level and several angles with a high-def video camera. The analysis, which costs $30, is free if you buy a pair of shoes.

When he showed me the result on his computer, in real time, slow-motion, and freeze-frame, it was a horror show.

My uninjured left foot collapsed on impact and pronated significantly but still maintained a bit of an arch. My injured right foot flattened completely and caved in so badly that watching it made me wince.

"Remember, at your weight [185 pounds], that foot is taking about 500 pounds of force every time you land, or about a ton every four strides," Clark said.

Yikes!

With a device gauged for athletic shoes, Clark measured my feet. My right foot was longer by a half size; my left foot wider. "Size variation is normal," Clark said. "What's unusual is for both feet to be the same."

He brought out several pairs of shoes for me to try. Interestingly, he had me lace a different shoe on each foot - "the best way to compare and contrast." As I trotted back and forth the length of his gym, he watched carefully, listened to my reactions closely, and revealed little about his own observations.

When I made my choice - the Brooks Adrenaline GTS 11 for $100 - Clark was not surprised. It was the shoe he would have recommended, he said, about twice as firm and supportive as the spongy model I'd been wearing.

I'm sure my bum foot will appreciate the fresh cushioning and buttressing, but I'm not expecting miracles. If I'm lucky, maybe I'll have more good days than bad days.

"Don't fall in love with shoes," Clark warned. "Fall in love with people. Shoes change constantly and eventually you won't be able to get the same model again, and it will break you heart."