Stuff I Wrote

The Mindset for Healing

“Overall, these exercises are much harder work than the physio I was doing before, in that I have to really concentrate on small things. Can’t just put myself through them. Have to be present. It’s good. It’s why I sought you out rather than doing more straight up physio as I kinda knew this was what was missing, what needed to come next.”

This is an from an email sent to me by a lady that I am working with after, our second session.

We’ll call her Jean (not real name).

Jean is the epitome of the perfect student of exploratory movement, and I think the quote above sums up nicely just what that means.

When the body is in pain, generally there are three main systems we are working with:

  1. Muscles, joints, structure, biomechanics (MSK stuff)
  2. Mindset and emotions (perception of experiences, chronic negative emotional states etc.)
  3. Organ and systems health (digestive, immune, etc)

Of course, these three become an inseparable web called a “life”.

Image result for biopsychosocial

As a body-worker, some things I can help with, and some things I can’t. For the individuals themselves, one thing they can start to work with that doesn’t cost a thing is the mindset bit.

Jean’s mindset is on point with where one would want it to be to make changes and heal other systems, and I want to use this blog post to explain a little more about what I mean by that- having a mindset to change and heal.

Because “healing mindset”  isn’t this woo woo, think positive, manifest good health and meditate on being better you’ll be ok… It’s about engaging with the work.

When the standard approach fails…

Jean found me through my dance blog that I’ve since taken a break from writing on (danceproject.ca), but she is not a dancer. She is a pianist and also participates in horse riding and dog sledding.

Jean  is in her 50s and has been experiencing pain for many years but had stopped seeing her physiotherapist because it wasn’t doing anything. When I first met her she expressed that she was frustrated with the care she was receiving from physio because they were only looking at the parts of her body that hurt: Her right knee and hip primarily. But they weren’t looking at the rest of her body, and Jean  had a strong intuition that this was the reason things were going nowhere. She felt very distinctly that there was something going on with her upper body that was related to her knee and hip issues, but no one was looking there. 

Smart lady to listen and act on her intuition.

Looking at the location of symptoms as “the problem” and stopping there is the standard approach. The approach that says, “treat the symptom”.

Luckily (I think…) for me, I never learned the standard approach because a) I went to school for dance, not for whatever it is I do now*, and b) all my most influential teachers are out of the box thinkers, who don’t ascribe to the standard approach and aren’t afraid to go against the norm, old-school movement paradigm. Maybe I’m missing out? I’m ok with that.

Jean  was pleased that our initial assessment looked at her whole body, from her toes to her skull. Isn’t it nice to be treated like an entire person? Don’t you hate it when people only see you for one aspect of who you are? 

*What do I even do? I dunno. I work with bodies and movement. I get people to move their joints in specific ways. I sometimes massage them, Thai style. I sometimes have people deadlifting heavy things if they want to. But the end game is always for them to have a different experience of their bodies, push their comfort zones, and access the movements their bodies are currently missing. What’s my job title? You tell me…

Ready for an AiM-style geek out?

For the Anatomy in Motion (AiM) students like me 🙂

Here is how Jean showed up (some interesting distortions):

Pelvis: Right hike, left rotation (stuck in right suspension)

Spine: Right lateral flexion, right rotation (stuck in right suspension)

Right knee: Can’t externally rotate (can’t access right suspension)

Right foot: Can’t pronate (can’t access right suspension)

The story her body was telling me was that nothing from the hip down knew how to pronate, and her pelvis, spine, and ribcage were trying to make this happen for her. Or, maybe her pelvis, spine, and ribcage were trying to stop her foot and knee from needing to pronate because it felt unsafe? 

Regardless of the story I choose to attach to her structure, what I was witnessing was an exchange (something I wrote about HERE).

We can consider that in the phase of gait in which the foot pronates, that the entire skeleton is organizing itself to allow pronation. It’s not just a foot pronation, it’s a whole body pronation. In AiM this whole body pronation phase is called suspension. 

As mentioned above, while Jean ‘s pelvis and spine are pronating, she is missing some very important pronation mechanics below: Foot pressure not getting onto the anterior medial calcaneous, foot bones not spreading and opening on the plantar and medial surfaces, and femur not rotating internally over the tibia.

If things aren’t happening below, something up top may need to do this for her. In her case, I believe this is why I was seeing the type two spine mechanics (same direction lateral flexion and rotation),  right pelvis hike, and left pelvis rotation. If you can’t pronate below, something must make up for it above, or next door. A useful strategy to help her make up for a hip, knee, ankle, and foot that don’t pronate, but not an efficient way for the body to move that will stand the course of time.

Want to try this for yourself? Stand with your feet side by side and:

  • Put your weight primarily on the outside of your right foot
  • Hike the right side of your pelvis
  • Twist your pelvis to the left
  • Twist your ribcage to the right
  • Laterally flex your spine to the right

Not an effortless posture to hold! Feels pretty terrible for the right hip doesn’t it? No wonder Jean  was having some issues, eh? But somehow this was the most efficient way her system knew to hold herself based on that tangly web of “life”. 

So, we have really one of two options for how to sync her joints back up. We can:

  1. Teach her foot and knee to pronate to match the rest of her body.
  2. Get her spine and pelvis to experience the other end of the spectrum (left lateral flexion and rotation) to free up the opportunity for her right foot and knee to safely experience pronation.

Or, more realistically, probably do both (and we did both).

Anyway, that’s just a little bit of background on what she was dealing with to provide some context. 

The mindset for healing

What I really think is beautiful to share about Jean ‘s journey so far is her mindset and attitude embracing the process that I suggested we follow. 

If we come back to the quote at the top of this post, from the email she sent me, I’d like to break down what is so lovely to take from it, particularly if you are someone who has been in pain for a while, like her.

“These exercises are much harder work than the physio I was doing before”

In AiM, we try not to call the movements we do “exercises”.

This is partially because of the connotation the word exercise has for many of us.

“Exercise” brings up images of a gym, performing a set number of repetitions of a movement with the end goal of getting stronger, or more flexible, or sweating, or punishing ourselves for eating cake, or burning a particular amount of calories, or making ourselves vomit from effort, or escaping from reality, or for mental health, or cardiovascular health, or whatever our notion of what exercise is for may be.

And so the word “exercise” comes with undertones of needing to get something out of it, which is not what we’re trying to teach with the AiM philosophy. The goal, instead, is the process itself: Exploration and learning; investigative movement. To show the body a new way of doing things. Give it an experience.

How often do we go into an experience expecting to get something out of it, and missing the meat of the experience itself? Like going to a concert, and watching most of it through your phone to get that perfect video memory of it (done that…).

 

Image result for people on their phones at a concert
Wouldn’t you rather watch the show directly with your eyes?

The movements are simply to immerse the body in an experience it doesn’t usually get to have. To access joint motions that are currently being avoided. To move into new airspace and dark zones where learning can happen. To open up new options for movement that had been denied. To reorganize the skeleton and resultant muscle tensions.

Per Gary Ward’s big rule of movement #2, joints act, muscles react (from What the Foot). We want to give the muscles something different to do by moving the structures they attach to, not by trying to strengthen and stretch the muscles in an attempt to control the skeleton.

To quote something Gary said on an immersion course:

“The presence of muscles that contract first before lengthening will always be present in a system that doesn’t flow.”

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You shoujld follow Gary on instagram @garyward_aim. He posts useful stuff like this and photos of his kids climbing that will make you jealous.

Some people report they feel “stronger”, or they are getting more “flexible”, or they have more energy, as a result of practicing the AiM movements, but these are only secondary to showing the body a more efficient way of moving.

How many of us have truly investigated our relationship with exercise? I did this in 2015 as an experiment and I would encourage anyone to do the same. I stopped anything that felt like exercise. I wrote two blog posts about it and the ensuing existential crisis here PART 1, and here PART 2.

Many of us are forced to investigate our relationship with exercise only when exercise has no longer become possible- after injury in particular, as was my particular case. 

At this point we have a choice. To go back to the way of doing things before injury, or to try to understand that how things were being done “before” is what led to being in this state now. 

“I have to be present. I can’t just put myself through [the motions]”

Not to go mindlessly, counting down the reps of the homework exercises until they’re done, but to be fully immersed in the experience.

In fact, I rarely give a specific number of reps to do. Why? Because the goal is not to get to 10 reps. The goal is to be immersed in the experience of the movement. Its not what happens when you get to rep 10, its what is learned in the space of reps 1-9.

There will be a distinct sense of “knowing” when you’re done with a “set”. You’ll feel something has shifted. You’ll feel things working that haven’t worked in a long time. Your brain and body will simultaneously say “enough!”. But to know when you’ve reached this point means you must pay attention to what you are feeling. It could happen in 3 reps, or it could happen in 12, but you have to tune in to this feeling.

In Jean ‘s case, the foundation of our process was to tidy up the coordination of the joints that were out of sync: Change the ratios and timing of pronation through her entire system, from her foot up through her spine.

It took a lot of focus and energy on her part. She had to tune into parts of her body that she had no prior awareness of and the movements they were capable of performing.

Just being able to feel where the weight in her feet honestly was through all the noise in her system proved to be a challenge. 

“Where am I, and where am I not”.

Had Jean  simply counted to 10 and gone through the reps without awareness, she would be moving too quickly and automatically to learn a new pattern or to feel whether she was moving the parts that we were actually aiming to move.

In the book Don’t Sleep There Are Snakes, Daniel Everett tells a story of how the remote Amazonian tribe he is living with, the Pirahã, do not use numbers or math. He tried to teach them simple addition, but they didn’t have any prior experience with the concept of numbers or adding and would not learn. What if for some people, areas of their bodies feel like math did to the Pirahã? They could learn math if they wanted to, they have the same brains as every other human, after all. But they have survived so long without it, found a way of living without math, why start now?

“I have to concentrate on small things”

We weren’t going for big sexy movements, but small, precise ones. She needed to tune into how things felt rather than just perform the motion.

For example:

  • Can you get your weight onto the anterior medial part of your heel?
  • Can you drop your right pelvis lower than your left?
  • Can you feel your spine bend to the left when you reach your right arm up?

As a closed system, changing one thing about the body must cause an adaptation from everything else. One degree can throw the entire system off.

If the pelvis isn’t level by one degree, everything else will be off by at least that much, probably more. If you draw two lines originating from the same point, one degree apart, how far apart will the two lines be after 2 inches? One foot? 100 feet? One degree matters, especially if there is pain present.

So for Jean  to accomplish just several degrees of movement from a joint she doesn’t normally even have awareness of, or feel a change in where she is weight-bearing on her feet, while subtle, feels like an entirely different place to put the body. Off balance. It’s only a matter of degrees, but the brain starts to freak out because it doesn’t know where it is, and this is where the learning happens.

It takes so much more energy to focus on and feel the subtle differences I am describing than it does to squeeze your butt 10 times while thinking about what’s for lunch, and so for Jean, our work is hard not necessarily for the physical effort required, but for the ability to tune in, cope with change, and integrate it.

Not a “fire this muscle” approach, but a “move your structures into new spaces” one.

“I knew that this was what was missing”

“What’s missing”. In AiM philosophy, it always comes back to finding what’s missing, and claiming it back. 

In Jean’s case, what’s missing was all of the above: Having her whole structure addressed, being asked to tune into her body, feel the parts she wasn’t aware of, move in ways she normally does not, access joint movements she has not felt for years, and do this subtle work in a completely present way.

I think Jean’s experience rings true for many people, certainly for myself in the past: Get hurt and go about getting treated in a way that has no expectation for us to engage with the work and be a part of our own healing process. Lie on the table and get worked on, without an expectation to do any work. 

People are rarely presented an experience that allows them to heal themselves, and many people will rarely look for one because they don’t know what they don’t know.

In fact, in our first session Jean  said:

“I’ve experienced  body work of different sorts. But body work is something being done to me. It helps to get things to let go, to wake up things that are shut down. It does not  teach my body what to do when I get up off the table.  I feel like as soon as I move I’m going right back to whatever caused the problem in the first place.  I need someone to teach me  how I myself can  get  my body to swap out dysfunctional for better, consistently, and long term.”

I knew right then that we were going to get along great.

Conclusions?

If things are not changing in your body, ask:

Are you treating it as a whole system, or as separate parts?

Are you being present with it, or just going through the motions?

Are you checking in with it daily, or ignoring it’s signals?

Are you moving with awareness?

Are you moving out of your comfort zone, accessing ranges that you don’t usually move into, or sticking to what you know and normally do?

Are you determined, trusting, and committed to the process, or feel doomed to be stuck forever?

The real healing happens in the space of engaging fully in the process. Like Jean’s  begun to do.

Realizing that the process is the goal.

“It’s the sides of the mountain that sustain life, not the top” ~Robert Pirsig. 

Jean always mentions how because she is “old”, she is having a hard time at making changes. But I don’t think this is true. I think she is doing incredibly well at making changes because of the attitude she has towards her journey. Its not a race after all, and it will take the time it’s going to take. 

Time doesn’t heal, but what you do with the time you have to heal, will.

 

Don’t Blame the Muscles…

I recently started a small group six week program that meets Sunday mornings. I unofficially call it “Church of Core”.

Its a program designed under the premise that, being that there is so much misinformation on the internet, in the media, and from people at the grocery store on what we should be doing to “train the core”, there should be a class to help people understand the truth of how the body moves so they can make their own informed choices on what to do at the gym.

And honestly, do whatever you want at the gym. It’s all good. Do what makes you happy.  Just make sure your body possesses and understands the mechanics to cope with those choices.


I wanted to share a little case study from a participant in the program who was having some issues.

Twist and shout (ow)

Nancy (not real name) is a dancer in the program. We had just finished day two, in which we’d explored sagittal plane spine movement and stability, and she asked me if we were going to look at rotational movement next, because she was having some issues that and she had a big dance workshop weekend coming up. I said, yeah, come early to church next week and we’ll take a looksie.

Nancy’s primary complaint was that left ribcage rotation caused a straining painful feeling through her left side from her pelvis up to her ribcage. This is obviously an issue for a dancer because rotating is kind of a big deal in a lot of dance movements. She got the same symptoms with right pelvis rotation- Pain and tension through left obliques. So it’s not just a left spine rotation issue, its a transverse cog issue.

In AiM, “cogs” refers to the role in gait of structures moving in opposition against each other, like turning cogs. In gait, the pelvis and ribcage have a cog-like motion in that they should always oppose each other’s movement in all three planes of motion: In normal walking, when the the pelvis rotates right, the ribcage should rotate left.

In the case of Nancy’s symptoms, it was not just a ribcage rotating left issue, but an issue with any part of the gait cycle in which her left leg is forward (pelvis right) and her upper body is swinging to the left (ribcage left).

It’s nice when things make sense like this because they sure as hell don’t always do.

Her chiropractor identified that her issue was her left external obliques. Let’s look at why her obliques might be complaining about this rotational pattern. 

Obliquing, long and short

If we’re going to blame a muscle, it stands to reason that we should know if its sore because of concentric shortness/compression, or it is locked long, under eccentric load.

Left ribcage + right pelvis rotation will lengthen the left external obliques, as the left EOs rotate the spine to the contralateral side

So, we could infer that the muscle is not happy with being loaded eccentrically to decelerate left spine rotation. 

In the case of many muscles strains, the tissues have become locked long and because they are already loaded and lengthened they will have trouble decelerating joint movement because they’re already stuck doing that all the dang time.

In Nancy’s case we want to know WHY left spine rotation has become an issue to manage. Why are the obliques being lengthened all the time? Perhaps there is something NOT happening in this rotational pattern that the left obliques are picking up the slack for?

Time to stop thinking about muscles

I’m not telling you what to do, but muscles are confusing and chaotic. Looking at joint motions makes things much less noisy.

To quote Gary Ward, “Would you rather look at 13 muscles that connect to the knee or look at the 4 movements it can do?”. 

I’d rather work on 4 things than 13, personally.

What stood out in interviewing her body was that her right talus was positioned internally rotated, everted, and could not externally rotate and invert. The chances of her right foot being able to supinate were pretty slim. This turned out to be key for helping her access left ribcage rotation with much less discomfort.

In the Flow Motion Model™, whenever the talus goes right, the ribs and spine go left, and when the talus rotates left, the ribs and spine go right.

This is because the rearfoot and pelvis always move in the same direction in transverse plane in gait (in all planes, actually), and recall that the ribcage and spine always oppose the pelvis.

So we could infer that the ribcage and spine should always oppose the talus*.

Therefore, if the talus can’t go right, another structure might have to go right MORE in order to accomplish every phase of gait in which the right foot supinates (and that’s most of the gait cycle, FYI).

In Nancy’s case it seemed to be the spine/ribs trying to rotate excessively to make up for a lazy right talus. And what might get tired of decelerating this motion over and over? The left external obliques.

Supinate the shit out of it

So we got Nancy’s foot to experience supination with her foot tripod grounded on the floor. With a little nudging and wedging, her right talus obliged and started inverting and externally rotating. Sweet.

We then integrated it into a pattern that required her to do left spine rotation and right pelvis rotation (we chose right propulsion phase). What was cool was that as long as her right foot was supinating, she could access left spine rotation with almost no discomfort. 

When she retested her rotations there was significantly less discomfort than before. Her right talus was also sitting less everted and internally rotated at rest.

The entire process took about 20 minutes. Then we hugged and went to church.

*Talus and ribcage always oppose… Except for that fraction of a second in which gait is homolateral!

Conclusions?

Few things, I guess:

  1. Learning to work with the FMM and AiM philosophy makes connections like this possible.
  2. Blaming muscles for issues doesn’t provide enough useful information. I was not thinking about what muscles were tight or overworking of facilitated or inhibited while I was working with Nancy (which would have driven me crazy back when I used to do a ton of Neurokinetic Therapy® testing). Saying “it’s my oblique that’s the problem” doesn’t tell you why. Muscles react to joint movement. The answer will show in the structures, their position, and the movements they can and cannot do.
  3. Thinking about her oblique pain in terms of concentric muscle action might not have led to the same resolution, but thinking eccentrically made a lot of sense in this case.
  4. The “talus drives the bus”, and its useful to know how movement of the foot affects movement up the chain.
  5. Knowing how to palpate the talus is a useful skill (that I didn’t have until very recently, thanks to “Foot Dating” on an AiM course).
  6. It really is true that one of the most powerful experiences for the body is just to help the feet to experience true pronation and supination.

 

Why Should You Stretch? (part 1)

I used to be very flexible. These days, it’s a slow grind to get my hands to the floor in a forward bend.

I’ve lost the ability I had as a dancer to bust out a middle split, cold,  anytime or place, provided I’m wearing stretchy pants (and I’m ALWAYS wearing stretchy pants because I made excellent career choices).

May be an image of 1 person and smiling
A spontaneous JCVD splits-off moment with my step-nephew-in-law, back in the day when I could splits anytime…

I don’t consider myself to be flexible anymore, and you know what? I’ve never felt better.

Ironically, most people think they need to stretch more to get out of pain. Or that being flexible is a universal goal. But the stiffer I get, the less pain I have.

So what’s that about, huh??

Flexibility doesn’t make you a better person

I’ve spent months and years worth of hours of my life stretching to get more flexible, and all I got was injured, tight, and fragile (that should be on a T-shirt.)

But it wouldn’t be completely accurate to blame my problems on stretching. The fact is I made pretty bad life choices. Excessive, mindless stretching just happened to be a symptom of my complete lack of respect for and awareness of my body.

I pushed through pain, performed through injuries, and I lived in fear that if I ever stopped stretching my dance career would end. Which was again ironic, because I wanted to quit dance when I was 15 but just couldn’t seem to let go…

Anyway, flexible as I was, I was trapped in my body. Shackled by the constant tightness you know probably all too well if you are as obsessed with stretching as I was. A tightness that only seems to be relieved by stretching more. A tightness which, ironically, is your body’s way of asking you to stop stretching it.

I’ve learned that my body feels much better when I don’t stretch it when I’m less flexible. So I don’t stretch anymore because I like to think I’m not a complete idiot.

This is part one of a blog series about why stretching and flexibility are not the ultimate pain panacea. Part one is a bit of a rambly, ranty thing about the traditional paradigm: “If it hurts, if it’s tight, stretch it”.

Beyond mobility and stability: Harmony

In 2015, I decided to try elimitating the words “mobility” and “stability” from my vocabulary to see if I could define everything the body did in terms of actual anatomical motion. It was an awkward, challenging year (probably for my clients, too…).

How is that body part moving? In what direction? Is it moving too much? Too little? Too fast? Too slow? I wasn’t focused on muscles, I was looking only at joint motion, which was a big paradigm shift after taking the Anatomy in Motion 6 day immersion course in 2015.

The reason why I started this vocab change was because the words no longer seemed useful to describe an experience the body is having.

Stability implies no motion. Mobility implies movement. But in the body, nothing is ever not moving. Everything is always moving, just in different ratios, relationships, and timings with other body parts.

When something is actually NOT able to move- true stability- there is problem. For example if your knee actually can’t bend and is stuck straight. That’s a stable knee. But that’s a problem.

Knees have to be able bend for us to walk. But we want to get it to bend in a way that is meaningful for the rest of the body. With the right timing, and ratios of motion in relation to the other body parts, not just by doing a mindless leg curl, inconsiderate of what every other joint in the body should be doing when the knee bends.

So is stability a good goal? Not in the true sense of the word. Is mobility a good goal? It depends on how the thing is moving, in relation to the entire system.

To me, a better word is harmony. Or order.

I don’t want my body to be mobile just for the sake of mobility, because Kelly Starrett said you should want to be a supple leopard.

Becoming a Supple Leopard 2nd Edition: The Ultimate Guide to Resolving  Pain, Preventing Injury, and Optimizing Athletic Performance: Starrett,  Kelly, Cordoza, Glen: 9781628600834: Books - Amazon.ca

I want my body to move harmoniously, in an orderly way. This goes beyond mobility and stability. Beyond flexibility. This is a unique state for each one of us.

Am I over-thinking? I don’t think I’m thinking enough…

Flexibility is not a universal pain solution

One of my mentors, Chris Sritharan (Anatomy in Motion instructor) once said that there are 4 ways we can use a body part:

  • Overuse
  • Underuse
  • Misuse
  • Disuse

Do stretching address any of these? Not really… (but over-stretching a muscle that doesn’t need to be stretched falls into the “misuse” category).

I hear people say stuff like this constantly:

“I should stretch more.”

“I never stretch, that’s probably why my body feels so tight all the time.”

“I do always do hip stretches, by they just keep tightening back up.”

“My neck hurts *goes on Youtube to look for neck stretches*”

Sound familiar?

Back in my pre-thinking days (I consider age 22 to be when I officially started trying to use my frontal cortex for inquisitive thought), my left hamstring felt really “tight”, so I stretched it daily, really hard.

A few months later I strained my left hamstring while I was stretching in jazz class warm-up one day. Injured while warming up… The irony. Well, I was only doing what I thought was right based on the information I had.

I thought stretching would set me free. Make me a better dancer. Make my tightness go away. Make me a better person, even (if only I could do deeper splits, everyone will admire me and I’ll be a big success! Nope…).

Can we stretch my shoulder?

A few years ago, a client came in saying that his shoulder felt “tight”, and, “can we do some stretching for it?”.

I had to take a breath and collect myself. A part of me wanted to say, “No we cannot stretch your GD shoulder because the problem isn’t your shoulder, it’s that ankle sprain you keep denying is a problem!!”.

But I didn’t… Because I like having clients that support my ability to pay my rent.

His shoulder didn’t  actually need to be stretched per se, because the muscles were already in a lengthened state in the area he had discomfort- That spot actually needed to be shortened to take the tension out, not put more tension in by tugging on it more.

But, because I try to be diplomatic, we did a thing that I told him was a “stretch”, and afterwards, when the sore spot felt better, I explained to him how it wasn’t actually a stretch and why it worked (it was a whole body lunge-type-movement to get his foot to pronate, disguised as a shoulder stretch).

How the traditional stretching-makes-everything-better paradigm fails

A client I used to see many years ago would come in every week with low-grade back pain that she describes as tightness. In her words, “it’s fine because I just stretch it out with yoga.”

To which I wanted to ask if yoga “works”, then why do you show up every week with the same old back pain? But I didn’t… Because it was a time in my life that I was financially insecure and was terrified of losing a client by asking potentially provocative questions like this.

My point is that stretching a muscle doesn’t necessarily teach that muscle anything. To again quote Chris Sritharan (aka #sritho):

“We’re not trying to stretch a muscle, we’re trying to give it something to do.”

What do muscles do? Manage joint motion: Joints act, muscles react.

If flexibility and stretching were the solution to the body’s problems, then contortionists, dancers, and circus performers would never have issues. Ever. But they do. Lots of ’em. Explain that for me with stretching logic.

I think a big problem is that most of us look for a solution too quickly when we should take the time to ask better questions.

Asking questions like, “why is it tight?”, instead of “what stretches should I do?”.

In fact, this blog post was born from my feeling completely insufficient at the art and science of asking questions.

Questions help us see facts. “My neck feels tight”, isn’t a fact, it’s a subjective experience.

“Tightness means I should stretch”, isn’t a fact. It’s a belief.

Well, that’s enough of a ranty primer for part one. In part two (and probably three) we’ll go deeper….

What are the questions we need to ask to get the facts we need to go beyond stretching?

What ARE the facts we need?

What do I mean by harmony and order? (hint: gait mechanics)

If not stretching, what SHOULD we do?

How is stretching different than eccentric loading? (hint: center of mass management)

“But Monika, I hear you talking about feeling stretches all the time in your classes… I’m confused.” Me too! It’s a good way to be. It means there’s something to learn 🙂

Stay tuned!

Until then, may you have the courage to stop compulsively stretching your tight spots, and the curiosity to wonder, “why is it tight?” in the first place.

The Week of Externally Rotated Knees

Last week I saw three different people with externally rotated knees. In particular: Three externally rotated right knees that don’t internally rotate,  causing the individual some grief (not just at the knee, but definitely at the knee).

Image result for knee external rotation
These “deformities” actually happen in gait… I guess we’re all deformed.

I remember Gary Ward saying something to the effect of, if you keep seeing the same thing over and over again in your practice within a short period of time, check to see if it’s not your OWN issues that you’re projecting onto your clients. Have been guilty of that in the past.

Just to make sure I’m not full of shite, I stand up, check out my right knee, and, lo and behold, it appears my right knee doesn’t fully internally rotate. Actually, both don’t. Well damn. However, my right knee internally rotates a lot more easily than my left, so, maybe my awareness, despite my imperfections, is helping to keep my perception honest. In any case, the important lesson: Whenever you see a bunch of the same thing, check to make sure it’s not just YOU.

I already wrote a little (kind of long) piece about a lady I worked with who had an internally rotated knee that wasn’t externally rotating. Her knee was actually stuck in some kind of purgatory in which it neither rotated in OR out. Maybe you’d like to read that, too (slightly different case than these three peeps). 

I would like elaborate on a few observations I noted in working with these three individuals, aka, how not being able to internally rotate a knee can potentially wreak havoc on the body.

Some stuff they had in common, in particular:

  • Missing an effective propulsion phase of gait
  • Feet turning out in gait, aka, the “duck walk”
  • Rock solid, toned up, tibialis anterior
  • Low femoral external rotation
  • Limited right trunk rotation 

Are you ready to get excruciatingly technical? Hell yeah!

LACKING PROPULSION

Propulsion- The phase in the gait cycle just before the foot picks up off the ground prior to swing in which the pelvis is travelling (propelling, if you will) forwards, the extending hip fully decompressing, and the foot is in a maximally supinated , rigid lever position. To create this rigid lever, the knee also needs to be locked in extension in order to anchor the foot to the ground so that the pelvis can travel forwards, allowing the hip to extend and load the hip flexors for the next moment: Swing.

Getting to propulsion effectively is important.

However, in all three of my funky-kneed individuals, propulsion was just not happening.

In propulsion, the knee will be in its end range of extension. For this to happen, the femur twists externally on top of the tibia, locking the condyles together into it’s “screwed home”, comfy position (home= comfy). This creates a position in which the tibial tuberosity is rotated medially of the femur, giving us an internally rotated knee.

Knee extension = knee internal rotation in an ideal situation in gait.

If the knee can’t get “home” to internal rotation and extension, as was the case for these three individuals, then the rigid lever to propel off of will be compromised, and resultant shite: The hip won’t extend, swing may be compromised, and all the muscles that load up in propulsion (psoas, iliacus, distal tibialis anterior, peroneals, distal hamstrings, distal FHL, adductors, to name some biggies), will not get their chance to lengthen.

Internally rotatable knees= Happy hips that can extend.

FEET TURNING OUT IN GAIT

That funny “duck” walk thing. I used to do that. And then I stopped ballet…

A little experiment you can try. Standing bilaterally, turn your feet out. Can you feel which way your talus is now pointing? If you are a normal human being, you should feel that feet out= sub-talar joint axis (STJ) pushes in. The opposite is true if you stand with your feet pointing inwards- STJ will point out.

Feet pointing out in gait is often a hint towards a foot that can’t pronate, and an attempt to give the STJ an opportunity to point inwards. 

In pronation, the STJ axis will orient internally of the 2nd toe (usually wayyy more internally than that). But what if the foot can’t pronate? Or, what if pronation has become dangerous for some reason, and the body has needed to find a way to work around it? 

Turning out the feet is one work-around: Feet out, STJ pushes in, medial arch gets to open, brain thinks it is “pronating”, but without actually pronating.

In gait, pronation and knee external rotation happen at the same time. This means that, in the case of the already externally rotated knee that doesn’t internally rotate, pronating the foot may feel dangerous because with the knee already externally rotated, there’s nowhere further to go if the foot pronates.

If the foot does pronate, the knee will reach end range external rotation (XR) too quickly and that may not feel so good. As a strategy, the body needs to find an alternative way to get a bit of “pronation” through the foot, and tan easy way to do this is to turn the foot out so that the talus can feel like it’s pointing in, and the medial arch can open. Not ideal. Definitely a work-around, but better than not being able to walk in the short term.

If the knee was able to internally rotate, this would free some space for it to move into external rotation as the foot pronates, rather than immediately crash into end-range. The change in timing allows pronation and external rotation of the knee to couple together safely. 

In the case of these individuals, reintroducing knee IR was a foreign, but nurturing experience.

ROCK SOLID TIBIALIS ANTERIOR

Tibialis anteriori? Anterior tibialises?

(also see T: Tons of tone…)

Tib ant is a cool muscle that I don’t completely understand. Its triplanar functions hurt my brain (and I still have to see some clients today who need it). 

That said, I did spend about 20 minutes on my couch groaning in agony trying to make sense of tib ant, my room mate giving me strange looks (rightfully so).

Tib ant is a strange and fascinating muscle.

I believe it…
  1. It lengthens and shortens at both ends simultaneously, despite being a multi-joint muscle (which generally do NOT do this unless you want it to feel really bad).
  2. It shortens in two planes while lengthening in another, and visa versa (sagittal and transverse couple, while frontal opposes).

I enlisted a little help from some smart AiM friends to understand the closed chain mechanics of tib ant when the knee is interally vs externally rotated. Here is the verdict:

Knee extension + internal rotation + foot supination:

SAGITTAL: Long (except in strike phase of gait in which the ankle is actually dorsiflexed with an extended knee, and so the tib ant will be short here)
FRONTAL: Short
TRANSVERSE: Long

Knee flexion + externally rotation + foot pronation:

SAGITTAL: Short (note, this is passive shortening, as gravity does the job of dorsiflexing the ankle and pronating the foot.)
FRONTAL: Long
TRANSVERSE: Short

So, in the case of our friends with externally rotated knees and rock solid tib ant, what does this mean? Few theories for the increase in muscles density and hypertrophy:

  • Length tension: Being used excessively to decelerate a joint motion. For example:
    • Tib ant decelerates the arch lowering in frontal plane to manage over-pronation (aka shin splints). Slowing down pronation will serve an already externally rotated knee by preventing it from rotating further, and tib ant may be working overtime for this.
    • Ankle may be plantar flexing too quickly out of late swing in an attempt to decelerating sagittal plane ankle motion into dorsiflexion, and block over-pronation and thus, more knee external rotation.
  • Short, overworking tib ant: Concentric muscle tone. Some examples:
    • Not being able to lengthen and load tib ant in sagittal and transverse plane in the previous phase of gait, propulsion, the tib ant will have to contract excessively on swing to dorsiflex the ankle to clear the ground (or turn the foot out).
    • An externally rotated knee may be attached to a foot stuck in pronation and ankle stuck dorsiflexed, which will shorten tib ant in sagittal and transverse plane.
    • If a high varus angle of the foot is present as an attempt to slow pronation and knee external rotation (as this increases the distance the 1st met must travel before it hits the ground), this will contract tib ant in frontal plane.

I’m sure this is not a complete list. I am, of yet, not sure which one of these is the most true for each of my three individuals, but what matters more than the story I choose is the “what will I do next”?

LOW FEMORAL-ACETABULAR EXTERNAL ROTATION

In order for this to make sense, we must distinguish between femoral  rotation (FA: femur moving in acetabulum), acetabular-femoral rotation (AF: acetaculum moving on femur), and hip rotation (the orientation of the space between the two bones).

Until I understood this distinction, and a lot of it has to due with timing, hip mechanics fucked with my mind. I blame PRI. Just kidding… I blame my limited thinking, conditioned by previous PRI training.

Image result for left aic
LEFT: Right AF IR, left AF XR. RIGHT: Right AF XR, right AF IR. I had to temporarily forget about this to learn AiM.

Moving on!

Curiously, in all three individuals, the right hip- the same side as the externally rotated knee, was more limited into external rotation than their left. Why could this be? (and yes I am aware that this is a left AIC pattern…)

When the knee is externally rotated, the hip can be either internally rotated (IR) or externally rotated (XR), depending on which phase of gait we’re talking about.

There are two phases of gait in which the knee does XR: Suspension and early swing. Both are pronating, and knee bending phases. The distinction: In suspension (closed chain), the hip is in XR, while in early swing (open chain), the hip is moving into IR from maximum XR.

In either case, if you were to freeze time at the moment the knee is in XR, the hip would appear to be in XR as well. In one case because it is really truly in XR (suspension), in the other, because it is still in a state of XR but moving into IR (early swing).

PLOT TWIST: In suspension, though the hip and knee are in XR, the femur in the acetabulum itself in internally rotating. 

How can an internally rotated femur be labelled as externally rotating hip?

Here’s how:

Suspension= FA IR + AF XR + (*some timing stuff*) = Hip XR.

Remember the femur and the hip are not the same thing. The femur is the bone, the hip joint is the space between the femoral head and the acetabulum.

*Aforementioned important timing stuff*: In suspension, the pelvis is rotating away from the suspending leg (AF XR) as, just prior to hitting the ground, the leg was in swing. The leg swinging rotates the pelvis away from the swing leg (creating AF XR), as the femur also rotates externally (FA XR). Then, as the first met hits the ground and foot starts pronation, the femur begins to rotate internally, initiated by the talus as the foot begins to pronate. However, the pelvis is still rotating away (into AF XR) faster and farther than the femur is rotating internally, which creates a global position of hip external rotation. 

Clear as mud, right?

Early swing, by contrast, is simple:

Early swing= FA IR + AF IR = Hip IR

So, when the knee is in XR, the femur IS internally rotating regardless of what the hip is doing. When the knee is in XR, the femur is internally rotated farther that the tibia. 

Knowing this, it makes sense to feel a limitation in femur XR on the side that has an externally rotated knee.

This also makes sense as a contributing factor to why propulsion wasn’t happening: In propulsion we need hip AND femur XR along with knee IR. 

LIMITED RIGHT TRUNK ROTATION

Having an externally rotated right knee and limited right trunk rotation are not an absolute coupling, but it was curious to see it in all three individuals this week. It was pretty interesting example of the clever body making adaptations above to accommodate something below (or is it something below adjusting for a structure above…?)

In two of the three, the same situation was going on:

In gait, both had an observable left trunk rotation. Ribs were going left-center-left-center, and never making it to the right.

BUT, in a bilateral stance, the opposite showed up: Both had an inability to rotate to the LEFT. What the f***. I was not expecting that.

Why would someone rotate left so much while they walk, but not at all when isolating ribcage movement in bilateral stance? 

My operating theory is, what if they were already rotated left, and in which case, there is nowhere else to go. You can try this in your own body. Stand with your shoulders rotated to the left. Now, try to rotate them more to the left. Doesn’t get you very far, does it? 

So why would the body choose to put its thorax to the left, and how does this relate to a right externally rotated knee?

Remember, knee XR happens twice: Suspension, and early swing. In both those phases of gait, the spine and ribcage will be rotating, wait for it….

TO THE RIGHT (as per the Flow Motion Model™)

What if the body is avoiding right spine rotation because the knee is already in end range XR? More right trunk rotation would potentially require the knee to XR further, and that would probably not feel good on an already externally rotated knee. 

We can look at it from another perspective. Maybe the left trunk rotation is what is trying to create right knee IR. In all (but one) phases of gait in which the right knee is in IR (transition, shift, and propulsion), the spine will rotate LEFT. (the exception is right heel strike, in which the trunk will be rotating to the right, even though the knee is in IR).

So, right trunk rotation couples more with right knee XR, and left trunk rotation couples more with right knee IR.

So which is it? Using left trunk rotation to attempt to IR the knee? Or avoiding right trunk rotation to protect the right knee from excess XR? The answer will be “both” until we know for sure.

In any case, working on reintroducing right trunk rotation and right knee IR will be a nourishing experience. Hopefully… (so far so good). 

CONCLUSIONS?

Yeah, I guess I have a few.

  1. I’d better take care of my own right knee just in case I’m projecting my own problems onto people. Will put that on the to do list for today.
  2. Is this right knee external rotation a PRI pattern? Part of the lef AIC pattern?
  3. These three individual cases also had other different things going on. This is not the full picture and not meant to be taken as an absolute. I just like to write out my observations on the shit I see to make sense of it.
  4. Part of the solution for all three of these individuals was to work on “transition” (AiM movement) to experience knee IR. All reported that it felt “weird”, “good”, and “I never do that”. No shit you don’t!
  5. Knees are pretty cool. For a joint with only two planes of movement, amazing how overlooked its mechanics are. It only took me 4 times through AiM to start to get a grasp on the knee. Maybe after my 6th I’ll understand shoulders.
  6. This blog post is entirely a thought experiment. None of this may be true. Take it all with a  grain of salt.

 

Singer Case Study: Breathing, IAP, Spinal Mobility, and Larynx Stuff

I recently began working with a very talented professional singer/vocal coach we’ll call Louise (not real name). Her primary goals were to improve her health, movement quality, and strength, aka, my favourite kind of person. She also enjoys geeking out about breathing and her super interesting feet, which makes her my very favourite person right now (not that I play favourites….).

We’d had a good chat about breathing before our first session (my fascination with it, her need to have good control of hers for her profession), and so I was particularly curious to see what her breathing habits were like, among other things.

A few interesting things have come up in our work together so far that I’d like to share as I attempt to make sense of the relationships between breathing, spine, and larynx mechanics in my head.  

Belly breathing vs. “ideal” diaphragmatic breathing pattern

I would imagine that singers pride themselves on having good diaphragmatic control, but, much like Tiger Woods’ swing, there is much that can be improved upon mechanically even if you perform at a high level and kick ass already.

Louise is very good at using her diaphragm as a breathing muscle, but, and this is a big BUT, she uses it at the expense of maintaining any tone through her abdominals, which shows as a belly-pushing-out breathing pattern rather than an “ideal” diaphragmatic breathing pattern that could create greater intra-abdominal pressure (IAP).

Belly breathing IS diaphragmatic breathing- The abdominal excursions with inhalation are due to the diaphragm descending (contracting), but, the belly moving forwards, and only the belly, is indicative of the contents of the abdomen moving forwards without abdominal or pelvic floor eccentric co-contraction. This forwards movement is not going to be the best way to create “support” through the midsection, both for singing and strength training. 

An ideal diaphragmatic breathing pattern involves, upon inhalation, both the belly and chest moving anteriorally, a posterior lateral expansion of the lower ribcage, and the pelvic floor descending as the organs are pushed down by the diaphragm. Not only the belly moving forwards.

A nice way of visualizing it is a 360 degree expansion of the thoracic (ribcage) and abdominal cavity, much like an umbrella opening, or a balloon blowing up. The balloon doesn’t just expand on one side, unless it’s a fucked up balloon. 

If the belly/organs are pushing forwards, it is likely because there is no room for the abdomen to expand to the back (posterior-lateral expansion), and the pelvic floor down (descending), and so the only place for the organs to move is forwards (not ideal).

The excursions of an ideal diaphragmatic breath will appear to be smaller than those of a belly breath. Part of this is due to the abdominal fill being redistributed in a 360 degree fashion, and air flow also expanding the upper ribcage and subclavicular space, which creates a more evenly distributed fill, rather than the prominent belly breath. This “smaller” fill (volume of air) with the more ideal diaphragmatic breathing pattern will initially feel as if you are not getting enough air. This may be simply because the fill shape feels different and freaks out the nervous system, but could also be because belly-breathers often breathe in excess of metabolic demands (see G: Gasping for Air), whereas an ideal diaphragmatic breath will get more oxygen with less total air volume (let’s not go down that rabbit hole today…).

The posterio-lateral expansion that allows for the 360 filling can only happen if the abdominals (transverse abdominis- TVA, and internal obliques- IAOs, primarily) stabilize the ribcage: Eccentrically loading to slow it from lifting up and flaring excessively and the belly from pushing forwards.

Needing to counterbalance the organs being displaced forwards, belly breathers tend to get pulled into lumbar extension pretty easily (I would know, because I’m a recovering compressed-spine belly-breather), which makes it even more difficult to maintain any abdominal tone with inspiration due to the lengthened state of the abs, and compressed state of the spine.

To summarize, a belly breathing pattern does use the diaphragm, but not as effectively as it could, as the abdominals are not doing anything to generate internal pressure and muscular support. The big movement of the belly means that:

  • Minimal expansion of the thoracic cavity will not decrease the intra-pleural pressure as much, meaning that the lungs will not fill as deeply and efficiently with each breath, reinforcing the need to take bigger belly breaths to feel like the lungs are filling “enough”.
  •  It will be more difficult to create pressure within the abdominal cavity (IAP) due to decreased TVA, IAO, and pelvic floor support, the foundation for spinal stabilization with movement and, importantly for Louise, support while singing.

I believe it will be useful for her to train herself out of the belly-breathing pattern and into a one that uses more abdominal co-contraction.

Training to hold onto an “air reserve”

In other words, training to create a functional hyperinflation just in case the need for more air should arise while singing. I can understand how holding onto a “reserve” would be useful if you have a long phrase or note to hold, or you accidentally neglect to breathe at the most effective time and need to push your air a bit further.

But there is a consequence to this, as training to hold on to extra air over months or years can have the effect of creating a more chronic hyper-inflated state- Excess air in the lungs, diaphragm and ribcage stuck in an inhalatory state, with an inability to completely exhale.

Why is this an issue?

Over time, hyperinflation alters the position of the ribcage, and puts the diaphragm in an even further disadvantageous position to breathe from: A state of perma-semi-contraction (that’s a word…).

Louise noted that she has a difficult time exhaling completely in our breath work, and would quickly feel the urge to breathe in deeply. She struggled to get her ribs to move down and in to an ideal zone of apposition (ZOA), or exhalatory, depressed (anteriorally tilted) rib position and breathe without flaring up her ribs with each inhalation (which would lose all IAP, aka “support”).

Image result for zone of apposition

Because the diaphragm lengthens and ascends with exhalation, when more air than necessary remains in the lungs over long periods of time, it can become difficult to get diaphragm to get to a fully lengthened resting state. Because muscles must lengthen before they can contract, this makes an ideal diaphragmatic inhalation near impossible, spinal stabilization difficult, and compromises IAP generation.

Holding a “reserve”, or, a functional hyperinflation, does make sense as an adaptation to her “sport” of choice. However, if left unchecked, it will keep her from using her breath as efficiently as she could be, as being stuck in a perpetual semi-inhalatory state impacts on her quality of both inhalation, exhalation, and internal pressure regulation. Perhaps this is a deeply ingrained part of the singing training tradition; much like passively overstretching is part of ballet training tradition- Practices that can lead to compromised performance, but no one is taught a better way of doing things. 

Here is some excellent art by me, illustrating some of the silly “traditions” I ascribed to as a dancer:

Self-portrait: Monika, age 22.

Louise and I discussed that owning the full spectrum, i.e. full inhalation and exhalation, rib flare and ZOA, diaphragm contracted and relaxed- would help her to find a more “centered” place with her breath and body, and decrease the reserve of air she needs to hold on to, which would decrease the chronic hyperinflation over time. Doing so would also help her to fill her lungs more efficiently and better use her diaphragm for it’s spine stabilization function, creating higher intra-abdominal pressure, which will come in handy when she needs the support for singing the higher tones without going in an “airy” head voice. 

As an inexperienced singer, my thoughts are that the reserve training is probably useful, but the minimum possible amount of trained hyperinflation to get the job done is desirous.

The reserve is similar to packing for a long hike: You want to pack as little as possible to make reduce the weight you’re carrying but not starve. Hiking without a bag at all would be ideal, but not realistic (unless you have someone trailing you with your food and water supply in a helicopter).

After the hike, you can take the bag off and unwind, and, after singing and over-breathing a bunch, it is also a good idea to unwind.

Another important thing to note is that, if Louise does try to sing with the breathing patterns we are discussing as more “healthy” physiologically, she may experience a temporary decrease in her singing abilities, which, may not be desirable if she has to perform. This is comparable to taking away an athlete’s functional adaptations. For example, if a dancer needs a lot of flexibility in her hamstrings, and stiffness in her feet, and we take this away because it is not “healthy”, she may suffer a decrease in her dance technique. Similarly, if we try to make a sprinter too mobile, they will lose the stiffness which is in part necessary for them to generate power and speed.

There is a sweet spot, which, I believe exists within the exploration of the spectrum: Can you inhale and exhale? Can you play at the extremes without losing sight of “center”? And can you play with the bits in between without losing sight of the edges? 

Ultimately, I believe that working on the diaphragm + abdominal control, deeper more efficient filling of lungs, and being able to exhale more fully will provide her with more options for how to use her breath, and more opportunities to unwind from the stresses that singing can have on the body.

Stiff spine and effect on larynx control, tone, and pitch?

Degree of spinal mobility and neck positioning can have an impact on, and be impacted by, breathing and ability to use the larynx effectively (and visa versa). This is something I am just starting to put together, and may need to revise this section later. Bear with me now and please correct me if I’m wrong.

Louise is  stuck with a fairly flexed thoracic spine that doesn’t know how to extend, and a extended cervical spine that doesn’t know how to flex. As a strategy to extend her thoracic spine, Louise retracts her scapulae together excessively in an attempt to create spinal motion, a common strategy for stiff spines that I frequently see.

For singers, being able to flex and decompress the C spine is necessary to modulate the quality of their voice. This is due to the larynx, which houses the vocal folds, being located around  level C3-C6.

The larynx is suspended from the hyoid bone, which is what Gary Ward (author of What the Foot) has classified as a “dangler” (technical term). This means that its gross movement is primarily due to the movement of another proximal structure (for example, scapulae are also danglers, suspended on the ribcage, the jaw is a dangler, suspended from the cranium). In this case, the hyoid is closest to the cervical spine and skull and so hyoid, and thus, larynx, movement can be mapped based on C spine and skull movement.

The hyoid also has a pretty cool  connection to the scapulae via the omohyoid muscle (which I just learned about yesterday). This means that there could be some tricky strategies going on between Louise’s hyper-retracting scaps, stiff spine, and hyoid/larynx, that may have an impact on her voice.

Image result for omohyoid
The throat bone’s connected to the shoulder bone.

Another thing worth noting is the the closing of the glottis to increase sub-glottal pressure, sometimes known as the Valsalva manoeuvre. This allows greater building of air pressure to stiffen the abdominal cavity and is useful to protect the spine for higher threshold activity, like lifting heavy things, but also at lower thresholds it serves to stabilize the spine during simple limb movements. Some people may tend to overuse the muscles of the hyoid/larynx to create this stabilizing pressure rather than being able to use their diaphragm and abdominals (TVA + IAO) effectively for IAP, which can mess with the larynx’s role in air pressure modulation and resultant vocal quality.

For someone like Louise who does not use her abdominals effectively to create IAP (as a belly breather), she may be overusing her hyoid and larynx musculature to create it, or, locking into bony end range at her C spine, in an attempt to create a sense of stability, which will impact on how well she can also use her larynx to modulate her voice.

What all that means is that one’s potential vocal range and ability to modulate pitch and tone is somewhat dependent on spinal mobility, internal pressure regulation, scapulae movement, as well as freedom of hyoid movement (to dangle).

Image result for larynx

Where things get interesting is when we look at how larynx movement can affect pitch and quality of the voice:

  • Larynx elevation = higher pitches (stiffens vocal folds)
  • Larynx depression= lower pitches
  • Larynx anterior tilt (forward over cricoid)= higher pitches (lengthens vocal folds)
  • Larynx posterior tilt= lower pitches

To correlate this to C spine and skull movement:

  • Skull anterior tilt + C spine flexion = larynx elevation + anterior tilt=stiffer, longer vocal folds= higher pitches (also opens airway)
  • Skull posterior tilt + C spine extension= larynx depression + posterior tilt= lower pitches

However, as Louise has explained to me, the movement of the larynx may have more to do with the quality of the voice, regardless of the pitch, due to how it modulates air pressure. A higher larynx will tend to raise the air pressure and make the quality of the voice less airy, and so is useful for getting high notes to sound less “heady”.

Here is yet more excellent art by me:

When the larynx tilts forwards over the cricoid (anterior tilt) and raises, this lengthens and tenses the vocal folds to create higher pitches. However, altered neck position and resultant muscle tensions can limit this anterior tilt.

Here’s where things get more fuzzy for me. I have read that relying on moving the neck and skull to move the larynx is not as effective as being able to use the intrinsic muscles of the hyoid itself to move the larynx to modulate pitch and volume.

A lower resting position of the larynx is said to be more desirous and healthy than an elevated one. I suppose this makes sense as this means that should one need to push into a more headier voice, there is actually somewhere for the larynx to go. However, I would also reckon that too low is not great, especially if stuck there. Like any other structure of the body, I suppose the holy grail is to find “center”, and to do this we must also know the extremes.

When it comes to using intrinsic muscles of the larynx, I am not entirely sure how to train this because I’m not the one who’s a vocal coach with the experience in that domain. However, I can imagine that unlocking the neck and spine mechanics, breathing mechanics, and ability to co-contract abdominals, diaphragm and pelvic floor to create IAP will free up the muscles of the hyoid and larynx to perform their vocal manipulatory role more effectively, which will have a spill over effect into vocal training.

Taken from “Recognizing and Treating Breathing Disorders” By Leon Chaitow

Here’s what’s currently going on with Louise:

  • C spine stuck extended= Larynx stuck in posterior tilt (potentially)
  • Skull stuck in posterior tilt= Larynx descended (potentially)

Because movement of the c spine is also quite dependent on movement of the thoracic spine, we must also looks at Louise’s current set up:

  • Thoracic spine stuck flexed= C spine stuck extended= skull stuck posteior tilt= larynx stuck in posterior tilt and descended (as in the lovely picture on the right I drew, above)

This could potentially be impacting her range and comfort into higher notes, but also into lower notes, as her larynx could be hanging out in a descended position all the time with nowhere lower to go (and indeed, she admits lower notes are tough for her to hit).

Because Louise attempts to extend her T spine by squeezing together her scaps, the more she sings with this as a postural strategy, the more she may experience shoulder and neck tension as she attempts to create a more elevated, anterior tilted larynx position for higher notes by tensing her shoulder blades, with an extended C spine.

Yet another interesting piece of Louise’s puzzle is her high arched, stiff, inverted feet. In the foot map of the body, developed by Gary Ward and Chris Sritharan of Anatomy in Motion, the metatarsal rays (1-5) are seen to be correlated in structure to the ribcage and thoracic spine. In Louise’s case, they share the same shape: Flexed (rounded) T spine with arched (rounded) feet- Both stuck in primary curves. As we attempt to teach her feet how to pronate, or, “extend” through the arch, it will be curious to observe what this could free up in her thoracic spine and ribcage into extension and impact on her breathing and neck alignment.

Displaying Screenshot_2016-03-21-15-25-50~2.png

Louise and I discussed how a diaphragmatic breathing pattern can help to mobilize the spine: An inhalation will slightly extend the lumbar and thoracic spine, exhalation flexes them. Could her belly breathing pattern be the main contributing factor to her stiff spine via never quite mobilizing her T spine? Or, could her stiff spine the be major contributor to her belly breathing pattern? I suppose it will be both until we know for sure.

LET’S GET VAGAL

Of course I’m going to bring up the polyvagal theory.  Because I think too much.

The vagus nerve (cranial nerve X) is intimately related to the processes of breathing, vocalizing, and the striated facial muscles, making singing what Dr. Steven Porges may consider a “neural exercise”: One that combines the various functions of the vagus and serving as a portal for ventral vagal stimulation, and easier, quicker access to parasympathetic state of health, growth, restoration, and positive social engagement. Porges has described that both singing and playing wind instruments are ideal examples of neural exercise to “tone the vagus”.

Having just finished reading The Polyvagal Theory prior to working with Louise, I was curious about how singing could be used as a method of neuroregulation (which is one reason why I also wanted to study it). However, I was also curious how could this be affected by some of the inefficient habits I’ve observed in some singers, like poor breathing patterns, hyperinflation, over-breathing, spinal immobility, and poor internal pressure regulation, all of which in themselves can be correlated to a state of inhibition of the ventral vagal brake as stressors on the system, increasing sympathetic, fight or flight activity.

For example, a state of chronic hyperventilation (breathing in excess of metabolic demands, which can easily happen with the amount of mouth breathing involved in singing) could contribute to inhibition of the ventral vagus and increase sympathetic activity. Too, a state of chronic hyperinflation (common for singers who hold onto their reserve and never practice complete exhalations) is related to sympathetic activity due to the resting inhalatory (contracted) state of the diaphragm and exacerbated by the correlated extended position of the spine and ribcage.

In order for singing to be a portal for increased ventral vagal activity, do the mechanics of breathing need to be “optimal”? I’m sure they don’t need to be perfect, but for how long can one sing with inefficient mechanics until there is a negative effect? What is the sweet spot?

In other words, is the vagal stimulation via the act of singing- coordination of the various structures innervated by the ventral vagal branch,  a sufficient counterbalance for these “non-ideal” breathing and postural habits (as we’ve been discussing in Louise’s case)? Or could enhancing the body’s fundamental mechanics, helping to make singing and breathing make singing less of a strain to the system, transform singing into an even more nourishing experience? And, much like an athlete stuck in a pattern of  training  that could be leading them to injury, does the act of singing in itself serve as an escape from noticing the poor habits associated with it until it is too late?

For me, dance was an escape from “reality”, and I imagine singing could be an escape for some individuals. Though I was a good dancer, I had shit for fundamental movement mechanics. Though I felt “good” while I was dancing- the escape into the flow state of the music, the movement, and my body, I was using this feeling an escape, and I ignored the symptoms of this (everything hurting). Eventually, ignoring the symptoms that dance was no longer nourishing me began to hurt enough that the escape was no longer even a possibility.

Could singing be similar? Do singers burn out the bodies in the same way that dancers and athletes do? Curious…

I’m probably just thinking too much. But if I don’t write down my thoughts here, they will fester and rot in my brain.

CONCLUSIONS?

It is lovely to reflect on the interdependent nature of all structures of the body like this. Lovely to attempt to map it with the Flow Motion Model (FMM). I am still questioning a lot of what I just wrote, especially the stuff about the larynx movement. If you know things that I don’t, I want to hear them.

Louise is an incredible singer already, but she has been noticing an increase in “support” while singing since working together. She also has had the realization that maybe she doesn’t need to take as big of breaths as she does, doesn’t need to hold onto as much air as she does, and can sing just as well, if not better, with healthier breathing habits. Apparently, what she’s been working on with me has also been useful for some of her students, too.

Very cool stuff. I’m interested to see how things go for her, both with singing, and her movement/strength training practice. 

Louise is also my vocal coach, and I’m sure I will be pestering her to go into agonizing detail about the use of breath and larynx while trying not to embarrass myself singing.

Apparently, I have now agreed to  be the terrible singer in a terrible ukelele and brass band. My only condition was that I get to keep the beat on a triangle, and that we perform only Wonderwall. Watch out, Toronto.

A Farewell to Orthotics

Tracy (not real name) is a lady I first met while she was waiting to get knee surgery (meniscus repair). We began working together to help her build strength and prepare her body for the procedure.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpems5aWrt0

That was NOT the kind of surgery Tracy got… I just like/am traumatized by that video.

I am writing this piece about Tracy because it is a lovely case-study of a few things:

a) How someone who is relatively unfit can see a surgery as an impetus to get in shape, address movement mechanics, and go on to hike in the mountains pain free 6 months later.

b) How surgery can sometimes be a very good idea, not only because it can reduce pain symptoms, but that is can sometimes reveal the true underlying cause of WHY there was an issue in the first place.

c) How learning to pronate the foot, and removing an arch supporting orthotic can be a major piece of the knee-pain puzzle.

d) How focusing on symptoms prevented me from seeing the root cause of the issue as quickly.

PRE-SURGERY TRACY

At first, it was Tracy’s left knee that bothered her (primarily with flexion), and she was scheduled to get surgery in a few months.

In an assessment, her center of mass was shifted to the right, and she found it very difficult to shift her pelvis to the left, which, made perfect sense at the time, her left knee being in pain, wouldn’t you want to shift away from it? 

As part of our process pre-surgery, my goals for her were to see if we could help left knee flexion feel a bit safer by exploring the mechanics of weight bearing on her left leg (learn to pronate and supinate the entire foot, hip, knee- lots of suspension/transition).  Her goals were also to build full-body strength, to be in better condition going in to the procedure. 

Two of our outcome measures were kneeling on her left knee, and a quadruped rockback (putting it into deep knee flexion).

Week by week as we plugged away, she noticed some good changes in how much range of motion she could access pain-free, and felt stronger over-all going into the surgery (that was April 2016).

I had my doubts about surgery. I always do, as it is a last case scenario- Avoid unless absolutely necessary. However, in Tracy’s case, the surgery was a very, very, good decision.

As it turns out, her left knee wasn’t the issue. It was just making the most noise. The squeaky wheel gets the grease, as they say.

What should have tipped me off from the beginning was that in our initial assessment I was drawn to give her the AiM right “strike” exercise (replicate the phase of gait at which the right heel first hits the ground), which significantly improved how her left knee felt in both outcome measures. Not perfect, but not bad for a few minutes of work.

Why did an exercise for her right hamstring help her left knee? In Tracy’s gait, a stand out feature was that she did a massive side bend to the right but never left, which seemed to be a counterbalance help her to get her center of mass left but not right. So to me it seemed logical to get her to do the opposite and see what would happen: Left side bend, right heel strike, effectively shifting her mass off of her left leg, getting it onto the right.

(To be honest, I can’t quite explain why I was drawn to right strike… There was more information at play than just the ride lateral flexion, but right strike seemed like the shape her body was craving).

In hindsight, I probably should have followed that thought process further, earlier on, rather than spend so much time working on the left knee mechanics.

WHY exactly did right strike seem to help her?

What in particular about that movement was so useful?

But I got sucked into the symptoms. That, and I had just learned a bunch of cool stuff about knee mechanics and wanted to explore that. Very selfish of me.

That said, the work on left knee mechanics did come in handy as she rehabbed her knee, so, I suppose it’s impossible to say that I “should” have done anything differently.

So, Tracy’s surgery was successful, but, it became very clear what the root of the left knee issue was after the procedure.

POST-SURGERY TRACY

After the surgery, her left knee felt great. Rehab went smooth, and by June I began working with her again to continue strength training. It was at this point that her right knee started bothering her. The left knee felt better than ever- she could kneel on it, do a deep knee bend without pain. So why the issues on the “good” side?

From the start, there were hints that Tracy had trouble weight bearing on the right (right strike being helpful), but these were drowned out  by the noise from her left knee. Now, however, it was clear to see that she could not shift her center of mass to the right.

To me this was strange. Generally, after an invasive procedure, people will have issues weight bearing on the side that was operated on. But Tracy had no problem with that.

Was the reason her left knee got beat up because of a long standing inability to weight bear on her right leg? And why was she having trouble getting her weight to the right?

Here’s what we found…

Tracy’s right knee was not externally rotating with flexion. A go-to to check in with when there is knee pain- Is the knee rotating is is flexes and extends? As the knee flexes, the tibia and femur should both rotate internally, but the femur should rotate farther, creating tibial external rotation under the femur (knee ER). Tracy’s femur and tibia stayed stuck together, the femur never quite getting internal of the tibia, flexing with an internally rotated knee. It was likely that the two bones sticking together, not gliding smoothly, was what was causing her knee discomfort. That would certainly create a strategy to avoid weight bearing on the right.

Tracy also has a bunion formation on her right foot. I hadn’t been able to see this before because I was too focused on her left side. Doh. Note to self: Don’t chase symptoms. Bunions can be seen as a functional adaptation, for example, to stop pronation. Pronation and knee flexion/ER happen at the same time in gait, and so the bunion could have formed to stop the knee from bending and externally rotating by blocking the foot from pronating.

Tracy had also been given an orthotic years ago to support the arch of her right foot to block pronation and keep the pressure off the tender bunion, which, in my opinion, seemed to be compounding the issue, not solving it.

In summary:

Right knee not externally rotating= painful knee

Pelvis shifts left, but not right = not able to get mass onto right leg because of right knee feeling unsafe to flex

Right bunion= blocking pronation and knee flexion

It’s nice when the information lines up like this.

THE NEXT STEPS

In the words of Gary Ward, we proceeded to “pronate the shit out of” her right foot.

The next paragraph is for the dedicated AiMers.

The method we chose was a modified suspension in which we could simultaneously:

  • decompress her bunion
  • pronate her foot
  • flex the knee and externally rotate her knee

At first, I simply got her to bend her knee as I guided her tibia inwards and pulled on her first met. This decompressed the bunion, opening up the medial side of her foot, and  encourage some dorsiflexion and abduction of the forefoot, allowing her foot to pronate. We also needed to wedge the lateral edge of her foot to close the space between her lateral arch and floor, helping her to feel her full foot in contact with the floor, and  to experience a real pronation, not eversion.

Then, to encourage more knee external rotation, I got Tracy to rotate her pelvis as far to the left as she could, to maximally internally rotate her right femur as I blocked her tibia from rotating further medial than her big toe, helping her to get her femur to internally rotate beyond her tibia, and creating knee external rotation. 

Then,  I stopped pulling on her toe to see if she could pronate without my manhandling, and we used a medial forefoot wedge to help her foot get frontal plane opposition. 

There was no knee discomfort during this process even though she was bending her knee farther than what would normally reproduce pain.

Tracy is a woman of very few words and, when I asked her how it felt, she told me it felt “good”.

After this, we got her to try some step-ups, something that was bugging her knee to do, and there was no discomfort. Yay!

DITCH THE ORTHOTICS?

It was clear how pronation was a nourishing experience for her right leg, yet she was wearing an orthotic daily that prevented her from accessing it. I am often tentative to ask people to try removing their orthotics. Many people feel unsafe without them, even when they could be keeping them in pain. 

Floorthotics over orthotics. The ultimate pronation floorthotic

Fortunately, Tracy came to this conclusion on her own.  “So… Maybe I should take out my orthotic?” she said.  I told her, “Yeah, try it. If it feels awful and dangerous and your knee hurts you can always put it back in, but try spending some time without it and see what happens, as an experiment”. 

Typical… The solution is often to remove something, not add more, just as there is nothing you can buy to make you better, more complete, but so much to gain in letting go. 

The following week I asked how things were feeling without the orthotic. Woman of few words says, “Fine”. Any knee discomfort? I ask. “Nope”.

Wonderful.

Tracy is a rare kind of person to work with.

Laughing as she moves into spaces where her body feels off balance and falls over.

Determined to try everything I ask her to do, completely trusting the process.

Smart enough to suggest taking out her orthotic before me trying to persuade her to even consider it.

For every woman like Tracy, there is a client who refuses to face their issues head on, choosing to move around them, not trusting in themselves or in their guide, opting for passive therapies entirely or simply ignoring the issues as long as they can.

CONCLUSIONS?

Writing out this case study helped to cement a few important lessons for me:

  • Remember to ask why is the body doing what it’s doing. Ask, how is this serving the individual? Ask the 6 questions: What is happening? When does that happen? Why is that happening? How is that happening? Where is it happening? and, What if we…?
  • Remember not to get sucked into the symptoms. Interview the whole body.
  • Surgeries aren’t all bad.
  • Change can’t be rushed. People will be ready to take away crutches like orthotics when they are ready, and when they see the value in it.

And lastly, I wanted to write this to remind myself to enjoy every second of working with people like Tracy, because not everyone is as open to trying the weird shit I ask them to do as she was. People like me, who recommend to train your feet to pronate and throw away the arch supports, are the minority. 

 

PRI vs. AiM: A Comparison of Two Models of Gait

*INCOMPLETE POST* Wrote this, and need to let it percolate. Check back in a bit for updates. I think there’s a lot of stuff in here I’m going to need to re-think. In the meantime, maybe you’ll enjoy this horribly long piece of technical tripe.

UNDERCOVER AiMer

Last month I attended a Postural Restoration Institute (PRI) course (pelvis restoration) with a simple agenda: I wanted to understand if the model of “gait” taught in PRI was the same as the Flow Motion Model (FMM) of gait taught in Anatomy in Motion (AiM). Are the mechanics and timings the same? Or are they working with different understandings of what is “ideal” to see  in human gait? 

Image result for anatomy in motionImage result for postural restoration institute logo

Both PRI and the FMM have a way of viewing the “ideal” gait. What the “perfect” gait looks like- One we would want to help someone move more like in order to reduce pain and improve their performance. Nearly nobody will have an ideal gait, so it is theoretical to even talk about what is ideal.

If you have studied both with PRI and AiM, then you have likely asked yourself the same questions I have. So… For all 5 of you, this post is for you.

ONE YEAR OF AGONY

For the past year I had been trying to consolidate these two models, and it always left me feeling confused. 

I had this feeling that, since they are both models working with the gait cycle, and both have a distinct feeling of “seeking truth”, they must be discussing the same joint actions and timings. I felt that If I could understand how the PRI model fit with together with the FMM, it could potentially open up a new world of understanding, using one method to inform how I worked with the other. 

The way I saw it, was that the FMM was like a cup of tea with loose leaves floating in it- A seemingly disorganized pattern, but with all the answers floating right there waiting to be interpreted. The raw material. PRI, it seemed to me, could be what helped to interpret the leaves, as their main thing is pattern recognition.

The thing is, the models never seemed to line up no matter how hard I tried. As it turns out, the analogy above is likely to be yet another typical case of Volkmar-style naivete.  

A LIBERATING AGENDA

That is, going into a CEU course without the the expectation that I needed to implement the information in my practice.  Instead, I went in wanting only to understand the information presented, and compare it with what I already thought I knew. No pressure to use it or not.  No stress about wasting peoples’ time tinkering with new stuff.  

Generally, going into a course, my mind is set to “absorb and understand mode” which has four distinct components, involving listening understanding, retrieval, and reflection. 

  1. Listen: Focus on the words the instructor is saying, make sure I actually hear them, not zoning out of thinking about lunch.
  2. Understand: A step deeper than listening- Make sense of the words and ask questions if I’ve failed to listen or make sense of what I’ve heard.
  3. Retrieval: A deepening of understanding- To immediately repeat internally, or back to the instructor/friend/stranger, what has just been understood, or write it down. This helps to learn it twice or thrice. This is also where things get a bit mentally intensive, as sometimes while I’m busy retrieving, the topic of discussion has moved along, and I’m trying to catch up on step 1 and 2 while still doing step 3. 
  4. Imaginary application: A further deepening of understanding by relating it to my reality- Mentally reflect on how what I’ve just understood could be useful for me in my own practice, in real life. How does this relate (or not) to what I’ve done in the past? How can I use this in the future? How can I relate this to myself and my clients now? 

But this time, going into pelvis restoration, my learning mode was was set to “compare” mode. The process is quite the same as above, but instead of the fourth step, there is a “comparison” step. And, in this specific case, my aim was to compare what was being said in Pelvis Restoration of PRI’s gait model with what I understand of AiM’s Flow Motion Model.

The result was very interesting.

THESE ARE NOT THE SAME MODELS

There, I’ve just ruined the whole post for you. But if you care about the specific differences, keep reading.

In a nutshell, the models of gait described by PRI and AiM are different. Different both in timing, mechanics, and in underlying philosophy. I’m not saying that one is better or worse that the other, but, will say personally, if forced to choose where I spend my time and continuing education budget, I must state my biased allegiance to AiM’s model.

Still, I feel tempted to study more of PRI. Logically, however, I understand that trying to consolidate two incompatible models may be a waste of time. Maybe… I will wait for someone to prove me wrong (really that would be great). 

Well, let’s go through the differences why don’t we.

WHAT I LIKED ABOUT PRI’S PELVIS RESTORATION

As a biased AiM disciple, its worth stating that I really did enjoy the information taught in pelvis restoration:

  • The attention to detail of the movement of the pelvis inlet and outlet. This was new information for me and I loved talking about the 8 degrees of movement the ilum, ischium, and sacrum have on each other it in such a specific way.
  • The attention to respiration mechanics. I love learning about breathing, and, it was great to learn more detail about the pelvic diaphragm and “pelvis respiration”- how air flows through the pelvis in gait.
  • That they relate the movements of the pelvis to gait. However, as I will discuss, I did not  find that their model of gait could merge with the FMM. I just appreciate that they are relating what they do back to what I feel to be the most important, fundamental movements we do as humans: Walking!

AND NOW, THE GRITTY DETAILS

While PRI and AiM both claim to look at gait, they way they do it is quite different, beginning with their philosophies.

AiM’s philosophy I can summarize as such:

  • Provide an experience for healing to happen and allow the body to experience new options
  • Based on eccentric loading 
  • “Neutrality” exists only for a fraction of a second
  • Tinkering is an important part of the process (“If things don’t go right, go left”)
  • No assumptions, no stories, seek truth. If you look too hard for something, you might see something that isn’t there.
  • Work with an ABA (test, intervene, retest) model, but don’t outright claim to be evidence based or objective.
  • Find what’s missing, reclaim, take ownership.
  • “We will give you everything we know in this one course”
  • “We don’t have a certification”

And as I understand PRI’s philosophy:

  • Put things back in the right position
  • Based on concentric contraction
  • Nothing can change until the body gets neutral, neutral is priority #1
  • Systematic, flow-charted protocol to guide course of action.
  • Look for an assumed underlying pattern (its there even if you can’t see it)
  • Claim to be evidence based, ABA model with objective tests
  • Reposition, retrain, restore.
  • “To learn more, come to our other 7 courses”
  • “You can get certified with us”

Again, I’m not saying one is better than the other,  just that they are different.

As you could expect with such different philosophies, their methods and models of gait are also quite different.

After a year or so of trying to consolidate PRI’s model with the FMM, I finally have peace of mind. I can stop trying, because it is impossible: They are not talking about the same gait cycle! You cannot know what relief this was for me- It was worth the price of the course, for sure. 

DISCLAIMER

Please keep in mind that my understanding of PRI is less thorough (having only been exposed to material from their three primary courses) than my understanding of the Flow Motion Model.

Further, my attempts to inquire at the pelvis course were stymied by the inability to communicate in the “same language” as the course instructor, which is as much my fault as hers. It is indeed difficult to speak about how the body moves when we see it through two different lenses. 

The following is an outline of some of the main differences I noted between the FMM and PRI’s models of gait (I’m sure this is an incomplete list, and possibly, I have this all wrong).

Recall this comparison is not intended to make one seem better than the other, just to clarify the differences for those who may have been struggling to consolidate the models like I was. I have done my best to limit my biased language, but it was hard, because I am honestly, unashamedly biased towards FMM.

1. Whole gait cycle vs. partial gait cycle

PRI looks only at swing and mid-stance (as far as I know). To me, this is a shame as it is difficult to discuss what happens in mid-stance and swing without also considering what is impacting them (what comes before), and what they impact on (what comes after).

I find that PRI’s discussion of swing and stance occurs in isolation from the other phases of gait, which makes it very difficult to fully appreciate the role of some very important timings (we’ll get to that later). It’s like starting a book right in the middle and wondering why you don’t understand what’s going on and who the characters are.

So while PRI may claim that what they do is “gait”, our bodies do more than stance and swing. Perhaps they have a good rationale for this, or perhaps in the more advanced levels they get into the other four phases (suspension, propulsion, heel strike, and shift, in the AiM model, not to mention the inter-phases), but this was never alluded to, so I am not sure. This alone almost makes me want to take more courses. However, this seems like a cruel thing to do to a student- Withhold highly relevant information and provide an incomplete system to work with. I suppose there is money in that though. 

Having been spoiled by looking at all phases of gait in the FMM, it felt somewhat neglectful to be considering only two phases with PRI.

2. Different timings and mechanics of mid-stance and swing 

PRI’s midstance most strongly correlates, timing-wise, to the FMM’s transition, but with incongruent mechanics.

As far as I understand, in PRI midstance, these are some of the key mechanics:

  • Hip extension, adduction, internal rotation
  • SI joint open posteriorally, closed anteriorally (transverse plane)
  • Foot is “neutral”
  • Pelvic outlet flexing, abducting, externally rotating
  • Pelvic inlet extending, adducting, internally rotating

This would be quite similar to transition but for frontal plane joint mechanics, and some other differences in timing (that we will get to later).

Firstly, the mid-stance phase in PRI cannot align with the FMM transition phase due to frontal plane reversal. What I mean by that is, in PRI, as the leg swings through, the stance hip is said to be adducted. However, in transition, the opposite is the case: The hip is abducting to neutral from it’s maximally adducted position in the phase just prior- suspension (foot flat).

In the FMM there are only three phases in which the hip is adducting: Suspension, swing (early to late), and heel strike. In transition, the hip is ABducting to neutral while the swing leg ADducts back to midline from an abducted position in the phase prior (propulsion). This frontal plane reversal throws the timing off completely from PRI’s model.

This is also a nice illustration of why it is useful to appreciate not only where the body is, but where it came from, and where it is going (partial vs. whole gait cycle).

At break, I attempted to ask the instructor a few questions to make sure I understand this. I thought perhaps in PRI they were referring to early swing, in which the hip would indeed be still abducted, but adductING to center, and the stance leg would still be adducted, but abductING. This could in theory make sense. So I asked, “Is this early or late swing?”. Her reply: I don’t understand where you’re going with this question. We’re talking about mid-stance.” 

Ok, maybe I didn’t ask the right question. So I tried again, and used my body to show what I was talking about.

However, my questions were cut off when it became apparent that I was not speaking with a PRI lens. The instructor was quite distracted by the fact that I was talking about my left leg and not my right,  trying to act out my words standing with my left leg back, not my right (it’s not about the left leg back in PRI!). I attempted to reverse my language and my legs to speak about the opposite leg (it really doesn’t matter which leg we’re talking about), and she proceeded to “correct” my positioning further rather than listen to my words.

Slightly frustrating, however, this led me to an important revelation about their timing of swing phase, or lack of consideration thereof…

The second large difference is one of timing of pelvis movement in transverse plane. 

Both in stance and in transition, the hip is internally rotated. However, in the FMM, hip internal rotation happens in mid-stance (transition) due to the speed at which the pelvis rotates towards it as the leg swings through. The swing leg, being heavy and having a ton of momentum, pulls the pelvis into a rotation towards the stance leg faster than the femur of stance leg is rotating externally, creating an internal rotation on a supinated foot (usually, supination will result in hip ER, except in this case, for the reasons aforementioned). 

So, in the FMM, internal rotation of the transition leg is entirely reliant on the timing of the swing leg and the speed of rotation of the pelvis. This can be confusing and difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t done the AiM course. 

As far as I know, this timing is not present in the PRI model, and pelvis speed is not considered as contributing to transverse plane hip mechanics. 

To further appreciate the implications of this, we must also talk about the types of muscle contractions each model is working primarily to influence.

3. Concentric vs. eccentric models

PRI views gait through the lens of concentric muscle contraction, as does the current anatomy/biomechanical paradigm. This is interesting when you consider the nature of gait as more of a controlled fall (as it is often described by those who look at it in the lab)- Muscles catching the body as it moves.  

In terms of Gary Ward’s rules of movement (from his book What The Foot), muscles react primarily in this “catching” sense more so than in a concentric activity sense. He explains this with two concepts (rules of movement 1 and 2):

 1. Joints act, muscles react, and,

2. Muscles must lengthen before they contract.

Viewing gait through these rules, we can see the importance of joints getting into positions which allow muscles to first lengthen in order to contract: A model of exploiting the muscular system’s inherent elasticity through eccentric load. Effortlessly. “Give the muscle no option but to contract.”

Catching, then contracting.

As the foot hits ground, for example:

  • Foot pronates and supinatory muscles load (tibialis posterior et al) catch, and can then supinate the foot.
  • Knee bends, muscles of knee extension (VMO, VL, etc.) load, catch, and extend the knee.In AiM philosophy, this is also how the “exercises” are coached- To feel the eccentric load, not force a concentric contraction. The mechanics of the FMM are also discussed in terms of what muscles are loading eccentrically at each moment in the gait cycle, not what is concentrically contracting.Having studied with Gary, I now view movement through this “catching” lens, and am definitely biased towards it, to be honest.

I once did a presentation (IADMS conference in Hong Kong 2016) in which I shared the idea of an eccentric gait/movement paradigm. There was one fellow in particular who could not accept that eccentric loading was the stimulus for muscle contraction. Is there proof of this? No. But…

But consider the graph below (taken from THIS STUDY):

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Here, what we are seeing is the percentage of the people in a study who had EMG activity of various muscles at different phases of the gait cycle.

What is curious is that VMO, which we typically we consider as a knee extender (concentrically), is shown to be most active in the loading response phase before stance, which is a phase in which the knee is actually bent. Similarly, the hamstrings that are active in terminal swing will be in a long state due to the knee extending- this can’t be a concentrically contracting hamstring, yet still registers activity in 100% of the participants.

Why is the VMO contracting more frequently when the knee is bent than in mid-stance when it is straight? A muscle will have the highest contractile strength when it is lengthened (pull back an elastic band and feel the tension build the farther you pull it back) giving it no option but to then contract from that position. What are we measuring here? Is it the maximum pre-load before concentric contraction? Or, is it the first few miliseconds of concentric contraction while the muscle is still long? “When does a pendulum change direction?”. 

The point is, what me may be seeing here is how the muscles that are eccentrically loading may be the most active on EMG.

Not that muscles don’t concentrically contract during gait, but measuring EMG with a pre-conceived notion that they contract at the highest output  concentrically may be misleading. Also, it is highly likely that there are some flaws in this one study, and in EMG studies in general. Must further research this. Too, many gait EMG studies are done on a treadmill, which is not natural gait and not really even worth comparing to a ground-based gait.

Too, the information can be muddled as many muscles will be lengthening in one plane of motion, but shortening in another within the same moment in gait, and even at either ends of the same muscle.

For example, in heel strike, biceps femoris (based on mechanics of the FMM), will be:

  • lengthening distally
  • shortening proximally,
  • lengthening in frontal plane,
  • shortening in transverse(PRI peeps may argue about that, but remember, we’re talking about a different gait cycle).

We joke that Gary’s upcoming new book on the Flow Motion Model (coming soon!) should be titled, “The Confusing Book of Muscles”, or , “Fuck Muscles, Let’s Pay More Attention to Joints”.

In PRI’s approach, the body is taught to facilitate (or inhibit) muscles via concentric contractions. Their exercises reflect this and generally involve trying to generate concentric muscle contraction. Mechanics are explained in terms of what is contracting to create joint movement. 

I am not saying one paradigm is better than the other (though I am making my bias evident). Both have the potential to work. But in my experience, and what seems to make the most sense, feels most natural, and has the greatest impact is to teach the body to respond reflexively to muscle length. This fits the fall-and-catch view of gait more accurately. 

Personally, I feel that we shouldn’t need to actively squeeze muscles to walk. If someone has ever told you to squeeze your butt while you walk, stop listening to that person. Inserting concentric contractions consciously into gait will screw up the effortless flow.

4. Differences in timing of pelvis movement in swing phase.

As we’ve already discussed, PRI sees the swing leg have no (or little) influence on the transverse plane movement of the pelvis. Contrast that with the the FMM model, in which the swinging leg has a massive influence on the pelvis rotating in gait, which influences how the stance leg achieves internal rotation.

Let’s speak a bit more about the swing leg.

The general mechanics:

PRI: Flexing, abducting, externally rotating
FMM: Flexing, adducting, internally rotating (early), externally rotating (late)

Viewed through the lens of eccentric-based movement, where muscles respond by contracting to muscle length, what might cause the leg to swing? To answer this question with the FMM, we must look at what happens right before the leg swings to see how the swing leg is loading (to catch/contract). 

Let’s consider the left swing leg. Before swing, the left leg is in propulsion (or late toe off), and the right leg (front) is in suspension (or foot flat, a pronation phase). 

What is useful is the naming of the phases themselves indicate the function of that phase:

  • Propulsion- Push the pelvis forwards onto the front leg, with the hip flexors reaching their maximum length as the hip extends behind the body. In fact, psoas loads eccentrically in all three planes here.
  • Suspension- Absorb shock. The muscles of supination, hip and knee extensors, and spine flexors, reaching their maximum length.So, directly following these phases, the body has no option but to:
  •  Flex the propulsion hip (from maximum extension)= swing leg flies through like a slingshot.
  • Supinate the front foot (from maximum pronation) = Supinatory response from the foot up through the body which pulls the pelvis into a right rotation.
    The pelvis is further rotated to the right due to the momentum of the swinging leg, as the psoas catches from maximum transverse plane length.Too, in this pre-swing phase, the pelvis and ribcage have just reached the point at which they are maximally rotated in opposition to each other (pelvis left, ribs right), loading the obliques in the transverse plane, leaving them no option but to contract and switch directions of trunk rotation.

Or, this doesn’t happen if the body has learned to move more through active concentric contractions as a strategy, which can lead to overworking hip flexors, obliques, backs, and tight feet that don’t resupinate.

PRI’s view of swing is somewhat different. As I understand (and I could be wrong, but this what the instructor told me) first, the pelvis rotates to “neutral”, and then the leg picks up off the ground to swing. In this view, the movement of the pelvis happens more as a result of transverse plane muscle activity (glute med,  adductors, obliques) contracting than due to the loading of the extended hip, and, the  leg swing must surely be more concentric in nature, as rotating the pelvis to a “neutral” position loses some of the psoas load in the transverse plane. This makes sense for this model, however, as recall the swing leg is said to the ABducting and externally rotating, which I would interpret to mean that the psoas is not loading in frontal and transverse plane in the phase pre-swing as it does in the FMM.

In FMM what is most influential on the swing leg making its journey? Is it the rotation of the pelvis and strength of hip flexors contracting, or, the momentum of the swinging leg? While the resupinating foot rotates the pelvis, consider the size of the tibialis posterior (the psoas of the lower leg), compared to the psoas itself. Psoas is much bigger. Thus, the influence of the propulsion leg loading the psoas maximally pre-swing has a greater impact on the  speed of the leg swing and the pelvis rotating than the resupinating foot could have on rotating the pelvis (which, again, is responsible for the transition hip internally rotating on an externally rotated femur).

Again, this is the FMM’s interpretation of swing mechanics, and, they take into consideration what comes before swing as important details. I also realize the paragraphs above will probably only make sense if you’ve studied the FMM.

Interesting to me how a shift from a concentric to eccentric paradigm can change timing so much. Interesting indeed.

5. Incongruent hip and foot mechanical coupling

This incongruence occurs during swing phase, to my knowledge, but also probably in stance phase, because in a closed system like the body, you can’t just change one thing and expect it not to change everything else.

What I am referring to primarily is that in PRI theory (yes, they will admit that despite their adamance for test objectivity and evidence based practice, their model is still theory), the swing leg is abducting with an everted foot. In the FMM, these two movements do not ever occur together. Well, they do, but only in a body that is not moving in a mechanically ideal way. In the FMM, to see an everting foot on an abducting hip indicates a problem, and is not what we’d like to see. In PRI’s model, this is a “normal” coupling.

What is similar between both models is that the foot in swing is everted. Sort of. In the FMM, the foot is technically referred to as pronated, not everted, as, even though there is less opposition between forefoot and rearfoot in an open chain, it still should be present. However, in the FMM, in late swing, meaning, anything after the “neutral” microsecond of mid-swing, the foot begins to supinate as the hip begins to externally rotate, BUT the hip is still adducting, even continuing to adduct through heel strike, reaching full adduction at the end of foot flat (suspension), one of two points in the gait cycle in which the foot pronates (not everts).

In the FMM, if the foot is pronated, this always must couple with hip adduction (though the hip may be internally OR externally rotating). In PRI, I cannot speak for their views on the rest of the gait cycle, but they seem to couple foot eversion with hip abduction. This may make sense in a bilateral stance while shifting the hips side to side (the foot of the side you shift away from will pronate while abducting), so perhaps this is how they arrived there, and this would make sense, however, gait is not a bilateral stance. 

In the FMM, there is a moment when the hip is adducting with a supinated foot (heel strike/late swing), but never is there be a moment in which the foot is everting with an abducted hip, unless it shows up as a type two pronation in propulsion as a strategy adopted due to trauma, injury, or some other reason that would serve someone to avoid a more effortless way of moving.

Summary:

FMM:
Pronation + hip adduction = 🙂
Supination + hip adduction = 🙂
Pronation + hip abduction = 🙁
Supination + hip abduction = 🙂

(eversion and inversion are single joint movements within pronation and supination)

PRI:
Eversion + hip abduction= 🙂
Supination + hip adduction = 🙂 (their mid-stance, from what I gather)

An interesting note that I did not get to ask a question about but would have liked to: The instructor said something about “forefoot pronation and calcaneal eversion”. If you have taken AiM, then this will confuse you, as the FMM views pronation as a triplanar movement:

  • Forefoot dorsiflexion, inversion, external rotation
  • Rearfoot plantarflexion, eversion, internal rotation.

To say “pronation and eversion” makes me wonder about the differences between the two models’ foot mechanics. Maybe I should take their Advanced Integration course and find out…?

6. Different expectations for tri-planar joint couplings

In PRI, there are two primary couplings of tri-planar movement that we see over and over (a little too conveniently), which, for ease, are lumped under the titles of external rotation (ER), and internal rotation (IR).

For example, in this particular course (pelvis), we were told that when we are talking about ischio-sacral IR, what we also mean is extension, adduction, and internal rotation, but just use short-hand “IR” to describe it because IR always couples with adduction and internal rotation. The same is said at the hip. The swing hip, for example, is said to be in ER, or, flexion, abduction, and external rotation.

The rule per PRI: 
External rotation (ER)= Flexion, abduction, and external rotation (swing)
Internal rotation (IR)= Extension, adduction, internal rotation (stance)

In the FMM, however, these couplings do not exist. Yes, the human body is capable of performing them, but they should not be present in the “ideal” gait we strive to restore, and are thus signs of inefficient movement.

For example, in the FMM, at the hip, we may see any one of these scenarios:

  • Flexion, adduction, external rotation (suspension, late swing, heel strike)
  • Flexion, adduction, internal rotation (early swing)
  • Extension, abduction, external rotation (shift, propulsion)
  • Extension, abduction, internal rotation (transition)

But none of the one aforementioned tri-planar couplings of the PRI gait cycle ever occur within the FMM… At least not at the hip. Perhaps elsewhere, but I am not sufficiently informed to make that statement.

7. To stack axially, or not to stack?

In gait, for greatest ease, our head should ideally be stacked over ribs over pelvis. For every bit the skull sits forward of the ribs and pelvis there is excess strain on the system.

Both PRI and the FMM describe that the movement of the skull and pelvis mirror each other in three planes, and the ribcage moves in opposition. Something to agree on! In the FMM this concept is called “cogs”, ie cogs of a clock which turn against each other to create motion. Many “exercises” in the AiM vocabulary encourage cog movement and, when possible, stacked axially.

In PRI this same opposition (cog) movement is encouraged, but is never (correct me if I’m wrong), in a standing activity, coached to be stacked vertically. Their appreciation of spinal opposition (yay) seems to be stymied by their exercises nearly always prioritizing a flexed spine position, often  having the head  forward of the rest of the torso. 

However, not to bring this opposition into an axially stacked experience is limiting, as this is an experience the body needs to carry-over into gait. As we know, for every centimeter the head sits forward of the rest of the body, the strain on the muscles and the rest of the system will increase and alter movement mechanics. Makes sense to integrate the stacking as soon as possible, doesn’t it? I am biased, and, I’d like to think rational (mostly), so I will agree with my own last statement.

Personally, having witnessed the magic of the “wall-cog”, (a wall being used to provide sensory feedback of being stacked axially), and personally experienced how different it feels to perform skull, rib, and pelvis opposition stacked up, and will attest that it is an important detail.

Again, I’m sure the PRI world appreciates this, but is not mentioned in their primary courses. This, again, is the differing philosophies: “We’ll give you everything in this one course”, vs. “Come do the rest of our courses”.

CONCLUSIONS?

As I mentioned, I have an incomplete understanding of PRI’s model of gait, and many of the observations I’ve made may be rebuked should someone speak up and say, “Hey Monika, you just don’t know enough about PRI”. That is fair.

One question I am left with, as I was discussing with a fellow PRI + AiMer:

If their “objective tests” are based on a model of gait that is not the same as the FMM, can their tests (adduction drop test, etc) still be used as meaningful data to inform our intervention strategy? Not only for the FMM, but for any model of movement? The optimist in me hopes the answer is yes, but the skeptic in me does not. 

For example, I have used AiM interventions and seen changes in PRI test scores (adduction drop test improvements). What does this mean if the models of gait are different? What changed? What am I even measuring?

I’m sure there is something value to explore there. I’m just not sure what that is yet…

That’s all I have for now. Congratulations for reading this far.

I admit, I am curious to continue to study with PRI, but, why study two completely different model of gait? Maybe when I’ve finished paying off my student loans and can be less frugal with my ConEd budget. 

And lastly, there is a part of me that feels as if there must be something to what PRI claims about inherent asymmetry (organs, diaphragm, etc) contributing to predictable, patterned movement mechanics. It is intriguing and I am curious if, even though their mechanics are different, there is something useful to learn from their model.

To be continued…

A GLUTEN-Free Movement Practice

A few months ago, Wensy and I sat down over sushi to discuss our next CAPE workshop.

CAPE Movement

Wensy (RMT, yoga teacher, and my partner in CAPE crime) is one of the smartest ladies I know personally, and sometimes chooses to have intellectual conversations with me. Except for this one: GLUTEN-free movement. A genius frame work to discuss movement? Or were we high on soy sauce and “creativity”?

I’m going to go with genius.

Wensy and I founded CAPE (Create A Positive Experience) about a year ago. CAPE workshops are our biomechanically anal movement workshops, blending what we’ve learned of human motion from various sources together into what we feel to be a wholesome, healthy, “nutritious”, movement practice (as Katy Bowman would call it).  Our aim is to help people learn how to establish their own daily movement practice to enhance their quality of life and physical performance. 

We were inspired to start holding these workshops after attending our first Anatomy in Motion course in November 2015. The theme that shone through the biomechanical teachings were: Give the body an experience that it couldn’t have on it’s own and, given it is hardwired for perfection, the body will use that experience to heal.

Of course, we want to give the body a safe experience. A positive experience. And so, CAPE was born as a space to give people that experience to interact with their structure differently, move into dark zones and new air space, and reclaim what movements could be missing from their current vocabulary and holding them back or keeping them in pain.

Naturally, there are many ways to follow this philosophy, and, when it comes to giving the body a safe experience to create changes and move differently, we’re not only discussing the body, but the autonomic nervous system. Can the body self-regulate and allow itself to move into those scary dark zones? 

There are only two things we can really be sure of:

  • Things will feel safe.
  • Things will feel unsafe.

Our role is to facilitate peoples’ moving into the unknown, unsafe spaces with a sufficient amount of support to create an experience that is nourishing, not scary. How can we provide an experience that, while physically challenging, doesn’t trigger an adverse response: hypervigilance, pain, or flat out refusal, and allows the individual to move boldly into the unknown?

Nobody wants to be so challenged that they can’t do what you’re asking them to do, but at the same time to make a change, the stimulus to one’s system must be new, challenging, and out of their habitual comfort zone.

Finding the sweet spot…

So anyway, Wensy and I got to talking about what to name our workshop. We needed something trendy and simple for what I have just described above, and without sounding technical (Dynamic Neuromuscular Facilitation), cliche (Animal Flow), or boring (Yoga…).

Nothing tops trendy and harmless quite like “gluten-free”. And as it turns out, GLUTEN creates quite a nice acronym for the kind of experience we are NOT hoping to create. So there you have it. Now, even a movement practice can be gluten-free.

As Wensy and I proceeded to lose at least 40% of our arterial CO2 and dehydrated ourselves crying, we knew we were onto something so cliche and idiotic, that it was actually brilliant.

So, more for my entertainment than yours, may I introduce, GLUTEN-free movement. 

G: Gasping for air

Breathing. Its effects are immense, system-wide.

Dat core: Diaphragm being a primary spinal stabilizer as well as muscle of respiration, breathing issues affect our options and safety during movement.

ANS regulation: All it takes is a few deep, gaspy breaths, to produce a hypocapnic state and recruit the sympathetic nervous system, and just 5 minutes of quiet, calm breathing can recruit the parasympathetic.

Homeostasis: Breathing affects our inner chemistry, chronically over-breathing (breathing in excess of metabolic demands) leading to a rise in PH, and the body needing to work harder to maintain homeostasis.

Your poops: Due to the diaphragms role as a sphincter your ability to poop will be affected if you aren’t breathing well. Your shitty breathing will recruit the sympathetic nervous system and will affect your ability to relax enough to poop. Over-breathing and hypocapnia constricts smooth muscle and makes it difficult to push the shit out. Good breathing = good pooping.

Unfortunately, most people have issues with their breathing. Most commonly:

  • Breathing with upper chest and neck musculature primarily, rather than with the diaphragm.
  • Breathing through the mouth instead of the nose, reducing breathing efficiency as more and more CO2 is lost through breathing through mouth breathing, as well as negating the awesome benefits of nose breathing (nitric oxide production, purifying, warming, and humidifying the air, etc), 
  • Breathing rate too high (should be about 10-12 breaths per minute)
  • Breathing too much air (volume) per breath (common for mouth breathers)
  • Poor diaphragm timing and strength, leading to poor abdominal and pelvic floor co-activation with breathing, which can lead to poor stabilization of the spine, and feed further into the first point- Not using the diaphragm effectively.

In a GLUTEN free movement practice:

  • Breathing rate and volume is not in excess of the metabolic demands.
  • Breathing is done with the diaphragm primarily, not pulled in through neck and chest muscles.
  • Breathing is done through the nose, unless it is maximum intensity exercise.
  • Breathing is coordinated with abdominal activity.

Let’s discuss the physiology in more depth, and what we can do to help with it in a movement practice.

(Wensy is a trained Buteyko method educator, and is my go-to for all things related to breathing, so we will look at breathing through the Buteyko lens for this section).

 In the Buteyko method, the primary measure for efficiency of breathing is the control pause.

The control pause (CP) is a measure of how long you can comfortably hold your breath after a gentle exhalation before you start to feel muscle contractions and air hunger telling you to take a breath in (unfortunately, this is pretty subjective, but welcome to LIFE. Reliability intra-rater is still probably reasonably good, I reckon). 

Duration of CP in seconds is said to measure our tolerance for arterial CO2 as it builds up after we stop breathing. Being able to tolerate higher levels of CO2 is beneficial, and is related to things like a higher VO2max, greater activity of parasympathetic nervous system, improved ability to self-regulate (homeostasis), enhanced immune function, increased release of erythropoietin (EPO- the stuff that Lance Armstrong used illegally to kick ass in the Tour de France), stronger splenic contractions increasing number of red blood cells, and greater ability for oxygen to be unloaded from hemoglobin and delivered to the muscles and organs (the Bohr effect).

Paradoxically, the less volume of air you breathe, the more oxygen you can use. This is due to the Bohr effect, which explains how CO2 is necessary for O2 to be unloaded from hemoglobin and delivered to the tissues. So, the higher our tolerance of CO2, indicated by the control pause number, the more oxygen will get to the places you need it- muscles, brain, organs, etc.

Crudely, CO2 is like the extroverted friend who encourages the anxious friend (O2) to come to the party: O2 would rather cozy up on the sofa (hemoglobin) and read a book. 

So as per our G: Gasping for air- We do NOT want to see over-breathing habits in a movement practice. These include breathing through the mouth, panting to recover, yawning, even excessive talking leads you lose more CO2 (another reason not to be talking while you work out, jog, etc). 

Performing breathing exercises daily at rest, during warm-up, and taking some prudent measures while exercising all help to improve your breathing efficiency and overall performance while ensuring you aren’t pushing past your physical limit, leading to potential injury.

In a movement practice, a few key things that can be done to ensure that you are getting the most oxygen through efficient breathing:

  • Make sure you are breathing through your nose. If your control pause is less that 20 seconds, some folks would suggest that you try to improve that before even starting an exercise program (a little conservative…). If the intensity is so much that you can’t breathe through your nose, lower the intensity so that you can, or use that as a cue to take a break.
  • Warm up with calm, light breathing, and practicing reduced breathing with breath holds. The book Oxygen Advantage by Patrick McKeown, has many examples of reduced breathing exercises which are designed to create mild to strong air hunger. Check the book out for more on how to incorporate reduced breathing into your movement practice safely.
  • Check your CP before and then 30 minutes after exercising. If your after CP is lower 30 minutes after exercising than before you started, you were likely breathing in excess of metabolic demands for that session, and you will want to work on your breathing efficiency either by a. dedicating more time to developing a greater CO2 tolerance and higher CP (more on that in Oxygen Advantage or working with a Buteyko educator), and/or b. reducing the intensity of your exercise so that you can breathe through your nose helping you not to lose as much CO2.

In a movement practice, we can also manage the mechanics of our breathing.

Mechanically, gasping for air is going to recruit more of an upper chest/neck breathing pattern than one that is diaphragmatic. The tongue will sit on the floor of the mouth instead of the roof, narrowing the soft palate, and altering the shape of the cranial bones*. There is also some interesting evidence correlating tongue positioning affecting core activation patterns. 

Being unconditioned, with a low respiratory capacity will lead to a “gaspier” breathing pattern, which can affect how someone will be able to use their abdominal muscles while training.

The diaphragm has both respiratory and stabilization functions, but as far as survival goes, breathing takes the priority. Your system will always choose to get you your precious air over such trivial things as stabilizing your spine and creating intra-abdominal pressure. For this reason, having sufficient respiratory capacity has an effect on spinal stabilization as, when the exercise intensity increases, your system may need to prioritize the diaphragm’s respiratory needs to keep you alive at the expense of its ability to stabilize the spine prior to limb movement.

So you may have set a personal best in that marathon, 1RM deadlift, or have danced the best you ever have, but sacrificed your joints in the process.

An indicator of diaphragmatic coordination and strength is how well the breath is controlled on inhalation (quiet nose-breath, maintaining a decent zone of apposition, expanding abdomen in 360 degree fashion, posterio-lateral rib movement, sternum and belly making similar size and rate anterior excursions), and how well one can access a full exhalation.

Exhalation is when the diaphragm relaxes, raises back up to a domed position, and abdominals (obliques, TVA) are able to contract. “Gasping for air” leads to the diaphragm being in a perpetual semi-contracted state, never fully letting go of excess air in the lungs (hyperinflation), and makes it difficult to use effectively to inhale and stabilize.

What is an interesting conundrum to me is knowing when to work more on mechanics or on reducing breathing. For example, let’s say that I am working with someone who is an inefficient mouth-breather with a low tolerance for CO2, but is also displaying a rigid, flared ribcage, unable to exhale to get their ribcage into an ideal zone of apposition(ZOA) from which we can train intra-abdominal pressure and dynamic stabilization. In this case, my first instinct is to work on full exhalations to achieve ZOA, diaphragm relaxation, and reduce hyperinflation, but I also know that excess loss of CO2 from complete exhalations will not be beneficial for their over-breathing situation and could make them lightheaded, head-achey, or produce some sort of sympathetic/hypocapnic response. 

What to start with? I suppose it depends on the person. For me, structure and movement mechanics are a top priority and is where most of my training lies, so I will generally go for working on exhalations first to train ribcage movement and breathing with IAP (abs), before addressing reduced breathing. The long exhalation has the nice benefit of recruiting more the parasympathetic nervous system, which can help to reduce breathing in itself.

Too, breathing better diaphragmatically can help to ensure more efficient breaths and reduce breathing rate. From there, with an understanding of what diaphragmatic breathing and stabilization feels like, we can talk more about reduced breathing techniques a la Buteyko/Oxygen Advantage.

However, for someone with over-breathing symptoms that are more severe (asthma for example), or with a CP of 10 or under, it may be more beneficial to work first on reduced breathing just to ensure that the act of exhaling and abdominal work isn’t going to be a major stressor for them, which it certainly can be, and, in the spirit of Create A Positive Experience, we want to mitigate the stress of entering new territory.

*Mouth breathing makes your face less attractive. How’s that for incentive?

L: Lots of lactic acid

I’ll admit, when we came up with this one, we were both gasping for air trying to contain laughter. Our CPs must have dropped to 10 seconds from acute hyperventilation. Worth. It.

Lactic acid is produced when tissues experience a lack of oxygen during exercise, and results in muscles getting that fatigued, burny feeling. This indicates that, in the absence of oxygen, the cells have switched to an anaerobic energy system to continue to get ATP for the cells to have sufficient energy.

The capacity of the anaerobic metabolism is not nearly has high as the aerobic system and so, as you have likely experienced, the ability to exercise without oxygen does not last as long, and must be ceased for the lactic acid to be buffered from the system.

We don’t mean to say that lactic acid is bad. As with all things in nature, lactic acid has an important purpose, but having a low threshold to it (lots of lactic acid too soon) isn’t great. It is beneficial to exercise at intensities that produce lactic acid, as this is how we become harder, better, faster, and stronger.

It is also a mechanism that helps our bodies to maintain homeostasis by making us slow down so we don’t hurt ourselves and pass out. Thank you lactic acid!

The point we want to make is that many people have a poor ability to efficiently buffer lactic acid due to exercise intensities that are too high for their current physical state (cross-fitters that work to the point of peeing themselves, perhaps? See the next section U: Urinary Incontinence), mouth breathing their way through it. Mouth breathing is a method to buffer the lactic acid, but which loses way too much CO2 in the process, contributing to a feedback loop that stimulates further chronic over-breathing. 

So, in a GLUTEN-free movement practice, we want to:

  • Monitor the intensity of the activity to make sure the individual can nose-breathe through it.
  • Ensure the individual has a decent CP measure and efficient breathing mechanics, which is also a good indicator of their tolerance for blood acidity and ability to buffer lactic acid.
  • Promote recovery methods at the end of a session, and throughout each day. Habits to focus on: Mindful breathing, sleep, nutrition, hydration, meditation, avoiding unnecessarily stressful situations and people when possible, light walking and movement daily.
  • Provide experiences that challenge the individual to improve their lactate threshold without over-stressing their system and excessively breathing (finding the sweet spot, and not being an idiot).

I’m not great with physiology, so I’m going to leave this point here before I say stuff that isn’t true. 

U: Unidimensional Movement (or Urinary Incontinence)

I’ve added urinary incontinence in here as a bonus as I couldn’t remember what the U stood for when I sat down to write this. However, a movement practice should ideally be free from both unidimensional movement and urinary incontinence (contrary to what SOME people say).

Let’s focus on unidimensional movement though, because I’m no pelvic floor expert.

Unidimensional movement would be Dom Mazetti’s workout philosophy:

Movement that prefers one plane of motion, generally sagittal plane (forwards and back).

There are a lot of fitness people already delivering this message, “Get out of the sagittal plane!”. However, tri-planar movement is not quite as simple as throwing in some lateral lunges and Russian twists on arm day to balance the sagittal movement preference. 

In our studies of the Anatomy in Motion model, Wensy and I are developing a unique appreciation for tri-planar movement, specifically, the when, why, and how within the gait cycle. 

All movements are triplanar to a certain degree. As I sit here typing, my hips and knees are flexed, which are sagittal plane joint motions. However, in order for the hip to flex efficiently, they also need to be able to adduct (or abduct…) and, depending on whether I’m sitting in either a pelvic anterior or posterior tilt, my femurs will also need to either rotate internally or externally in the acetabulum. So, our ability to access our full hip flexion potential is in part determined by our ability to move in two other planes.  

The knees, while we generally look at them as a unidimensional joint that only flexes and extends, must also be appreciated for their transverse plane capabilities: When the knee flexes,  it must couple with external rotation of the tibia on the femur, and internal rotation when it extends. If transverse doesn’t happen, shit doesn’t feel so good. 

When we know what joints should ideally be doing at what time in the gait cycle, we are able to see how all joint actions are, ideally, tri-planar to certain extent (depending on the joint). 

We can look at the need for tri-planar motion beyond isolating one joint. For example, for the scapula to upwardly rotate in an open chain, the spine needs to be able to laterally flex towards it. If the spine doesn’t know frontal plane motion, then frontal plane at the scap will be compromised.

We rarely ever see “ideal”, because nobody will have perfect movement mechanics. Somewhere along our way we learned to move in particular way, became injured, became sedentary, or something came up that altered the joint mechanics we were born with.

A movement practice that ensures many opportunities to experience tri-planar motion can be nourishing to a body that has been denied these options. I can think of several people I’ve worked with who were unable to access frontal and transverse plane motions throughout major chunks of their bodies.

But, as I mentioned, it’s not as simple as adding lateral and rotational movements in an attempt to provide tri-planar experiences. Everyone is unique and no standardized, blanket approach will work for any given group of people, sometimes doing more harm than good (which is a major frustration we have with teaching group classes). 

What if sagittal plane movement of the hip is being bypassed in favor of frontal and transverse?

What if transverse plane movement of the ribcage is being substituted for thoracic spine extension?

What if frontal plane movement at the rear-foot is being exchanged for frontal plane movement of the neck?

It’s not just a matter of, “humans move mostly in sagittal plane, let’s make them move side to side and twist”. That will simply provide more opportunities to move around their limitations, rather than addressing them head on. 

Moreso, is is necessary to ask when, where, why, and how, on an individual basis. Appreciate the individual’s unique movement habits to provide and experience for them reclaim the particular movements they are missing. Our goal is to show each joint the tri-planar capabilities it was inherently created to perform, which can then be experienced in larger movement patterns.

When each joint is capable of experiencing it’s tri-planar potential, a squat, deadlift, push up, or any other sagitally dominant activity can be a lovely tri-planar experience. Who am I to pre-judge Dom Mazetti?

This is why in CAPE workshops we help give our participants a system to discover what their body is missing and how to reclaim these movements back. 

T: Tons of tone

This acronym had us gasping for air, again. CP down another 5 seconds.

By tone we are referring to muscle tone. Like lactic acid, muscle tone isn’t a good or bad thing, but there is a sweet spot- Too much, or too little being detrimental.

Tonicity of a muscle refers to its continuous and passive partial contraction in a resting state. A certain degree of resting tone is necessary in order to maintain posture. Tone will decrease during sleep as the body relaxes and there is no postural demand from gravity. There is a sweet spot at which the muscles have not too much, nor too little tone (both of which can cause issues). 

Healthy muscle tone is firm, not squishy, but is also able to relax when not needed, and is not excessively painful to press on.

Why do muscles become hypertonic?

Neurologically, hypertonicity can manifest due to a muscle being facilitated- asked to do too much work, or, inhibited in a movement pattern- straining itself to keep up with the demand for work.

Structurally, a muscle can carry high tonus when both locked long, or locked short, which is why the resting length of a muscle is useful to know before getting someone to stretch it out.

Holding high muscle tone globally is often an indicator of a dominance of the sympathetic nervous system, and/or an inability to breathe efficiently. In fact, a homeostatic response to over-breathing is to increase muscle tone, as increased activity of the muscles produces more CO2, an acidic molecule, to balance the loss of too much CO2 through excessive breathing volume- Chronic hypertonicity may be in part an attempt to regulate blood PH, a cycle that must be reversed through reduction of over-breathing habits and helping to restore the parasympathetic nervous system.

Stretching out muscle tone that is trying to help you regulate PH isn’t going to feel very good.  

In either case, high tone is often indicative of poor ANS regulation (sympathetic vs. parasympathetic), poor joint mechanics (muscles or joints stuck long/open, or short/closed), poor motor control (muscles facilitated or inhibited), poor breathing habits, or a combination of all of the above, potentially limiting performance and leading to strain and injury over time.

In terms of a GLUTEN free movement practice “toning” the muscles is not a goal we encourage, however muscles may improve their tone with strengthening as a secondary effect. The goal is not to tone the muscles simply for the sake of tone. Unfortunately, this is often the primary goal many new exercisers have.

In a GLUTEN free movement practice, the aim is to encourage homeostasis of all systems:

  • Joints that were open learn to close
  • Joints that were closed learn to open
  • Muscles locked short learn to lengthen
  • Muscles locked long learn to shorten
  • Overactive muscles learn to relax and reduce resting tone
  • Flaccid muscles learn to load and increase resting tone
  • The chronics over-breathers learn to breathe less (see G: Gasping for Air)
  • The overactive sympathetic nervous system learns to regulate and match the demands of the activity.

Training for tons of tone? Not on my watch…

E: Extension based exercise

By extension I am referring primarily to spinal extension, but also to the extension of any joint- Locking it out to end range extension to find stability. This can happen at the spine, but also elbows and knees. In an effective movement practice, we make sure not to use bones for end range support, whether at the spine, or any joint.

Extension is not bad to do, but can become problematic if we get stuck in it. Extension is like robbing a bank, you want to get in and out of there, not get caught!

Our spine (and other joints) have a particular timing in the gait cycle during which they either extend or flex. What becomes an issue is when the spine extends, and stays extended through moments at which it should be flexing.

Being caught in extension has a few negative consequences:

  • Moving dominantly in an extended posture makes accessing frontal and transverse plane difficult and/or unsafe feeling.
  • An extended spinal position is reflective of a descended, contracted respiratory diaphragm, loss of zone of apposition, and lengthened abdominals (TVA and internal obliques), and inefficient breathing, leading to increased sympathetic dominance.
  • Most of the gait cycle happens with a flexed spine, only extending once per step we take for a fraction of a second.
  • If the spine is doing all the extending, other joints may choose not to extend- hips, ankles, knees, for example, limiting movement options.
  • Being stuck extended makes it very difficult to digest and eliminate food (you need a fine flexion and posterior tilt for that), and, coupled with increased sympathetic activity and ineffective diaphragm function, which slow down digestion further (yay, constipation!).
  • While I can’t find much to support this, I also suspect that chronic extension will increased sympathetic nervous system activity due to compression of vagus nerve blocking the vagal brake to the SNS.

Being stuck extended is a shit disturber for the nervous system, musculoskeletal system, digestive system, circulatory system, and more.

In a GLUTEN free movement practice, we don’t want to completely avoid extension. After all, extension is useful for many reasons:

  • In spinal extension, the cervical spine flexes and decompresses, and opens the airway
  • Spinal extension loads the abdominal tissues so that they can contract
  • Extension allows the scapulae to depress, adduct, and retract
  • Extension creates a sense of confidence and stability
  • Muscles at the front of the ribcage and shoulder- pecs, subclavius, intercostals, etc, get to  stretch with spinal extension
  • Sympathetic nervous system activation isn’t bad, but it has to match the demands of the situation

What we aim to do is help people experience both ends of the spectrum, and use extension in a way that is appropriate for them- The right times, places, ratios, and quantities for a given activity.

N: Nociception

Nociception is the body’s internal danger sensor, but nociception is not necessarily sufficient for a pain response. Nociception is not pain itself, or a signal of pain, but a signal of potential threat internally or from the environment- Temperature change, chemical disruption, tissue damage, or pressure.

Take the example of tissue damage- It may or may not result in a feeling of pain. Some people have been shot through the chest without recollection of there being “pain” present at the moment, yet a tiny paper cut, much less dangerous to our survival, hurts like a bitch. Too, many people with chronic pain have no real tissue damage yet are still experiencing symptoms.

How could a movement or exercise practice be nociceptive?

Let’s say for example we are learning a simple quadruped rockback. In a rockback, one is required to anteriorally tilt the pelvis as the hips move into flexion and the pelvis shifts posteriorally (like a deadlift). However, let’s say that the individual performing this movement may have had a hard fall on the coccyx at age 6, and want to keep protecting that area by maintaining a posterior tilt. Exposing the area, lifting the coccyx up in the rockback, may not feel safe, especially if they had not received proper treatment for the injury. They may not even be aware that they are doing this, but it feels unsafe to do, and may feel uncomfortable or painful to do. Is this because of tissue damage? Shouldn’t be since the tissues would have time to heal by in that time, but it could be that the action of exposing the injured site and moving it out of a protective position could potentially be enough to send a warning to signal to the brain, producing pain in the area and preventing the individual from moving into “danger”.

Pain can be a lovely opportunity to explore “why?”. What is the body perceiving to be dangerous in this movement? And how do we make this experience less dangerous? A few potential strategies could be:

  • Use breathing and relaxation techniques to calm the system. Over breathing, and poor breathing mechanics can lead to a sympathetic response, causing the person to be more sensitive to pain.
  • Use a graded approach to introducing “unsafe” movements and ranges. Go one millimeter at a time into the dark zones. Pushing too far too soon can increase the warning alarm.
  • Manual therapy may be necessary. See a trusted professional.
  • Change positions. If being on hands and knees and anteriorally tilting is painful, what about lying supine? Is that less painful? If yes, work in this position where there is less demand on the body, allowing it to relax more.

Recall that nociception doesn’t necessarily result in pain. Sometimes a nociceptive movement practice doesn’t necessarily hurt in the moment, but paves the way for unhealthy thoughts, feelings, and ways of moving that could cause issues in the future.

I have so many stories from ballet class that fit that description…

Some ways to make a perfectly good movement practice nociceptive:

  • Being motivated with insults (pick up the pace, fatty!)
  • Being told to avoid movements (squats are bad for your knees)
  • Being encouraged to push through pain (or to the point of urinary incontinence…)
  • Being told the goal is to vomit by the end of the workout
  • Being told “no pain no gain”, and other such things

NOT a positive experience.

CONCLUSIONS?

Not really. This is pretty common sense stuff (we think) that applies to any form of movement, exercise, training, etc.

All we’re really advocating for is being kind to your body and moving with awareness- Keys for moving pain-free and getting strong AF.

Keep it GLUTEN free, folks.