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.