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Movement Practice Part 2: The 6 Archetypes and MLAM

Where do you sit on the Life in Motion Spectrum?

As mentioned in Part 1, Chris made the observation (one I believe to be astute) that most people practice movement without having a movement practice. I’d like to continue exploring the significance of this statement.

An “atomic” model for movement lifestyles

Before we formally define movement and practice (and movement-practice), I’d like to illustrate a few characters that will help us bring the concept of “movement lifestyle” to life. By that I mean, what is the style of relationship you currently have with movement?

While I initially described it as a spectrum, I feel as if this analogy may not be completely accurate in representing an individual’s relationship to movement in their lives.

Rather, I see our lives in motion as an atomic model: Our individuality represented by the electron-containing shells which orbit the nucleus of an atom. And now for my attempt to consolidate what I remember from grade 10 chemistry.

In what I am calling the “Movement-Lifestyle Atomic-Model” (MLAM), visualize that the entire atom, nucleus and shells, represents our lives and our relationship with movement. Each electron-containing shell has particular attributes and characteristics, which I will describe as movement archetypes having a particular set of characteristics: Superpowers, kryptonites, and a relationship-style with movement.

As an electron has the capability of jumping from shell to shell, giving off or emitting energy (photons), based on the interactions it has with its environment, so too are we capable of changing from archetype to archetype. The electrons have a different level of energy and degree of stability depending on their distance from the nucleus: The closest orbit to the nucleus has the lowest energy, and highest stability. The orbit farthest from the nucleus has maximum energy and is highly unstable. In this representation, the “MLAM atom” has five shells, each representative of one of the five (plus one) Movement Archetypes. The archetype associated with the closest shell to the nucleus has the lowest energy and is the most stable in it’s position, and the archetype associated with the furthest shell from the nucleus has the highest energy, but the least stability in it’s position.

All that said, whatever visual representation we choose doesn’t matter. Simply I wish for us to think outside the box a little bit. Not everything is a spectrum in which one end is the opposite of the other. In nature there are plenty of binary relationships- black/white, hot/cold, suffering/joy- but I think (and I could be wrong) that the relationship we have with movement is more complex, multi-faceted, unspectrumable.

The 5 (+1) Archetypes

The first five Movement Archetypes compose the five shells of the MLAM:

Shell 1: The Indoorsman

Shell 2: The Exerciser

Shell 3: The Integrator

Shell 4: The Dedicated Mover

Shell 5: The Over-Identifier

Compliments to my amazing illustrator, Monika Volkmar.

Not represented by a shell in our atomic model is The Transcender archetype. This is because, as I will explain a bit further along, the Transcender isn’t represented by a single shell, but as the model in its entirety, giving it the ability to jump from shell to shell, changing energy levels, to be any of the given archetypes at any time, for the necessary time.

The poem by Rainer Maria Rilke comes to mind:

I live my life in widening circles

that reach out across the world.

I may not complete this last one

but I will give myself to it.

I circle around God, around the primordial tower.

I’ve been circling for thousands of years
and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
a storm, or a great song?

As mentioned, shell one (The Indoorsman) is the most stable electron orbit, meaning the hardest to change in his ways, whereas shell 5 (The Over-Identifier) is the most unstable, meaning that it is fragile to changes in its environment and prone to identity-crises (not always a bad thing, mind you). In the middle, The Integrator has the most stability and adaptability (or anti-fragility) to the changes in environmental inputs he encounters and maintains a healthy relationship with movement. The Transcender is paradoxically stable and unstable simultaneously.

Let’s now paint a picture for each archetype in the MLAM:

Shell 1: The Indoorsman

Stable yet sedentary, The Indoorsman, as you would expect, spends most of his life indoors, in climate controlled offices and ergonomic desk chairs with extra lumbar support. He can often be heard complaining about “mouse shoulder” and “text neck” yet fails to actually do anything about these ailments because that would require a degree of honest engagement with himself that he is not yet prepared for. (Note that from here on out I will use “he” to describe both men and women Indoorsmen. Why didn’t I choose “she”? As a lady-writer shouldn’t I be empowered to use the feminine pronoun? Simple. I like efficiency: “He” takes less time to type than “she”, “Indoorswoman”, and “Indoorsperson”. Also, I plan to use “she” for the next archetype description so any feminists reading can rest assured).

The Indoorsman senses undertones of discontent, ranging from moderate to severe, with his state of life, body, and mind which are easily dismissed as background static, and quickly gotten used to as “normal”. That perpetual headache and chronic fatigue? Par for the course to any Indoorsman, his symptoms barely register as blips on the radar bearing any significance. He doesn’t realize these symptoms are in fact abnormal for a healthy human being until, on a whim, he gets a massage and has a few days of relief in which he feels a nondescript sense of “better”, but can’t pinpoint exactly why. “Better” does not last more than a few days because he has no knowledge, tools, or guidance for how to maintain it. It’s not his fault, but it is his responsibility to acquire these tools.

The Indoorsman can sometimes be spotted reading health and fitness literature (if we can call Men’s and Women’s Health magazines such) but rather than as a serious attempt to inspire a change in his lifestyle, he mostly makes fun of how photo-shopped the fitness models appear, not seeing it as a realistic comparison to themselves (for it isn’t), and using humour to push down his insecurities (The Indoorsman is quite good at this, in fact, self-deprecating humour is one of his super-powers). Nevertheless, the effects of these images on his psyche slip under his radar and contribute to an insidious low sense of self-worth, barely perceptible to him in his current state of cripplingly poor self-awareness.

Despite his sarcastic remarks and statements that he “accepts how he looks”, and has no desire to get in shape because he’s “ok with himself”, deep down he desires to try to change. What’s holding him back is that he lacks any sort of role model for this behaviour, as most of his friend group consists of other Indoorsmen. This lack of role models throughout his life combined with years of Indoorsmanism makes his position in the MLAM highly stable, or resistant to change. That, and change scares the crap out of him.

That is until one day he decides that something needs to drastically change (sometimes after hitting a rock-bottom, or another equally devastatingly inspiring life event). In an effort to try on a value he’s never before held, but that he deems will move him in a healthier direction (movement and exercise), he takes up an activity like ballroom dancing, playing in a recreational basketball league, or most commonly as an entry point to movement for The Indoorsman, jogging. Though he may only average 2000 steps on a movement “heavy” day, he feels like his current physical state is “normal” (because it’s all he’s ever known) and so he imposes an unrealistic expectation on himself to perform at a standard higher than is realistic. There is a 90% likelihood that in his first venture into exercise he unknowingly pushes past his physical threshold and, if he doesn’t find himself struggling through the ordeal, he wakes up in agony the next day. Based on this experience, he may or may not decide that repeating this event to be a good idea, further contributing to his stability- fear and resistance to change, in the MLAM.

The Indoorsman at a glance:

Superpower: Ability to tune out discomfort, self-deprecating humour.
Kryptonite: Sunlight, exercise, sports.
Vital stats: Haggard, lethargic, pale, poor-immune system.
MLAM Stability: High.
Relationship with movement: Non-existent, wishful thinking.
Attitude towards the stairs: Avoids taking the stairs at all costs.

Shell 2: The Exerciser

Prone to bouts of occasional physical activity, The Exerciser is not sedentary like the Indoorsman, as she is characterized by her attempts to make up for her predominantly static life with 60 minute clips of intense activity at the gym a few times per week. If she happens to be an individual of affluence, she is likely to spend these bursts of activity with a personal trainer, on whom she is dependent to keep her accountable to her otherwise uninspired exercise regime.

She is likely to be using exercise for one or a combination of four primary reasons:
1) In an attempt to restore a sense of health and balance in her life without actually addressing the reason why her life feels so unhealthily off kilter in the first place.
2) Because she knows she’ll feel better about herself after doing some physical activity, despite the fact that maintaining a routine is hard and often she finds her workouts make her body hurt afterwards.
3) To lose weight, gain muscle, or fit whatever aesthetic ideal she’s chasing in an attempt to heal her self-esteem or fill a void within.
4) For no better reason than she feels like she “should” due to pressure from a doctor, a friend group, her parents, or the all-pervasive media influence.

None of these reasons allow her to accept who she authentically is right now, but are based on her striving to be someone she’s not. Nor do these reasons respect her yet to be uncovered “why” behind her movement practice.

The Exerciser cares a lot about how she looks and she often uses exercise to burn calories and tone muscles. She also is prone to believing the notion that a good workout is one in which she works up a sweat, and concludes in an exhausted, dizzy state. In the case of some physical culture ideologies, ultimate success is unlocked when one vomits and/or pees her pants, and The Exerciser sees these as completely rational criteria. These exercise intentions are ironic because she is often running on mere fumes and adrenaline due to mental and emotional burnout from her day job and other poorly managed life-stresses. She likely to have a large sleep debt, thus her scheduled gym-time is probably better spent doing something more restorative, like sleeping (something she refuses to give in to).

The overarching intentions of The Exerciser are to make up for unhealthy habits: Poor nutrition, over-working, under-moving, staring too long at a screen, existential angst, and comparing herself to unrealistic media portrayals of celebrity bodies. Unlike The Indoorsman, these images can trigger the Exerciser to embark on a strange, shame-induced motivational roller coaster, making her position on the MLAM less stable than the Indoorsman (more prone to taking action and changing something about her life).

When speaking of exercise, The Exerciser often uses the verbiage “fit it in” over “make time for it”: Isolated bouts of physical activity rather than a lifestyle integrated with movement. While she can appear on the outside to be admirably health-conscious , this is largely because when she does workout and cook healthy meals, she posts it on Instagram for all to see, using hashtags like #fitfam, #beastmode, and #paleoaf.

Despite how she strives to appear on the outside, she is out of touch with her body and its needs. Her inner homeostatic mechanisms are out of whack (immune system, metabolism, hormones, circadian rhythm, etc.), and their signals are near impossible to interpret in her hypervigilent state. She lacks presence with her body moment to moment, because to truly tune in would mean to let her guards down and acknowledge the honest state of her body- A bit of a mess. That said, she knows (in a superficial way that she has yet to truly experience) that she must try to be present with herself, connect body with mind, yet when she tries it is an act closer to resembling war than harmonious living. The Exerciser exists on a spectrum from primarily sedentary sometimes exerciser, to compulsive over-exerciser. Neither is an exceptionally healthy, balanced relationship.

What distinguishes The Exerciser from the Indoorsman is that she has a definite value, or at least an interest in having a value for movement where the Indoorsman has none. While misguided and unclear in her intention for movement, she’s taken an important step- The attempt to make movement a part of her life. Some fine-tuning required, she is doing the best with the information she has at this moment in time.

The Exerciser at a glance:

Superpower: Gets shit done, desires change.
Kryptonite: Prioritization of needs, media portrayals of “fit” bodies.
Vital stats: Chronic fatigue, hypervigilent, sympathetic-dominant.
MLAM Stability: Medium.
Relationship with movement: Unbalanced. Ranging from obsessive to sporadic; highly structured routine to challenge creating a routine.
Attitude towards the stairs: Takes the stairs whenever possible because she can burn 10 extra calories if she sprints them two at a time.

2300 words seems like enough for now… Stay tuned for the next installment of Movement Practice in which we will continue to explore the four remaining movement archetypes and discuss whether any of this even matters (does it?).

Movement Practice (part 1): Then and Now

Welcome to the first installment of my new writing project: Movement Practice. I’m examining the role movement plays in our lives and our relationship with it. Sound like your cup of tea? Let’s do this thing.

AiM University

In 2015 I attended a 6 day biomechanics course that changed the trajectory of my life. The course was called Anatomy in Motion and from the moment the instructor, Gary Ward, started talking I sensed my life would never be the same (I was right).

Up until that point, as an injured dancer turned personal trainer and bodyworker, I had been researching and exploring different continuing education courses with the aim of finding “the thing” that would give me the clarity and understanding of the human body that could help both myself and my clients more efficiently reach their goals and allow me to more easily work with the chronic pain clients that I tended to attract. Anatomy in Motion, as I later explained to Chris Sritharan, the other course instructor, was “the answer to the questions that I didn’t know how to ask”. All I wanted to do was study their work for the rest of my life- I’d enroll in AiM University and do a Master’s, PhD and whatever else they’d offer until they got tired of me.

Through AiM I was introduced to a new way of seeing the human body in motion, and I haven’t been able to go back. The clarity with which the complex structure of the human body was communicated struck a chord somewhere deep inside of me. The way the course was taught embodied how I learn best: Putting descriptive words to movements of bones and joints and feeling them in our bodies. From that point, my practices of movement shifted, both personally and professionally, in a way I couldn’t articulate at the time.

I’d like to speak a little more about this personal shift (and because my personal life is intertwined with my professional one, the trickle over effect in these two arenas is significant).

Then and Now

Chris, who I now consider an important mentor, made the distinction between movement practice and practicing movement. At the time, the two were inextricable to me, yet in hindsight I can see that this distinction is what I was starting to experience.

Chris said to us, “there’s a lot of people practicing movement and not a lot of people with a movement practice. There’s a lot of people in the business of teaching movement, but not a lot of coaches aiming to remove the barriers that are preventing people from understanding how to move”. I’ve heard him repeat this line and variations on it at nearly every course I’ve attended (which at this time of writing is six).

Phil Donahue, the host of the American talk show, The Phil Donahue Show (a show that ran for 29 years ending in 1996) loved to ask the interview question, “what did somebody say to you at one point in your life that changed it?”. In that reflective space we can find that there are distinctive moments of “then and now” in our lives. While I didn’t recognize it at the time, this thing that Chris had said was my “then and now” pivot point.

I attribute the new trajectory to which I was unknowingly beginning to dedicate my life not only to the new way I was learning to see the body, but to a shift in values, unconsciously influenced by Chris’ words: What is the difference between practicing movement and movement practice?

The subtleties of this distinction are elusive. So much so that in the years I explored them I had not idea that this was what I was in fact doing. I observed a shift in myself and how I approached exercise and movement and journalled on the experiences I was having. The general feeling throughout the process was of some atavistic revival taking place within me. A rewilding process weaving itself through all areas of my life. A rooting into something new yet familiar. Clumsy enough to make my professional practice a challenge as I attempted to adapt to a new way of thinking in a workplace that didn’t value it, yet inspiring enough to get back up at each falter and reprimand to continue forward through the fog.

Romanticism aside, as I write these words now, this question is defining of this point in my personal and professional life: What’s the difference between practicing movement and having a movement practice? Is this distinction even important (I feel that yes, it is). Is one better than the other (no, I don’t think so). And for you, the reader, is it worth spending your precious, limited time with these words?

You’ll have to keep reading.

Transitions

I remember a then in which I only practiced movement, and a now in which I have a movement practice that defines parameters for how I practice movement.

I recall how then, I strived to fit an aesthetic. Now my practice includes and often prioritizes skill acquisition over how my body looks.

Then, I clenched and controlled my movements with maximum strength and stability as pinnacles, and numbers as landmarks at all cost. Now, I ask, how can I let go of the need to control and create more freedom for myself?

Then, I had rigid routines, protocols, and a schedule to adhere to, no matter how my body felt (dance performances, my Wendler 531 routine…). Now, I allow for a flexibility, spontaneity in my practice reflected in how my body feels day to day.

Then, I neglected warming up to get exercise out of the way as quickly and efficiently as possible. Now, I enjoy and make time for my warm-ups and movement preparations- If I don’t have time for them, I don’t have time to train.

Then, I tried out any exercise that looked “cool” at the gym because someone “fitter” than me was doing it. Now, I am aware of the intention behind any exercise I put into my movement practice.

Then, my goal was to burn as many calories as possible. Now, I don’t consider the energy expenditure of an exercise at all in my decision to include it in my movement practice.

Then, I tried to be perfect. Now, I know to focus on the process, not the end goal.

Then, I was no pain no gain- I tuned out pain symptoms and signs of over-training because they got in the way. Now I tune in and respect what my body is asking of me on a given day and feel no guilt for taking rest when I need it.

Then, my relationship with my body was a metaphorical battle. Now, my body and I enjoy a relationship based on trust, honesty, listening, and respect.

Then, I was an exerciser and over-identified with my movement form. Now, I am a dedicated student of movement.

The list could go on. How many of these resonate with you?

If you have the idea that my “then” was describing practicing movement as something “bad”, and my “now” as me having a movement practice that is “good”, I want to make it clear that this is not the case. Simply, I want to illustrate the journey from then to now and the shift in priorities therein.

Imagine a spectrum on which to the far left we have things we define as exercise and activity, and to the far right we have this thing called a movement practice. Right now, you and I are sitting somewhere on that spectrum. This isn’t a judgement, its a fact. Unfortunately, you can become stuck more to one side than the other on this spectrum with the lack of variability to slide around on it. In fact, both sides of spectrum are inextricable as our “lives in motion” and we need to access all points along it depending on our current needs. Its the context that defines whether or not one should aim to slide more to one end or the other.

My “then” was not bad, and my “now” is not good, neither does thinking this way serve me. What did serve me was where I was at the time with the amount of information I had. Could I have found a less painful way of doing things if I had more information? Sure. Could I have suffered less if I had more objectivity? Of course. But I didn’t, so I don’t get too hung up on “should-haves” and “if-only-I-knew-thens”. Neither should you.

What you can do as a useful, reflective exercise, is place yourself somewhere on our movement spectrum. Where do you feel you sit right now? Are you immovable in that space, or does your position vary day to day, week to week? Are you adaptable, or are you stuck in a moment in time? And importantly, are you ok with this?

STAY TUNED FOR PART 2 in which we will explore the differences between practicing movement and movement practice, and my three archetypes: The Indoorsman, The Exerciser, and the Over-Identifier. Will one of them describe you?

Movement Practice: Introduction

Ahoy.

I am working on a new writing project that explores one of my highest values: The cultivation and evolution of movement practice, and helping others to create healthy practices of movement in their lives and reconnect with their bodies. I’m tentatively calling it (surprise, surprise) Movement Practice. Very creative eh…

Needed a picture for this blog post so here’s one of me doing some movement practice with Charlie pooch at Rattlesnake Point last weekend (I’ve got handstand goals). If you’re the kind of person who follows dogs on Instagram, check out @no_bull_charlie.

In this project my primary aim is to describe how for fulfillment, health, and resilience (or anti-fragility, for you Talebians) in our lives, a movement practice, in whatever form it takes, is an integral part of a life worth living. If you know the story of how when I was 22 all I wanted out of life was to be able to walk 30 minutes without pain, it’s no wonder that I have such a fascination with this topic. Our voids become our values…

(FYI I accomplished my walk-30-minutes-pain-free goal just last year and recognize that this general state of “pain-free” is transient at best. Nevertheless, I am enjoying the shit out of the relationship I now have with my body).

In this writing I am planning to provide examples and stories of the what, why, and how of movement practice both from my own life and from experiences of my clients with the aim of helping some more folks to establish their own movement practice in a healthy, sustainable way.

And I need your help! I need to do some “market research”. I’d really love to know how you think about movement and exercise in your life. Would you help me out by answering a few questions for me? Just four of them:

Why do you have a movement practice? (if you don’t have one, why not?)

What does the phrase “move daily” mean to you? (How does “move daily” show up, or not, in your life?)

Consider the terms “movement practice” and “practicing movement”. Do those terms mean the same thing to you, or something different? Please explain 🙂

Do you feel your movement practice has an effect on other areas of your life beyond the physical? Think mental/emotional, spiritual, financial, vocational, social, family. If yes, would you share an example?

I appreciate you taking the time to help me out! Can you write down your answers and email them to me? Or maybe I’ll take you out for coffee and we can talk about it. That would be nice.

And even if you don’t want to share your answers with me, doing your own reflection on these questions will probably be useful. So I encourage you to write down your answers on a scrap piece of paper, napkin, or with a stick in the sand.

If you’d like to be kept in the loop on this writing project, please shoot me an email. I can share some of the writing with you as I go. Or maybe I’ll just share it here on my blog. Because that’s what blogs are for…

Removing the System’s “Handbrake”

A tale of navigating pain, with me, Monika. Our special guest for today is L.

L is one of my personal training clients. She is a badass 59 year old lady who has been slowly unwinding her body from a state of chronic pain over the past two years.

Last week she came into our session with a neck pain flare up. It hurt to tilt and rotate her head to the left. L usually likes to train hard, bust out push-ups (she can do 6 now!), and get a sweat going, but on that day she just wanted to be able to move her neck, so that became our focus.

Image result for your inner physician and you Concurrently to this story about L, I was reading John Upledger’s The Inner Physician and You in preparation for taking the Upledger Institute’s craniosacral therapy level one course (stoked!). Reading this book was fortuitously timed, as I began to observe some of its main themes surface in my bodywork practice. In particular while working with L last week.

The aforementioned themes, fresh in my mind from reading Upledger’s book, that seemed to over-arc this session were:

The individual is his/her own healer
We all have an “inner physician” and “censor”
Until the “root cause” is identified, the same symptoms may keep returning

Nothing new, I know. But sometimes these truths don’t sink in until we’ve had enough experience of them. The timing of L’s neck pain was a gift to me in order to better explore these themes in real life.

How do you even shoulder-check?

L’s neck pain had been present for a long time at a low level as general stiffness, but last week when she came in it was bad enough that I wondered how she had even been able to shoulder check as she was driving over to see me.

As a side note, the thought occurred to me the other day: How many car accidents are caused by people with left side neck pain who can’t shoulder check?

I asked this same question to a client of mine a few years ago, “How did you even drive here if you can’t move your head to the left?” His answer, “I don’t need to, I drive fast…”. Please don’t be this guy. Take care of your body and be less of a danger on the streets.

Anyway, back to L. Her history.

When I first met L she had two bad knees (one had been operated on), thought she was going to need a cane to walk, couldn’t sit cross-legged because of her painful knees, and couldn’t lift her arms over her head due to shoulder pain. You could say she’d gotten her body into a bit of a messy spot.

Today, L can squat, lunge, sit cross-legged comfortably, lift her arms up and hang from a bar, and best yet, can do 6 full push-ups. She’s come a long way.

The main issue that initially brought L in to doing sessions with me was her right knee. She’d had surgery on it when she was 19 and, like any normal 19 year-old, she didn’t put a lot of thought into the recovery process.

A few weeks ago I asked her how she’d rate the care she received for her knee, and she said, “I was 19… So. Yeah. That.” Like most of us at that age (or at any age, let’s be honest), she had probably rested until the pain went down enough to start walking on it again without a lot of value placed on doing any sort of rehab exercises to regain full motion at the joint.

If the symptoms disappear and you can get around well enough, no more problem, right?

And then if you develop neck pain 40 years later, it’s probably not related, right?

I will admit now that I too am guilty of this way of thinking in my previous work with L.

I ignored a problem

Very shortly after L and I began working together, her knee pain stopped. It was that dang Anatomy in Motion stuff– It really simplifies how to work with knees (and the whole body, really).

After her pain disappeared I reassessed her knee and saw there was still a movement issue: Her knee was stuck in an externally rotated position (tibia pointing out farther than femur), and her knee seemed to not have any transverse plane movement when she bent or straightened it (which we should be able to see and feel in a healthy knee).

But because her symptoms were gone, and any time we tried to feed what I felt to be “appropriate” movement into her knee, it felt painful. So, like any trainer who doesn’t want to lose a client because we keep doing stuff that hurts, I decided to ignore it. And we did that for a year without her complaining about her knee again. I thought this was good, and that the problem had taken care of itself.

Until last week.

Time doesn’t heal, healing heals with time.

Can we experience healing without pain?

Here we see surface an intriguing point of learning from Upledger’s Your Inner Physician and You. Upledger described several phases of an acute healing process. He describes, in his hands-on work, a “therapeutic pulse”, a “release of heat”, a temporary increase in the pain, and then relief from it. He says that this increase in pain is a part of the process, and it always subsides if the work is brought to completion correctly.

This has me wondering, what if, in the moment of doing the appropriate healing work, the increase in symptoms is necessary? When I stopped moving L’s knee because she reported pain, was that something to move into or away from? Healing or dangerous?

If it is true that a temporary increase in pain is part of the healing process, yet many of us avoid moving into a problem because it temporarily hurts, it is no wonder that we get ourselves into increasingly messy spots. We choose comfort over truth and deny ourselves freedom and ease.

But of course, it is hard to know whether this is true. Upledger was describing craniosacral work which is a gentle manual therapy. Does the same apply for movement?

Of course I mean moving gently, patiently, mindfully an area of the body that is experiencing an issue produce the same healing effect as holding it and waiting, with the same patience, for the area to release itself? If I start to move an area and feel pain, should I stop right away? Or is this a cue that I am initiating a healing process and would be doing myself a disservice by not bringing it to completion, fully exploring it.

I suppose this is something Upledger might say the individual intuitively knows the answer to in the moment, if we take the time to inquire.

Whatever the answer may be, I think the experience of pain is always a nice opportunity to open a discussion about the change/comfort matrix.

Change and comfort matrix

I think that all movement (and life) experiences fall into one of these four quadrants (in which “unsafe”, in the body, generally equates with pain or doomy apprehension, and “safe” is the absence of pain and a sense of comfort).

Safe + different= Where you want to be exploring (no pain, but maybe unsteady, awkward, challenging, shaky due to it being a new experience)

Safe + same= Staying in the comfort zone (no pain, no challenge, no change)

Unsafe + different= A new may of moving that triggers a threat response (painful, unsteady, awkward, challenging, fear provoking, activates sympathetic nervous system, and no lasting change)

Unsafe + same= Staying in the (not so comfortable) comfort zone (painful but no more painful than what we’re used to so it feels “normal”, moving habitually, no change)

Perhaps we just need to stay with a new input (movement, manual therapy, idea) for long enough to make the transition from unsafe/different to safe/different, because any new input to our nervous system may initially be perceived as dangerous, whether it really is or not.

Just some thoughts on navigating pain that I’ve had lately…

Pattern recognition

So anyway, here I was with L, feeling like I had no idea what we were going to do, plan for today’s training session out the window.

We had tried a number of movements that usually help get her neck and spine moving as part of her warm-up, but everything hurt too much to do, so we aborted mission.

From Upledger’s book, another theme presented itself: Treat the body on each day as if you are assessing for the first time. Try not to be biased by how the individual was last week, what other people have “diagnosed”, or even what the individual says about it. These stories may not apply to today.

And in that moment when zoomed out I was able to recognize a pattern.

In Anatomy in Motion (AiM) we assess the whole body in terms of phases of gait- What each joint does and when it does it as we walk. Each phase has it’s own signature shape, or pattern which we can begin to recognize in ourselves and others.

In the AiM Finding Center 6 day immersion course we are trained to understand what should be happening within each pattern at each joint in the body at any given moment in time as we walk.

L’s head not being able to tilt or rotate to the left was part of the same pattern in which, at the same time, her right knee should be flexing (we call this pattern “suspension phase”, more commonly known as foot flat). Since I knew, historically, her right knee had movement limitations, I wondered if the position of her neck was the result of an exchange within that pattern over many years of adaptation around a problem.

If the pattern can’t be completed by one joint (the knee), we see this phenomenon called “exchange” in which another structure will try to accommodate for that.

Exchange: If we can’t fulfill a lack (missing knee motion in this case), we will look somewhere else to fulfill it (perhaps at the neck?). This happens at all levels in our lives. When something is missing, we find other ways to fill space, whether they are the healthiest for us or not, whether we are conscious of it or not.

Had her neck become a solution for her knee that became a problem of its own?

To test this knee/neck relationship, I had L simply stand with her right knee bent while testing her painful neck ranges- They immediately improved in range and felt less painful. Not perfect, but better.

You should have seen the look of L’s face when I said, “I think your neck issue is because of your right knee”. Like I’m a crazy person.

For those who have already taken AiM or are interested in the biomechanics of this, these are the mechanics I observed when I reassessed L’s right knee:

Tibia anteriorally tilted (top of tibia tilted forward under the femur)
Knee externally rotated (tibia rotated laterally of femur)
No further movement into external rotation as the knee flexed (we should see the knee externally rotate as it bends)

If you haven’t taken AiM or don’t give a shit about biomechanics (unlikely, if you are reading this…), what this means is her knee was stuck in a more “bent” position in both sagittal and transverse plane, and couldn’t access any more bend, it already being there, bent.

The strategy, in my mind, seemed to be that we ought to show the knee how to extend and internally rotate, or more specifically, get the tibia to posteriorally tilt and internally rotate under the femur. Doing this would help it find a more centered resting spot allowing it somewhere to go when she bends her knee, rather than hit a block, and in theory, this would relinquish her neck of its excessive role in the full body pattern.

Using two movements from the AiM toolkit we explored ways of getting her knee to experience the above movements it was missing, and then integrated that up through into her neck as best we could.

L was mindful that the sensation in her knee felt different, and vaguely unsafe. At that point, we had a nice discussion of the comfort/change matrix. Fortunately, L trusted in the thought process I had explained to her, and after a few more moments of gently feeding movement through her knee, she reported that she was in the safe/different quadrant (is trust the anathema for feeling unsafe?).

When we finished, she stated that something definitely felt different about her neck, though she wasn’t sure what. She tested out her painful neck ranges, and they had improved. Not perfect, but on the right track.

Someone’s elses’ limiting beliefs

After this exploration, L told me an interesting story.

Apparently, when she had gone back for a consultation from a sports medicine doctor about her knee years after the operation, she had been told that she would never have full function of her knee again. She wondered aloud, “Have I been unconsciously limiting my potential because of something a doctor told me years ago? Something that wasn’t true?”. She didn’t question this statement at the time, that her knee was doomed never to work again, because he was the doctor. She seemed genuinely fascinated to understand how lifting this limiting belief could liberate her body from pain.

Let go of the handbrake

At this point I brought up the idea of the “handbrake” to the system- That we can try to teach the body to move “better”, but if there is something getting in the way (usually something from an injury history), then nothing will change because the brake hasn’t been removed.

Part of our job, as explorative movement facilitators (I am going to put that job title on my business card), is to find what’s getting in the way of people moving well, and then trusting that the individual’s own, intelligent system will be able to do the healing itself.

Another theme that surfaced from Upledger’s book: We are not healers, we are holding space for the body to heal itself.

I cannot be so arrogant to presume that I know what is best for someone’s body, life, mind, whatever.

All I can hope to do, and perhaps what is the highest form of healing, is to have the intention simply to be with somebody through their process. To listen before asking. To be present with them. Explain my thought process so that they have the option to trust it.

This is not a relationship between the healer and the broken, but a relationship between equals.

Priming the system

I also explained to L that other movements and stretches she can do directly for her neck are still good. The are ways of priming her nervous system for healthy ways of moving once the handbrake is removed.

By priming her nervous system with general movements, we are making future options for neck movement more familiar, more recognizable for her body to perform, once she has dealt with the thing that got in the way of it all to begin with.

And that brings me to…

The things that get in the way

I am reminded of a talk I listened to recently by Brene Brown, titled The Power of Vulnerability (listened to it twice in a row, strongly recommend), that mirrors this discussion.

To introduce her talk, Brown tells a story about a speaking gig at which she was expected to present on fluffy things like, how to be happy, how to be successful, etc. But as a shame and vulnerability researcher, her area of focus was “the things that get in the way”. The things people don’t want to talk about because they are hard and raw and most of us don’t want to go there.

It’s well and good to tell people how to be happy and successful, but how many people can actually take action on “happy and successful” until they’ve dealt with their own handbrakes? Shame, fear, and vulnerability. The unsexy stuff.

In the movement, personal training, and rehab worlds, we have plenty of people showing us how to move well (happy and successful), but not enough people talking about the things that get in the way (the handbrakes to the system).

There are literally thousands of resources that can teach you how to squat, deadlift, handstand, improve your “bad” posture, do yoga, “fix” your flat feet, etc. but hardly anything that can show you how to navigate the roadblocks. I think this is because 1. it is such an individual thing that it is hard to make a guide on, and 2. Becaues most people don’t think about “what gets in the way”, they just want to jump right into “happy and successful”, and “happy and successful” sells a hell of a lot better.

One of my teachers, Gary Ward, founder of Anatomy in Motion, has created an online resource that I think is the closest yet to removing the handbrake without actually working with a practitioner in rea life. His movement exploration is called “Wake Your Body Up”. <—Check it out.

The inner physican

Upledger describes in one section of his book that we have inside us an “inner physician”, and a “censor”. The censor has good intentions (safety!) but is the one who is skeptical about everything, who calls bullshit and can put a block in the road of healing. The inner physician opens a dialogue for healing, for finding the root cause of an issue and exploring, and asks us to trust the process.

L is in touch with her inner physician. She left inteigued to explore the work we did, intrigued by the thought process behind it. To her, it made perfect sense. As Upledger wrote, our bodies have an intelligence of their own, and if we open that dialogue with our own inner physician, we will find that we intuitively know what the problem is. Just have to pay attention…

Conclusions?

L’s homework was to practice moving her knee (safe/different) a few times a day using the movements we explored- remove the handbrake (stuck knee) and give the body a chance to heal itself.

I am grateful to have had this experience with L, and look forward to continuing this process with her.

I am left thinking, we always get what we need from life. Did L experience a neck flare up because she needed to address her knee? We’ll see what happens.

Building a Buffer

Why is it important to “do the work”? The important physical work, the work on our thoughts and minds.

We do the work to get out of the woods (physical pain, suffering due to our thoughts and emotions).

We do the work reaching out in the dark, not yet knowing which direction we’re heading, but driven by the hope that one day we will see the light at the border where the trees meet the clearing.

We do the work because we learn to enjoy the feeling of it- even enjoy the challenge of it, and the feeling afterwards; like settling into a comfortable arm-chair in front of a fire, beer in hand, after a long day’s work.

And we do the work because we are building a buffer that will serve us in case of a Black Swan- a disastrous event we can’t possible predict, but need to insulate ourselves against. A preventative measure.

In the case of a Black Swan (written extensively about by economist Nassim Nicholas Taleb in the book by the same name, a Black Swan is a rare, random, cataclysmic event that seems to happen without warning), we are forced to surrender to a power greater than our own desire for time that is ours to with what we wish. Time-selfish time, free of scheduled obligation. We cannot predict when we will be asked, sometimes forced, to sacrifice this precious, unscheduled time, time that we would rather be using for ourselves, to serve another’s needs.

This is of course an illusion. Time cannot be ours or theirs, time simply is.

But it is in these times of sacrifice that we had better hope we’ve done the work and built a sufficient buffer to weather it out.

If a family member dies. If a loved one gets hurt and needs us for support.

“Is my buffer big enough for both of us?”

There is a purpose for time-selfishness, and it is to build the buffer that allows us to be there for others when their worlds come crashing down, and our daily motions shift not to serve our own physical, emotional, spiritual needs, but theirs, as well.

This is one of the highest reasons why we do the work. We think we’re doing it for ourselves, and we are, but we are doing it for ourselves so that we can, selfishly, keep our sanity while we are asked, without predictability, to drop our routine life as we know it and cope with what’s been thrown at us.

Call it tolerance. I call it having a buffer. And I want a buffer that will last me for days, weeks, months, without tending to it, so I can survive on the minimum effective dose of self-care.

Like a spider plant that seems to thrive when you neglect it for just the right amount of time.

The buffer gets larger and, as it does, the size of the minimum effective dose (MED) gets smaller. And counter intuitively, the more time we spend doing the work on ourselves, the more time we have later to spend simply being, without worrying about the MED, or the buffer. And ironically, this time spent being, not worrying, not working intentionally on ourselves, becomes the self-care in itself. Just having the space and time to be.

To sit. To lie down. To go for a walk (what other options exist?).

But that doesn’t mean we stop building our buffer, because it’s become such a way of life now. We make time for it. We enjoy the challenge of it. Enjoy the peace of it. The honesty of it.

We keep chopping wood, and one day, as it out of nowhere, we realize we have chopped enough. The wood pile is stacked high enough, so we can continue chopping without needing to chop, for we know there are others that have not yet started- are still staring, with uncertainty, at the axe.

We chop wood for them with the peace of knowing we have enough for ourselves.

A Case for Prioritizing Biomechanics

Before we start, no, this is not a post to put the B in BPS (bio-psycho-social) on a pedastle. The B could not exist without the PS, nor could we have a PS without a B. Such is the nature of all things that exist interdependently. I do not wish to engage in this debate. I also suck at debates…

Moving on!

Somewhere around year 2015 I’ve found myself in a bit of an existential crisis that I’m certain many other personal trainers have found themselves in at some point:

I LOVE WORKING WITH BODIES BUT I THINK THERE IS SOMETHING DEEPER I’D LIKE MY CLIENTS TO GET OUT OF EXERCISE AND THAT I’D LIKE TO ACCOMPLISH THAN COUNTING REPS.

Of course there’s more to being a trainer than leading mindless workouts and rep-counting. And I’ve never thought about my work to be limited to just that.

And as a personal trainer who does not claim to specialize in weight-loss or nutritional counselling or physique enhancement- typical things associated with my field, just what meaning does my work have?

WHY the heck am I doing this? Aren’t personal trainers supposed to help people lose weight and exercise and sweat and build muscles and all that stuff? And if I don’t place a priority on that stuff… Then what else do I bring to the table?

As I deepened my learning about the human body, began to observe what was really happening with the bodies of my clients, I began to see that strength training and “exercising” maybe wasn’t the thing they needed to prioritize.

When a client who had hip pain couldn’t do the usual “go-to” exercises, I found ways of working around the issue for as long as possible to deliver a pain-free workout, but this wasn’t enough. I wanted to have the information and abilities to address these issues with movement, not work around them with strengthening exercises that may end up more deeply ingraining their structural issues.

The more I learned and studied the human body and movement I began to view my work in a different light. Strength training and general “fitness” training lost it’s be-all-end-all power as the ultimate tool for helping people, and I realized that I needed to be doing more for the people who trusted me with their bodies than provide “exercise”.

I think other personal trainers have experienced a similar meaning-crisis, which may lead to 1) changing careers, 2) adding new skills to our arsenal and adapting the way we work and market ourselves, or 3) becoming disillusioned completely with our work and industry and lose all sense of meaning in it.

I am currently in the depths of situation #2 (only very briefly did I linger in #3….): Learning to integrate the skills I possess that go beyond strength and conditioning, re-positioning myself as a personal trainer who does more than lead “workouts”, into the realm of restoring optimal movement quality to support a wide variety of goals any client may have, from reducing pain symptoms, to optimizing physical and sports performance, to lifting heavy stuff because it feels empowering.

Today I would like to speak a bit more specifically about a fundamental piece of my operative philosophy that I find myself repeating as I learn to integrate the tools I possess: Investigating the bodies true priorities before deciding that strength will make things “better” (whatever our definition of “better” is).

As a personal trainer with understanding in both areas of strength training and biomechanics, how to balance these priorities? Is strength training with good technique enough to improve movement mechanics? Or will addressing biomechanics lead to improvements in strength that resistance training alone could not?

Obviously it’s not a “this over that” situation. It has to be both and all in any situation.

And HOW to achieve that balance is the tricky, variable bit, as no two people are the same.

Too, there is the issue of expectation and trust, when a client is looking for a type of training that validates what they perceive to be their specific limitations or goals, rather than seeking the truth of the issue, which may not be the same as how they perceive it. This is where client education, proper assessment are important, as is being able to meet the client where they’re at. If I give them something to do that is so far off the radar of their expectations, they will likely not appreciate it or see the value in it. This begs the question- do I give them what they need, or what they want?

Again, the answer is, BOTH! Always both. Finding the sweet spot for every individual. Meeting them where they’re at.

I think the art of “finding the sweet spot” is one I will be aiming to master for the rest of my life…

Finding the sweet spot

As we can all appreciate, in a holistic model of helping someone reach their goals, we have to take all aspects of “training” into consideration:

Restorative stuff: Yin (stuff having to do with homeostasis of all systems):

Possessing ideal joint mechanics*
Ideal breathing mechanics
Sleep, nutrition, stress management, hydration, blah blah blah, for healthy organs and systems function

Exercise based stuff: Yang (training you do to push your body to do stuff harder, faster, better, etc):

Strength and power training
Aerobic/anaerobic exercise
Skills/sports specific training

I would like to argue that biomechanics are like a mesh that surrounds and intertwines all aspects of the Yin and Yang of performance, health, and well-being.

For example, having ideal and efficient joint biomechanics (movement/posture) will help with breathing, reduce issues of compression on the organs, blood vessels, nerves, lymphatic system, etc, help the body stay pain free, enhance sleep, allows for proper digestion and elimination, and improves blood flow to distal body parts and the brain to enhance cognition and emotional regulation.

Having great biomechanics also spills over into all aspects of fitness and athletic development: the building blocks for producing force and power efficiently, and will impact on aerobic fitness by virtue of having mechanics in place for efficient breathing and economy of movement. Ideal biomechanics will lay the foundation for performing specific skills better, while also allowing an athlete to unwind from their repetitive specialized movements so they can get back to training the next day. Not to mention people with more efficient biomechanics will likely have less risk of injury and will take less time off training.

What do I mean by “better” biomechanics?

I’m talking about adult human gait mechanics of the Flow Motion Model as the “gold standard”.

Read more about that HERE. And HERE. And HERE.

Some may say that the “exercise stuff”- strength training with good technique, high quality technical skills work, will be enough to take care of the bio-mechanics bit in itself, and why spend time focusing on it?

“Squatting with ‘good’ form will keep you pain free”

“Animal Flow will fix your joint issues because it is ‘natural’, variable movement”

I agree to a certain extent, but disagree that people with real biomechanical anomalies will be “fixed” by good squat technique and simply getting “stronger”, or by pretending to be a monkey and crawling on the floor. (Note, I realllly love squats and crawling on the floor…)

Moving differently is great, but moving differently is still only a work-around for a specific issue or movement being avoided, whether conscious of it or not.

Yes, working specifically on changing the way people move and time their joint actions can be subtle, focus-demanding, tedious work, requiring daily practice, patience, and trust. Most meaningful work is…

That said, addressing biomechanics won’t automatically make you stronger. If coming from an untrained state, enhancing spine and shoulder mechanics, for example, will not miraculously bring you from zero push-ups to 5, just as if you are in pain, going from 0 to 5 push-ups may not reduce your symptoms.

Prioritizing…

Do you know your priorities? In your life? For your body?

Take a close look at what values, in the physical realm, are honestly important to you. Do you play a sport? Are you trying to maintain “fitness” as you age? Do you want to feel strong? Pain-free? For health enhancement and quality of life gainz?

Many people are unsure what they want out of a physical practice, and what they value in one. They may say they want one thing, like to be strong, or to be “in shape”, but don’t have a clear picture of what that means.

“Strength” might be a means to an end- Not the real value, but an expectation for a process.

Someone may perceive that exercise and strength training will make them pain free and perform better at their sport, and come in with an expectation that strength training, like they’ve read about on someone’s blog (not mine….), is what will get them to their REAL goal, which may have nothing to do with their level of strength.

I’ve been investigating what I truly value in a physical practice for the past several years, after my forced exit from the world of dance.

My primary value for my physical practice is to comfortably, confidently inhabit my body, at rest and in motion, and possess an awareness of it that allows me to heal myself when I get into trouble with it (which is inevitable).

What secondary values do I hold that bring my primary value to life?

Strength. When I feel strong I feel more confident and comfortable in my body. My definition of “strong enough” is probably different than that of others. I have no desire to compete in a powerlifting competition, or be an elite athlete, but I enjoy the experience of being in my body more when I can do push-ups, chin-ups, squats, and deadlifts.
Quality of movement. This is fundamental to strength development and so I prioritize my movement mechanics over getting strong. Can my joints do all the things their architecture was created for? I will not push my body in training beyond the point where my mechanics can take me.

Knowing my priorities now helps me to choose how to act according to my goals. As a dancer, my priorities were the inverse, and I was pretty depressed and in pain.

What if we don’t know what we really value? Or what if our perceived goals are not in alignment with what our bodies need? And what if our goals are not really our goals, but someone else’s goals for us? Then our approach to training will be off as well.

There has to be this sweet spot where our true values come together with where we’re currently at, and our method reflects and respects this. I think this space is met when we take the time to investigate what we really value, and is defined by acceptance, patience, and trust. A falling away of the ego and expectation for what we “should” be doing.

Maybe I’m getting a little philosophical now for a blog about biomechanics… But the method we follow matters little without investigation of the “why” behind it.

That’s what THIS tattoo is a reminder of…

So, that said, I want to share two stories from two different dancers and how they view their priorities, and their take on biomechanics vs. strength training.

Meet Sergio

I recently met up with a reader of my dance blog in real life- A dancer/musician visiting Toronto from Europe. I’ll call him Sergio.

We met up for coffee and he told me the story of his discovery of strength training and of how, inspired by Pavel Tsatsouline, the simple addition of squats and other basic strength training exercises into his gym routine boosted his dancing because he was able to move more efficiently. This is how he found my blog- searching for information on strength training for dance.

Image result for pavel tsatsouline — Comrad!

If basic strength training had these effects on his body, why couldn’t everyone have easy access to this simple performance enhancement method? A sentiment that resonates with me as well, and is why I got into this field in the first place, spending three years focused heavily on working with dancers. That’s why I wrote a book (<— available by donation right now!).

Sergio wondered why I care so much about getting into the nit picky details of movement mechanics when performance enhancement is so readily available to anyone who steps into a gym and picks up a weight and uses progressive overload.

Again, I don’t disagree with this. I’ve experienced this performance enhancement phenomenon it for myself, and many of my dance clients have, too. And, as my role as a personal trainer, people are neither expecting nor asking me to help them with specifics of joint biomechanics that they aren’t even aware are a thing to work on.

But to get someone to squat on their flat, pronated feet that don’t know how to supinate makes me feel ethically wrong, and sooner than later I feel obliged to shed light on the client’s limitation.

Yes, initially getting stronger will probably make that person feel better. But let’s go back to the squatting on pronated feet example.

25% of the bones in the body belong to your feet. If 25% of your bones are not moving in a full body loaded exercise, like a squat, for how long will squatting be the solution until it becomes a new problem? Something else is going to have to move to make up for 25% of your bones that aren’t moving. Will it show up in a few days? Maybe a few months? Years? I’m not willing to ignore that and wait with crossed fingers. (And yes, your foot bones should have some movement when you squat).

Image result for foot bones — 28 bones per foot. 56 bones total. 206 bones in the body. That’s 27.18% of your bones in your feet. Cool!

Where Sergio is at now, he is prioritizing strength training. Is that wrong? I don’t think so, because we don’t have enough information!

In Sergio’s credit, he is very body aware, and has a deep practice of inner investigation. He knows when something is not right for him and knows how to change when he’s stuck in a pattern that doesn’t serve him.

But while Sergio claims he has no current troubles with his body, what I think needs to be considered is what happens in 5 years if he keeps strengthening, reinforcing, his body with possible underlying movement issues that he is not aware of? After all, he IS a dancer, and I’ve never seen a dancer (or a human) who didn’t have some issues with their body.

I am a good example of how Sergio’s mindset started off great, and then went horribly wrong (or right… depending how you look at it).

I fucked up.

Here’s a story about me, because it’s my blog and I’ll write about myself when I please.

When I initially started strength training as a 20 years old dancer, I noticed right away that the extra work capacity that came from developing strength through squats, deadlifts, and push-ups had a dramatic change on my dancing. I felt like I’d struck gold. Found the “missing link”. My teachers noticed I was dancing “better” and I started getting all sorts of positive attention from them.

But what happened over the course of two years? I became over-trained (because I wasn’t planning my training schedule properly and was working out 4+ days per week on top of dancing everyday for hours), and I got injured (because no amount of squats or deadlifts in themselves could resolve the underlying postural and movement distortions my body had ingrained over the course of my life thus far).

What I needed was to address my movement mechanics to support my training, both in dance and at the gym, and in life (to get some healthy blood back into my brain, to be quite honest).

Applying myself to strength training was like fixing an atom bomb to my proximal hamstring- Using a potentially useful science in a destructive way.

This is a photo taken right after I injured my left hamstring. I was a pro at moving around my issues. (Photo cred to Heather Bedell)

Unfortunately, Google can’t assess your structure

Advice on how to address your specific movement mechanics is nearly impossible to search for online. (Maybe that’s why you’re reading this?)

This is because the same injury may manifest in X number of different outcomes and no two people will have the same experience of the same injury.

A fully “healed” ankle sprain may show up years later as a laterally flexed spine or a rotated pelvis or a knee that doesn’t extend. So one can’t just go online, type in “exercises to fix an ankle sprain“, or “exercises for my sore SIJ”, and find the solution. Because Google can’t assess that “why does my back hurt when I squat?” is a result of an ankle sprain five years ago that has now manifested itself as postural and movement distortions through the entire skeleton.

“I want to strengthen my ankles”

I will use another example of a young Highland dancer I did a few sessions with recently. We’ll call her Ally.

One of her primary goals was to improve her ankle strength to help her jumping. If you don’t know what Highland dancing is, it’s hardcore. You basically have to jump on one foot for 2 minutes straight without moving your upper body or putting your heels on the floor, all while looking pleasant.

Check it out:

I noted that one of the most important assets for a highland dancer would be the ability to create a rigid lever through the ankle, holding a supinated foot shape throughout the high volume of single leg hops they must do in their routines.

Image result for supinated foot rigid lever

The foot creates it’s most supinated, rigid structure in the toe off phase of the gait cycle, and so for a highland dancer, being able to access the mechanics of this phase- foot supination, ankle plantarflexion, is crucial to carry over into their sport.

Crucial to this is also the ability to create a mobile, adaptive foot that can leave the rigid state when they are not dancing to allow for “normal” gait mechanics for proper recovery from training and performing. Too, the muscles of supination will only get their chance to load during pronation, and so to not access pronation limits access to supination as well.

We need both!

Too, a highland dancer would need the ability to generate power from their hips, especially since dorsiflexing the ankle is going to be limited due to not being able to put the heels down during their jumps. That said, the hips are also going to be limited in how much they can load and explode as the dancer must stay perfectly upright, limiting how much they can actually flex from the hip to generate power (glutes load in hip flexion). Much of the strength is really coming from a partial range of motion in the ankle, from partially plantar-flexed, to fully plantar flexed.

Like I said, it’s a hardcore dance form.

Getting back to Ally.

Ally already lifts weights. She can squat and deadlift more than most teenagers, and so she already has a base of strength to support her dancing. But are her biomechanics in place for her dancing to benefit from the stregnth training she is already doing?

As it turned out in our assessment, Ally could not supinate her feet- both feet were stuck pronated, ankles dorsiflexed, especially her right foot. Remember, in highland dance, being able to supinate the feet and plantarflex the ankles is kind of really important.

Her hips also did not flex. Instead of flexing her hips, her ankles dump into dorsiflexion and pronation, she posteriorally tilts her pelvis, and flexes her spine. This means she does not load her glutes when she jumps- They stay locked short.

This also shows up in how she deadlifts- Hips unable to flex, so she massively dorsiflexes her ankles and pronates her feet. Is the way she is currently deadlifting helping her dancing? Or reinforcing inefficient movement patterns that will ultimately limit how much she can progress in her dancing? I am leaning more towards the latter.

In Ally’s case, I would prioritize her movement mechanics initially over adding “ankle strengthening exercises” to her training program.

When Ally asks for “stronger ankles”, what her body is craving is feet and ankles that can supinate and plantarflex to create a rigid lever to jump on, and hips that can experience flexion to help her load her glutes and generate more power in her jumps.

In her dance training and working with her technique coaches she would want to slow down to integrate the new mechanics. For example, as we’ve been working on helping her train her demi-pointe with REAL supination mechanics in place (as opposed to type 2 pronation- ankle plantar flexion on a pronated foot), she may need to take a few steps back in her dance training to make sure she can better use these mechanics. A few steps consciously, patiently, back can lead to monumental progress forward.

Gary Ward’s type 1/2 pronation and supination. The ankle can be in either dorsiflexion OR plantarflexion while the foot is pronated or supinated, but we want a particular relationship between the ankle and foot in pronation and supination (type 1), not type 2, in gait.

In her cross training with weights, she would want to focus on integrating the changes in movement mechanics into her lifts. As we’ve been working on helping her get REAL hip flexion (instead of the exchange that is taking place at her ankles and spine) she may need to take the intensity back in her strength training to make sure she can access a proper hip hinge. All the hours of cross training she is doing with her cross fit workouts may not be to her benefit unless they are reinforcing useful mechanics.

CONCLUSIONS?

There is a balance to find. A sweet spot in training for any goal.

Does their goal truly reflect their priorities?

Is there necessary work to be done on basic on joint/movement mechanics?

How much technical skills training can their body take with the mechanics it currently has to work with?

What volume and intensity of strength training will enhance their performance without reinforcing old movement habits that are not useful?

And how to package this in a way that inspires trust in the process?

These questions haunt my dreams.

But this sweet spot is not a perfect 50/50, or 25/25/25/25. Balance may mean 75/25, or 80/20, and this depends on where you are now, where you’re coming from, and where you’re going. And the purpose of one’s training will never be fixed, but always changing, day to day, week to week.

As in Ally’s case, as highly trained Highland dancer who already has a solid base of strength, it is my view that addressing her joint mechanics will likely have the biggest impact on her performance goal, and this point in her training. For now.

In Sergio’s case, as a highly trained dancer with no current injuries, adding in something he didn’t have in his training-Strength development, made a radical difference in how his dancing felt. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. For now….

But for both, neither solution will last the course of time. Things always need to be reassessed and adjusted based on where the body is now.

When I was a hypervigilant, chronically-in-pain person, low threshold, restorative work helped me find balance. But then after a few years of that, to restore balance, I needed to also explore the other spectrum (which I did through Hardstyle kettlebell training).

It’s more a question of constantly asking and evaluating “What’s missing that is preventing me from doing what I do better”? Where are you not supported in your training? Where are you not supported in your life?

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 motion Image 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.

Listen: Focus on the words the instructor is saying, make sure I actually hear them, not zoning out of thinking about lunch.
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.
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.
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.

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.

Where do you sit on the Life in Motion Spectrum?

An “atomic” model for movement lifestyles

The 5 (+1) Archetypes

Shell 1: The Indoorsman

Shell 2: The Exerciser

AiM University

Then and Now

Transitions

How do you even shoulder-check?

I ignored a problem

Can we experience healing without pain?

Change and comfort matrix

Pattern recognition

Someone’s elses’ limiting beliefs

Let go of the handbrake

Priming the system

The things that get in the way

The inner physican

Conclusions?

Finding the sweet spot

What do I mean by “better” biomechanics?

Prioritizing…

Meet Sergio

I fucked up.

Unfortunately, Google can’t assess your structure

“I want to strengthen my ankles”

CONCLUSIONS?

*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

ONE YEAR OF AGONY

A LIBERATING AGENDA

THESE ARE NOT THE SAME MODELS

WHAT I LIKED ABOUT PRI’S PELVIS RESTORATION

AND NOW, THE GRITTY DETAILS

DISCLAIMER

1. Whole gait cycle vs. partial gait cycle

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

7. To stack axially, or not to stack?

CONCLUSIONS?

G: Gasping for air

L: Lots of lactic acid

U: Unidimensional Movement (or Urinary Incontinence)

T: Tons of tone

E: Extension based exercise

N: Nociception

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.