Pathologizing Normal Anatomy

Of all the things that drive me off of a cognitive cliff, pathologizing normal anatomy is at the top of the list.

What is pathologizing normal anatomy? It’s when you make it seem like normal structure features of the human body are—in and of themselves—a problem

I’ll start by saying this: abnormal structures and conditions can absolutely lead to pain—and potentially injury. Even so, many individuals live with extremely abnormal structural conditions with no pain or symptoms of dysfunction.

Here are several examples—people often say the following are “bad”:

• Anterior pelvic tilt

• Posterior pelvic tilt

• Rounded shoulders

• Flared ribs

• Flat feet

• Rigid arches

• Knee valgus

• Knee varus

• Hip rotation orientation (duck feet)

• Scapular motion

I’m sure I’m missing a fair number, but you get the point. Most of us have been sold a story about how these are potential “issues” and how they need to be fixed.

The message that people (perhaps inadvertently) want you to believe is that you’re broken—why?

So that they can fix you.

And what happens if they can fix you?

You can pay them money!

Now, I don’t believe everyone who proclaims that any of the above are problems are money-hungry, malicious devil-doers—I believe most people are well-intended individuals who genuinely believe in the systems or models they’ve been indoctrinated into.

So how do you, Modern Meathead, circumvent these issues?

Stop attributing pain or discomfort to a particular cause. Attribution of pain and/or injury generally leads you nowhere, and it typically ends up forcing people down rabbit holes that they never come out of—or, if they do, it takes far too long.

Why should we stop attributing cause?

Because there are a potentially infinite number of reasons that you could have pain in a joint, muscle, etc.. There are far more ways to be wrong about a cause than there are to be right (and this assumes that there could only be one cause of a particular pain, which is also foolish).

But there is only one thing that you know for sure: that you have pain, or that you’re injured.

So—start there—and start to pay attention.

Create a note in your phone, and use it to make observations about your pain.

Create a scale of pain, 1-10.

10 means that you can’t move because of discomfort.

1 means you don’t feel any pain.

Every couple of hours—or when something stands out to you—check in with yourself, and take note of the level of pain and what you were doing—or weren’t doing—when you recorded the number.

Even if you only accumulate a few days of data (several weeks of this could change your life), you’ll start to understand what kinds of things bother you. A pattern will begin to emerge. You’ll become more aware of when discomfort is beginning to onset so that you can avoid it like you hadn’t before.

Imagine that every time you saw a number at or above a 6, you reflected that you were sitting on your couch, watching TV.

Also imagine that every time you were at or below a 2, you were on a walk, perhaps with friends or family.

Do more of the things that force a 2 or below to emerge. Do less of the things that force a 6 or above to emerge.

The same framework can be applied to exercise.

It’s difficult to precisely define what makes an exercise “good” for you, but you know when something isn’t right.

So, start to ask yourself: which exercises definitely don’t feel good? Which exercises make me feel pain-free, and which ones exaggerate my pain? Which motions make my body feel like a well-oiled machine? And which make me feel like I’m 100 years old?

While a seemingly obvious strategy, I find that many people do not take the time to ask themselves these questions.

Perhaps it is because pain is a tough thing to deal with. It is uncertain. It is scary. “Will this last forever?” is not an uncommon question.

But one thing is for sure: pathologizing basic anatomy and blaming your problems on the way you look—or on any single idea—is most likely not the long-term solution to your problems.