Hi, my name is Lisa, and I have a dysfunctional pectineus. Once an avid runner who could knock out half marathons in two hours, I have been reduced to air-humping and crotch-lunging exercises that unearth my buried treasure for all the fellow patrons of Bally’s Fitness Center
Located at the upper front of the pubic bone, the pectineus is a flat, quadrangular muscle that makes up part of the hip flexor family responsible for hip flexion and thigh adduction and rotation. This muscle works in concert with its neighboring core muscles to provide stability for the pelvis during activities such as running, kicking a soccer ball and copulating or “boning” to use the parlance of our times. How apropos, since my pectineus is quite the little fucker.
To fully understand my pectineal injury though, I feel it only necessary to also drop some knowledge on the anatomy of my lady flanks. After all, they do make up part of the ass, and everyone, not just Sir Mix-A-Lot and the Black Eyed Peas, is sprung on the ass. It’s undeniably the most talked about body part in hip hop culture, for without which women of the world everywhere might never know how to shake their money maker, drop it like it’s hot, or make it clap - which is my personal fav. In fact, I’m making it clap right now as I write this.
So allow me to break it down for you: The hip consists of a ball and socket joint that is formed between the femoral head and the acetabulum. As a result of the shape of this joint, it is capable of a wide range of motion in all directions - forwards and backwards, side to side and rotation inwards and outwards. In addition to this large range of motion, the hip also joins the leg to the trunk where a there is a tremendous amount of force that must pass through just by performing regular daily activities let alone when working out. In fact, many running studies have shown that each heel strike produces a force that is equal to 3-4 times your body weight. And the force doesn't just act at the foot. As the heel strikes the ground the impact force will then travel up the shin through the thigh and hip and into the pelvis and trunk. Due to this high amount of force, combined with the large range of motion, the hip must rely on a complex system of muscles to control and protect the area, and to ensure that the body is able to attenuate to these forces, it is crucial that there is proper mobility at the lower extremity joints, adequate strength, endurance, and balance of muscles that control the leg, pelvis and trunk. As long as the muscles and joints are working together in an integrated manner, it will greatly reduce the chance of injury.
When muscles become tight or weak from the repetitive forces of running over time, he body will develop compensatory patterns and create an imbalance by placing added strain on the other muscles as they must work harder to pick up the slack from the tight or weak muscle. Although I have muscular thick thighs, protuberant hamstrings and an ass you could swipe a credit card through, my lower abs are apparently not strong enough, so the force is concentrated on my pectineus instead of being transferred through the muscles and joints along the kinetic chain. This news was shocking to me too, since I always thought my lower abs rivaled that of Janet Jackson in her “If” video. “If.” Ha Ha. What a song! I’ll tell you what I’d do “If” I had Janet Jackson’s abs. I’d quit my job at the glove factory and move to Fiji
Over time, this tissue strain developed into microtrauma and increased scar tissue formation placing even more strain on my muscles as they had to stretch and contract against these adhesions until my pectineus tightened to the point where it pulled against the bone and fractured my femur resulting in total loss of function. Every time I even tried to stand my groin would flare up sending a sharp, shooting pain down my entire crotchal region. Not even the thrilling tingling sensation of BioFreeze could distract me from the pain, and I piled that shit on there like I was building a goddamned vagina teepee. At least I was gaining street cred with the urban demographic for walking around with my newfound pimp limp.
After following the doctor’s orders of avoiding all strenuous activity for 8 weeks and experiencing minimal to no results, I was told I needed both physical therapy and ART massage to correct the muscle imbalance and strengthen and stabilize my core while returning my now fibrotic muscle tissue to its normal tone. Basically, they wanted to completely break me down so that they could build me back up.
Physical therapy was a colossal waste of time and money. Athletico (or AthleticNO or AlthleticDONT as I like to call it) didn’t teach me any exercises that I didn’t already know, and to make matters worse they weren’t supervising me so I continued to perform in a compromised state placing further strain on my pectineus. I experienced a significant increase in the ratio of the nights to which I was icing my privates compared to not, and co-workers were growing tired of me interrupting meetings to go lunge it out. I still could not put on a pair of underwear without my hip locking up and timbering to the floor like the old lady from the Life Call commercial. I was desperate and starting molesting tennis balls and foam rollers in an attempt to massage the affected areas until I could have my ART therapy.
My first ART session could be likened to some form of medieval torture. I don’t know what was worse, the fact that it felt like I was having my leg pit put through a meat tenderizer or that this poor woman’s head was all but two inches from entering my heavenly gate. I didn’t know what the proper etiquette was for such a situation, but I certainly felt like I should’ve at least been taken out for a drink or dinner or something afterwards. Tammy then went on to tell me that pain is the body’s last symptom in the repetitive strain cycle, and that the source of the pain is not always where the problem is. Did you hear that, Shakira? Apparently my hips DO lie since the reason for my pain was weak abs. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Tammy continued to throw me around like a rag doll until my legs were camouflaged with bruises. It seriously looked like I was shot at in close range by a paint ball gun or got stuck in a hail storm sitting spread eagle. But the fun didn’t stop there. No siree, Bob! For the grand finale, Tammy dug her knuckles into my ass cheeks. I started to feel the way I felt when the Costa Rican masseuse took certain cultural liberties and included my breasts in my full body massage on my 30th birthday. No thanks, dude. These party poppers are reserved for a more private celebration. My poor glutes were just collateral damage to defective pectineus.
After several treatments and contusions later, I stand before you a stronger woman. I have not yet regained full ability off my pectineus, but I have a newfound respect for my body and its limits. So the next time the dude a chump pump points a finger like a stump I tell him step off, I'm doin' the Hump!
