Delayed dusk, Seattle schools and the Qom

Two studies of delayed dusk and its consequences

Sleep seems to be more and more in the news, the less and less we get!  The adverse effects of electric lights are by now well-known, but most studies are performed on volunteers in strictly controlled conditions.  Depicted here are two extraordinary studies that took place in the “natural environment” of human societies, taking advantage of changing conditions over space or time.

The first study compared subpopulations of the indigenous Qom people of far-northern Argentina.  Electricity has many benefits for developing societies, but sleep apparently is not one of them!  The second study was an exceptional example of science impacting policy-makers, and yielding data afterward to confirm the benefits.  The 2018 publication of the “Sleepmore in Seattle” study led to follow-up articles in the New York Times, Washington Post, Seattle Times and NPR.

These studies were carried out by Dr. Horacio de la Iglesia at the University of Washington, and presented in his talk “Sleep after Natural and Electric Dusk” in our weekly Colloquium series at the Integrative Physiology (IPHY) Department at CU Boulder.

Pectoralis major, the bodybuilder’s muscle

Pectoralis major, the bodybuilder's muscle

We all know the image of a well-muscled boxer or weightlifter doing the “self-clasping handshake” as a gesture of victory; and sometimes politicians have used this gesture to recognize a spirited response from the crowd.  But this position also presents an opportunity for isometric exercise, in which muscles contract but are prevented from shortening by an opposing force — in this case, the opposite arm.  So a bodybuilder might use the occasion of one triumph, as a chance to work out for the next competition.

The pectoralis major might be considered the “bodybuilder’s muscle” because it is the largest of the chest muscles, enhancing the male physique.  It performs several actions, by pulling (at what is known as the insertion point) on the front side of the humerus (arm bone).  The action shown here is horizontal adduction — bringing raised arms toward the midline.  An alternative example would be a musclebound villain strangling his puny foe.

But despite its caricature status, the pectoralis major is one of few muscles with a special ability:  It can undo its own action!  Since all muscles work by shortening (contracting), this is a rare feature indeed.  The key is that the muscle has two divisions (heads) — the origin (attachment point on the body) of one is above the insertion, at the clavicle (collarbone), the other is below the insertion, at the sternum and ribs.  Depending on which head is used, you can move the arm in opposite directions.

When the clavicular head contracts, the arm is brought forward and upward (flexion).  You can test this by facing a wall, with your arms at your sides.  Push against the wall with one arm, and use the other hand to feel the muscle contract, just below your collarbone.  The front wall of your armpit, formed by your entire pectoralis major, hardens as well.

Now try raising one arm up high and in front of you, as if eagerly answering a question in class.  Face the wall again, and push with your raised arm.  Now, you are attempting to extend the arm, bringing it back down to your side.  Using your other hand again, feel that the lower division (sternal head) is contracting, as is the front of the armpit again.  While the two heads can work together in some actions (“two heads are better than one”), they are antagonists in performing flexion vs. extension.

Repeat these exercises a few thousand times, and maybe you too can look like a cartoon!

The kangaroo rat’s adaptable hopping mechanism

The kangaroo rat's adaptable hopping mechanism

This cartoon summarizes the versatile ways that kangaroo rats deploy their hopping machinery in the desert.  It is based on a presentation by Dr. Craig McGowan of his research.  In studies of animal movement, biomechanicians often describe the muscles and connective structures using a machine metaphor, which helps to identify key adaptations in how animals get around.  Faced with a diverse terrain and hungry rattlesnakes, kangaroo rats use their gastrocnemius or “gastroc” muscle (homologous to our own “calf muscle”) in at least three different ways.  These discoveries may also inform future developments in the design of more versatile lower limb prostheses for humans.

Dr. McGowan directs the Comparative Neuromuscular Biomechanics Lab at the University of Idaho.  His presentation “Built to Hop: Meeting the Mechanical Demands of Locomotion in the Desert”, was a part of the weekly Colloquium at the Integrative Physiology (IPHY) Department at CU Boulder.

Serratus anterior, the boxer’s muscle

Serratus anterior, the boxer's muscle

Boxers use a lot of muscles, but the quintissential boxing move is a simple forward punch.  Contraction of the triceps brachii straightens (extends) the elbow.  At the same, contraction of the pectoralis major and anterior deltoid muscles bring the arm forward at the shoulder joint, which is considered flexion.

But only one muscle can enjoy the “title” of The Boxer’s Muscle — serratus anterior.  Depicted here, the serratus anterior runs between the ribs and the shoulder blade (scapula).  When it contracts, it pulls the scapula forward (protraction), in the direction of the opponent’s jaw.  It also rotates the scapula upward.  In the illustration, the bottom of the scapula moves left, and the top moves to the right.  This raises the shoulder joint and orients it toward the opponent’s face.  This combination of movements provides a firm base for a forward punch, hence the epithet “boxer’s muscle”.

The name serratus comes from the “saw-like” appearance of the muscle (as in the word serrated), resulting from its several attachments along the ribs.

 

Levator scapulae, the “I don’t know” muscle

Levator scapulae, the "I don't know" muscle

What happens if you just can’t remember?  Not to worry — there’s a muscle for that!  The levator scapulae does as its name implies — it elevates your scapula, or shoulder blade.  So, next time you’re asked for a muscle action you don’t know, just shrug it off!  Do this a few times and not only will you benefit from the workout, but (if you’ve been paying attention) you’ll never forget the levator scapulae.

But this muscle in fact accommodates a broad range of confidence levels.  If the scapula is held in place by other muscles, then contracting both of your levator scapulae muscles will extend the neck, pulling your head back.  Let your head drop forward again, and repeat a few times — you have just nodded your head in the affirmative!

And finally if you might know, but you’re really not sure?  Then you’ll want to contract just one of your levator scapulae (while fixing the scapula in place) — this will tilt your head to the side, in an expression of quizzical puzzlement.

Biceps brachii, the sommelier’s muscle

biceps brachii, the sommelier's muscle

Probably you’ve heard of the “biceps”, but you might not have thought of it as the “sommelier’s muscle”!  And yet, the action of opening a wine bottle sums up the two major actions of this muscle.

But first of all, be warned that you have a biceps muscle in your thigh as well — so to be clear, the biceps in your arm is called biceps brachii (“two-headed muscle of the arm”).

The biceps brachii attaches to your forearm on the anterior side, and thus flexes the elbow — pulling the forearm toward the shoulder, and thus folding your upper limb in two.  But it also supinates the forearm — this is a rotational action that twists the forearm (and the hand with it) from a “palm backward” (or downward) position to a “palm forward” (or upward) position.

Supination has many uses, such as turning your cupped hands upward to “drink soup“, begging for mercy as you “supplicate”, or perhaps even expressing a certain attitude with “…’sup bro!” — and these can be helpful mnemonics for remembering this action.

The reason for this lesser-known action of the biceps brachii is that the muscle attaches to the inner surface of the radius (of the two long bones in your forearm, this is the one that sits on the lateral or thumb side).  As the muscle contracts, that surface is pulled toward the shoulder, rotating the radius laterally, which carries the hand with it.

When opening a wine bottle, supination is used to twist the corkscrew clockwise, inserting it into the cork.  This is followed by flexion at the elbow, as you pull the cork out of the bottle.  Be mindful, though, that this only works with your right hand!  Supination with your left hand achieves the opposite, which is helpful at the end — twisting counterclockwise, to get that corkscrew out of the cork.

Latissimus dorsi, the swimmer’s muscle

Latissimus dorsi, the swimmer's muscle

The latissimus dorsi, or “lat” for short, is often referred to as the “swimmer’s muscle”.  It’s the prime mover of arm extension — meaning it does most of the work when you bring your arm back from a forward position.  Such a movement is especially useful in swimming, because by pushing back against the water, it propels the body forward.  To see a well-developed latissimus dorsi, just visit your local swimming pool and look for someone who just swam some “laps” with their “lats”.  You can also use this muscle for pull-ups, or striking a blow with a hammer, but I’d prefer to let mine carry me across a coral reef.

The many faces of areolar connective tissue

The many faces of areolar connective tissue

Areolar connective tissue, like connective tissues in general, holds us together.  Like all connective tissues, it contains a lot of nonliving material — the extracellular matrix.  In this case the matrix is loose and unspecialized, with a large amount of interstitial fluid, making it an ideal “filler” between many structures in the body.  In particular, it is found on the back side of almost every epithelium in the body, including the lining of blood vessels.  As a result, every molecule that crosses between the blood and surrounding tissues, has to diffuse across areolar connective tissue — the “middleman” of exchange.

Epithelia line not just the blood vessels, but every other surface and cavity of the body.  This means they can function not only as an exchange surface, but also a barrier to microorganisms.  Here again, areolar connective tissue plays a vital role — as the “second line of defense”, harboring immune cells that attack any invaders that breach our defenses.

I’ve already paid homage to some of our other connective tissues.  The dense connective tissues are distinguished by large amounts of collagen, making them strong, though flexible.  Bone tissue contains a rigid mineral component making it an ideal structural support.  Areolar connective tissue, by comparison, is weak and shapeless.  But this unpretentious mass of matrix and cells is arguably even more important for our survival.

You have six Achilles tendons

Cartoon representation of colloquium talk by Jason Franz at Integrative Physiology Department, CU Boulder, November 4, 2019

Your calf muscles are attached to your heel by a tendon — the Achilles tendon.  What you might not know (nor did I) is that each of your major calf muscles — the soleus, and the two heads (divisions) of the gastrocnemius — exerts force through its own subtendon within the Achilles tendon.  These three subtendons (six including both legs) can slide past each other, which allows each muscle to work independently.  That’s good news for walking performance, because each muscle is free to “do its own thing” without having to remain in “lock step” with the others.  Unfortunately, as we age, adhesions form among the subtendons, reducing their independence, and walking performance is reduced.

In his talk, Dr. Franz explained the problem and then introduced his laboratory’s current work on biofeedback techniques (using sensors on the calf muscles and, yes, a futuristic pair of glasses) which holds the promise of restoring some of that youthful gait performance, and thus, a longer period of independent living into advanced age.

The title of his talk was “Mechanics, Energetics, and Stability: Modifiable Factors to Preserve Independent Mobility in Old Age”.  Dr. Franz directs the Applied Biomechanics Laboratory at the Joint Department of Biomedical Engineering, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and North Carolina State University.  The talk was presented at the weekly Colloquium at the Integrative Physiology (IPHY) Department at CU Boulder.

Large intestine — gotta stay hydrated

large intestine gotta stay hydrated

In a cast of organs that so far includes the pancreas, heart, pharynx, and assorted smaller beings, this week we’ll look at the large intestine.

First,  let’s set the record straight:  The only thing large about this intestine is its width — it needs a spacious interior, to accommodate the slowly desiccating remains of your meal.  By far the longest part of your intestines is the small intestine — the site where the great preponderance of digestion and nutrient absorption occur in the body.

What’s passed on to the large intestine is a soggy slurry of undigestible food bits — especially the undigestible long-chain carbohydrates known as “fiber”.  What remains of value in this mix is water and electrolytes (such as sodium and potassium), which the large intestine absorbs.

Don’t be misled, though — the large intestine is vital for your survival.  All the organs of the digestive system from the mouth to the small intestine secrete large amounts of fluid.  These secretions add digestive enzymes and other additives to process the food.  Enough fluid is released in this way, that you’d quickly dehydrate, without the large intestine’s help.  Indeed, the inability to absorb fluids in the large intestine, resulting in watery feces, or diarrhea, is a deadly condition that kills millions every year.

Incidentally, the mouth of our thirsty friend is accurately placed — it represents the opening where the small intestine attaches, and thus, releases its slushy contents into the large intestine.  At that junction, an ileocecal valve prevents backflow of feces into the small intestine.  Other parts are (more or less) anatomically correct as well — from the portly cecum (shown as the “body” of our absorptive acquaintance), and a tail-like vermiform appendix, through the ascending colon, transverse colon, descending colon, sigmoid colon (the S-shaped “zigzag” near the end), rectum, and anal canal.  The end!