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?