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Movement Practice part 5: Complementarity and The Transcender

Part 5! Today we’ll delve into the last of the six archetypes, The Transcender.

Before we start, I’d just like to clarify that I am not claiming to be a Transcender. Far from it. I struggle daily with my Exerciser tendencies (I’m pot nerfect and I have them). I try my best to be aware of the pull of Over-Identifier-ing. I like to think I possess some of the healthy balanced qualities of The Integrator, but fall short on many occasions. Most days, if I’m lucky, I am able to remember how I aspire to cultivate Transcender qualities. Just remembering is hard (and this is where mantras, in a non-fluffy, practical way come in handy. But more on that later).

The only reason I feel authorized to write about The Transcender archetype is that I have a few mentors in my life that I would describe as such. I’ve been fortunate to spend time with these individuals, seeing how they live their lives over the course of a day, how they think and behave, and the congruence between the two. Observing what they value, what their priorities are, how they interact with their bodies.

It is because of these people that I feel capable of writing this chapter. I hope you’ll be as inspired by this archetype as I have been by The Transcenders I am lucky to know and learn from. Making the time to thoughtfully write down this description was a gift: The reflecting on what qualities and traits these inspiring people have was illuminating. What is it exactly about these people that makes it feel so different to be with them?

Complementarity: A Principle to Live By

The Transcender was a difficult character for me to pin down (also one of the reasons I am writing about him last). To nail his description, I think it is necessary to first discuss the concept of complementarity.

Complementarity is a principle from the weird world of quantum physics developed by Neils Bohr, a leading founder of the field. It states that to understand one entity or phenomena in its entirety, we may need to understand it broken down into two or more mutually incompatible theories. It speaks to the complexity, uncertainty, and indeterminacy of things. Things that have complementary properties which cannot all be observed or measured simultaneously.

A prime example of complementarity in physics is that we cannot simultaneously observe wave and particle properties. Nor can we measure position and momentum at the same time with the same instruments. The stage we’re in now, as a technological species, it is not possible to conceive of or measure properties inherent to the thing in question beyond what is possible with our specific measuring tool: The type of measurement determines which property is shown. In essence, it is near impossible to see the whole truth of a thing through one lens. It only seems possible to garner some semblance of understanding of a thing by reducing it to multiple, contradictory parts, then putting the pieces back together again.

I am enchanted with how complementarity not only describes an aspect of the fabric of reality, but how it can serve as a useful way of perceiving the world and living in harmony with it at an individual level.

If The Transcender had a religion, he’d be a Complementarian. This was a conclusion I came to after listening to an interview with physicist Frank Wilczek on Krista Tippett’s radio show On Being, in which he laid claim to this as his own religious belief (only half jokingly). To him , complementarity wasn’t just a physical principle, but a way of living. He described how he takes his understanding of complementarity and its application in physics into his daily interactions with people and the world around him.

In Wilczek’s words, the practical application of complementarity is based on the recognition that “a deep truth has the feature that its opposite is also a deep truth”. That there are different ways of viewing the world and we need both and all if we want the complete picture, as each is valid in its own context.

Just as we can observe matter organized as a particle or a wave depending on what instrument we are measuring it with, our interpretation of human behaviour, thoughts, and feelings will depend on our lens, context, and reference point of observation. Thoughts and feelings are about as mutually incompatible as particles and waves, and only rarely can we view them together as a coherent whole with any clear understanding of what’s really going on.

What makes complementarity useful for us (other than that it is an organizational principle of reality on the micro scale which it would seem foolish not to want to investigate in the macrosphere we interact in daily), is, as Wilczek explains, “It is interesting, fun, and informative to appreciate there are different ways of viewing things that each have their own validity, but conflict if you try to apply them both at once. Apply one at a time and try to appreciate both.”

His belief, one that I feel to be an astute observation, is that there is virtue and intelligence in being able to live with this uncertainty and inconsistency, that this is an important component of wisdom.

This wisdom, this appreciation of multiple views and ways of thinking and doing all as valid in their context, is the primary defining trait of The Transcender.

The Transcender

The Transcender’s mantra could be taken directly from Nassim Nicholas Taleb’s book, Antifragile: “I want to live happily in a world I don’t understand”. He has a love for the uncertain. He is curious about inconsistencies. He is a seeker of truth.

In our MLAM, The Transcender cannot be confined to a single shell. As a Complementarian, he he is able to jump from shell to shell at any given moment based on the dictates of context: His present needs and goals. He is the model in its entirety, without being attached for too long to any of the archetypes he inhabits. He appreciates how the traits from each archetype serve a purpose that is useful. He can only be fully understood as a whole by understanding the other five archetypes and their ways of living.

The Transcender is rare, but it is likely that you can identify at least one in your life. He is probably someone you admire and look to as a role model. Someone to learn from.

Movement is one of The Transcender’s highest values, but to him movement goes beyond physical exercise (we will look at this broader definition of movement in the next chapter). He sees movement in its every form in nature and is fascinated by it, its reflection and representation and in our lives. For example, how the movement of the seasons mirror the movement of our thoughts, the function of our bodies. His overarching view of movement as seasons, cycles, and patterns, as a fundamental property of everything, explains how he is able to maintain his value for movement at all times while himself being in a sedentary character.

The Transcender is excellent at recognizing patterns and appreciates that his life happens in cycles of complementarity: Cycles of input and output, activity and non-activity, introspection and extroversion, play and rest, etc. He also acknowledges that these cycles may last moments, days, years, or decades, and is perfectly comfortable with that. These patterns are only recognizable with a sufficient amount of time and introspection, and so the Transcender is likely to be at least 30 years or older- Enough time to experience the validity of each cycle in its current context. This understanding is what makes him peaceful to be around. He isn’t fighting the currents of his life, but flowing with them.

In more practical terms, on any given day The Transcender can adopt the characteristics of any of the other archetypes but without becoming stuck in any of their patterns.

For example, The Transcender may have led the highly active life of a Dedicated Mover for 10 years as a professional cyclist, but then out of necessity (a signal to rest such as an injury, or a change in priorities) become a bit of an Indoorsman, deciding to commit his next five years to writing a book he felt compelled to bring to fruition based on these 10 years of lessons as a cyclist. He makes use of The Indoorsman archetype’s characteristics, rather than allowing The Indoorsman making use of him. This is the key distinction between The Transcender in Indoorsman’s clothing, and a true Indoorsman. He play’s The Indoorsman character without carrying these characteristics into other areas of his life in which they won’t serve. It is as if he can put on the costume of an archetype, and change out of it to play the role necessary for the next act of his life, whether it lasts for 5 minutes or 20 years. One of his superpowers is adaptability.

While he is capable of stepping in and out of the shoes of The Indoorsman and Exerciser (two of our archetypes with the least healthy relationships with movement), he was probably encouraged in his childhood to always be moving, playing, and being outdoors, values that stuck with him. As the driving force in his life is his curiosity about movement, most things he deems a good use of his time involve learning about, practicing, or deepening his understanding of the human body in motion. He considers himself a life-long student of movement, and he studies via books and taking courses, experience working with other people, but perhaps most importantly, exploring in his own body, developing a deep awareness of it.

What he knows to be true through his own experience studying his body in motion is that what he observes to be happening in his body also shows up in his life. When he feels resistance and limitation in his body, somewhere in his life he knows this same restriction must exist and he seeks to understand this connection. To him, the exploration of his body is a vital, inextricable part of investigating his life and how he interacts with it. He knows that his relationship with his body and how it moves- what’s going on “in here”, is a reflection of what’s going on “out there”. This is not something he can prove scientifically, but witnesses again and again in himself and the lives of others. This insight makes him sought after for advice. Being with him in is like taking a ride in a helicopter from which we can view a greater expanse of the landscape of our lives. To zoom out and see a fuller picture of reality.

As much as he values and loves moving his body, he is equally able to be with himself in stillness. He can sit down to meditate, scan his body, or to read or write or study for hours. Another one of his amazing super-powers is his resiliency to sitting. Immobilization in front of a computer or on a plane don’t have much of a negative long term effect (not that he enjoys these things exceptionally). He simply stands up, shakes off any feelings of crustiness, and gets on with life with no excuses, regrets, or procrastination, like many of us are prone to do.

It is his commitment to learning about and from himself, his body, and the world around him that define the core intention of The Transcender’s movement practice. In his quest to satisfy his curiosity, he is likely to develop a propensity for teaching, allowing him to share what he is learning and exploring, while deepening his understanding of himself and the human body. Likely career paths for him thus include coaching a sport or movement form, working as a therapist of some designation, teaching seminars, or authoring a book (or all of the above at different life-stages). His ability to play all parts in MLAM serves him nicely in these guiding roles, endowing him with an easy sense of compassion and drawing his “tribe” to him in his capacity as coach, teacher, and healer.

The Transcender is distinguished from the Dedicated Mover and The Over-Identifier by his realization that he cares more to explore, tinker, play, and teach than to compete, win, and be the best. He may have transitioned from being a serious athlete to his teacher/coach/healer role with the understanding that while he loves that particular sport, he gives precedence to having a healthy body and mind, a goal requiring a more diverse movement “diet”, not to become stuck in one pattern.

As his name suggests, The Transcender transcends the need to always be moving: He doesn’t obsess about his training schedule, doesn’t feel guilty for missing a training session, doesn’t succumb to the pressure to exercise because “he should”. He knows to rest when things don’t feel right in his body. He fluctuates between moments of deep focus, relaxation, or calm, and bouts of intense activity, skilled practice, or inspired teaching. Because of this, he is in good physical health much of the time (though he comes in different shapes and sizes).

It is as if his MLAM shell-position operates on a highly sensitive pressurestat* system allowing him to adapt to each moment in time appropriately. For example, if he stops moving for long enough, his inner homeostatic mechanism signals a build up of pressure and cues him to get up and move. And when his system needs a break to recover (low pressure) the signal is heeded; he slows down and enjoys some downtime. This happens at both the micro (seconds, minutes, days, weeks) and macro (months, years, decades) level. He rarely needs to think long and hard about what is best for his body, he is adept at interpreting his inner-pressurestat’s readings.

*A pressurestat is a homeostatic control that reacts to changes in pressure in a system, increasing or decreasing it according to the environmental conditions.

This ability to clearly communicate with himself is mirrored back at him in his relationships and professional life. The Transcender tends to have clear, intact boundaries, knowing when to say “no” or “yes” to himself and others in personal and professional matters. Rarely does he burn himself out, as his internal feedback loop provides accurate real-time information on when to stop, go, or change lanes. That said, he has developed a particularly low tolerance for irrational thinkers, from whom he has learned that life is too short to live trying to convince them of their irrationality or change their minds.

Finally, an interesting characteristic of The Transcender is that he may not consider himself to even have a movement practice, even if it appears to the outside eye that he does. If you ask him about it, he doesn’t feel that he is practicing anything, just that he is living his life authentically according to his values and priorities. In this way, The Transcender effortlessly takes on a teaching role by virtue of modeling how to live a life in congruence with one’s highest values.

The Transcender at a glance:

Superpowers: Resilience to sitting, adaptability, curiosity, teaching, communication.
Religion: Complementarian
Kryptonite: Irrational thinkers.
Vitality: Healthy, abundance of energy, youthful.
Relationship with movement: Transcendent.
Attitude towards the stairs: Take em’ or leave em’, depends on his pressurestat.

Identify with the traits, not the character

As I mentioned before, these archetypes are stories. Communication devices to frame the rest of what I wish to discuss in this work.

You can probably identify some traits from each archetype in yourself, or maybe fully identify with one of them. Perhaps you have an idea about aspects of your archetype that you are unsatisfied with, that you’d like to change. But I’d also like you to ask yourself, how are these undesirous traits currently serving you, where you are now in your life?

Put on The Transcender’s thinking cap, or take a ride with him in his helicopter. Can you see the broader landscape of your life?

A conversation between an Exerciser and a Transcender from up in his helicopter might look like this.

Exerciser: After reading Monika’s description of The Exerciser archetype, I can see how I use exercise as a way of making up for my unhealthy habit of neglecting my body all week as I work at my IT job at Clean Clean Happy Time Toilets and Bidets Inc. I’m unhappy that this is a trait I possess.

Transcender: Let’s zoom out and investigate this. Can you see ways that this undesirable trait is actually useful for you? What could it be helping you to accomplish and learn? Who else could be benefiting from it? How would you feel if you could let go of this trait, and What would you do with the space you’d free up without this trait as part of your existence?

Your first exploratory mission

Consider this your first step in our systematic approach to cultivating a healthy, useful, enjoyable movement practice.

Exercise 1:
I’d like you to take the imaginary ride with The Transcender described above. Start by writing down some of the characteristics you identified with from each archetype (there will probably be some from each). Go back and re-read the descriptions if necessary. Then, for each characteristic, write down your answers to these six questions:

1. How is this undesirable trait useful for you?

2. What could it be helping you to accomplish?

3. Who else could be benefiting from it?

4. What have you learned from being this way?

5. How would you feel, who would you be, if you could let go of this trait?

6. What would you do with the space you’d free up in your life without this trait as part of your existence?

Doing this reflection and writing down your answers is an illuminating use of time, and I strongly recommend you do it. It will help to give clarity to your “now”, which, at some point will likely be your “then”.

Practical post-archetype semantics

The next chapter of this work will describe and define some important words, like movement, practice, and exercise, so that you, where ever you sit on the MLAM, can gain a fuller understanding of the role movement plays in our lives, and how to cultivate healthier relationships with our bodies on this journey of well-being*. The more you are aware of where you are now on the MLAM by investigating your archetypal ways of living, the more you will appreciate the chapters to follow.

*Well-being: I believe it is impossible to define and measure objectively because it a journey, not a fixed state.

Movement Practice part 4: Comparing The Dedicated Mover and Over-Identifier Archetypes

Aaannnd I’m back again. Today we look at the next two archetypes: The Dedicated Mover and The Over-Identifier.

In part 2 we looked at The Indoorsman and The Exerciser. In part 3 we painted a portrait of The Integrator, our most balanced, stable character in the Movement-Lifestyle Atomic-Model (MLAM) saga.

Today, we look at the two least stable characters, one of whom (The Over-Identifier) I have been for many years- Maybe you knew me in those years? Man have I changed…

The Dedicated Mover, in hindsight, seems a missed connection to me. I can see now how a few small choices I made escalated and paved the path towards an egocentric movement relationship derailing what could have been a healthy, balanced dance career. It seems as if a few small choices are enough to create a vast chasm separating the Dedicated Mover from the Over-Identifier.

The flap of a butterfly’s wings. The “toaster effect”, if you will.

From Robert Becker’s book, The Body Electric. The “toaster effect” is the new chaos theory.

But I’m not bitter about that (anymore). And I’ll share more about that story in subsequent installments.

Let’s get into today’s archetypes.

Shell 4: The Dedicated Mover

Committed to yet dependent on movement for a living, The Dedicated Mover is a professional mover of some designation. She is the unsexy, unglorified, underrated cousin of the Over-Identifier (who we will meet next). She is everything the Over-Identifier needs to be more like but is in denial of.

The Dedicated Mover excels at living dichotomously. She walks the edge of a precipice: On one side the ground fully supporting her, and on the other a sheer drop into the spiraling, melding, confusion of her identity with her movement endeavor. For The Dedicated Mover, this identity melding is unavoidable, but manageable. In a fine balance she keeps one foot on firm ground, the other dangling over the edge, and she enjoys the thrill and challenge of it.

As an athlete or performer, her livelihood depends on her body’s ability to move and perform in a particular way. As hard as she works at her movement form, she works equally hard at maintaining the balance in her life, and this equal placing of value in life-balance and movement is The Dedicated Mover’s defining characteristic.

The fine balance between dependence on and dedication to. Attachment to versus freedom from. Inspired performance versus pursuing status. Joy of movement versus pride of winning.

Her ability to manage the deluge of successes and struggles on her path will place her at a point on a spectrum somewhere between these two poles. This point is bound to bounce around from week to week, even day to day depending on the demands placed upon her and her ability to cope. This inevitable fluctuating state of existence and perpetual seeking of balance is what gives her her place at shell four, a less stable shell in the MLAM than The Integrator.

As a professional mover, she is aware of the need to actively work at retaining a healthy sense of “I am not my career, I am not my body”. She can take a step back from her professional career and say, “There is this part of me that I love and nurture that has nothing to do with my sport or what my body looks like. I have hobbies and interests and skills that I enjoy developing outside of rock-climbing/circus-performing/football, and I know I won’t be able to use my body for my livelihood forever. I am ok with this and am prepared to make this transition”.

Part of the instability of her place on shell four comes from the unpredictable nature of when this unavoidable transition will take place. However, because The Dedicated Mover’s transition is on the forefront of her mind, it does not hit her like a Talebian Black Swan* as it will for the Over-Identifier, but as a conscious decision met with grace at the appropriate time.

*A Black Swan (referring to the bird, not he ballet), as described in the book by the same name by the statistician and former trader Nassim Nicholas Taleb, is a rare, unpredictable event (good or devastating). Those who know they cannot predict a Black Swan event, but recognize the potential for one are at an advantage as they are able to bolster themselves against the devastating effects should one happen. However, those who are most susceptible to a Black Swan are those who think they can predict the future, think bad things can’t possibly happen to them, and ignore the potential risk because it is so small. For example, if you live in Seattle, a city on a fault line, you are at risk at any time for a massive earthquake to destroy your home. This earthquake is a Black Swan event- A rare, unpredictable event that is impossible to protect against completely. It may happen tomorrow, it may not happen in your lifetime. But it is possible to minimize its catastrophic impact on you by knowing about its potential impact. Bolstering against the earthquake could include a. Moving away or living only a few months of the year in Seattle, b. Educating yourself on safety procedures should there be an earthquake, c. Not owning anything that you know you would hate to lose, etc. None of these are perfect- There is no perfect protection from a Black Swan by its very nature, but with our knowledge that one is possible we can minimize our fragility to one.

Can you identify a Dedicated Mover in your life? They are rare. Too, we don’t hear much about them in the news and media. The Dedicated Mover’s life wouldn’t make an exciting movie. If she wrote a book is would be titled: How Consistent Hard Work, Healthy Choices and Foresight Lead to a Successful and Moderate Life. Contrast that with The Over-Identifier’s best-seller: How to Push Through Pain and Win.

She considers the question: “Will the choices I make today help me succeed for just the next competition? The next few months? Or for the next five years?”.

One of her superpowers is foresight: “Should I take the next three months to recover from this injury now and not compete tomorrow? Should I do the healing I need to do now so that I can compete when I am ready, and have a sustainable, albeit less glorified career?”

When it comes to the unpleasant topic of aging, The Dedicated Mover has a realistic, embracing mindset towards the process, whereas the Over-Identifier meets it with an inner (or outer…) anger and chooses to live in denial, aging signifying the end of “glory days”. The Dedicated Mover thinks of success as sustainability. Success is the fact that she is one of the few who can make a living doing something that brings her joy, versus success as winning and being the best. She thinks long-term, treating her career as a journey, with a higher priority on enjoying it for as long as she can than on surviving for the next competition, game, or performance.

She knows that as she ages things will feel different in her body, but that this is not necessarily better or worse than when she was younger, just a new phase that will require a reframing and a continuously evolving investigation of what that means. When the time comes for her to step back from her professional or competitive career, she will do so with acceptance, and will probably transition smoothly into a support or coaching role, working with younger athletes. Or, she may decide to do venture into an entirely different arena, wishing to engage her other skills and interests that she was not able to while committing her life entirely to her movement form.

There is no denying that The Dedicated Mover will suffer physical and emotional pain as part of the sacrifice she makes for her chosen movement endeavor. Injuries are par for the course with a life committed to movement. But for her, its worth it. She is able to see physical injuries as opportunities to work on her weak areas, as avenues for personal development, and come back stronger than before with a new understanding of herself and her body.

Daily, she is faced with an onslaught of judgement and comparison. Daily, she battles the tendency for fear of failure to serve as motivation. But she is gifted with the ability to make two seemingly mutually incompatible traits work together: A determination to put herself and her health first, and a blazing passion to excel at her movement form. She puts her needs as a human before her needs as an athletic identity. She compares herself more to who she was yesterday than to others. One foot on solid ground, one foot over the precipice.

Balancing work and other areas of life is a challenge for The Dedicated Mover, for whom work is her life. Movement and training are her priority and livelihood, but she is often successful at maintaining quality relationships with herself and others in her life. Through training for her sport she has learned respect, honesty, and how to listen to her body, enabling her to use these characteristics in all life interactions. She doesn’t see herself as better than her non-athletic, non-mover friends, just that she’s chosen a different path, and is equally admiring of the people in her life who are dedicated to their own form of personal and professional mastery, whether physical or not. Her sport is almost everything to her- Almost, because she can detach when there is a true need to prioritize something that will affect her personal moral and ethical codes for living, and her overall well-being.

The Dedicated Mover at a glance:

Superpowers: Physical prowess, self-healing, foresight, dedication.
Kryptonite: Injuries, balance, judgement, competition, comparison.
Vitality: Physically healthy yet perpetually healing some degree of physical injury
Relationship with movement: Dichotomous: Passionate yet grounded, joyous yet serious, dedicated yet dependent.
Attitude towards the stairs: Takes the stairs most of the time depending on the need to preserve energy- Whether today was a heavy or light training day, or whether she had a competition.

Shell 5: The Over-Identifier

Finally we meet the much-alluded to, most unstable of our characters (and the archetype I have personally identified with for nearly one third of my life), The Over-Identifier, who sits on the outermost shell of MLAM.

He takes two primary forms:

1. The serious amateur athlete aspiring for admiration and recognition, to make it big (at least in the eyes of his Instagram followers).
2. The professional athlete who’s sense of identity is inextricable from whatever form of movement or sport he has made it his life’s mission to master.

In either type, The Over-Identifier’s distinguishing characteristic is his ego-centric, unbalanced, often unhealthy relationship with movement: The using of it as a means to seek recognition for his physical superiority; his wrapping up of personal identity to his body and his chosen movement endeavor. To separate him from his sport is to tear his world, as he knows it, apart. This fragility to the surety of injury, age, and emotional stresses to erode his career (as is normal) makes him a living, breathing Black Swan event waiting to happen, and is what puts him on shell five, the most unstable shell, of the MLAM.

The Over-Identifier’s life revolves around training and competitions. He is usually a perfectionist. Type-A personality. Obsessed with his exercise and movement forms. Success for him means being the best.

He is known to post videos of himself daily, probably multiple times per day, on social media, using hashtags such as #nopainnogain, and #beastmode. Even the seemingly innocent and healthy #movedaily slogan becomes unhealthy for The Over-Identifier, who blows both “move” and “daily” out of proportion. Intended to be a gentle, achievable process goal, suitable for The Indoorsman’s foray into a movement infused lifestyle, “move daily” is gospel taken to the extreme for the Over-Identifier. If he cannot commit to a minimum of two or three hours of training daily to his schedule, then he has not gotten his “move” on for that day. The day is now a waste. He is a waste. Woe is the Over-Identifier who takes a rest day. (Yes, in the case of professional athletes, they must train long hours most days, but even professional athletes need rest days, something the Over-Identifier sees as weakness and puts him into existential turmoil).

His identity is defined by how his body moves and looks and his value for competition permeates all areas of his life. To be the best and to win is his all-pervasive mindset. If he fails to perform at the high level he expects of himself or loses in a competition, the feeling is not that he has failed, but that he is a failure. The Over-Identifier experiences a near debilitating frustration if for some reason he cannot accomplish a movement goal or skill within a short time-frame, and a deep shame if his body does not look the part (not thin enough, muscular enough, tall enough, etc). If his livelihood is financially wrapped up in his practice of movement and his looks, in the case of a professional or sponsored athlete, the urgency of his need to fit into an aesthetic role increases. Due to the pressure he puts on himself he is prone to eating disorders, anxiety, depression, and other mental illness.

Fear of failure provides impetus for The Over-Identifier’s movement practice. Often resting just below conscious awareness, this fear makes him work hard, and his dedication is seen as admirable to those spectators on the outside who cannot see the truth of how unhealthy his motivating forces are. His unwillingness to give up, to keep pushing, can be so intense that he is likely to become injured before admitting that his relationship with movement and exercise is unhealthy. His attitude is that nothing can slow him down. Sickness and injuries can’t stop him from showing up for training, and if they do, he feels immense guilt for missing a training session, competition or performance. There is a bizarre sense of pride he gains from showing up for training injured or ill. It shows his commitment to his lifestyle, even if he knows he won’t be performing his best, to him it’s better than not showing up at all.

The Over-Identifier feels blissfully, ignorantly invincible. In the dance world there is term to describe this feeling:The indestructo phenomenon. Coined by Sally Fitt, author of Dance Kinesiology, it refers to how “Dancers who have never had a serious injury can fall into the trap of assuming their bodies are indestructible, that they can never become injured.” (Been there, done that.)

Due to this extreme, indestructo attitude, The Over-Identifier is likely to succumb to the over-training effect, the cognitive and emotional side-effects of which are the first to set in. Sooner or later (often sooner) he finds himself depressed, chronically fatigued, and in a brain fog for weeks on end. Then, as if by some stroke of bad luck, he suffers three injuries in a row. Probably while doing seemingly mundane, low level task, like sneezing, tying a shoe, stepping off a curb. Of course, this isn’t bad luck, but a recognizable pattern in hindsight- A direct result of his inability to honestly listen to his body and treat it with respect (he struggles with honesty, listening, and respect in other areas of his life, too). Where the Dedicated Mover has foresight as a superpower, the Over-Identifier must rely on hindsight, although these lessons from the past don’t always stick the first time.

Movement is his priority 100% of the time, making him the polar opposite of The Indoorsman. An admirable value that, again, many observers on the periphery of his life view as healthy, and aspire to be like him. He is likely to put his movement practice before school, work, and relationships, and these three areas of his life may suffer as a result.

In the real world, perhaps you know an Over-Identifier in the form of a Cross-Fit athlete who is obsessed with his workouts, and schedules his social life around them, alienating friends who don’t have the same commitment to the sport as he does; not wanting to commit to any social situation that is not “paleo”. We could be painting the portrait of a professional dancer who works part-time as a bartender because nights are the only time she has to do anything else, and has no time for friend, family, and ironically, for herself- She is always working to support her movement based lifestyle, not to support herself. This could even be the description of personal trainer who feels his livelihood and identity is dependent on how his body looks, and selling his personal training dogmas and routines has become more important than educating himself on what is truly best for each individual client.

The common denominator of these three portrayals is that The Over-Identifier will do what he feels is necessary to maintain his illusory image, his fleeting feeling of success, no matter if he is hurting himself and sacrificing other areas of his life in the process.

His life is a sunk-cost fallacy. A part of him may recognize the need to let go in order to feel at peace and truly enjoy his life, because there must be something more to this existence than being the best. Or is there… He’s invested so much time and energy in this identity, and he’s so close to “success”, so why stop now? He represses this ominous feeling of internal dissonance.

If for some reason he is forced to let go of his attachment to his physical identity, as in the case of an injury or other major life event like an illness or having a baby, he will lose his sense of “self”, and will enter a strange and tumultuous transition as he is forced to figure out, “who am I if I cannot do X, and do not look like Y?” Unlike the Dedicated Mover, this transition will be abrupt and crushing to his ego. However, the upside is that this unexpected transition will alter the trajectory of his life in what is likely to be a salubrious direction. He is then free to discover something more to life than being the best, to see his path more clearly, and to develop a sense of compassion and an interest in helping others. With no other options, in the time necessary for him to take, he learns to let go and jumps to a different shell of MLAM.

The Over-Identifier at a glance:

Superpowers: Physical prowess, excellent body, ability to push through pain.
Kryptonite: Competition, perfectionism, losing, over-training.
Vitality: Appears outwardly physically healthy yet may be physically and mentally unwell.
Relationship with movement: Obsessive, excessive, dependent: Unhealthy and unbalanced.
Attitude towards the stairs: Similarly to The Dedicated Mover, takes the stairs sometimes, depending on whether today was a heavy or light training day, or whether he had a competition.

Why Are We Drawn to the Extremes?

Something interesting came up as I wrote this chapter: It was so much more interesting and enjoyable for me to write the description for the Over-Identifier than for the Dedicated Mover. I had fun with it. I giggled to myself as I wrote it. The Dedicated Mover on the other hand was a dry effort (though I tried to make it interesting enough, for your sake). It made me wonder, why? Are we as a species hardwired to prefer the extreme over the moderate? What makes moderation so difficult?

Look no further than social and mass media sources to witness the popularity of hyped-up, extreme ways of living, having, being, and doing. The extreme end of any spectrum is the one most often reported on and glorified from beyond the screen, making us feel like this is reality and we don’t belong. The expectation and pull to live in accordance to these portrayals is strong, sucking us in, or causing us to hide like a turtle in its shell.

And when pull turns to push, in my experience, being extreme is easier: To hide or to throw ones self into something. Not easier in the sense of physical effort, but in the sense that extreme behaviour is a cop out. A way of avoiding important self-investigation by engaging in a distracting activity or limiting thought process. Avoiding inhabiting an issue by staying busy and moving around it, sometimes quite literally with movement (in the case of The Exerciser and The Over-Identifier).

I was an Over-Identifier in the days when I was training to be a professional dancer. I had heaps of destructive habits. But to face them was a challenge beyond any physical feat you could have asked me to attempt. Stand on my head on stage? No problem. Address my fears and limiting behaviours? No thank you. So I opted to use movement, use my body, as an escape. This strategy only lasted so long. Remember that seemingly random mundane injury typical to the Over-Identifier? Mine was to my neck as I lay in bed by just turning my head to the side, still half asleep. I blamed the way I slept. I blamed randomness. I blamed everything but myself and my inability to take an honest look at how I was living my life. I was trying to keep up appearances (look like a dancer, move like dancer, act like a dancer). Trying to fit in. Trying to be the best. Trying to avoid the truth. It was exhausting, but it was easier than facing facts.

I suspect there is a cyclic interplay reinforcing this unbalanced way of living with what censored versions we see of the lives of others. We avoid, we numb , we escape, and then we are presented with even more portrayals of extreme behaviours framed as desirous, entertaining, or “normal”. It feeds into our own avoidance habits. And at the end of the day, what more do we want than to feel like we are normal and that we belong?

What about those who do the hard work of inhabiting the challenging ground in middle? What about The Integrators (and to an extent The Dedicated Movers)? We don’t see them portrayed as frequently to be role models in the media, and by their very nature, they prefer not to seek recognition for their way of life. Their humility keeps them a secret from those who need their example most.

Moderate isn’t entertaining. Integrative living isn’t a good avoidance activity. No one wants to see an Instagram post of your meditative afternoon in your backyard, touting the virtues of your push-mower. The Olympic athlete with the healthy balanced mindset, diet, and training practice doesn’t make the headline. We’ll only hear about the athlete who injures himself or is involved in a drug scandal.

Action sells. Excitement. Physical prowess. Extremes. To watch someone morbidly obese on “reality” television struggling to exercise, then lose 100 pounds. Or to watch a paralympian with no legs compete in table tennis.

In a world that places a higher value on displaying to us the extremes it is important to understand that movement, generally regarded as always healthy, can become an avoidance behaviour. We must remember that the examples for how to relate to movement in a balanced way are best observed in the people who exist in real life, not on the other side of the screen, for what they show on screen is just a snippet of their life we idealize. And away from the screen is just where you can find The Integrators: Engaging with their lives, unlikely to be influenced by what they see on Facebook. Ironically, ask them to show more of their lifestyle on social media to model their balanced way of living and we risk unbalancing them. Or maybe not… Such is the true test of an Integrator’s integrative integrity.

Stay tuned! In the next installment we look at the sixth and final archetype, The Transcender. See you next time.

Movement Practice Part 3: MLAM and Archetypes (continued)

Welcome back. In part 2 we discussed some wacky ideas about atoms and electrons and archetypes and the MLAM (Movement-Lifestyle Atomic-Model).

If you’re still into this exploration of the implications of how we interact with movement in our lives (hope you are…), in today’s Movement Practice installment I’d like to discuss the third archetype who sits at the center of the MLAM: The Integrator.

Ready?

But first… An important message about this archetype thing:

Its Not Your Fate

You may find you resonate completely with the description of one of these archetypes I’ve described so far, or that you are a blend of several. An Indoorsman/Exerciser. An Integrator/Exerciser. I personally have been a little bit of each at different points in my life (save for the Indoorsman, thanks to the example set by my parents, I was brought up with an intrinsic value for movement, even if it became very unhealthy in my Over-Identifier days. Nor do I feel as if I’ve attained Transcender status, though I know of few of these individuals, and they are an inspiration to be around, providing an example for how to live harmoniously attuned to one’s body and environment).

These archetypes are only stories. Something I made up to illustrate a point.

In the chance that you might identify strongly with one of these archetypes, I’d like you to remember that while the characteristics of one or more of the archetypes may describe you right now, they do not define who you are and how you will always be. If you feel the Indoorsman is representative of you, with a lacing of The Exerciser, you are not doomed to be these traits.

People can and do change all the time but this change does not take place without first asking the questions: Where am I now, how did I get here, and what what realm exists beyond my awareness? The difficulties in change arise in the inexorability of self-reflection and unpleasantness. It is step that most of us avoid, skipping ahead to the “here’s how to be the best you” step: The Indoorsman joining a basketball league without appraising that his health and fitness is nowhere near sufficient for this demand, for example.

By creating a caricature of the traits that you may not be willing or able to look at in yourself because they are too close, too deeply ingrained as patterns, the archetype descriptions can help you to zoom out and identify areas of your relationship with movement that you’d like to change. Stories can be powerful meaning conveying machines, but they are just stories. Our species has using stories since the earliest forms of pre-spoken-language communication to help to convey ideas in ways that conceptualizing and intellectualizing alone cannot.

My hope is that you do see yourself in one or several of these archetypes, but only so that you can get a broader context for the journey forwards as we explore your relationship with movement and how it may be impacting on your life, for better or worse.

What should interest you most is not which archetype you identify with, but the acknowledgement that the journey from shell to shell of the MLAM is what makes up the bulk of our lives, and instead of moaning about where we’re at now, we can ask, “How do I want to show up for this journey?”

With awareness, an explorative mindset, seeing our failures as opportunities to change? Or regret, disappointment, and frustration that you are who you are.

You are not any one archetype, inside all of us is the possibility of Transcender (an archetype we will meet a little later on).

Public service announcement complete, let’s meet The Integrator.

Shell 3: The Integrator

Dynamic and adaptive (in life and in his body), The Integrator possesses a certain je-ne-sais-quoi. You probably know quite a few Integrators who don’t realize they’re Integrators. Let’s demystify what makes this archetype distinct.

Professionally, an Integrator is 40% likely to have a job related to movement and fitness, such as a yoga teacher, sports coach, or massage therapist. There is a 35% chance that his job has a definite degree of physical demand such as being a bike courier, a walking tour guide, or a landscaper. There is a 25% chance that he has a low-movement, indoor, corporate, or office-type job such as a software developer, an investor, or an office manager. The common identifier of these Integrators of various professions and life-paths is that movement and being outdoors are one of their top three values, if not number one.

The Integrator can likely be spotted working out at the gym, but is equally likely not to have a regular indoor gym routine. More than the act of showing up to the physical location, he shows up to spend time in his body. He makes time for movement and activity as an integral part of his life versus seeing it as something to fit in amongst a plethora of other higher priority activities.

His movement practice is a cornucopia of movement forms, exercises, sports, and non-exercise activities that, when habitually engaged with, make him feel subjectively “good”. He has discovered, likely quite early on, that life is much preferable when h:e integrates movement into it (hence his name).

For him, “movement practice” exists on a spectrum with three landmarks:
1. Organized routines and structured practice.
2. practical movement integrations and non-exercise activities.
3. Spontaneous, creative, or improvised movement forms.

The most healthy, integrative integrator has aspects of all three landmarks in his practice, which I call possessing the Movement Practice Trifecta (MPT).

For example, The Integrator who has a fully established MPT may participate in, as his chosen organized movement practice (landmark one), powerlifting, Ashtanga yoga, or karate- Highly structured activities he wants to get better at and see progression physically. As his non-exercise activity (landmark two) he makes time for a walk outdoors at lunch time, and enjoys gardening in his leisure time. And as his creative, spontaneous movement option (landmark three) he may practice contact improv, or the flowing, creative work of Ido Portal, as well as engaging with the unplanned spontaneity implicit in playing a recreational sport.

Not all Integrators engage with the full MPT, and this does not make one Integrator better or worse, just at different points along the spectrum. You may recognize an Integrator as a doctor who plays in a ball hockey league, commutes on his bike to the hospital, and works out at the gym two times per week. You may know a CEO who’s alter-ego is a martial-artist and high level ping-pong player who is also practices carpentry on the weekend. Or you may know a chiropractor who is a StrongFirst kettle bell instructor, who plays with his dog at the dog park regularly, and plays beach volleyball on Sundays.

Many Integrators who are new to integrating do not yet have a trifecta in place, but are likely to have hobbies that can be done outdoors. If the newly anointed Integrator does not yet have a distinct structured practice, play a sport, or go to the gym, he probably has high non-exercise activity levels, as he organizes his life around his value for being outdoors and using his body in some useful, enjoyable way, such as hunting, fishing, carpentry, camping, playing with his kids and/or pets. He can’t imagine a life spent sedentary without movement or play.

Even though his day may be busy with appointments, meetings, or deadlines, he looks at his schedule weekly and makes time to move, treating these times as important appointments with himself. His priority is on weaving movement into his lifestyle. The activities that bring him the most joy and allow him to connect with his friends and family are movement based- He’d rather plan a social gathering around an afternoon gardening outdoors than sitting in a cafe; a camping trip over a gambling trip to Vegas, or a cycle tour of Vietnam over a luxury cruise in the Caribbean.

The Integrators who do have a structured training or gym routine approach it in a different way from The Exerciser. Their intention is less one of end-gaining and more about the process he engages in. It is less striving to be something he’s not, and more based on accepting who he is now, and who he chooses to be as he walks his path. Even as a powerlifter or other metric-based athlete, he is not attached to chasing numbers as a predictor of his success, and simply enjoys the journey he is on- The ups and downs, while aiming for his goals (and due to his process-oriented outlook, he often achieves his goals).

The goal of the Integrator’s training routine is to support his body so he can keep enjoying his favourite activities without omni-present niggling joint aches common to The Exerciser, and normal for The Indoorsman. He takes care of himself so that he can live the life he loves without fear of becoming injured or not being able to keep up. If he loves to hike with his wife in the wilderness, his practice of movement and strength training is geared towards helping his joints to feel healthy and happy so he can continue to do this for as long as he can.

Movement is integrated into his life, be it professionally, socially, or for personal enjoyment and health, and this contributes to his high adaptability to life’s demands. He bikes or walks to commute because it is empowering, economical, enjoyable, and as a bonus, good for his health. He values looking fit and healthy (let’s be honest, we all want to look good) but also truly enjoys working on new movement skills and trying new activities, finding himself looking forward to the peace and clarity that comes with deep practice and entering a flow state. He goes for daily walks not because the doctor told him he should exercise more, but because he knows he feels better when he gets more blood flowing to his brain and body, impacting on his abilities in his mental and professional areas of life. Because of this extra kick of blood to his brain, the production of neurotransmitters unknown to the sedentary, combined with a less chronically sympathetic nervous system state, he is also likely to be a better learner than the average human, seen as more intelligent, having more resources made available for his brain to use for something other than surviving.

His adaptability and vitality earn him his place on the middle shell of MLAM: He is resilient to mental and physical health risks, and his salubrious habits perpetuate a positive feedback loop, further contributing to his resilience. The key factors that distinguish The Integrator from The Exerciser is his moderate attitude, which sounds boring, but because of which we can account for his physical and emotional ease. Whereas The Exerciser fluctuates between highs and lows in her physical practice and mental state, The Integrator is level, enjoying a sense of inner peace and calm that the Exerciser does not, which inevitably trickles into other areas of his life, making him an excellent role model for us all.

The Integrator at a glance:

Superpower: Level-headedness, learning, adaptability.
Kryptonite: Inability to engage in a consistent routine, forced to sit for too long.
Vitality: Good energy, immune system, resilient to illness.
Relationship with movement: Integrated, balanced, trifecta.
Attitude towards the stairs: Takes the stairs because he has legs that work and doesn’t take them for granted.

Having fun with this yet? Whatever, I am. In our next Installment of Movement Practice we will meet our two professional athlete archetypes: The Dedicated Mover and The Over-Identifier. Stay tuned! If you really want me to let you know when I have some new writing to share, let me know. I can put you on my “People who actually read what Monika writes” gmail list.

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…

Complementarity: A Principle to Live By

The Transcender

Identify with the traits, not the character

Your first exploratory mission

Practical post-archetype semantics

Shell 4: The Dedicated Mover

Shell 5: The Over-Identifier

Why Are We Drawn to the Extremes?

Its Not Your Fate

Shell 3: The Integrator

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?

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.