Rethinking Movement Teaching: Practical Solutions Over Prescriptions (Part 1)
I recently had a chat with judo coach, Mike Liptrot, who said that as soon as he started working with older adults on fall preparedness he abandoned most of the pre-written curriculum. There were simply too many variables to stick with the original plan. Trying to pigeonhole older adults into a pre-packaged lesson plan ignored too many unique considerations. How do you teach people to get back up again when they can’t get down to the floor in the first place?
Set curricula, expert systems and space to move.
In the 1980s computer scientists tried to develop ‘expert systems’ in areas like law, medicine and management. They thought they could draw decision trees that would account for every possible situation, taking the tacit information accumulated from human experts and trying to formalise it into a series of if/then statements. These projects were a collective failure, real life is often too complicated to lay out as a decision tree.
I think one of the great tragedies of the 21st century is that for a plurality of people, physical activity is equated with going to the gym. There’s actually nothing wrong with gyms or the fitness industry, just that they’ve monopolised our idea of how we can move. People have become convinced that they must go to gyms and repeat approved movements in specific sequences in order to ‘be active’. They equate physical activity with exercise and exercise with doing the same approved movements over and over again. Gyms also reinforce the assumption that certain movements constitute exercise and anything else is frivolous. I’ve seen many people give up their gardening, hiking or play time so they can go to a gym to be healthier.
Gill recently went to a gym and realised there was no space to move that wasn’t taken up by a resistance machine or a treadmill. She tried to find a space to do some heavy carries and weighted get ups but was asked to stop by the gym manager. It’s not that the manager was a bad person, there was just a mismatch between the intended design of the gym and Gill’s desire to move around freely. Modern gyms are really about taking away options and constraining how people move, possibly as a way for reducing analysis paralysis, partially because people are comforted by being told what to do. Think about what gyms offer: classes where clients follow the orders of an exercise leader, machines that force you to move your body in a specific way, instructions explicitly telling you what to do and implicitly what not to do.
The very design of the area and use of space precludes spontaneous movement. A major reason for this is that people have become alienated from their own bodies. For years, social scientists have talked about the ‘de-skilling’ effects of industrialisation. Labor is easier to commodify when it’s reduced to simple, repeatable tasks. Replacing skilled artisans with factory workers turns craftsmen into interchangeable widgets that can be more easily hired and fired by capitalists. Think of a McDonald’s kitchen with its automated, proprietary machines vs the kitchen of an experienced chef who only needs a knife and some pans. Or as philosopher Matthew Crawford wrote, “Cheap men need expensive jigs”. Specialised machines replace experiential knowledge and skill. The basic tendency of neoliberalism is to insert financial transactions or products in between human relationships with each other and the environment. This same tendency of deskilling can be observed in our relationships with our own bodies. Nowadays people experience their body through consumer culture. We make sense of ourselves through products like clothes, make up, supplements, social media companies etc. We’ve become alienated from ourselves, mediated by commodities. Apologies for the tangent but the fact is that we don’t need complicated machines and bodies to use our bodies. These machines and gadgets only exist because people lack the opportunities to use their bodies in meaningful ways. Even more tragically, people have become convinced that they need someone to tell them how to use their bodies, that there are approved and unapproved ways to move and that we need credentialed experts to show us the proper way to pick something up or get from A to B. This is all a roundabout way of saying that many of us approach movement with the perspective of people who have been told how to move their entire lives. People who have been convinced that we need to employ someone to tell us how to move correctly.
Aspiring coaches or personal trainers enter programmes where they memorise points of performance for the correct way to use machines and equipment. They memorise planes, joints and muscles so they have the correct words to communicate the correct movements. (Again, I’m not saying that this is all wrong, but it’s just one way of making sense of movement.) Because there are ‘correct’ ways to move and correct movements to emulate, the basic assumption is that they present clients with a list of correct movements that should be replicated.
For example, it’s generally accepted that a resistance training programme includes:
Squats
Deadlifts
Vertical pressing, vertical pulling
Horizontal pressing, horizontal pulling.
Some sort of core work
Some sort of locomotion.
Trainers with other backgrounds might use slightly different models, maybe they’ll build a program around antagonistic muscle pairing or body parts or some other way to portion out the human body.
To be fair, this is basically how I programme for myself. I generally know how my body works and what variations of movements are a good match for my strengths and limitations. The issue arises when people are convinced that this reductionism encapsulates all kinds and qualities of human movement.
The importance of asking ‘Why’.
Before we decide if something is correct or incorrect, we need to ask why we are doing something. I’m not a body builder and I’m not motivated to compete in bodybuilding or to look like a body builder, but I respect that if those are your goals, it makes sense to train like a body builder. The collective experience within the community of practice that makes up bodybuilding has the best practices for those who want to be bodybuilders. To be clear those goals probably don’t align with most people. Similarly, I’m not interested in competing in powerlifting or olympic lifting. But if I wanted to become a competitive powerlifter, I would go to that community to learn how to increase my competition lifts. The goals of a community are not good or bad, they’re largely determined by the rules of success in that group. Powerlifters ultimately care about increasing one's abilities in the low bar backsquat, the deadlift and the benchpress. Bodybuilders care about maximising hypertrophy, minimising body fat percentages so they can display their bodies on a stage at a specific time on a specific day.
What is the why of gyms?
Well generally gyms want to maximise the profit of a piece of real estate through selling fitness memberships. Real estate is expensive and they’re incentivised to maximise the profit per square metre. This is done through a combination of maintaining current memberships and selling new memberships. There is a certain amount of attrition built into the business model. Most gyms wouldn’t be able to serve their clients if the majority of their customers used the gym regularly.
The issue arises when groups from one community of practice apply their ‘why’ to other groups. Bodybuilders have different goals from powerlifters who have different goals from CrossFitters and thousands of words have been written on the internet about the inadequacies of each group according to their competing practitioners in other disciplines.
All this comes back to understanding the assumptions baked into any kind of physical activity. When people say there is a correct way to train or move, it’s a reflection of their own goals, assumptions and training background. People can get very fit and strong across many modalities. Traditional strength training in ancient Greece, India, or Victorian Britain all looked very different and all produced very strong individuals. The problem arises when anyone decides that there is a specific way people shoulder move or movements that people must do. Often these assumptions are probably more or less correct and more or less converge on similar beliefs, but sometimes these ideas are contorted by idiosyncratic beliefs, superstitions, cultural hold overs or the ‘science’ of the time.
A big issue arises when peoples’ ego entwines with their exercise preferences. People on the internet will ruthlessly argue over squat depth, best tools, rep ranges, volume, exercise selection etc etc. Sometimes the small differences generate the most acrimony.
How have our beliefs changed over time?
It’s important to consider that these best practices or cultural assumptions may evolve with time. The modern back squat as we imagine it didn’t really take off until the mid 20th century. Before that, strongmen were doing deep knee bends. Even standard movements like presses, pick ups, and the Olympic lifts have changed radically over the last century due to changes in equipment, beliefs about health and safety, industry trends etc. To imagine that there is one platonic ideal of any kind of movement is largely naive.
One also needs to consider the industry of accreditation and professionalisation. There are many layers of organisations trying to generate profit by offering various certifications, titles, diplomas and other forms of credentials. In some cases these organizations exist just to act as gatekeepers and middlemen, trying to skim a bit of profit from the lucrative wellness industry. These organisations make money by convincing people that they know the truth and any aberration from their system is ineffective or unsafe. Whenever ideas become systematised and codified, they inherently become inflexible and sometimes reactionary against change or new ideas. Nobody wants to re-write their training manual when new ideas come along. Nobody wants to admit that their $2,000.000 certification might have gotten a few things wrong.
So we have a lot of issues to consider: different goals, different communities of practice, different financial incentives, different organisational interests. It makes sense that the dominant voices in the industry want things to remain status quo. Currently that means applying a fitness or gym lens to the problem of physical activity and health. This means that the basic assumption is that the way people should engage in physical activity is by paying money for a gym membership and then paying a certified personal trainer to show them how to move correctly, how to use the fancy machines correctly in the context of 2-6 gym sessions a week. The movements are to be repeated and progressed more or less forever in the hopes that they will confer some sort of benefits via building muscle or strength or improving metabolic health or aerobic capacity. It’s basically assumed that these special exercises will have real life application and that the way they are done in the gym will have the most benefits.
But how do people decide what is ‘the best’ way to move? Well we need to consider the history and context of these specific movements. What is the perceived why?
Strength sports like powerlifting, crossfit and olympic lifting have to consider the rules of the sport or governing body. There are prescribed ranges of motion, techniques, standards many of which are there to clarify judging or point scoring in a competition setting. In some ways this scoring is similar to more artistic sports like gymnastics or figureskating. Athletes are scored based on their adhering to arbitrary standards. These rules can change over time, look at the first Olympics and see how standards have evolved across many sports.
In fitness settings movement standards might emerge from ideas about safety, liability, or other guidelines. For example in the 1970s it was decided that knees shouldn’t move past the toes in knee dominant lower body movements like lunges or squats. This was based on the theories of certain scientists at the time, based on then current ideas about tissue tolerance and regenerative ability. The mechanistic model has been applied to other realms like back health. While a lot of the basic assumptions are no longer considered scientific truths, they have become part of folk wisdom regarding movement and are still included in text books & safety standards. It should be noted that top down ideas of what is healthy change radically every few decades based on the limited measurement capabilities of the time. International public health has been greatly affected based on fluctuating beliefs about fat, sugars, carbohydrates, drugs, models of disease and other factors which have then been overturned by news ideas or evidence.
One example of this mismatch is the old Crossfit Kipping pull up debate. Traditional gym goers malign the kipping Crossfit pull up because it’s accomplished by generating force with the whole body rather than being a strict, almost isolated movement. Traditionalists would argue that pulls up should be done strictly with no momentum so as to focus on the biceps, lats and upper back muscles and also to protect shoulder integrity. For them, pull ups are a muscle building exercise. CrossFitter have a different goal, they want to get their chin above the bar as many times as possible, as quickly as possible to score well in a competition. They see kipping pull ups as a sport specific skill that allows them to maximise work. Both groups are correct based on their own reasoning.
As mentioned above, there is still an active debate over back health and whether spines should be trained to move outside of a neutral position. Many industry leaders on both sides of the debate can cite impressive evidence to support their own beliefs about whether or not exercises should include spinal flexion, extension, rotation, lateral flexion and power generation.
In addition to sport standards, evolving or outdated scientific beliefs, we also have to consider culture, confidence and financial incentives.
Generally, western cultures have become more risk averse. This could be due to fear of litigation, fear of healthcare costs, growing awareness of health and safety concerns, changes in mass media, government public health campaigns, the implications of longer lifespans or many other influences. Whatever the reason, most people are generally more fearful about moving and hurting themselves. We often work with members who express fear that they are gardening incorrectly or sitting incorrectly or running incorrectly and that they need a professional to show them how to move.
Finally, as mentioned above, we need to consider financial incentives. There is an industry that makes its money from convincing people that they need to be taught to move properly. As Upton Sinclair said, ‘It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it.’ Similarly, it could be a case of the Shirky Principle, which states ‘Institutions will try to preserve the problem to which they are the solution.’ If we define the problem as that people don’t move enough, then we can’t count on the fitness industry to offer a systemic solution when their profit relies on people continuing to need gyms in order to move. So the fitness industry is really the ‘Convince people they need gyms and personal trainers, and supplements and gadgets industry.’ One downstream effect of this is that people believe they need special experts, with special tools to show them how to move.
So we have several reasons why people believe that the proper way to move is via prescribed movements done in a special way with special tools. And I can also see why sometimes the current model might work best for people with limited time, knowledge and access to space. If you didn’t grow up moving and don’t have access to public space in which you can move, then maybe a commercial gym is the best option.
The problem with all the above is that it’s still ensconced in the movement = prescribed exercise model. I think that’s probably a limited way of looking at the world. We propose that movement should be a way to engage with the real world around us. Movement allows us to accomplish goals and solve problems. How do I get from here to there? How do I move this object and put it away? How do I get around this obstacle?
Under the fitness-exercise model there is an assumption of a closed system: Use this specific equipment to move a joint this specific range of motion to stimulate this specific muscle. There is an efficient or optimal way to do this based on whatever assumptions the professional has about biomechanics, bio-energetics, caloric models etc. Keep in mind that most of these models are probably half truths with very narrowly constrained analyses. IE Calories in/out is technically correct but ignores all sorts of factors outside the model like social, psychological, or financial factors. There is very little consideration of how this applies to real life. There are ‘functional’ movements which hopefully overlap with real life applications, but there’s very little doing. If tasks are accomplished, they’re very rarely in a real life setting. A good example is that doing a pull up doesn’t necessarily help with the skill of climbing a tree or getting over a barrier. The strength developed by doing lat pull downs might contribute to real life capacities, but that’s not always the case. Also, this level of abstraction isn’t motivating for many people. Repetition of arcane movements over and over again feels more like performing penance than joyfully moving to most people. It’s not entirely fair to tell people that in order to be healthy they must engage in this kind of activity.
Another big issue with this way of thinking is that it assumes people should or even must do this kind activity. Some coaches or PTs believe that everyone should squat, everyone should deadlift, everyone should press. When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. When you’re in a gym with barbells and kettlebells everything looks like a prescribed exercise. When you lead with prescribed exercises, you measure progress based on how well people perform these movements. This works fine for general population where we can assume that a large percentage of people have joints that more or less work as we’d expect. The problem is that when you’re working with a group of older adults, not everything works. People will come with unique histories of injuries, limitations, and stories. If in a class of 10 people, we start by assuming everyone in the group should squat, we’d end up needing 10 different scales or substitutions. The chance of anyone in the group being able to perform a ‘perfect’ squat is slim. The issue is not with the people, it’s with the assumption that the squat is the important thing to focus on, rather than thinking about the task that a squat might solve. The problem is that we’re putting the cart before the horse, leading with movements that people should do rather than thinking about tasks that people could accomplish.
On the other hand if we ask the group to pick up an object and move it, or get down to the ground or to get over a barrier, we’ll see 10 different but practical solutions. By focusing on the task and allowing people to solve their own problems we invite people to try new things and succeed in unique ways.
At the heart of this distinction is the difference between task-based training and rules-based training. Rules-based training emphasizes correct form, precise sequences, and adherence to predefined standards. It’s effective for controlled environments, like lifting a barbell under supervision or following a scripted class. It assumes an external arbiter who has decided via often inscrutable reasons whether or not a movement is good. It assumes a uniformity of goals and abilities that rarely exists in the real world.
Task-based training, on the other hand, shifts the focus from how something is done to why it is done. Instead of prescribing specific movements or techniques, it presents problems to solve: "How do you lift this object and carry it over there?" or "How do you get back up after a fall?" It’s inherently adaptive, acknowledging that the “right” movement depends on the person, the context, and the desired outcome.
This approach mirrors the realities of life outside a gym. In the real world, there are no judges to measure your squat depth or rules dictating how to navigate a slippery curb. What matters is whether you can accomplish the task relatively safely and effectively. Task-based training fosters creativity, problem-solving, and an intuitive connection to one’s body—qualities often stifled by the rigidity of rules-based systems.
The fitness industry tends to favor rules-based training because it is easier to package, commodify and regulate. Task-based training, by contrast, is messy and unpredictable. It requires flexibility, curiosity, and the willingness to abandon a script. But for many—especially older adults, whose needs and limitations may not fit neatly into prescribed templates—it is a more meaningful and practical way to approach movement.
Movement, at its core, is not about following a script. It’s about solving real-world problems, engaging with our environment, and reconnecting with our bodies. Whether it's learning to fall safely, lifting a bag of groceries, or playing with grandchildren, the ultimate goal should be practical, life-affirming movement, not arbitrary metrics or rigid prescriptions.
The fitness industry might not willingly relinquish its hold on movement, but we don’t have to wait for systemic change to reimagine our relationship with physical activity. We can start by asking ourselves: What do we need from our bodies in the context of our own lives? What problems do we want to solve, and how can movement serve those needs?
For some, the gym will remain a convenient and motivating environment, and that’s fine. But for others, there’s immense value in rediscovering movement in everyday spaces, embracing the chaos and adaptability of real life, and taking ownership of how we engage with our bodies.
Task-based training reminds us that life doesn’t follow strict rules, and neither should our approach to movement. The best movement practice is not one dictated by an expert but one that helps us live the life we want—confidently, capably, and on our own terms.
I’ll continue this next week by talking about how we try to focus on tasks when working with older adults, rather than starting with a list of exercises they should be doing.
Further Reading:
Braverman, H. (1974) Labor and Monopoly Capital: The Degradation of Work in the Twentieth Century. New York: Monthly Review Press.
Crawford, M. B. (2015) The World Beyond Your Head: On Becoming an Individual in an Age of Distraction. New York: Farrar, Straus and GirouxIllich, I. (1977) Disabling Professions. London: Marion Boyars.
Illich, I. (1971) Deschooling Society. New York: Harper & Row.Holt, J. C. (1964) How Children Fail. New York: Pitman Publishing Corporation.
