PART TWO: The Practice of Functional Movement Training

This article was originally published by Human 2.0. Everything that I write in relation to conditioning has been developed in conversation with the owners and coaches at this facility. Although the opinions expressed here are my own, I would like to acknowledge the supportive role that Human 2.0 has provided.

Over the last two decades, there has been excessive discussion about functional movement training (amusing parody here). The problem with the discussion is not that it’s excessive or sensational but that it obscures some of the emerging principles that define functional movement as a practice. While practices of function movement are rich and prosperous, the conceptual resources available to understand them are not. Using the conceptual tools I outline in Part One, I argue that functional movement practitioners should make aesthetics a defining aim of their practice.

We Don’t Care about Looks, We Care About Feeling Healthy

The current most accepted way of defining functional movement is “prehabilitation.” This is a tremendously empowering way to think about movement. I want to live in a world where people are not only encouraged to find movement-based vocations but are also imagined to require it. I want a world where movement is not considered a matter of choice but rather, a basic necessity. Better still, we need a world where movement-accessible infrastructures and institutions (architectural and social) are not enforced by law but curated with creativity and innovation. Prehabilitation is a very promising way to conceptualize movement but, as the defining aspect of functional movement practices, it is not without its limitations.

The more we learn about how a movement practice becomes successful, the more prehabilitation seems unfit for our raison d'être. For example, prehabilitation is difficult to imagine as a basis of lifestyle in the same way as performance is for athletes, or adventure is for mountaineers. It also does not work well as a collective endeavor, but seems to focus on the individual practitioner. The main problem with prehabilitation, however, is that it’s difficult to recognise as an effect on the body. In other words, there are very few ways to account for prehabilitation, as athlete do for performance, surfers do for “stoke,” or dancers can with style. Consider the first diagram that I explained in Part One of this blog. Is prehabilitation a performative, experiential or aesthetic kind of bodily effect?

It is almost impossible to answer this question. It is tempting to categorize prehabilitative effects as experiential because preventing injury and illness is ultimately about feeling good, but these are only secondary or corollary consequences of functional movement. Prehabilitation itself is not experienced. Prehabilitation also cannot be performative because it is not an output. The category of aesthetics is also not appropriate because the bio-physiological mechanism that manifest as “prehabilitation” are not themselves appreciated in an aesthetic register. There are no easy ways to make sense of prehabilitation itself as a kind of bodily effect.

But prehabilitation may not only be inadequate, it might also be limiting as the defining aim of functional movement. To understand how prehabilitation might undercut the larger aims of the functional movement practice, it is helpful to put both in historical context.

Who Put the Function in Functional Movement?

There are two aspects of functional movement’s history that are crucial for understanding why we don’t typically associate aesthetics with the practice. First, functional movement has explicitly and self-consciously developed in opposition to body building, which is prima facie about aesthetics. Second, it has implicitly and somewhat unconsciously developed in the shadow of kinesiology, which is committed to the biomechanical “atomization” (see Part One) of the body. I will briefly explain how both have shaped (and continue to shape) the practice of functional movement. In so doing, I am suggesting that we stop allowing these aspects of our practices history to shape the scope of our practice’s future.

Body Building:

To date, functional movement has not been able to decouple the practices that are at the core of body building from the way fitness is commonly understood and practiced. There are a variety of reasons for the resilience of body building as the default form of fitness but consider the following two.

First, there was at least a 50-year period when body building and fitness were both practically and conceptually synonymous. In that time, the tools, techniques and defining principles of body building were deployed in a variety of institutional settings, including the military and schools. Their purpose in these settings were never muscular hypertrophy but always fitness. Only in the last half of the 20th century did these two aims begin to dissimilate.

Second, body building both legitimizes and is legitimized by beauty and gender norms. Although voices speaking against the tyranny of slenderness are getting louder, it will take a long time to disassociate lean body composition with beauty and sexiness. Similarly, muscularity continues to be a predominate (albeit limited) way for men to both express and develop their sense of masculinity. In sum, there are circuits of social relations that extend beyond the realm of fitness that maintain body building’s prevalence.

As advocates of functional movement, we are right to criticize the narrowness and oppressiveness of norms that connect fitness, beauty and gender. However, the purpose of functional movement should not be to denounce these norms but to create new ones. We want norms that enhance the quality of life, and for a much broader range of potential practitioners. Our strong backlash against the kind of norms associated with body building and weight-loss exercising is obscuring more liberatory norms that movement practices can engender.

Kinesiology:

The second important aspect of functional movement’s history is its roots in kinesiology. With the advent of kinesiology, the methods for training the body stopped being determined by the specifics of the task and started being determined by biomechanics of the body. In other words, kinesiology atomizes the body into mechanical functions. The effects of this conceptual shift cannot be overstated, but there is one change that is particularly relevant for functional movement. We tend to think about the ability to move proficiently as a pyramid. At the base of the pyramid are the foundations of movement abilities, which allow an athlete to build more specialized abilities on top.

 

On one hand, functional movement rejects the pyramid model in so far as it actively resists the necessity to build the pyramid vertically. In a sense, the goal of functional movement is to create a very wide and stable foundation. On the other hand, functional movement only partially rejects the pyramid model. We still imagine that we are, in fact, building foundations. This makes it difficult to find ways to practice movement, just for the sake of it. That’s our slogan. That’s what we are about. We move because it’s a great way to live.

In sum, we are letting body building and kinesiology delineate the scope of our practice. Unless we stop defining functional movement as ¬not body building, and recognize that our practice can be much more than the handmaiden of kinesiology, then the practice will never amount to more than a type of workout. The key is to decide how functional movement can best effect the body. Although the practice will inevitably produce a mix of performative, experiential and aesthetic bodily effects, there must be ways to approach the practice with one or two types of effects in mind. My argument is that aesthetics should be the defining aim of functional movement training. We need to unapologetically strive to develop movement in an aesthetic register.

Prehabilitation is a Side-Effect of Movement Aesthetics. 

In Balance Class several Tuesdays past, the guy training beside me asked himself aloud how learning to handstand with good form was going to improve his cycling. We all laughed because it was near the end of session, and the handstands were becoming increasingly difficult to execute.

If I were a kinesiologists, I might answer him by explaining the benefits of core strength for cycling, or how learning to stabilize the spine will ultimately improve his performance. Then again, I might say that handstands won’t help, and recommend lower-body exercises. Both answers are probably correct, kinesiologically speaking; however, neither reflect the ideas that motivate functional movement. So, what are those ideas?

As a practitioner of functional movement, I want to tell my cyclist friend that learning to handstand with exceptional form is a way of becoming a more proficient mover. The exact biomechanical connection between handstands and cycling is irrelevant. What matters is that both are different forms of bodily movement. While it can be helpful to approach cycling as a means to effect the body’s capacity for endurance or speed, the best way to think about handstands is a means to effect bodily form. By training the body to hold a vertical posture upside down, you are becoming a proficient mover.

Why become a proficient mover? This is a question people need to answer for themselves. There are many ways to lead a meaningful life but, in my opinion, few provide the grace of a life devoted to movement.

PART ONE: Understanding Movement as Practice

This article was originally published by Human 2.0. Everything that I write in relation to conditioning has been developed in conversation with the owners and coaches at this facility. Although the opinions expressed here are my own, I would like to acknowledge the supportive role that Human 2.0 has provided.

If you are reading this blog, you are probably a student and/or teacher in one or several movement practices. Yoga, Pilates, football, functional movement, and so on; today, there are more forms (or disciplines) of movement practices available to the average city dweller than ever before. Taking-up a movement practice is a long-term (sometimes expensive) commitment, and a decision that will affect your physical, mental and social well-being. Indeed, a practice becomes part of a practitioner’s sense of personhood.

My relationship with movement is not only practical but also analytical. As a sociologist, I am interested in philosophical, historical, political, practical and scientific research/writing about movement. In Part One of this blog post, I will share with you a simple tool for thinking analytically about movement practices. The purpose of this tool is to help you understand the range of movement disciplines, the reasons that particular disciplines are organized the way they are, and how to orient yourself within your own movement practices.

In Part Two of the blog (coming soon!), I will use the tool to think about “functional movement.” Although this term has been around for at least two decades, it is often used in different, sometimes contradictory ways. Using this tool to sharpen my analytical understanding of functional movement has improved my practice. I am more motivated, I ask the coaches better questions, and my practice is more focused and deliberate.

One point of clarification: This tool is not for analyzing the actual movements of a practice but rather the practices themselves. For example, if we used the tool to think about yoga or Olympic Lifting, we would not be looking at downward dogs and power cleans. Instead, we would look at overarching principles, scope of effects, and direction of intent. The tool puts the practices in the spotlight, not their movements.

Tool for Understanding Movement Practices:

This tool is based on the work of eminent philosopher, Richard Shusterman. Shusterman writes about bodily practices in general rather than movement practices in particular (Shusterman, 2008, 2012). Although many of the bodily practices he considers are movement-based, his framework can also be used to analyze a variety of non-movement practices, such as body modification (ex. tattooing), dieting (ex. Weight Watchers), meditation (ex. Zen) and medicine (ex. recreational drugs). Following Shusterman, I am thinking about movement practices as a sub-category of bodily practices. This changes the type of questions we can and should be asking about movement practices.
Most importantly, we should think about movement practices in terms of bodily effects. How does a movement practice effect (or change) the body? What kind of bodily effects does a practice create? What is the scope of the effects? Is the practice intended to effect one’s own body, another person’s body, or both? To understand movement practices, think about their effect on the body.
The three diagrams below help you consider a movement practice in terms of bodily effects. The first allows you to categorize the type of effects a practice produces. The second identifies the scope of effects. And the third diagram asks if a practice is self-directed, other-directed or both.

Type of Bodily Effects

The three types of bodily effects are that practices aim to produce are 1) experiential, 2) aesthetic and 3) performative. These effect-types are not mutually exclusive.

Usually, one type of bodily effect is necessarily involves another. Even though most movement-based practices produce effects in all three categories, often one or a pair of effect-types best characterize a practice.

Experiential changes to the body:

Experiential movement practices effect the conscious, sensuous and endocrinous aspects of life. Meditation, Tai Chi or yoga are good examples of experiential practices. Although some people meditate or stretch in order to increase their ability to perform, and many people practice yoga to change the appearance of their body, these practices are generally understood as means for mindfulness, mood-alteration and composure.

Aesthetic changes to the body:

The purpose of aesthetics practices is to effect the appearance of the body. Body building is a perfect example of an aesthetic movement practice. Although expert-level body builders often develop both a deeper appreciation for the experiential aspects of the practice (ex. muscle pump), and a heightened ability to perform (ex. lifting heavy weights), the defining effects of body building are aesthetic rather than experiential or performative.

Performative changes to the body:

Performative movement practices effect the body’s capacity to perform. Most competitive sports exemplify practices that effect bodily performance. Olympic lifters, sprinters, Crossfitters and skiers are all trying to improve their bodily capacity for strength, speed, power, endurance and/or skill. There are many examples of sports that also produce experiential and aesthetic effects. Some would say that motorcycle racing and surfing are more experiential than performative, and figure skating and surfing (again) are arguably driven more by aesthetics. Still, in the world of competitive sports, the prevailing winds blow towards performance. At least on the surface of things.

Scope of Bodily Effects:

The scope of bodily effects is represented by a spectrum ranging from more (or less) holistic or atomistic.

As a means to effect bodily change, movement practices necessarily draw boundaries through or around the body or bodies they effect. Some practices imagine this boundary to be skin, and they effect changes only within the skin. Other practices imagine the body to extend beyond the skin, into the world. The body of a footballer, for example, includes helmets, pads, cleats and gloves. In human/animal sports, such as agility dog and horse racing, research shows that the best athletes have the ability to harmonize their body with that of their other-species teammate (Haraway, 2007). The wider the boundary around the body/bodies a practice is intended to effect, the more a practice can be called holistic.

In contrast, practices that effect the body by dividing it into constitutive parts are more atomistic. Body building provides a perfect example. To build muscle mass, the best approach is to divide the body into increasingly smaller parts. If hypertrophy is the goal, isolated exercises (ex. bicep curl) are usually more effective than compound movements (ex. squat). Similarly, training practices for running have traditionally been directed at the cardiovascular system, ignoring skill-development, proprioception, mobility, body awareness, etc. (for more holistic approaches training in running, cycling and swimming, see MacKenzie, 2012). Atomistic movement practices are ones that seemingly cannot be practiced without affecting the body as a collection of parts, systems or capacities.

Note: It is important not to equate atomistic practices with practices that are more specialized, and holistic practices with less specialization. For example, practitioners of Qigong are much more holistic in their training than mixed martial artists (MMA), even though MMA is much less specialized form of practice. Similarly, Crossfit, which “specializes in not specializing,” is arguably more atomistic in its approach to effecting the body than most sports. To be competitive in today’s Crossfit Games, an athlete does not have the time to train reflexes, develop problem solving skills, improve decision making, or be concerned with many experiential or aesthetic bodily effects.

Direction of Intended Effects:

Lastly, movement practices are intended to effect change in one’s own body, the body of others, or both.

All movement practices necessarily effect change in one’s own body but some explicitly intend to effect the body or bodies of others. Massage, for example, is usually practiced on another person’s body with the goal of releasing their muscle tension, increasing their blood flow, and stimulating the release of their endorphins and serotonin. Erotic practices, in contrast, are often about effecting someone else’s body while simultaneously effecting your own. Practitioners of MMA train their bodies to more efficiently affect their opponent’s body, either rendering them unconscious or causing them enough bodily pain to force submission. In some ways, this final way of categorizing movement practices is the easiest to understand. The direction of intent seems very clear. My own experiences in sport, however, have caused me to question the simplicity of the self / other / self-other categories.

As a ski coach, I found it more difficult to train athletes if I was not myself involved in some kind of training. Somehow, my ability to help others actively train their bodies improved when I was also actively training my own, in skiing or any other practice. Therapist have told me that their ability to help others heal requires that they vigilantly maintain their own bodies. The matter is complicated further if we account for the communicative function of movement practices. For example, most historical accounts of body building, which appears to be a self-directed practice, show how important both photographic portraits and pageants were to the evolution of the practice. In other words, the effect that body building has on its viewers is necessarily part of the practice.

I suspect that self-directed movement practices depend on the cultivation of other-directed skills and vice-versa. This could be the topic of another blog post.

Trying to Understand Functional Movement as Practice:

Generally speaking, the purpose of functional movement is “prehabilitation.” In Part Two of this blog, I ask if prehabilitation is best categorized as experiential, performative or aesthetic in terms of its effects on the body? I also inquire about the scope of functional fitness, on a spectrum from more/less holistic/atomistic? And finally, I ask if there are ways in which practitioners of functional movement (that have no interest in becoming trainers or instructors) can or should think about their practices as effecting the bodies of others?

If anything, this tool has helped me realized that things are not necessarily as they seem.

References:

Haraway, D. (2007). When Species Meet. Univ. of Minnesota Press.

MacKenzie, B. (2012). Power Speed ENDURANCE: A Skill-Based Appraoch to Endurance Training. Victory Belt Publishing.

Shusterman, R. (2009). Body Consciousness: A Philosophy of Mindfulness and Somaesthetics. Cambridge UP.

Shusterman, R. (2012). Thinking through the Body: Essays in Somaesthetics. Cambridge UP.