Wednesday, August 27, 2014

What Is Functional Training?

Functional training is a big buzz word around the fitness world nowadays. To some it is the holy grail, to others it is a bunch of nonsense. Most trainers and fitness fans are on the band wagon; a few think it is a lot of "sound and fury signifying nothing" advocated by idiots. The naysayers like to make the point that all exercise is functional. In a sense, that is true enough (we will get to that); in a profound sense it is simply a confession that they are too busy or too intellectually lazy to study the question. Alright, that no doubt P-Oed a few. If it hit a nerve, maybe you should ask yourself why.

Functional training is usually defined as training that mimics activities of daily life. We all have to engage in certain activities involving movement; e.g. standing, bending, reaching, walking, turning, bringing our hands to our mouths (which we probably do too often) etc. If we leave the definition of functional training at this point, then those who rant that all exercise is functional and the functional training movement is sound and fury have a point that will be hard to rebut.

I prefer to define functional training as exercises mimicking the activities of daily living that are done using proper form; i.e. correct dynamic and static posture. This means your trainer must have a good understanding of the human movement system. All exercise, then, is not functional. Exercise done using improper form is patently dysfunctional. The focus of  "functional training" is to undo the dysfunctional patterns of learned movement and retrain your body to move in the way it was designed to move;  thus alleviating and/or preventing the damage and chronic pain that inevitably accompany repeated dysfunctional movement.

When you have trained your body to move as it was designed, not only do you avoid the injuries and pain that follow dysfunctional movement, you improve the performance of both athletic activities and the activities of daily living. Proper human movement, requires less effort, provides an economy of energy and minimizes the likelihood of injury and chronic pain.

If you are self-training or considering self-training, do yourself a favor and hire a trainer knowledgeable in the human movement system to assess you. Just because it feels right does not mean it is right. If you have developed a pattern of  wrong movement, it will feel right and the right movement will feel wrong until you have corrected it. However right the wrong movement may feel, if left uncorrected it will not only negatively impact performance but will eventually lead to injury and chronic pain. A few half-hour sessions with a good trainer is money well spent.

If you have developed patterns of improper movement, that includes poor posture, you will do well to find a good 'functional trainer' or corrective exercise specialist, (Some make a difference between functional training and corrective exercise; I don't. Training proper function is correctional)

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

A Healthy Life View

It has been an unusually busy year of doing nothing. It happens. I just found this in my drafts and thought it worth a long delayed publish.

This is a different sort of post today. It comes on the end of a week full of life. It is a bit long. Perhaps something can be learned from it.

In the space of five days, I left my tenure at the Y to seek a new adventure yet to be defined, leaving behind friends and adopted family, those with whom I have labored and loved, and given my age, their age and unforeseen circumstances, those whom I will likely never see again in this life. I drove to FL to see family, cousins, children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren whom I will see less often now. When I arrived at my daughter's, Sasha, my oldest great-grandbaby ran out to meet me. A pretty little girl sometimes too mature for her age. Life circumstances sometimes does that.

Friday night I stopped by the hospital to see my oldest living cousin. I was blessed to grow up in close proximity to my cousins. Seventeen of us grew up on and around my grandfather's farm. When I started school my nuclear family moved nearer the school I would be attending and another dozen of us cousins lived and grew to adults within a block of one another. I suppose if no one had told us differently we might have thought we were all brothers and sisters living in different houses. We were as much at home in the houses of our aunts and uncles as we were in our own homes. We don't see each other often anymore but the bond of close cousins, like the bond of brothers and sisters, cannot be broken by time and space - nor death itself.

There are moments in life that you take with you forever. Friday night held one of those moments. I had not seen Carol, my oldest living cousin at the time, since her father died and, truth be known, we didn't communicate very often. If you have close cousins you know that doesn't matter much. They are your cousins. When I came into her room, Carol was asleep. When her daughter told her I was there, she awakened, they said, for the first time that day and her face brightened in recognition. I leaned over to give her a hug; in return I got a smile and a kiss on the cheek. She died at 1PM the next day as I was driving to Pensacola to see children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Playing with Gavyn and little Kane, the two youngest of my great-grandbabies, I thought of the passing of years and generations. Closing lines from my favorite poem, appropriately enough written by a long distant cousin, a contemporary of my great-great-grandfather Tennyson, came to mind:

"Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."

My wife has gone ahead of me to Utah and my youngest daughter is a world away in Tokyo; so I left her baby; i.e. Kira, her dog we had been keeping, with my niece who adopted her and then I drove back home to SC to finish packing for the move to Utah. An 8 hour drive home alone gives much time for reflection, reminiscing, and counting blessings. "Test me in this, says the LORD Almighty, and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it." As I drove I listened to the sound track from Somewhere In Time - as I have done when driving beginning with the many drives between SC and FL when my younger brother was dying. Eight hours is hardly enough time to begin a count of blessings. How does one begin to assess the value of family and friends in 8 hours, 8 days or a lifetime? Millions will not buy one moment of it. My younger brother's oft repeated advice to me during his last year: "Tell those you love often that you love them. You only have a short time to do that."