Movement In Community

“I think you can do it.”

Sometimes all it takes is a few little words from a coach or friend and suddenly we can do so much more than we thought:  Lift more weight.  Pull harder and faster on the rower.  Dead hang longer.  Try a movement that reveals a fun and challenging new world of training potential.  Two years into regular group strength training at Ethos, the benefits continue to multiply, both physically and psychologically.   I’m stronger now than I’ve been in my whole life (that I know of—I never tried deadlifting 185# in high school); I feel confident now that I could lift my parents if they fall, without hurting myself.  Suddenly I feel a surge of confidence and empowerment to be bolder and braver in other domains of life.  And it’s all because I love training at Ethos. 

Over a decade ago, Melissa Orth-Fray taught me the five factors that keep kids in sports and adults in a fitness routine:
1. It’s fun
2. Your friends are doing it
3. You feel like you fit in
4. You feel like you know what you’re doing
5. You feel like you’re getting better at it

Like many such lists, the factors intersect and overlap, no?  I’m much more likely to find exercise fun if I do it with my friends, I fit in with the group, and I feel like I know what I’m doing—these factors all speak to psychological safety.  These are limbic, back-of-the-brain factors, hence they are ‘feelings’ and not ‘thoughts.’  Decision making is more often more limbic than cognitive in origin, and discipline is much easier to maintain when action aligns directly with something that rewards an emotional drive—in this case, that innate drive for connection and community.   At Ethos, I get my fixes of dopamine, serotonin, and oxytocin, and it’s all because of the people.

The 5am crew at Ethos has gathered regularly since the gym opened in 2019.  The core group has persisted through a pandemic and moving to a new location last year.  I queried them about their experience, and without fail the strongest responses spoke to the bond of camaraderie that could fairly be described as love.  Folks drive long distances to show up and train, to be accountable for themselves and one another in health and well-being.  They report mutual uplift not just in the workouts but in their personal lives, too.  They use words like support, trust, and belonging to describe their tight relationship.  They share their struggles and triumphs in life, not just their personal records (PRs) in the gym.  They are part of one another’s emotional support networks. 

When patients tell me they exercise alone, I must check my immediate desire to suggest otherwise.  It all depends on our goals and preferences, and solitary movement has its benefits.  The main benefits of coached and group settings are programming and presence. 

Programming:  Left to our own devices, we often avoid movements that we don’t enjoy and don’t feel competent at or comfortable with.  Over time this can lead to insidious asymmetries that put us at risk for injury not just in the gym, but moving around in life.  Over a year at Ethos, three weeks at a time, training blocks are designed to improve strength and conditioning in iterative fashion, each block building on preceding ones.  Sprint and endurance, power and isometrics—it’s all included in the program and all we have to do is show up.  We get to learn the rationale and distinction between various movements and relate gym exercises to activities of daily living.  When injured or limited in some way, coaches can always modify or find alternative movements to keep us active; at home we might just quit, not knowing what else to do.  I recently noticed I barely use my chair at work anymore —I can stand at my desk all day with minimal fatigue.  I attribute this to two years of consistent training, though it was not a goal on my radar whatsoever.  I highly doubt I’d see this result just working out on my own.

Presence:  I can hear heart murmurs and abnormal lung sounds.  My coaches can see unpacked shoulders and caved knees.  They observe and correct, making us all safer to lift heavy loads with confidence.  Their encouragement and assistance further stoke our courage, allowing us to push and prove ourselves more capable than we could do for ourselves.  And it’s not just the 5am crew that bonds; my 9 and 11am friends and I cheer and celebrate our PRs together.  Movement in community is the best example of freudenfreude (joy at another’s joy) I can think of.  There is just something about sharing space in person, all of us working to better ourselves and supporting one another in doing so physically, morally, and otherwise.

Strong Old Ladies and Gentlemen.  This is my goal for us all.  We can get there many ways, and movement in community is my first recommendation for its myriad overlapping benefits.  Exercise benefits body and mind.  Exercise in community benefits the whole person.  It’s about relationships, of course; those cultivated in health are what save us. 

Wishing Others Discomfort? I Respectfully Disagree.

“Wishing all the homophobes a super uncomfortable month”
I see this meme on social media again this year, as June 1 marks the beginning of Pride Month. I do not endorse it.

What is the intent and goal of this expression? What is the intent and goal of the Pride movement? Does the former ultimately advance the latter?

The initial reaction of many progressives on seeing this message is likely affirmative–righteousness, a sense of tribal pride, a satisfying abstract finger gesture to all perceived as oppressors and abusers of LGBTQ+ people. And because it’s understated and almost playful, it also feels benign, something that could be laughed off as a joke. I see it as adversarial and counterproductive to the cause, as going low, not high, however lightly it is meant to land.

What is the knee-jerk reaction to deep-seated, visceral, relational, and other existential discomfort? We may avoid, deny, dismiss, reject, and in worst cases, lash out. I have lived adjacent to abusive relationships. When abusers’ discomfort is stoked, outcomes are not good for the abused. Poking the bear is not often wise. There is some evidence that violence and harm against LGBTQ+ people rises during June, which is not surprising. So it’s interesting that I see this meme posted by cisgender/heterosexual people I know, and not those I know who identify as LGBTQ+. This is just my own observation; I don’t know the actual demographic distribution of people who share this meme.

The best intention of this message, I think, is solidarity and allyship. The impact may be very different. I can imagine someone who feels uncomfortable, for whatever reason, with non-cis/het identity feeling rejected, shamed, and even hated by this message. What response is this likely to engender? How does that make anything better for anyone? How does it advance the cause?

Discomfort can be a very good and necessary thing. It signals a possible threat to our well-being. Like physical pain and our myriad emotions, discomfort calls us to attend to something in our environment. How we manage our discomfort determines many outcomes of our lives. Why would we wish discomfort on our fellow humans? Because we want them to suffer? Because we want them to empathize with something? What do we want from their discomfort?

If you’re uncomfortable with Pride Month, and/or with anything LGBTQ+ in general, I want to know more. What is that about? What informs that discomfort, and how does it affect your life? How does it affect your attitudes, speech, and actions when you encounter anything LGBTQ+? I don’t wish discomfort on you, and I accept that you have it; I may empathize with it, if I learn about your personal experience of it. I wish you were as comfortable as I am with all things sexual and gender-related. I also wish for you to get curious about your discomfort, to explore its origins, its costs–present and potential–to you and those in your life. I wish for you to imagine a life free from this discomfort–what would that feel like? What might that cost you? What would you need to take any steps in that direction? Is that even possible? I wish for your discomfort to be the birthplace of growth and connection, more than conflict and suffering–as any discomfort has the potential to be–for you and all those you’re uncomfortable with.

If we were all better at embracing our various discomforts (healthy eating, exercising more, being more honest with ourselves and others, having the hard conversations, etc.), at making it safe for one another to engage with and overcome them, how would that feel? How would our relationships and communities be? Right now we make it safe to respond to our discomforts with rage, blame, and dehumanizing. When I see people wishing discomfort on others, I’m disappointed.

We can do better.