This stance changes everything regarding treating a patient. Not only does it indicate a willingness to consider alternative options, but it allows for the distilling of more data.

A long time ago anatomists discovered muscles during dissections, and they equated them to levers and pulleys, a familiar concept at the time. What they were unable to appreciate at the time, due to their technological constraints, was the water within a human being.

Being in pain often involves a rigidity that limits the ability to change form. The memory is there, so that you can in fact alter it in the future.

Challenging what we have presumed is true is a bold move, but a necessary one. Developing better explanations for what we observe is a way in which we can continue to learn and improve our current circumstances.

Movement is idiosyncratic and every person creates motion differently. There are two primary strategies to work within as a human being. There is the grind your way through it, and there’s the glide. Each strategy can be useful or limiting depending on the circumstances.

When energy enters a system, that system makes use of it by cycling. Think of a water mill. Water moves past the wheel, turning it, creating hydropower. We actually use the same mechanism to create motion when we walk, and we use those same mechanics in every activity we perform.

Typing on a computer has prerequisite motions, if you lack those prerequisites then a compensatory strategy will most likely develop. Say our fingers can’t reach a key, we turn our wrist over to get there, this changes the position of the elbow, and shoulder, now we’re shrugging, and our neck is bearing the load.

Imagine the heaviest deadlift you have ever lifted, nearly one hundred percent effort, one more pound added to the bar would have resulted in a failed lift. How fast was that movement? It was a slow grind, so slow it was almost as if the bar was not even moving. The closer athletes and clients get to this level of effort, the slower their movements become.

Meaningful work that provides a consumer with the desired product requires time and energy. The constant attention to detail makes all the difference.

Less is more. Finding the right exercise and feeling the right sensations takes time and concentrated effort. The effort is focused and intentional. Anything more is noise to the system and a reduction in the desired effects.

The cookbook approach to physical therapy is rampant, and often cited as a systematic way of treating patients effectively. Every patient with a diagnosis is run through a machine, where their symptoms are plugged in to an algorithm and the output is a treatment strategy. This can work if you are a health care provider that behaves more like a cook, a valuable part of the team that requires a recipe which does not change, regardless of a patron’s taste.

Your neck is no different from any other part of your body, it relies heavily on other regions to create the motion you desire. It is often an area in which people develop pain, and that may be due to it being the site of focal loading.

Physical therapy is not for everyone. It insists on a growth mindset and diligent effort to alter your movement habits. The investment of time is real, and the potential return on that investment is effective strategies to manage your own physical health.

I remember when I was first learning to drive, my grandpa explained to me the difference between slamming on the brakes and applying them. The lesson was on how to avoid sliding across the icy road, but it also comes into play in my work with patients.

There needs to be guiding principles, measurements that can be superimposed on those principles and strategies utilized to align the principles with the measurements.

My work as a physical therapist centers around teaching clients new movement strategies. It often begins with me using my hands to induce a new sensation that opens up the potential for additional options, or options that have been forgotten. Then the coaching begins.

Many activities programmed in a typical training session involve both the arms or legs acting together and moving in the same direction. This is counter to our architecture.

In my work as a physical therapist, I spend a great deal of time with my patients reconstituting the plastic capabilities of their body. Once tissues regain their ability to alter their shape, store energy and effortlessly apply it to a desired situation, pain tends to diminish.

One of my mentors uses the analogy of standing on the edge of the Grand Canyon. You are peering right over that massive cliff wall with nothing between you and the bottom but air. You have effectively locked your ankles into one solid object, limiting motion so that you do not fall to the bottom.

In the case of movement, we are talking about a complex thing. We all make it look fairly simple, and the rules of it are simple, but the ways it is created and produced are anything but simple. When I work with patients, one of the first things we begin to develop is a common language. A vocabulary that we can use to communicate our interpretation of the movement issue.