One of my clients has a habit of telling me that he does the exercises I give him even on the days we don't train together.
Eventually, I started telling him, “I know.”
I wasn't taking his word for it. I could see it.
I could see it in how his body reacted to exercises. I could see it in his coordination, mobility, strength, and how quickly he picked up new movements. Things that once required considerable thought became increasingly natural.
Shortly, I began seeing the opposite, too.
Clients who only trained during the one session a week they spent with me generally didn't progress at the same rate. It wasn't necessarily because they weren't working hard during our session. Many of them were. The difference was what happened during all of the hours when I wasn't standing next to them.
That realization brought me back to something my dad taught me when I was much younger.
He used to train me, and sometimes he would turn around while continuing to count my reps. Like a lot of kids probably would, I'd see an opportunity to make a rep a little easier or cheat one when he wasn't looking.
He told me something I've remembered ever since:
If you cheat the rep, you're not cheating me. You're only cheating yourself.
Whether I completed the rep properly didn't make my dad stronger or weaker. My body was the one receiving, or avoiding, the work.
Years later, as a personal trainer, I've realized that the same principle extends far beyond a single repetition.
What challenge does this person's body need next?
I frequently tell my clients that one of my goals as a trainer is to find ways to make their bodies struggle in a healthy manner.
“Struggle” can sound negative, especially in fitness, but struggle is not the same thing as recklessness.
I don't want someone moving poorly just so we can add more weight. I don't want someone ignoring a joint that hurts. I don't want exhaustion simply for the sake of being exhausted.
I want to find something that the body is capable of doing, but hasn't completely adapted to yet.
That could mean adding resistance. But it could also mean improving balance, increasing range of motion, controlling a movement more slowly, producing force more quickly, coordinating multiple movements together, performing more repetitions, or becoming less dependent on external support.
There are nearly endless ways to progress an exercise.
The important question isn't simply, “Can I make this harder?”
It's “What challenge does this person's body need next?”
Once the body answers that challenge, the struggle should move.
The struggle should move
The human body adapts to the demands we repeatedly place on it.
If something challenges you appropriately and you recover from it, your body has a reason to become better prepared for that challenge in the future.
Eventually, what was difficult becomes manageable.
That's progress.
But that's also when the target has to move.
If an exercise becomes easy, I can increase the resistance. I can add repetitions. I can change the position. I can introduce a balance component. I can demand more control. I can make a movement more explosive. I can combine movements that we previously practiced separately.
Progression doesn't always mean putting another plate on the bar.
Sometimes progression means that someone who had to think about activating one muscle can now incorporate that muscle naturally into a larger movement.
That's something I emphasize heavily in my training.
I like teaching people how to identify and engage individual muscles first, then gradually teaching the body how to use those muscles together in coordinated movement.
You have to learn to control the pieces before you can efficiently put the entire puzzle together.
Learning what different sensations mean
This is also where people can misunderstand what “pushing yourself” means.
Pain isn't something I want clients blindly fighting through.
At the same time, experiencing discomfort during exercise doesn't automatically mean something is wrong.
There is usually a noticeable difference between muscular fatigue and something like an aching or sharp sensation in a joint. Your body often responds differently, too. Certain sensations feel urgent, almost as though your body is immediately telling you to stop or move away from a position.
Muscular fatigue is different. Your legs burning near the end of a set or your muscles becoming tired during sustained work can be uncomfortable without necessarily signaling injury.
Learning that distinction matters.
Part of developing a better relationship with your body is learning what different sensations mean rather than categorizing every uncomfortable sensation as “pain” and treating all pain as identical.
Mind-muscle connection
That awareness also contributes to something I care deeply about teaching: mind-muscle connection.
First, learn what it feels like to deliberately engage a muscle.
Then learn to control it.
Then strengthen it.
Eventually, learn to use it without having to consciously think about it.
That's when isolated control starts becoming useful movement.
Consistency outside our sessions
Two of my clients, Mary and Thomas, have been particularly good examples of what consistency outside our sessions can accomplish.
Both regularly work on themselves when I'm not around, and it shows.
Their mobility, flexibility, leg strength, and coordination stand out. They're able to move faster and with more confidence because our sessions aren't the only opportunities their bodies get to practice.
With Thomas, that progression has even allowed us to incorporate boxing.
He can hit pads, shuffle his feet, pivot, coordinate combinations, and work on delivering punches quickly and accurately. Those are much more complex demands than simply producing force with one muscle.
But you don't suddenly arrive at coordinated movement.
You build the pieces underneath it.
Strength. Balance. Hip control. Foot placement. Coordination. Repetition.
Then you put those pieces together.
That principle applies whether I'm training someone to throw a punch, improve their gait, get stronger, maintain their independence, or simply move through everyday life more comfortably.
Strong, capable hips
Working with a wide range of clients has also reinforced something I think is often overlooked in general fitness: how important the hips are.
People often associate powerful hips with athletes such as sprinters, fighters, football players, lifters.
And that's true. Hip strength and control can be incredibly important for athletic performance.
But you don't have to be an athlete to benefit from strong, capable hips.
Your hips contribute to getting out of a chair, climbing stairs, maintaining balance, controlling your legs while walking, changing direction and producing force.
For an athlete, that might mean being more explosive.
For someone else, it might mean remaining spry and mobile as they get older.
Those goals look completely different on the surface, but the body underneath them isn't as different as you might think.
We're still trying to develop the capacity to control our own movement.
What a trainer can—and can't—do
A trainer can do a lot.
I can analyze how someone moves. I can determine which exercises make sense. I can teach someone how to engage a muscle they have difficulty using. I can manipulate resistance, stability, tempo, volume, range of motion and complexity. I can watch closely enough to know when an exercise should progress and when we need to pull something back.
What I can't do is adapt someone else's body for them.
That's where my dad's lesson comes back.
If I'm not looking and you cheat the rep, you're not cheating me.
If I give you something appropriate to practice and you don't practice it, you're not hurting my body.
And when someone consistently puts in the work outside our sessions, I don't need them to convince me that they've been doing it.
Eventually, their body tells me.
The goal isn't to eliminate struggle
A lot of people imagine progress as eventually reaching a point where exercise becomes easy.
I see it differently.
The goal isn't to eliminate struggle. The goal is to change what you're capable of struggling with.
Something that once required all of your concentration eventually becomes automatic. Something that exhausted you becomes a warm-up. A movement you couldn't control becomes something you can perform confidently.
And then we find the next challenge.
That's the process I want to continue repeating with my clients:
Challenge. Recover. Adapt. Progress.
Then create a new challenge.
If we're doing our jobs correctly, six months from now there should still be things that challenge you.
They just shouldn't be all the same things that challenge you today.
That's what growth looks like.
Putting the idea into practice
Find the challenge your body needs next
At DeepForm Fitness, I help you identify an appropriate challenge, learn the movement, and progress it as your body adapts—so you become increasingly capable on your own. In-home and remote coaching connect that process to your goals and the work you do between sessions.
Talk through your next stepPracticing from home? Explore remote coaching.
