Why “working out” gets it wrong

Working Out Is Not Optional

There's a moment when something clicks and you can't unsee it anymore. For me, it came when I truly understood the evolutionary mismatch. We have bodies designed for constant and varied physical movement, but we've designed a lifestyle and environment that eliminates the need to move. Physical movement is not optional. It's a biological necessity we've engineered out of our lives.

For most of human history, movement was living. Hunting, crafting, gathering, playing — all of which required constant, varied, complex movement, and the refinement and use of our senses. Nowadays we have packaged and framed this biological necessity into ideas and concepts that miss the actual problem. When we talk about working out or being fit, we have clear mental representations in our heads. Sweat, dumbbells, mirrors, lean but muscular bodies, counting calories.

Why We Need to Change What "Working Out" Means

The problem isn't physical movement itself. The problem is how society has translated that into a culture of competition and quantifiable metrics.

Don't get me wrong. Counting reps and sets can be a good tool to make sure you are progressing. But we are so used to being compared constantly and being in competition with each other that this becomes more than just a tool for tracking progress.

The best body, the fastest time, the strongest lift, the personal record. We've turned an evolutionary necessity into a comparative game where most people lose by definition. There's always someone stronger, faster, better. We've quantified movement into discrete outcomes, fundamentally misunderstanding what it's for.

Six-pack abs, the "ideal" body. Movement becomes a tool for looking a certain way, making your commitment vulnerable to perfectionism and endless dissatisfaction. And looking a certain way becomes a form of social status, a marker of discipline and achievement that our culture constantly reinforces.

If you work out to look good, commitment fluctuates with appearance. If you work out to be better than others, there's always someone better. If you work out for status, motivation evaporates once you achieve it, or you lose touch with your own body image.

A Different Understanding

What if we could get rid of the idea of "working out" and move toward understanding the inherent relationship humans have with physical movement?

What kind of movement is nourishing? We know variety is important. We know complexity matters. We know community and learning feed something deeper than performance metrics ever can. Many disciplines such as dance, martial arts, gymnastics, and climbing are naturally closer to this biological reality. Unfortunately, competition and specialization can undermine these disciplines too, leading to overuse or injury.

These aren't new thoughts, arguments, or perspectives. This is the basic understanding behind movement culture, just summarized in my own words. It doesn't change, however, the importance of the message. The moment you really understand the evolutionary mismatch and its implications, you can't unsee them.

We do not take care of our bodies in a way that actually aligns with our biological reality. Instead, we have created a narrow focus that leads people to focus on achieving rather than experiencing. The body is instrumentalized to feed the external validation society successfully programmed and reinforced in us from the day we start going to school — the day we learn we will be compared to the person on our left and on our right, for long enough that it becomes an automated internal process in adult life.

My Own Journey

I too catch myself wanting to compete, compare, and be better. I grew up in a culture where you start being compared to others constantly at the age of 6. I absorbed the same narratives about competition and achievement. This programming doesn't disappear overnight.

I'm in the process of discovering this societal imprint inside myself. But I've come to understand that shifting your reasons for doing something can be transformative.

Sometimes I'm able to catch the competitive impulse, and I try to ask myself: is this really serving me, or is it a program from outside trying to compete for external validation?

The answer to "why am I doing this?" can start a change. Am I doing this to be the best, or because I want to feel more capable in my own body? Do I want to look a certain way, or do I genuinely find it rewarding to engage in learning? Do I want to look better this summer, or move well in my 70s?

In this way, I try to set up an internal reflection mechanism that can essentially help me understand my internal narrative and impulses. Engaging in nourishing and complex training, you learn many new things constantly, so you come to understand some of the universal laws of learning within yourself — laws that can help with learning, or even unlearning, generally outside physical movement too.

I am grateful that I can engage in this process, and I'm curious how it will shape my life in years to come.

My Own Approach

What I try to offer is a training that takes this understanding into account. It focuses on exposing yourself to challenge, novelty, and physical learning.

Not the same movement repeated endlessly. Not optimization for a single outcome. But varied, evolving challenges that keep your nervous system awake and your learning active.

Movement as exploration and discovery, not just exertion. How do you move? What are you capable of? What have you never tried? This keeps movement intrinsically rewarding.

Not competition for dominance, but movement together. Learning from and with each other.

How does my body feel? What can I discover today about myself through movement? Rather than: am I better than the person to my left?

Can I do this for the rest of my life? Does this feel nourishing? Will I want to show up again? Rather than: can I achieve a specific aesthetic goal?

This is what I'm attempting through my own practice. Needless to say, I am still catching myself in old narratives, in comparisons, or neglecting internal boundaries to achieve a certain training volume (which, after all, has its place too — but in a controlled and aware way).

The Moment You Can't Unsee It

Once you know movement is not optional — that it's how your brain develops, your nervous system regulates, your body maintains integrity — you can't pretend otherwise.

Maybe what you're missing is the one thing every human for thousands of years had: a body engaged in constant, varied, complex, purposeful movement.

Maybe it's time to stop asking whether you have time to move, whether you'll look good doing it.

And start asking: how can I start moving because I know it's what I was made for?

That's the question I'm learning to live with. Once you understand it, you can't unsee the answer.