Your Body Wasn't Built for This (And How to Fix It)

Three years ago, I couldn't touch my toes without feeling like my hamstrings were going to snap like old rubber bands. Getting up from my desk required a small grunt and what I called my "robot walk" – that stiff-legged shuffle to the coffee machine that probably looked more pathetic than I realized.

I was what you'd call "gym strong." I could deadlift my body weight, had visible abs, and wore my fitness tracker like a badge of honor. Yet somehow, I couldn't sit cross-legged on the floor without pain or reach something on a high shelf without my shoulder screaming in protest.

Sound familiar? If you're nodding right now, welcome to the club nobody wants to join: the "strong but broken" society.

The Lie We've Been Sold About Strength

Here's the thing that took me way too long to figure out – the fitness industry has been selling us a very expensive lie. They've convinced us that strength means lifting progressively heavier things in very specific patterns, preferably while wearing matching workout sets and tracking every macro.

But what if I told you that's like judging someone's intelligence based solely on their ability to solve calculus problems while completely ignoring whether they can hold a conversation, read a map, or figure out why their Wi-Fi isn't working?

Traditional strength training measures your body like a machine – how much force can these muscles generate? How many reps can you bang out? Can you lift this arbitrary weight overhead? It's reductive and, frankly, it misses the entire point of what our bodies were designed to do.

Your ancestors didn't hit the gym three times a week to work on their "functional movement patterns." They climbed trees to escape predators, carried water from distant sources, built shelters with their bare hands, and chased down dinner (or ran away from becoming someone else's dinner). They weren't strong because they trained to be strong – they were strong because life demanded it.

What Functional Strength Actually Means

Real functional strength isn't about the weight on the bar. It's about the weight of your life – literally and figuratively.

Can you get up from the floor without using your hands? Can you carry all your groceries from the car to your kitchen in one trip without your back staging a revolt? Can you play with your kids (or nieces and nephews) without feeling like you're made of creaky old wood?

Functional strength is your body's ability to move through space with confidence, grace, and zero pain. It's having joints that open and close like well-oiled hinges instead of rusty gates. It's the difference between moving like water and moving like thick maple syrup.

Think about it this way: Olympic weightlifters are incredibly strong, but ask one of them to do a cartwheel or climb a tree, and you might be surprised by the result. They've become specialists in very specific movement patterns, which is fantastic for their sport but potentially limiting for everything else life throws at them.

I'm not knocking weightlifting – I still love it. There's something primal and satisfying about moving heavy things. But if that's ALL you do, you're essentially teaching your body to speak one language fluently while forgetting how to communicate in all the other ways that matter.

The Movement Prison We've Built

Here's where things get really depressing before they get better: most of us are living in what I call "movement prisons," and we're both the warden AND the prisoner.

Think about your typical day. You wake up in bed (lying down), shuffle to the kitchen (minimal walking), sit in your car (sitting), sit at your desk (more sitting), sit for lunch (surprise – more sitting), sit in your car again, sit for dinner, then sit on the couch until you shuffle back to bed.

You've essentially spent 16+ hours in two positions: lying down and sitting in a 90-degree angle. Then we wonder why our hips feel like they're made of cement and our shoulders are permanently rounded forward like we're perpetually apologizing for existing.

Our bodies are adaptation machines. They'll adapt to whatever environment you consistently put them in. If that environment is "chair-shaped," congratulations – you've just trained your body to be excellent at sitting in chairs and terrible at everything else.

The cruel irony? Many of us then try to "fix" this by going to the gym and... sitting on more machines. We sit on the leg press, sit on the cable row, sit on the shoulder press. We've literally created exercise equipment that mimics the same positions that are causing our problems in the first place.

It's like trying to cure a hangover by having another drink – technically it might work temporarily, but you're not addressing the root issue.

Breaking Out of Your Movement Box

So how do you escape this movement prison? The answer is both simpler and more complex than you might think.

First, you need to remember that your body was designed to move in three dimensions, not just forward and backward like a DVD player from 2003. You can bend, twist, rotate, crawl, climb, jump, and move in ways that would make your physical therapist either very happy or very nervous (depending on how you approach it).

Start with what I call "movement archaeology" – digging up the movement patterns you've buried under years of modern living. Remember when you were a kid and you could easily squat all the way down to pick up a toy? That wasn't because children have special magical joints. It's because they hadn't spent decades training their bodies to forget how to do it.

Here's what worked for me, and what I've seen work for hundreds of clients:

Get comfortable being uncomfortable on the ground. Start sitting on the floor instead of the couch sometimes. Yeah, it's going to feel weird at first. Your hips might protest. Your knees might have opinions. But this is your body remembering how to be human-shaped instead of furniture-shaped.

Rediscover your inner child (the physical one, not the one that wants ice cream for breakfast). When was the last time you hung from something? Crawled under something? Climbed over something? These aren't "exercises" – they're basic human movements that we've somehow convinced ourselves are only for kids or athletes.

I started incorporating what I call "playground sessions" into my routine. Once a week, I'd go to a local park and just... play. Monkey bars, balance beams, climbing structures. Did I feel ridiculous as a 30-something woman swinging from monkey bars? Absolutely. Did my shoulders and core get stronger than they ever had from traditional gym work? Also absolutely.

Embrace the wobble. Balance challenges – standing on one foot, walking on uneven surfaces, trying to hold a single-leg squat – these teach your body to problem-solve in real-time. Your muscles learn to work together as a team instead of in isolation.

Move like an animal (seriously). Bear crawls, crab walks, frog jumps, duck walks – these movements might look silly, but they're movement gold. They force your body to coordinate multiple joints and muscle groups simultaneously, which is exactly what functional movement is all about.

The "But I'm Not Athletic" Excuse

I can already hear some of you thinking, "This sounds great Maya, but I'm not the athletic type. I can barely walk up stairs without getting winded."

Stop right there. This mindset is exactly part of the problem.

You don't need to be "athletic" to move your body the way it was designed. You need to be human. And unless you're reading this with your tentacles (in which case, hello alien friend), you qualify.

Athletic ability isn't some genetic lottery that you either win or lose. It's a skill set that you develop through practice, just like cooking or driving or figuring out why your laptop is making that weird humming noise.

The woman I mentioned earlier who could barely touch her toes? That was me three years ago. I wasn't "naturally flexible" or "born athletic." I was a former couch potato who decided she was tired of feeling like her body was working against her instead of with her.

Start ridiculously small. Can you stand up from a chair without using your hands? Practice that five times a day. Can you balance on one foot for ten seconds? Make it a habit while you're brushing your teeth. Can you hang from a pull-up bar (or even a doorframe) for five seconds? Do it every time you walk through that doorway.

These micro-movements add up to massive changes over time. And more importantly, they start retraining your brain to see your body as something capable and strong instead of fragile and limited.

The Personalization Problem

Here's where most fitness advice falls apart: it assumes everyone's body is the same. It's not.

Your movement limitations, pain patterns, and physical history are as unique as your fingerprint. The program that transformed your friend's mobility might leave you feeling worse than when you started. And that's not a reflection of your dedication or potential – it's just biology.

This is why cookie-cutter fitness programs often fail to deliver real, lasting change. They're designed for the mythical "average person" who doesn't actually exist. You're not average. You're specifically you, with your specific body, your specific limitations, and your specific goals.

Some people need more stability work. Others need more mobility. Some need to learn how to create tension in their muscles, while others need to learn how to let go of chronic tension they've been holding for years. Some people's ankles are the problem, while others are limited by their thoracic spine or their hip flexors.

This doesn't mean you need to hire a trainer immediately (though if you can, it's often worth it). It means you need to become a student of your own body. Pay attention to what feels good and what doesn't. Notice patterns. If your lower back always hurts after certain movements, that's information. If you feel amazing after spending time on the floor, that's also information.

The Long Game of Functional Strength

Here's what nobody tells you about functional fitness: it's not about becoming superhuman. It's about becoming sustainably human.

The goal isn't to be able to do a handstand on Instagram (though if that's your thing, go for it). The goal is to be 80 years old and still able to get up off the floor without assistance. It's to carry your luggage without tweaking your back. It's to play with your grandkids without feeling like an ancient, creaky robot.

Functional strength is an investment in your future self. Every time you choose to move in a new way, you're making a deposit in the bank account of your body. Every time you sit on the floor instead of the couch, hang from a bar instead of just walking past it, or take the stairs two at a time instead of trudging up them one by one, you're buying yourself a little more freedom and a little less pain down the road.

Your Body Is Not a Machine (Thank God)

The fitness industry loves to use machine metaphors for our bodies. "Your core is like a belt." "Your muscles are like springs." "Your joints are like hinges."

But here's the thing: machines break down in predictable ways and get replaced when they stop working efficiently. Your body is not a machine. It's a living, adaptive, incredibly intelligent organism that can heal, grow, and change throughout your entire life.

Machines get worse with use. Bodies get better with use (assuming you use them intelligently). Machines have warranties that expire. Your body has an incredible capacity for renewal and adaptation that lasts your entire lifetime.

This isn't just semantic nitpicking. How you think about your body fundamentally shapes how you treat it. If you see it as a machine, you'll try to "fix" it when it's broken and push it to perform regardless of what it's telling you. If you see it as a living system, you'll learn to listen to it, work with it, and trust its feedback.

The Permission You've Been Waiting For

Here's your official permission slip: You don't need to be perfect at movement to start moving better. You don't need to be flexible to work on flexibility. You don't need to be strong to work on strength. You don't need to be coordinated to work on coordination.

You just need to be willing to be a beginner again. And honestly, being a beginner at movement can be one of the most humbling and rewarding experiences you'll have.

I remember the first time I tried to do a proper squat. I thought I knew how to squat – I'd been doing it in the gym for years. But when I tried to squat down without weight, keeping my heels on the ground and my torso upright, I fell backward like a confused toddler.

That moment of "holy crap, I don't actually know how to move my own body" was simultaneously embarrassing and liberating. It meant I had so much room to improve. It meant every small victory would feel like a major breakthrough.

Where to Start (Right Now, Today)

If you've read this far, you're probably convinced but maybe feeling a little overwhelmed. Where do you even begin when everything feels tight, weak, or uncomfortable?

Start here: Stand up. Right now, as you're reading this. Stand up without using your hands if you can. If you can't, use your hands but notice how much you relied on them.

Now sit back down. Stand back up. Sit back down. Do this five times and pay attention to what you feel. Do your knees creek? Does your back protest? Do you feel unstable or wobbly?

Congratulations – you've just done your first functional strength assessment. That simple movement – transitioning from sitting to standing without assistance – is one of the strongest predictors of longevity and independence as we age. And you can practice it every single day without adding any time to your schedule.

Here's your week one challenge: Every time you sit down or stand up for the next seven days, try to do it without using your hands. Just try. If you need to use them for safety or stability, absolutely do that. But see if you can reduce your dependence on them little by little.

This one simple practice will start to wake up muscles that have been sleeping for years. Your core will start to engage automatically. Your leg muscles will start to work together as a team. Your balance will improve. And most importantly, you'll start to rebuild the confidence that your body is capable of supporting you.

The Ripple Effect

Here's what I wish someone had told me three years ago: when you start moving better, everything else gets better too. Not just physically – though that's pretty great – but mentally and emotionally as well.

There's something profoundly empowering about discovering that your body is more capable than you thought. That tight hip that's been bothering you for months? Turns out it just needed some attention and movement variety. That weak shoulder that made you avoid reaching for things on high shelves? It was weak because it was scared, not because it was broken.

When you start solving these physical puzzles, you build confidence that extends far beyond your body. You start believing that problems have solutions. You start trusting your ability to figure things out. You start feeling more resilient and adaptable in all areas of your life.

Your Movement Manifesto

So here's my challenge to you: Stop accepting physical limitations as inevitable. Stop thinking that pain is just part of getting older. Stop believing that strength only counts if it's measured in pounds on a barbell.

Your body wants to move well. It's designed to move well. It's just been stuck in patterns that don't serve it, wearing shoes that don't fit, sitting in chairs that force it into shapes it was never meant to hold for hours at a time.

Give it permission to remember what it was designed to do. Start small, be consistent, and trust the process. Your future self – the one who can get up off the floor without grunting, who can climb stairs without holding the railing, who can play and move and live without constantly worrying about pain – is counting on the choices you make today.

What's one small movement experiment you could try this week? Your body is waiting for your answer.

I'd love to hear about your movement experiments in the comments. What feels impossible right now that you'd love to make possible? What movement did you love as a kid that you miss as an adult? Let's start a conversation about breaking free from our movement prisons together.