Movement Creates Options. Strength Keeps Those Options Open.
Movement has been part of my identity for as long as I can remember.
Long before I understood strength and conditioning, biomechanics, mobility, or exercise physiology, I understood something much simpler:
Moving made me feel alive.
Growing up on the Nambé Indian Reservation, I was always outside exploring.
Some of my earliest memories are walking through the badland hills behind my house with my childhood friend Carl, jumping off arroyo embankments or sprinting up hills. Our neighborhood was full of kids around the same age, and whatever sport was in season became the game we played in the street.
Football.
Baseball.
Basketball.
Whatever we could play.
I was competitive, and I always wanted to be picked first. To me, getting picked first meant the other kids recognized that I could play.
Speed was one of the gifts God gave me.
I loved running as fast as I could.
Jumping as high and as far as I could.
Chasing a football.
Tracking down a baseball in the outfield.
Competing against other kids and, just as importantly, competing against myself.
As I got older, sports became a bigger part of my identity. I played three varsity sports in high school and was named Scholar Athlete of the Year during both my junior and senior years.
But some of my favorite movement didn’t happen on a field.
It happened on a bike.
Movement Was Freedom
As a kid, my bike represented freedom.
I’d ride from my mom’s house to my grandmother’s house and explore different areas around the Pueblo.
Sometimes I’d ride to our lake and recreation center so I could spend the day fishing.
There wasn’t a training plan.
No heart-rate monitor.
No workout programmed on an app.
I wasn’t thinking about Zone 2 or how many calories I was burning.
I was going somewhere.
I was exploring.
I was having an adventure.
Looking back, I think that’s where the philosophy behind Performance Ranch really started.
I just didn’t know it yet.
Movement gave me access to more of the world.
And it still does.
When Movement Is Taken Away
It’s easy to take movement for granted when you’ve always been able to move.
I certainly did.
Then my back injury changed everything.
When the three damaged discs in my lower back reared their ugly heads, movement went from something I had done my entire life effortlessly to something I had to think about constantly.
There is one moment I still remember clearly.
My wife had to help me across the hallway and into our bed.
This woman who had watched me compete, ride mountain bikes, lift weights, coach athletes, build things, and seemingly always be moving was now helping me take a few steps down our hallway.
She had to remove my socks and underwear so I could take a shower.
That was humbling.
Suddenly, movement wasn’t about athletic performance.
It wasn’t about how much weight I could lift.
It wasn’t about how fast I could ride.
It was about independence.
Can I walk across my own house?
Can I dress myself?
Can I take a shower without someone’s help?
When something you’ve had your entire life is suddenly taken away, you realize how valuable it actually is.
I had spent decades training movement.
Now I was fighting to get basic movement back.
Getting Back on the Bike
Recovery took time.
A lot more time than I wanted it to.
Eventually, I reached the point where I could start riding again.
My first rides weren’t epic adventures into the mountains.
They were around my house with my dogs.
And they were perfect.
I have several dirt roads and trails near my house that I’d ridden with them countless times before my injury. That familiar terrain became my testing ground.
I got onto my e-bike.
The dogs were leashed up and ready to go.
We headed down the paved path toward the open-space gate.
Once we hit the dirt, my rambunctious dogs led the way.
I was cautious.
Every bump gave me feedback.
I was paying attention to my back and wondering if the pain would return.
I had just spent weeks rehabbing, and the last thing I wanted was to go through it all again.
Then I felt the bike accelerate.
I felt the tires tracking across the dirt.
I felt my body responding to the bike underneath me.
And there it was.
Bliss.
I was riding again.
It wasn’t about speed.
It wasn’t about distance.
It wasn’t about elevation.
I was moving.
And movement had given me a piece of my life back.
Exercise and Movement Aren’t the Same Thing
After more than two decades of coaching, my perspective on exercise has changed.
Exercise is something we schedule.
Movement is something we need for life.
Exercise can help us improve our movement capacity.
Training can prepare us for specific physical demands.
But movement is the reason any of it matters.
Think about your everyday life.
Getting off the floor is movement.
Carrying groceries is movement.
Putting your suitcase into an overhead compartment is movement.
Walking through an airport is movement.
Playing with your kids or grandkids is movement.
Working in the yard is movement.
Hiking is movement.
Riding a bike is movement.
Hunting is movement.
Living independently is movement.
That’s why I continue to say:
The gym is a tool.
The goal isn’t to become great at going to the gym.
The goal is to use the gym to become more capable outside of it.
Strength Is King
At Performance Ranch, one of our Big Rocks has always been:
Strength is King.
That doesn’t mean everyone needs to become a powerlifter.
It means strength gives us capacity.
If you want to stand up from the ground, you need strength.
If you want to climb stairs, you need strength.
If you want to carry your own luggage, you need strength.
If you want to hike at elevation, ride a mountain bike, work around your house, hunt in the mountains, or keep playing with your grandchildren as you age, you need strength.
As we get older, maintaining strength becomes increasingly important.
That’s why I like this simple idea:
Movement creates options. Strength keeps those options open.
The stronger and more capable we remain, the more choices we have about how we want to live.
What Our Legends Have Taught Me
I’ve had the privilege of coaching people across almost every stage of life.
Some of the greatest lessons haven’t come from elite athletes.
They’ve come from our Legends.
One of those people is Ross Zumwalt.
Ross has been training with us since 2011. When I interviewed him for the Performance Ranch podcast at 81 years old, we talked about his 50-year career in medicine, fitness, longevity, purpose, and the role movement continues to play in his life.
When I look at someone like Ross, I’m reminded of what we’re actually training for.
It’s not the personal record.
It’s not the number on the bar.
It’s not how destroyed you feel after a workout.
It’s maintaining the physical capacity to continue participating in your own life.
That’s longevity to me.
Not simply adding years to your life.
Adding life to those years.
Movement Quality Matters
But simply moving more isn’t the entire answer.
How we move matters.
Our bodies are incredibly good at finding ways to accomplish tasks.
Sometimes those compensations are useful.
But if we repeatedly load poor positions without addressing the underlying problem, eventually our bodies may start talking back.
I’ve learned that lesson personally.
That’s why movement quality has always been another cornerstone of the Performance Ranch system.
We want to build strength.
But we want to build usable strength.
We want mobility where we need mobility.
Stability where we need stability.
Control.
Coordination.
Balance.
And enough conditioning to sustain movement when we’re tired.
The goal isn’t perfect movement.
The goal is capable movement.
Warming Up for Life
At 47 years young, I’ve started thinking differently about my own daily exercise.
I don’t wake up thinking:
I need to get my workout in.
I think:
I need to prepare my body for the day.
Most mornings, after a dose of thermal therapy, I get outside into the morning sunlight and practice the foundational movement patterns we teach at Performance Ranch.
My routine isn’t complicated.
I might perform:
- 20 kettlebell goblet squats
- 15 three-point kettlebell rows on each side
- 15 kettlebell swings
- Max pull-ups
- Max push-ups
That’s it.
I’m squatting.
Hinging.
Pushing.
Pulling.
Bracing.
Moving my body through space.
I don’t really think of it as exercise anymore.
I’m warming up for life.
I don’t know exactly what my body is going to be asked to do that day.
I might coach for several hours.
I might work on a construction project.
I might ride my mountain bike.
I might hike.
I might need to lift something heavy.
Or I might spend several hours writing at my computer and simply need movement to keep my body feeling good.
That short morning routine is an investment.
I’m reminding my body:
This is what we do. We move.
Train for Tomorrow
When I was younger, training was often about what I could accomplish today.
How fast could I run?
How high could I jump?
How much could I lift?
How hard could I push?
At 47, my perspective is different.
Of course I still want to perform.
I still want to ride fast.
I still want to hunt elk in the mountains.
I still want to challenge myself.
But there’s a bigger reason I train now.
I’m not training to prove what I can do today.
I’m training so I don’t lose the ability to do what I want tomorrow.
I want to keep riding mountain bikes.
I want to explore mountains.
I want to travel with my wife.
I want to hunt.
I want to work with my hands.
I want to get onto the ground and stand back up without thinking twice about it.
And one day, I want to be physically capable of keeping up with my grandchildren.
Those things require movement.
And maintaining that movement requires intentional work.
Movement Is a Daily Practice
You don’t need a perfect workout program to begin.
Walk.
Squat.
Hinge.
Push.
Pull.
Carry something.
Get onto the floor.
Stand back up.
Spend some time outside.
Practice moving your body every day.
Then use strength training to build your capacity to do those things better.
Movement doesn’t need to be punishment.
It shouldn’t be something you have to earn.
And it doesn’t always need to leave you exhausted.
Sometimes movement simply needs to remind your body what it’s capable of doing.
Thrive Through Movement
To thrive through movement means maintaining the physical freedom to participate in your own life.
From riding my bike around Nambé as a kid…
To competing as an athlete…
To needing my wife’s help simply walking across our hallway…
To feeling my tires tracking across dirt again after injury…
I’ve experienced movement from very different perspectives.
And I’ve learned not to take it for granted.
Your ability to move is a gift.
Train it.
Strengthen it.
Protect it.
Use it.
And most importantly, take it somewhere worth going.
Movement creates options.
Strength keeps those options open.
At Performance Ranch, we’re here to help you build both.
Because we’re not training you simply to become better inside the gym.
We’re preparing you to Live Life Beyond the Gym Walls.