This is chapter 1 of The Movement Detective Manifesto, the “textbook” I’m creating for Movement Detective School. Want a PDF version of this blog post? GO HERE. Print it out or put it on your e-reader, because eye strain due to screen-time sucks!
Here’s an obvious and undeniable fact about life: You’re going to feel pain and that will suck.
But don’t let that depressing introductory sentence get you down (please keep reading, it gets better, I promise) 🙂
In fact, pain is an amazing mechanism that has kept me alive long enough to write this, and you to read it. Imagine not being able to feel pain. As delightful as that initially sounds, think of how easy it would be to die.
Congenital insensitivity to pain is just that. While extremely rare, sadly, many individuals stricken with it tend not to survive the bonks, burns, and boops of childhood. In this regard, pain is actually our ally. We shouldn’t want to live completely numb from it.
This brings me to the topic for today, and my biggest, burningest question for the past 10 years: How does one get out of pain?
At age 22 I was quite sure I was on the fast track to getting a hip replacement in my 40s, and I wanted to know what to do to prevent that future from becoming my life. I just wanted to enjoy walking again.
And you know what, I succeeded. Walking is my greatest, simplest joy. I’m pretty sure my right hip will last the rest of (or at least most of) my life. How did I do it?
Is there a “get out of pain” X-factor?
Why do some people succeed at getting out of pain, while others don’t? Why are some people crippled by it ’till the end of their days, while others make “miraculous” transformations, bouncing back stronger, fitter, better than before?
Take Tiger Woods for example. He’s faced multiple serious, career-threatening injuries, and then came back to totally crush his competition. What makes him so special? (hint, it is not because he’s a wealthy celebrity).
There are obviously a mind-breaking number of factors involved. Some we can control, many we can’t.
But the “x” factor, so to speak, is one that we all actually have power over: How we consciously respond to our pain.
This is where I think things get interesting. And tedious. And nuanced.
For example, most commonly, folks will respond by trying to ignore their pain. Why? Lots of reasons.
Maybe because they genuinely don’t have the resources (which was once my case as a poor student). Or perhaps because they are afraid that acknowledging the issue makes it too real (and reality is a drag, I know). Or because “I don’t have the time for this I’ll deal with it later” (and if I wait long enough maybe the problem will resolve on it’s own?).
But ignoring pain has a cost. Like, an actual costs-you-money cost.
According to this paper:
“…total financial cost of pain to society, which combines the health care cost estimates and the three productivity estimates, ranges from $560 to $635 billion... the annual cost of pain was greater than the annual costs in 2010 dollars of heart disease ($309 billion), cancer ($243 billion), and diabetes ($188 billion) and nearly 30 percent higher than the combined cost of cancer and diabetes.”
Yikes. That’s fine for the folks who do have liberal amounts of cash to throw at their pain. And there is no shortage of therapies, surgeries, and drugs promising relief (which may or may not relieve anything).
Sadly, less affluent, desperate people can go into massive debt paying for pain solutions. Some people will develop debilitating drug dependencies, out of no fault of their own (which costs them even more later in the arena of mental health support).
Then there are the DIY-minded types of people who, rather than spend all their money (like a sucker), search the web for low-hanging fruit: Generic exercises on Youtube for x, y, and z. Consumer-grade gadgets like lasers and massage tools. They might even deep dive into what specific foods to eat to fix their pain (an anti-inflammatory, fish-oil-based, gluten-free, dairy-free, zero-fun diet).
But here’s a cautionary tale: A gentleman I met on a course watched a video on Youtube about how one’s ankle can get “stuck” and cause problems for the whole body. So he got the bright idea to DIY it, and used a sledge hammer to “knock his ankle free”. Needless to say, that made things worse. DIY is admirable, but not always effective…
The frustrating thing is that despite all these efforts, clever tactics, and dollars spent, none of the above can guarantee you’ll actually even get out of pain. Why the heck is that?
Here’s a weird question that I think neatly states the point of this manifesto…
Is Elton John the kind of person who can get out of pain?
On the morning that I’m writing this, I saw this post from Elton John (age 74!) reshared on Facebook:
“At the end of my summer break I fell awkwardly on a hard surface and have been in considerable pain and discomfort in my hip ever since. Despite intensive physio and specialist treatment, the pain has continued to get worse and is leading to increasing difficulties moving. I have been advised to have an operation as soon as possible to get me back to full fitness and make sure there are no long-term complications. I will be undertaking a program of intensive physiotherapy that will ensure a full recovery and a return to full mobility without pain..”
Read that last sentence again: “will ensure a full recovery and return to full mobility without pain”.
Those are confident words. What do you think makes Sir Elton so sure of his success?
Think of another 74-year-old you know- Your lovely, retired, elderly neighbour, Gina. What if Gina fell and needed hip surgery? Are her chances higher or lower than Elton’s to “return to original performance” in two years? (and by the way, 2 years is a period of time considered to be a minimum standard for completing a healing process, in some therapeutic communities.)
First, let’s state the obvious. Elton John’s got the cash, and really should have no excuse to fail from the “buy-pain-away” perspective.
He can clearly afford the most expensive, highly qualified rehab team in the world. He isn’t shackled to a blue-collar day job, so he can dedicate every minute of each day, and all his natural physical resources towards rest and recovery. He has a team of people who can do things for him so he can let his body heal.
So what hope is there for Gina next door, living on a wee school-teacher’s pension? Or even yourself- What chance do you have if you don’t have the financial, temporal, or physiological resources to get well?
Well I have a potentially bold statement to make: Having wealth as vast as Elton John cannot guarantee you will heal from pain. In fact, it might even get in your way unless you are the kind of person who can heal.
Elton John is obviously a crazy talented, successful musician with near-infinite resources to devote to getting out of pain but is he the kind of person who can do it? I guess we’ll find out in 2023 (and I personally think he is, for reasons you’ll read about further along).
I argue that low economic status is not a good enough excuse for being stuck in pain. I’ve witnessed people in meager financial situations get well, without spending even 0.0001% of Elton’s budget. And I’ve witnessed wealthy people spend far too much money on therapies and get zero relief, but keep spending anyway, simply because they can.
In his book Behave, Robert Sapolski investigates the correlation between low socio-economic status (SES) and poor health.
Summarizing the SES/health gradient situation, he writes:
“…the ‘socioeconomic status/health gradient’, in culture after culture, the poorer you are, the worse your health, the higher the incidence and impact of numerous diseases, and the shorter your life expectancy”
But how does one explain this phenomenon? I think what Sapolski writes next is interesting and empowering:
“…it’s not so much being poor that predicts poor health. It’s feeling poor- someone’s subjective SES (e.g. the answer to ‘How do you feel financially when you compare yourself with other people?’) is at least as good a predictor of health as is objective SES.”
Whoah. So could it be that how you feel about your ability to get your body out of pain is the “x-factor”? Not money? Not education? Not access to healthcare?
Could it be that what it really takes to get out of chronic pain isn’t something you can buy: It’s how you are.
Meet Person 1 and Person 2
There are two kinds of people (regardless of socio-economic status):
Person 1: Wants to stop feeling their pain, right now.
Person 2: Want to become the type of person who can get themselves out of pain, now, and in the future.
As the cliche goes, Person 1 just wants the fish. Person 2 is willing to learn to catch their own fish, even though they might have to start with a stick with a string tied around it, DIY-rod humble beginnings.
Person 1 is into immediate gratification and fast results without considering long-term consequences.
Person 2 accepts the need to make changes to their most fundamental lifestyle habits and belief systems. And in my humble observation, Person 2 is the one who succeeds in freeing themselves from chronic pain in the long-game, where Person 1 fails to accomplish anything sustainable or healthy.
Ironically, Person 2, while less likely to have vast amounts of cash to inject into the problem, is more likely to solve it. Why? Because they have no other choice. They can’t fall back on money to fix something money can’t actually fix: Who they are.
The irony is that having lots of money gets in the way of healing because Person 1 can feel very productive throwing money at their body’s problems, but they are still Person 1 with the sole focus on not feeling pain (i.e. distracting oneself).
Person 1 will almost always live with a degree of pain because they haven’t learned the skills and characteristics, or put in the effort required to truly liberate their body. And no, being very good at ignoring something is not the same as freedom from it.
Person 2 is an empowered, independent person, with a DIY spirit. I call person 2 the movement detective.
This manifesto is an invitation to discover, cultivate, and master the inner discipline it takes to become a movement detective in your own right, and take ownership of your path out of pain.
I hope to empower you to consider the value of this path, regardless of economic or educational status.
Its not about the things, its the person
Most people in the movement and therapy world aren’t talking about the inner discipline required to get out of pain. Most people are touting their specific things: Exercises, modalities, gadgets, pills, surgeries, orthotic devices, courses, and diets.
Most people are blaming external things like their mattress, job, and non-ergonomic chair, instead of putting the onus on the person laying on that mattress, working that job, and sitting in that chair.
Yes, all of the above matter, but the tool will only work in the hands of the person who knows how to use it. No one thing is guaranteed to work, unless you are the kind of person that thing will work for.
And that’s not something you can buy, thus I have nothing to sell you but on the power you have within yourself. Or maybe one day I’ll endorse a chair…
I’ll wrap this chapter up by saying that this manifesto is for you if you’re curious to learn what this process of learning how to trust Yourself to look after You looks like. To cultivate a state of sovereignty. Maturity. Physical mastery. A realization that how You are is the only way your body (and your life) can be.
So what about Elton John? I personally think he is Person 2- a movement detective. He just seems like a man with a vision, doesn’t he?
Stay tuned for chapter 2 in which I’ll unpack what it means to be a movement detective, share some practical strategies, and tell some stories I think will convince you that movement detectivery is a worthy, fulfilling path.
PS What’s Movement Detective School? It’s where I hope to empower you to learn how to use gait-based exercises as part of a holistic, individualized, healing movement practice, so you can rely less on other practitioners to “fix” you.
