Three Turning Points That Changed How I Understand Health
1. I was doing everything right, but my body wasn’t healing.
Breaking my back forced me to question what I had been taught about movement, recovery, and health.
My exploration of biomechanics, restoring movement access, and everyday movement changed my understanding of what my body needed. When the injury later appeared healed on imaging but pain persisted, I explored pain science and the nervous system, too.
I began asking a different question:
What might my body need that I haven’t been taught to recognize?
2. I stopped doing almost everything, and I felt healthier.
Burnout forced me to simplify.
Walking, squatting, hanging when possible, and occasional access work became the movements I prioritized. I experienced how doing dramatically less could coincide with feeling much better.
This led me to ask:
What actually matters most when I strip everything else away?
3. I realized people couldn’t see what I was trying to teach them.
Through years of teaching, I kept encountering the same problem: people understood exercise as something they chose to do for an hour. They didn’t necessarily recognize that the body has specific movement requirements, that modern life can reduce opportunities to experience them, or that these requirements matter beyond an exercise class.
I could teach someone movements that helped reduce their pain. I could explain the importance of walking, squatting, changing positions, and restoring access. Yet they might interpret what they learned as another treatment for a particular problem, rather than recognizing it as knowledge about how to care for their bodies throughout life.
Even people teaching movement professionally could miss the distinction between getting people active and understanding the biological inputs their bodies require.
And that was exhausting.
I wasn’t simply trying to teach people what to do. I was trying to help them recognize a category of biological requirements they didn’t realize existed.
I began asking:
How do you explain something people haven’t learned to recognize—even when it’s right in front of them?
The Missing Pieces of Health
I came to understand that the central challenge isn’t simply that people lack information. It’s that they interpret new information through assumptions that prevent them from seeing what it means.
For example:
People learn that exercise is good for them, so they assume being active covers their movement needs.
They experience pain, learn an exercise that helps, and assume they’ve found a treatment for that particular problem.
They encounter walking, squatting, or changing positions throughout the day and see optional lifestyle choices rather than potentially important biological inputs.
They learn individual pieces of anatomy but don’t necessarily understand how those pieces connect to the conditions the body experiences over time.
These are the kinds of blind spots I’ve spent years trying to make visible.
My work isn’t simply about moving more, exercising differently, or even taking care of your body.
Those phrases leave the central discovery hidden.
I’m teaching people to recognize what the body requires, understand why those requirements matter, and see how everyday life can either provide or limit opportunities to meet them.
I discovered a gap in biological literacy that makes this work difficult to communicate in the first place. People can know plenty about health and still misunderstand what the body requires because they haven’t learned to connect the pieces.
That is why I wrote The Body Remembers Health.
I want to help people see what has been missing from their understanding of health—not just give them more information, but help them recognize what they haven’t been taught to look for.