How do you define strength?
In order to pursue a goal, we need at least a vague understanding of its meaning.
I talk a lot about strength, and mostly in general terms—vague allusions to the concept without specific numbers, well-defined qualities, or distinct advice. Much of that has to do with my personal definition of strength, which is, well, everything. Anything.
Strength can be any demonstration of power, explosiveness, flexibility, endurance.
You’re looking me like you’d like some clarity. I get it. Here’s the thing: strength is relative (here’s a moment to drop my catchphrase: it depends!): to the task, to the person, to the situation.
For a powerlifter, strength might be deadlifting 800lbs. A marathon runner might consider strength to be the ability to endure a 100 mile race. For another, strength might be holding their toothbrush, or being able to move themselves from their chair to a bed or seat.
Feats of strength are so varied and wide, I find it almost impossible to give a singular definition: a one-armed pull-up is an incredible feat of strength, but so is a heavy squat, or lots of push-ups, or a dancer lifting their leg and holding it up as they spin.
I think that as humans, we seek subdivision and categorization. It might be a result of colonized thinking: the seeking out, identification, and rationalization of perceived differences in order to create hierarchy. It could be a biological imperative: to divide and procreate with desirable DNA. Or maybe it’s just a petty trait of humanity.
Regardless, it leads to people wanting to find their “thing”—the way they can encounter whatever pursuit in a way that gives context, meaning, and identity. I feel like this is especially prevalent in fitness culture: someone who does Crossfit becomes a CrossFitter; yoga a yogi; lifting a powerlifter; etc.
Instead of engaging in pursuits that lead us deeper down the path to discovery of ourselves, we get sidetracked in to adopting an identity. We become something, which can distract us from the work of becoming our true selves.
Back to strength: using the example of a deadlift as a simple measure of strength. It is a single task that represents one aspect of strength, and is entirely dependent on the conditions surrounding it. Example: does the person know how to perform the movement with “proper" (aka biomechanically effective) form? Have they been preparing to lift maximal weight? Is the equipment similar to the stuff they usually use? Have they been sleeping well? Are they stressed out in their daily life? Are they trying to lift the bar lots of times or just once with a lot of weight? What constitutes a lot of weight? Or a successful deadlift, even?
At this point I’m sure you get that the questions could go on forever. Fitness culture is built on a mountain of arbitrary-ness. None of it really matters, and only leads toward a very specific version of what is “fit” and “strong.” Hence the need for identity and context. A person who does CrossFit is going to give you a very different answer than a powerlifter than someone who does strength athletics (aka strongman). And that’s just identities within strength sports. And the example of just one lift.
There are so many conditions and perspectives even on this one example that it becomes nigh impossible to give a clear definition of strength.
One definition of fitness I like is “preparedness for a task.” Mostly because it (perhaps unintentionally) points out the limited nature of exercise: we can’t prepare for everything: if you want to hike the Andes, you’re going to need to do something different than if you were going to do a triathlon, or a strongman competition, etc.
The deeper we get in to one pursuit, the less time, energy, and resources we have to develop capacity outside of that one thing. All pursuits can lead to strength, in a way, but all are wholly dependent on the context—the task.
Even something like CrossFit that touts itself as fitness for everything, is built on a narrow spectrum of movements with limited transference outside of itself. But again, humans seek that categorization, that breaking apart of things until they become ultra-specific. There isn’t anything inherently bad about this specificity, but it’s worthwhile to point out the limited applications of contemporary fitness dogma.
So how can we change how we view strength and fitness?
Well, if you’re asking my opinion (which you sort of are, by indulging me and reading this blog), I think there are two primary parts to human movement that relate to this topic:
1. Daily functionality
What is the level of strength and ability we need to be able to make it through our daily life in the way we want to show up? This is different for everyone, and is highly impacted by what resources we have available: time, chronic illness, family responsibilities, mental health, etc. I think it's worth mentioning that "strength" here becomes a highly subjective and abstract concept and less of a physical quantification, though being able to point out actual physical tasks toward which we can direct our energy can be extremely beneficial. In this context, strength becomes trying to move as much as we can outside of exercise in whatever way we can show up.
2. Physical expression
This is the stuff beyond necessity: how we express ourselves physically. People mostly think of this in terms of dance, but I think there’s much more to do it. Expressing emotions, ideas, and the spiritual self through movement. Physical effort can be beautiful. It doesn’t have to be wholly utilitarian, which is largely how exercise treats movement. It doesn’t have to be “useful,” but that doesn’t hurt. Everyone likes to be able to do more stuff easily, but there can be more to movement than just that.
There is a creative element to lifting and moving that we don’t talk about much, if ever. Movement doesn’t just have to be exercise for a biological result. It can empower us and improve our lives. We can express ourselves through how we approach and engage movement: are we doing a cartwheel with ease and grace (despite its difficulty)? When we do a challenging lift are we channeling anger, aggression, and frustration? Or perhaps joy and happiness?
Ultimately, we are in our bodies every moment of every day. It can be an opportunity to explore what it means to be a human in a body in all the infinite ways we exist, or, at times, a burden.
Movement is an opportunity to experience the extremes of this: challenge, intensity, relaxation, discomfort, and more. We can use every step, every squat, every tumble on the floor to express ourselves, indulge in non-essential movement, play, and be more present in our bodies and lives—but we don’t have to do that.
Strength can be a lens: how do we approach challenges (physical or otherwise) with a sense of purpose, resilience, and resolve? It can also be a set of physical characteristics, defined by our needs, interests, and goals. Strength can be many things, but ultimately, it is wholly defined by the individual.