Following a challenge to my claim last week that “there can only be one explanation for this near-universal struggle: we’re copying the wrong models,” I need to clarify something before we go further.
I’m paraphrasing but the rebuttal was, essentially, this: What if you’re modelling the ‘right’ behaviour—doing the right things—but without enough intensity, frequency, or consistency to elicit the desired adaptation - aka fitness?
So your ladder is leaning against the right wall, but you’re not climbing it.
And, of course, this happens all the time. But the key word here is desired—because in mimetic terms, desire is the unit of currency.
Desire—wanting—is what drives action, for better or worse.
A good (useful) model exhibits something we value so it doesn’t just point toward a goal; it inherently compels the right action A bad model compels the wrong action. But a model that neither initiates nor sustains the required behaviour—that is not valuable enough. That’s not a poor mimetic model—it’s not a mimetic model at all.
Desire is both compass and engine.
Again, this isn’t to say that fitness never fails for the reasons outlined—it does because we need better models. Then a lack of fitness would be the exception rather than the rule.
So, the fantastic news, you will have gathered, is that if you choose your model wisely, your motivation comes built in.
So, let’s do that then…
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.
Arthur C. Clarke
AI has been off the chain for a few years now, and much of what it offers —particularly in medicine—is nothing short of magical. At least in the Clarkian sense.
Its ability to detect patterns beyond human perception means that—via X-rays, CT scans, retinal and other medical imaging—AI can diagnose cancers, cardiovascular disease, neurodegenerative conditions and more with near-perfect accuracy.
The gloss is somewhat removed, however, when the relevant experts are unable to explain what the AI is seeing. So the AI gives answers, but not understanding. It offers knowledge, without wisdom.
The AI is learning but when we’re unable to extract principles or improve our understanding this insight is less a window into the body than a seance. A revelation to be parsed and presented by those we fancifully call a co-pilot, when they are more akin to check-in. Back at the airport.
This is the “black box phenomenon”. A term describing systems whose internal mechanisms are opaque— difficult or impossible to understand.
Given these advances it seems churlish to call it a problem, in any case, it pales next to another black box problem, only not with cutting-edge technology but the oldest most fundamental piece of kit we’ve got: the human body.
So far, we’ve covered how distraction, abstraction, and mimetic desire shape the way we approach fitness—often without our realising it. Forces that conspire to keep us unfit, disconnected from our bodies and stuck in cycles of effort with little or no reward.
But the deeper issue is that we never engage with fitness as we would any other skill. Despite its importance, we don’t approach it like learning a language, an instrument, or a sport—by understanding the fundamentals, refining technique, and troubleshooting mistakes. Instead, we just try to do fitness.
And so it remains a mystery.
Worse still, because of abstraction and negative mimetic contagions, we’re as likely to attribute the mechanism of effect to some fiction:
A tool, a time signature or technology.
A window (12 pm-8 pm) of time.
Or an era (Palaeozoic) of time.
But always a saving of time.
When your body will never be hurried and it’s only ever the relevant physiological principles like Wolff’s Law, SAID, or thermodynamics and the like, doing their thing.
And so you remain a mystery. And with gaps in understanding, we (humans) resort to that same gap-filler of old: magic.
It is even marketed as such: cue the secrets and miracles and 3 easy payments. It is the same magic courtesy of ignorance— in that Clarkian sense — not because we’re charting new frontiers of understanding, but in our neglect of what is already known.
Of course, ‘success’ is possible. But even should we be fortunate enough to stumble upon it, like our medical experts above, we lack understanding of the relevant principles or mechanisms that might open more fitness doors or, more importantly, close others.
Others that— in their failure to observe any relevant principle— can only lead to frustration and failure with the final insult being that we don’t know even that, and so we blame ourselves.
Until we dust ourselves off. And go and get the next thing. A next thing that will also be magic. A next thing that — until you connect cause-and-effect dots— must be magic. The most boring, predictable magic imaginable.
Same rabbit. Same hat.
Influencer fitness culture, tech gimmicks and data obsession, fad workouts and quick fixes, corporate wellness con-jobs and the theatre that is fitness in the modern day have us outsourcing our awareness, and chasing novelty, proxies or other thin desires while pandering to —and so reinforcing— impatience, laziness and, frankly, stupidity.
Worshipping these false idols, we copy without comprehension. A flattening that offers only superficial, illusory customisation for you—disguising templates, optimised for ease, profit, and minimal disruption for them.
For all the supposed variety—the myriad methods and means— people fail in fitness identically. Abstractions certainly make things more efficient, measurable, and scalable, but when these metrics take precedence over reality, you’re no longer looking at a map, but living in it.
But our first glimpse of salvation here is to recognise that flattening is not all bad.
Consider the aesthetics of car design where form runs secondary to function. Silhouettes share similarities for the sake of fuel efficiency and low manufacturing costs because vehicle design is governed by constraints— the laws of physics, aerodynamics, the properties of materials, etc.
We should see the same convergence of behaviour in fitness with resistance—including power—training, conditioning and mobility as universal— a reflection of physiological laws that are just as immutable.
There are worlds within each of these categories to explore— and many more permutations combined— so it would be a great idea to promote that, but no, instead we have the lunacy of “do what you love” — amongst other inanities.
And square-wheeled cars in every shade imaginable.
As with car design, we can leave this foolishness to settle on the very best: Recognising the principles by which your body and mind operate and— within a corresponding framework and strict order of operations— reconcile these principles with your individual goals and lifestyle.
A process that can do nothing but lead to success.
And not the fleeting, empty ‘success’ of catering to our thinnest desires, but a self-directed, stable, enduring, renewing, evolving, connection to your body.
We well know that reaching any goal doesn't inherently create happiness, and satisfaction comes more from enjoying the journey and valuing the effort we put into achieving something, and here too— in perfect alignment with best physiological and psychological practice— this is never an outcome divorced from process but one better described as ALL process.
A process of first tuning into you. And then tuning you.
A process unlike anything you’ve done before.
It took 42 years for a computer to beat a human world champion at chess (Kasparov vs. Deep Blue, 1997). Experts predicted it would take decades longer for AI to surpass humans at Go—a game 2500 years old and far more complex with 10¹⁷⁰ possible board configurations—more than the number of atoms in the known universe.
It took one afternoon.
In its second game against a human opponent— after simulating thousands of games against itself— it got to move 37. A move so unconventional that experts initially dismissed it as a mistake. A move causing a commentator to remark:
It’s playing moves that are definitely not usual moves. They’re not moves that would have a high percentage of moves in its database. So it’s coming up with the moves on its own. … It’s a creative move.
A move causing a rattled opponent to leave the room, returning a few minutes later to take another 15 minutes for his move. Ultimately, to lose. But win, lose, or draw, it was Move 37 that marked the tipping point into black-box territory, whereby none of the experts could understand why.
Move 37 was the product of relying not on convention but principle: a deeper understanding of the game.
If you want to step outside conventional fitness approaches that lead nowhere good, you must make your own Move 37. Something, by definition, different.
A move where you're not just optimising for numbers, but quality of life.
A move in which you're balancing all variables—health, longevity, performance, enjoyment—rather than prioritising one at the expense of others.
A move in which you’re making decisions with full context, rather than just reacting to surface-level metrics.
A move that creates momentum, not just moments.
A move where your intuition and awareness are cultivated, not outsourced.
A move where efforts compound rather than burn out.
But with all this talk of black-boxes and AIs, I’ll underline:
A move of simplicity, not complexity.
Leftfield Training begins at least as a subtractive process: via negativa. It's peeling the onion, shedding layers of fitness and dietary bullshit we cannot help but take on board throughout our lives.
You transcend the noise and nonsense of the conventional narrow fitness paradigm by simply discarding it. So that you’re left with a clear next best step. And via regular, reliable feedback—yours—you always will.
Details next time.
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Enjoy your weekend.
- OLI