Gamification vs. Grit Finding your truth in fitness

Picture this: a crisp afternoon, a backyard football game with rules so simple they practically begged to be broken. Two-hand touch, flag football—a promise of order in a world that thrives on chaos. Inevitably, it only took about five plays before everything devolved into full-contact chaos. Shirts ripped, egos bruised, and someone usually ended up limping home all part of the unspoken ritual that made those afternoons unforgettable. It wasn’t just a game; it was a chaotic dance of pride, grit, and the raw energy of youth. It wasn’t because we didn’t understand the rules; it was because rules were never what drew us to the game in the first place. It was the thrill of the tackle, the unrestrained competition, and the instincts of what brought us to the game. Scores were settled, anger dissipated, and some of us even found peace in the chaos. No amount of structure could hold back what the game was  for us at its center. It always came back to its roots depending on the individual. No let me be clear here that didn't meant it was always a smart thing,  But as an adult we need to acknowledge the emotion honesty of those moments as we move on to better decisions. 

Fast forward to today, and I see the same attempts to impose structure on the chaotic beauty of fitness. The growing obsession with gamification—VR workouts, glowing apps, leaderboards—feels like an attempt to dress up something simple and timeless, to put cheese around a pill. As one recent article noted, Gen Z is particularly drawn to these immersive and interactive experiences, with gamification serving as a way to attract younger demographics who prioritize fun and novelty in their fitness routines. It’s a clever distraction for those who think they need it, but here’s the truth: once the shine wears off, you’re left with what fitness has always been about discipline, effort, and connection. Much like those luxury amenities  in condo complexes that often sit unused, gamification offers the allure of something enticing and new the promise of making exercise feel effortless, immersive, and engaging in a way that taps into our modern need for instant gratification and if that gets one going then fabulous but be prepared for when the game becomes boring or expensive or not interesting or Denise from the office moves on to something else leaving you alone at 5 in the morning on a rower. More often than not, it ends up underused and forgotten, a passive generator of fleeting interest rather than genuine engagement.

Fitness, like that backyard football game, always returns to its roots. It’s not about the bells and whistles, the fancy tech, or the promise of effortless progress. It’s about showing up, moving your body, and finding joy in the work itself for whatever unique reason you bring to the table. The tools we add might make the process easier or more enticing for a while, but they’ll never replace the satisfaction of putting in the effort for its own sake.

And here’s where the analogy deepens. If the passion isn’t there and you’re only showing up because the doctor said so or the scale demands it, you’re no longer creating; you’re manufacturing. And that’s okay manufacturing has its place. It brings consistency, structure, and reliability. But it’s not where fulfillment lives. Passion is the lifeblood of creation, and when you’re in that space, you’re not just building muscle or burning calories. You’re making something meaningful a stronger body, a clearer mind, a better version of yourself.

The problem with chasing trends is they prioritize novelty over authenticity, production over creation. They’re designed for short attention spans, not for the long haul. And when the shiny objects lose their luster as they always do what remains is what’s always been there: the fundamentals. The basics of effort, discipline, and a little grit. The real challenge isn’t finding the next big thing to get you motivated. It’s rediscovering the roots that keep you moving forward when the glitz fades.

At the end of the day, fitness—and life—is about making things more. Like that backyard football game, it’s about stripping away the excess and finding the purpose, the connection, and the raw effort that make it all worthwhile: more meaningful, more connected, more alive. Don’t settle for distractions. Find the roots, embrace the work, and make life more.

Icing and Exercise : Why online may not be the way to go.

Ah, the holiday season. A time for warmth, cheer, and naturally engaging in the age-old tradition of cookie making. This past weekend, my girlfriend and I ventured into this festive territory, reaching the step she most dreads: the royal icing. Now, for those unfamiliar, royal icing is a culinary paradox a simple concoction of three ingredients: egg whites, vanilla extract, and confectioners’ sugar. But its simplicity belies its complexity. The magic lies in the consistency, achieved through the delicate addition of water, which allows it to serve its multifaceted purpose.

To hone our royal icing craft, we turned to the omniscient teacher of our age: YouTube. We sought guidance on the elusive "flood" icing a smooth, glossy surface that transforms cookies into edible art. The technique involves adding water to the base mixture, creating various consistencies measured by how long it takes the icing to settle into a smooth surface: ten-second icing, twenty-second icing, and so on.

We stumbled upon a video with excellent production value. A pristine kitchen set, a clear view of the process, and a well-paced explanation of steps. As the creator piped the icing onto the cookie, they narrated the process with authority, counting aloud to ten to illustrate the ten-second rule. And then, with apparent confidence, they declared the cookie done.

I hit pause.

The icing wasn’t smooth. Blobs and air bubbles marred the surface. I rewound the video, counting silently as the icing continued to settle. At twenty-seven seconds, it finally achieved the promised smoothness. Not ten seconds twenty-seven. Again, I rewound, counted, and confirmed. The icing was decidedly not ten-second icing. Why claim otherwise?

The answer, I suspect, lies in post-production. The script said ten seconds, the editing reinforced it, and so ten seconds it was reality be damned.

Now, what does this have to do with fitness?

Let’s make a few substitutions. Imagine the creator is a fitness instructor delivering online programming. The icing becomes an exercise seemingly simple yet intricate, with layers of complexity. The cookie flooding is the performance of the exercise. And just as with the icing video, many fitness demonstrations fail to reflect reality. The instructor’s squat, meant to serve as the gold standard, often reveals flaws: a collapsing knee, a forward-leaning torso compensations that contradict their verbal instructions.

Where does this leave you, the consumer? Like the cookie, if your icing your exercise fails to match the example, frustration sets in. You assume the problem lies with you. You followed the instructions, yet the result is lumpy, uneven, painful even. The truth is, the flaw often lies not with you but with the demonstration itself. Without an understanding of your body’s unique variables its imbalances, its compensations you’re left to repeat movements that may ultimately lead to discomfort and disillusionment.

At MyoBio, we pride ourselves on a different approach. With over thirty years of experience, we identify imbalances and pinpoint compensations that hold you back. Your body carries its own history, its own narrative. It’s our job to listen, to interpret, and to guide you toward movement that is not just functional but transformative.

So this holiday season, as you flood your cookies or tackle your squats, remember: the key lies in understanding, not just following. And on that note, I’m off to enjoy a well-earned cookie. Happy Holidays, everyone.Make Life More