My Obligation to Restate the Definition of "Exercise"

I somewhat consistently comply with my self-imposed duty to restate the definition of exercise as preliminary to each article wherein I mention the word. This may seem trite and obsessive-compulsive to some readers. And it is a wearisome obligation for me. However, I do not see a way to dispose of this routine.

Regardless that my restatements are trite, obsessive-compulsive, and wearisome, the obligation remains. At rare instances, I have attempted to circumvent this obligation by merely referring the reader to the Serious Exercise website to read the article wherein the definition is derived and explained; however, many readers do not follow through on this suggestion. And for many of the few that partially do, they fail to read through to the end of the article where the definition is clearly stated. And then, far fewer actually study the definition with time to reflect on its ramifications.

There are many veteran readers (perhaps a large minority or a significant majority) who already know of me and my work and who are familiar with the definition of exercise as I have stated it for over 30 years. [Some may say that it is “Ken’s definition.” I strongly assert that it is “THE definition.” There is no other legitimate definition within the context of physicality.]

However, as the readership grows, it will swell with readers who are unacquainted with this definition. And this reality obliges me to set out the bounds of what I’m expounding about. [Note that a definition is a bounding.] Without this, exercise discourse is a dangerous assumption.

In contrast, dog, cat, house, car, sky, moon, and an almost endless list of additional nouns constitute safe assumptions for discourse. I can safely assume that readers know what these words mean and represent in the reality that we all live.

Both typically inarticulate and atypically articulate people ubiquitously assume that the eight letters strung together to form the word, exercise (e… x… e… r… c… i… s… e) are consequential to an agreed, precise concept. They are not normally consequential to any such standard of communication. Outside of the definition, exercise is consequent to a random and variably biased mixture of notions. Therefore, it is a dangerous assumption for discourse without the preliminary restatement of the definition with each and every instance of its exposition.

Even the medical community throws exercise around as though it is a word of substance and clarity. This practice reminds me somewhat of what Professor Henry Higgins says in My Fair Lady about the French:

The French don't care what they do actually, as long as they pronounce it properly.

I find exercise to be a nodal (if not a central) point of linguistics. Even if one has zero interest in exercise, the study of its definition takes us deep into the foundations of language. I discuss some of these in the derivation alluded to earlier. I discuss others in my books, Music and Dance (also known as Critical Factors for Practice and Conditioning). I also delve into this somewhat in articles on this Substack.

Nevertheless, I never intended to take my life-long interest in exercise into a study of linguistics. But my primary interest required the secondary interest to be placed foremostly. Although this surprises me and perhaps others, it should not. No subject can progress without bowing to the requirements of reason and its linguistic rudiments.

The Definition:

Exercise is a process whereby the body performs work of a demanding nature, in accordance with muscle and joint function, in a clinically controlled environment, within the constraints of safety, meaningfully loading the muscular structures to inroad their strength levels to stimulate a growth mechanism within minimum time.