I don’t consider myself a core exercise guy.  I’m more of a pick things up, put them down guy.  But even though core work isn’t sexy, neither is living life with our ribs and pelvis out of alignment.

This week, I’d like to share my new favorite exercise: the breathing dead bug.  It’s part of my 2016 goal to share more actionable information.  After all, there’s only so many deadlifts and positional breathing drills that any “normal” person can take.

My wife, Lindsay, is slowly nodding her head in agreement.

Anyway, I love this exercise for a variety of reasons and for a variety of people.  And if it seems pretty easy, it's only because you haven't experienced it correctly.

I'm not shy about admitting my mistakes.  It's how you learn and grow.  I think it's also important to show that you're always trying to get better.

Most of my mistakes have been with my own training, using myself as a guinea pig. But some mistakes have also been with clients.  This week, I'm fessing up to the latter.

When I was a newly minted personal trainer, high intensity, short duration work was the flavor of the year.  Nothing captured this trend better than the popular Tabata protocol - hard 20 seconds on, 10 seconds off, continuously for four minutes.  "Research" had shown it would elicit the same adaptions as a long steady state session.  Even better?  High intensity work like that is gold for fat loss, even if it makes you hate life.

On a personal note, I was also chasing dem gainz.

It's hard to get excited about core training.  I always prefer to lift heavy things, post about it on Instagram, and then eat a ton of vegetables.

And if it's a Monday night, that's all followed by a healthy(?) dose of "The Bachelor."

But core training is valuable.  While no one has ever said the words "Brah, you just killed those dead bugs!!" it's about time we started thinking that way.  When performed correctly, proper core training will provide injury prevention, get us out of pain, maximize our strength, and optimize our performance.

I was petrified when I met with my first nutrition client.  Will they believe what I say? Will I meet their expectations? It's one thing to learn from a textbook and be certified, but quite another to actually coach someone.

I'm still far from a "nutrition whisperer," but I've learned a lot since I started several years ago. Instead of trying to fix whatever I *thought* was their problem, I now begin with this general algorithm:

• What's their current and previous relationship with food? (Hint: we all have one)
• Is this person getting enough sleep?  (Usually not.)
• Are they adequately hydrated?  (Again, usually not.)
• Are there any glaring tendencies that need to be addressed? (Like when someone puts butter in their coffee.  Yup, that's a thing.)

I didn't always love deadlifts.  I feared them.  And every deadlift day I'd walk into the gym wondering if "it" would finally happen - "it" being that my spine would break in half, shoot out my butt, and I'd be crippled for months.

So why'd I do them if I was afraid?  Ego, probably.  And testosterone.

But having since learned to love the deadlift, I can attribute my early struggles to one specific point: I thought I was more advanced than I was.  I bypassed every easier deadlift variation in favor of the conventional stance - the hardest progression.