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When most strength coaches hear the word "assessment," they think of movement screens, mobility testing, strength benchmarks, and training history. Those tools absolutely matter. Every effective strength and conditioning program starts with understanding the athlete in front of you. That doesn't change when coaching athletes with intellectual and developmental disabilities (IDD). What changes is how you gather that information. Too often, coaches assume they need a completely different assessment process for athletes with disabilities. In reality, the goals of a needs analysis remain exactly the same. You still need to understand the athlete's goals, medical history, training experience, movement competency, and readiness to participate in exercise. The difference is that building trust becomes just as important as collecting information. WHY THE FIRST SESSION MATTERS MORE THAN THE ASSESSMENTMany individuals with IDD have spent years moving from one appointment to the next.
For much of their lives, they've been assessed through the lens of what they can't do. By the time they walk into your facility, the last thing they need is another professional focused on deficits. Your first responsibility isn't to identify movement limitations. It's to create an environment where they feel successful. That's why I believe assessment should begin with relationships, not testing. When an athlete feels safe, understood, and excited to come back, you've already accomplished something far more important than collecting a few data points. BUILD TRUST BEFORE YOU BUILD A PROGRAMOne of the biggest mistakes I see coaches make is trying to gather every piece of information during the first five minutes. Instead, spend time getting to know the athlete. Ask about their favorite movie. Talk about video games. Find out what sports they watch. Ask about hobbies, pets, vacations, or what they're excited about this week. Those conversations may seem unrelated to strength and conditioning, but they're incredibly valuable. They help establish rapport, reduce anxiety, and often provide coaching tools you'll use later. If your athlete loves Mario Kart, maybe racing analogies become your coaching cues. If they're obsessed with football, maybe every lift becomes preparation for game day. Connection always improves coaching. YOUR BEST RESOURCE ISN'T ALWAYS THE ATHLETEParents, guardians, caregivers, and direct support professionals often know the athlete better than anyone else. They understand:
These conversations shouldn't feel like checking boxes on an intake form. There are opportunities to understand how to coach the individual sitting in front of you. They're also important because these support systems often determine whether training continues after the first session. When families trust you, consistency becomes much easier.  turn the first visit into an orientationI rarely think of the first visit as a testing session. Instead, I treat it as an opportunity to introduce the athlete to the environment. Let them explore the facility. Show them the equipment. Introduce the coaching staff. Explain what happens during a session. Reduce as much uncertainty as possible. For many athletes with IDD, a new environment can feel overwhelming. Giving them time to become familiar with the space often produces far better outcomes than rushing into formal assessments. While they're exploring, you can learn an incredible amount simply by observing. watch before you testSome of the most valuable assessment information comes from observation. Pay attention to:
These informal observations often tell you everything you need to know to begin programming safely. Remember, the goal isn't to produce a perfect movement screen on day one. The goal is to gather enough information to prescribe appropriate exercises while making the athlete excited to return. SAVE SENSITIVE CONVERSATIONS FOR LATERNot every discussion needs to happen in front of the athlete. Topics such as:
are often better discussed privately with parents, guardians, or support staff. This allows the athlete's first interaction with you to stay positive and centered around possibility rather than limitations. At the same time, you still receive the information necessary to design an effective training program. DEFINE SUCCESS BEFORE WRITING THE PROGRAMEvery needs analysis should answer one simple question: What does success look like for this athlete? For some athletes, success means competing in the Special Olympics or Paralympic sports. For others, it might mean:
These goals may look different, but your role as the coach doesn't. Your job is to identify the physical qualities required for success and build a program that develops them. COACH THE ATHLETE, NOT THE DIAGNOSISThe assessment process for athletes with intellectual and developmental disabilities isn't about lowering standards or eliminating structure.
It's about recognizing that trust is part of the assessment. When coaches invest time in building relationships first, movement assessments become more accurate, exercise adherence improves, and athletes are far more likely to stay engaged over the long term. The principles of strength and conditioning don't change. The athlete is still the athlete. The diagnosis simply changes how you introduce the process. And sometimes, the most valuable thing you assess during that first session isn't movement at all. It's whether the athlete leaves believing they belong in your gym.
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Adults with intellectual and developmental disabilities are significantly less physically active than the general population. The consequences are exactly what you'd expect: higher rates of obesity, cardiovascular disease, type 2 diabetes, reduced independence, and shorter life expectancy. None of this is new. We've known it for years. The real question is this: Why has the fitness industry done so little about it? At Specialty Athletic Training, we've spent the last 14 years working exclusively with individuals with disabilities. We've coached over 1,000 athletes across Eugene, Portland, and Vancouver, and one thing has become incredibly clear: The problem isn't motivation. The problem is access to coaches who know what they're doing. THE REAL BARRIER IS UNCERTAINTYThe biggest barrier isn't equipment. It's uncertainty. Most trainers were simply never taught how to coach individuals with disabilities. A coach can earn a certification without ever learning how autism affects sensory processing, how cerebral palsy influences movement, or why individuals with Down syndrome require specific programming considerations. As a result, many coaches don't feel confident working with this population. The reality is that they should. The principles of strength and conditioning don't suddenly change because someone has a disability. Progressive overload still matters. Building strength, improving balance, increasing work capacity, and increasing independence are still the goals. What changes is how those principles are applied. Exercise selection may look different. Coaching cues may need to be more visual or more concise. Sessions may require greater structure, predictability, or flexibility. Progressions may happen at a different pace. But the foundation of good programming remains the same. When coaches understand that, uncertainty turns into confidence. Without that confidence, many coaches either avoid working with individuals with disabilities altogether or unintentionally lower expectations. Neither serves the athlete. Too many families leave believing fitness isn't for them when, in reality, they simply haven't found a coach who knows how to apply sound strength and conditioning principles to the individual standing in front of them. THE GAP AFTER PHYSICAL THERAPYPhysical therapy is incredibly valuable. Its purpose is rehabilitation—helping someone recover after an injury, surgery, or medical event. But once those clinical goals are met, therapy ends. The need for movement doesn't. An adult with cerebral palsy still needs to maintain strength and mobility. An adult with Down syndrome still benefits from improving cardiovascular health, increasing muscle mass, and building lifelong strength. An autistic adult still deserves a training environment that is structured, predictable, and designed around how they learn best. Too often, they're discharged into a fitness industry that isn't prepared to support them long term. That's where the gap begins. STRENGTH CHANGES LIVESPeople often think strength training is about lifting heavier weights. For our athletes, it's about much more than that. It's getting off the floor independently. It's carrying groceries without assistance. It's reducing the risk of falls. It's having enough endurance to participate in community activities. It's sleeping better. It's building confidence that carries into every other part of life. We've watched athletes who once struggled to perform a bodyweight squat progress to confidently deadlifting weights their families never imagined possible. We've seen autistic adults who couldn't tolerate the unpredictability of a commercial gym become completely independent because the coaching environment matched the way they process information. These aren't extraordinary success stories. They're what happens when coaching is individualized, and expectations stay high. THE INDUSTRY HAS WORK TO DOWe don't need more coaches with good intentions. We need more coaches with confidence. That confidence comes from education, experience, and understanding that individuals with disabilities deserve the same quality of coaching as everyone else. We also need funding systems to catch up. Insurance will often pay for rehabilitation. It rarely pays for long-term fitness, even though regular strength training has the potential to reduce preventable health complications, improve independence, and lower long-term healthcare costs. Helping someone stay healthy will always be less expensive than treating a preventable disease after it develops. FITNESS IS A HEALTH EQUITY ISSUEThe disability community has fought for access to schools, employment, transportation, and community life. Fitness belongs in that conversation. Because strength creates opportunity. It builds confidence. It supports independence. And it gives people more choices about how they live their lives. The fitness industry has overlooked this community for decades. It's time we stopped asking whether individuals with disabilities belong in strength and conditioning. They do. The better question is whether we're willing to prepare coaches to serve them.  One of the biggest mistakes I see isn't that people with autism aren't capable of strength training. It's that we're asking them to succeed in environments and programs that were never designed with them in mind. I've watched it happen countless times. Someone walks into a busy commercial gym for the first time. The lights are bright. Music is blasting. People are everywhere. Machines are constantly being used. Before a single exercise even starts, they're already overwhelmed. That isn't a motivation problem. It isn't a behavior problem. It's an environmental problem. Too often, the fitness industry mistakes sensory overload for someone "not wanting to participate." Then we lower our expectations instead of changing our approach. We've spent the last 14 years doing the opposite. The Workout Starts Before the First ExerciseWhen someone starts training with us, I don't think about sets and reps first. I'm thinking about everything around them. Is the gym too loud? Are there too many distractions? Can we train at the same time every week? Can we use the same area every session? Those things matter far more than whether we're doing three sets or four. For many adults with autism, predictability creates confidence. The more predictable the environment is, the more energy they can put toward learning the movement instead of trying to process everything happening around them. That isn't lowering the standard. It's removing barriers so they can actually meet the standard. Routine Isn't the EnemyFitness loves to sell variety. "Confuse your muscles." "Try something new." "Never do the same workout twice." That might sound exciting, but it isn't how many of our athletes learn best. We don't change exercises just because we're bored. If someone is learning a goblet squat, they might still be doing that same movement eight weeks later. The difference is they're stronger. They're moving better. They're more confident. Maybe they've added weight. Maybe their depth has improved. Maybe they're finally ready for the next progression. Progress doesn't require constant change. It requires consistency. We Change One Thing at a TimeOne mistake I see coaches make is changing everything at once. New exercise. New equipment. Different coach. Different location. Different routine. For someone with autism, that's a lot to process before they've even touched a weight. Instead, we change one variable at a time. Maybe we increase the weight. Maybe we introduce a new cue. Maybe we change the exercise after they've mastered the previous one. Small changes create big progress over time. The Goal Was Never Light WeightsThere's still a misconception that adults with autism should stick to walking, stretching, or recreational exercise. Those activities have value. But they shouldn't be the ceiling. Our goal has never been to keep workouts easy. Our goal is to help people become stronger. That means progressive overload. That means learning real lifts. That means building muscle, improving balance, increasing independence, and giving someone confidence they didn't know they had. We've had athletes start by learning a hip hinge with nothing more than a PVC pipe. Months later they're deadlifting well over 200 pounds. Not because we rushed them. Because we gave them the right environment, the right coaching, and enough consistency to succeed. The Problem Was Never Their PotentialAdults with autism don't need lower expectations. They need coaches willing to understand how they learn. When we stop trying to force people into programs built for someone else and start building programs around the individual standing in front of us, everything changes. That's what we've seen for more than a decade. Not because our standards are lower. Because our coaching is better.  If this mission resonates with you, we'd love to have you represent it. Our online store isn't just filled with apparel. It's filled with conversation starters. Every design represents the belief that strength belongs to everyone, and every time you wear one, you're helping spread that message far beyond our gym walls. 👉 Shop the collection here: https://bit.ly/4xJUYf3 As a thank you for being part of our community, use code TRIBE20 at checkout to receive 20% off your order. Whether you're training, coaching, cheering from the sidelines, or simply believe in a more inclusive world, we'd be honored to have you wear the mission with us.  When Jack first started training with us, he had a goal. Actually, he had several. He wanted to be stronger for wheelchair basketball. He wanted to continue adaptive skiing. He wanted to spend more time riding his Bowhead bike. And he wanted his picture on the wall. At the time, we were training out of Boss Sports Performance, a facility in Bend, OR filled with banners of professional and Olympic athletes who had trained there. Jack looked up and told me he wanted his picture up there, too. Not because he wanted attention. Because he wanted to be recognized as an athlete. And honestly, that's something many individuals with disabilities rarely get the opportunity to experience. People are quick to celebrate participation. They're quick to celebrate attendance. They're quick to celebrate simply showing up. But athletes want more than participation. Athletes want goals. Athletes want progress. Athletes want to get better. Jack was no different. The Goal Was Never the GymOne of the biggest misconceptions people have about strength training is that it's about becoming good at exercising. For Jack, it wasn't. He already lived an active life. He played wheelchair basketball. He spent winters adaptive skiing. He loved getting outside on his Bowhead bike. The challenge wasn't finding activities he enjoyed. The challenge was having the strength to do more of them. In wheelchair basketball, strength matters. The stronger he became, the easier it was to propel his chair up and down the court. The easier it became to create power behind his shot. The easier it became to stay active throughout a game. The same was true for skiing. The same was true for riding. The stronger Jack became, the more freedom he had to participate in the activities he loved. That's why strength training mattered. Not because of what happened inside the gym. Because of what happened outside of it. Building Confidence Through StrengthLike many of the athletes we work with, Jack didn't need a miracle. He didn't need a specialized machine. He didn't need someone lowering expectations. He needed a coach. He needed someone who believed he was capable of getting stronger and who was willing to hold him to the same standards we would hold any other athlete. So that's what we did. We started with the basics. We focused on movement quality, consistency, and building confidence. Then we gradually increased the challenge. More resistance. More responsibility. More expectations. Over time, the weights went up. More importantly, so did Jack's confidence. And that's something we see all the time. When people start getting stronger, they start seeing themselves differently. The individual who once thought they couldn't do something begins to wonder what else might be possible. Strength changes more than muscles. It changes belief. More Than a BANNERThe truth is, Jack has yet to earn his banner. But over time, I realized that wasn't really what he was after anyway. The picture was simply a symbol. What Jack wanted was to be seen the same way everyone else in that facility was seen. As an athlete. Not as someone receiving services. Not as someone who needed special treatment. Not as someone people felt sorry for. An athlete. Someone with goals. Someone willing to work. Someone capable of improving. That's what kept him showing up. Not the possibility of a banner. The opportunity to pursue something meaningful. And that's what we tried to provide every time he came through the door.  When an adult with a disability develops type 2 diabetes, Medicaid helps pay for the doctor's visits, medications, specialists, and long-term medical care that follow. When that same individual spends years struggling with obesity, low muscle mass, poor balance, and physical inactivity before the diagnosis, the fitness services that could have improved those outcomes are often not covered at all. That is one of the reasons we started the Inclusive Fitness Foundation. Over the past fourteen years, we've watched families do everything they were told to do. Doctors recommended exercise. Families wanted their loved ones to be more active. Everyone agreed that movement, strength, and healthier habits would improve the quality of life. Then they discovered the biggest barrier wasn't motivation. It was access. Adults with disabilities experience significantly higher rates of obesity than the general population. Obesity increases the risk of diabetes, heart disease, mobility limitations, joint pain, and countless other health complications. Yet the services designed to help people build strength, increase physical activity, and improve their health are often treated as optional rather than essential. We've seen the consequences firsthand. Individuals lose mobility. Everyday tasks become harder. Independence starts to disappear. Health complications that could have been reduced through consistent exercise become expensive medical problems that require ongoing treatment. The same thing happens with falls. When an individual falls and breaks a hip, the healthcare system pays for the ambulance, the surgery, the hospital stay, and the rehabilitation that follows. The strength and balance training that could have reduced the likelihood of that fall happening in the first place is rarely covered. The system will pay for the consequences of poor health. It rarely pays to prevent them. Watching families lose access to fitness services despite the clear health benefits is what ultimately led us to create the Inclusive Fitness Foundation. We realized there were individuals who wanted to participate, families who understood the value, and coaches ready to help. The missing piece was access. The Foundation exists to help bridge that gap because preventive care shouldn't lose importance simply because it happens in a gym rather than a doctor's office. The Inclusive Fitness Foundation is currently in the process of obtaining its 501(c)(3) nonprofit status. While we await final approval from the IRS, we've already begun laying the groundwork by building partnerships, establishing our board, and preparing scholarship opportunities for individuals with disabilities who need financial assistance to access fitness services. We're still in the early stages, but the mission is clear: make professional fitness services more accessible to the disability community and ensure that financial barriers don't stand between someone and the opportunity to become stronger, healthier, and more independent. Through scholarships, the Inclusive Fitness Foundation will help individuals with disabilities access professional fitness services when traditional funding sources fall short. Our goal is simple: remove financial barriers so more people can build strength, improve their health, and maintain their independence. We started the Foundation after watching too many families lose access to services that were clearly making a difference. Not because the services stopped working. Not because the need disappeared. Simply because the funding did. We believe the disability community deserves the same opportunity to invest in prevention as everyone else. Stronger muscles, healthier body weights, better balance, improved cardiovascular health, and greater independence shouldn't be reserved for those who can afford to pay out of pocket. The long-term vision is bigger than scholarships. It's helping shift the conversation around what counts as healthcare. Because when strength training helps prevent obesity, reduces the risk of chronic disease, lowers the likelihood of falls, and allows someone to remain active in their community, it isn't just fitness. It's healthcare. And the disability community deserves access to it.  One of the most common things we hear from new athletes isn't said out loud. It's a belief they've been carrying around for years: "That's probably not something I can do." Sometimes it comes from a doctor. Sometimes it comes from a teacher. Sometimes it comes from a parent who was simply trying to protect them. And sometimes it comes from years of being treated differently. By the time many of our athletes walk through our doors, they've spent most of their lives hearing some version of the same message: Be careful. Take it easy. Don't push too hard. That's probably not for you. Most of the people delivering those messages had good intentions. The problem is that when someone hears those things long enough, they start to believe them.  We've Been Taught to Focus on LimitationsFor many individuals with disabilities, the conversation has always centered around what could go wrong. What if they get hurt? What if they fail? What if it's too difficult? What if they can't do it? Very few people ask a different question: What if they can? Over the last 14 years, we've worked with individuals with autism, Down syndrome, cerebral palsy, traumatic brain injuries, and countless other diagnoses. The pattern is remarkably similar. Many arrive believing they are fragile. Not because they are. Because that's what they've been taught. Then they start training. And little by little, that belief starts to change. Strength Has a Funny Way of Changing MindsIt's hard to keep telling yourself you're incapable when you're doing things you never thought possible. The athlete who thought they would never use a barbell learns to deadlift. The athlete who was told to avoid the weight room learns to squat. The athlete who needed assistance carrying everyday items starts doing it independently. We've seen adults who spent years in physical therapy focused entirely on maintaining their current abilities. Nobody talked about getting stronger. Nobody talked about improving performance. Nobody talked about what was possible. Then they start training. Not because we're doing something revolutionary. Because strength training works. The same principles that help everyone else get stronger also work for individuals with disabilities. Meet them where they are. Build trust. Create consistency. Progress over time. That's it. Expectations MatterOne thing we've learned is that people often rise to the expectations around them. If everyone treats you like you're fragile, eventually you start acting fragile. If everyone assumes you're incapable, eventually you stop trying to prove otherwise. The opposite is true, too. When someone expects you to improve, tracks your progress, celebrates your wins, and challenges you appropriately, something changes. You begin to see yourself differently. Not because someone gave you confidence. Because you've earned it. Confidence isn't built through encouragement alone. It's built through evidence. The evidence that you can do hard things. The evidence that you're stronger than you were yesterday. The evidence that progress is possible. Accommodation Doesn't Mean Lower ExpectationsWe modify exercises all the time. We change equipment. We adjust positions. We slow things down. We find different ways to teach the same movement. But our goal is never to lower expectations. Our goal is to create a path to success.
The exercise may change. The standard doesn't. We still believe people can get stronger. We still believe people can improve. We still believe people are capable of more than they've been told. Because after 14 years and more than 10,000 hours of coaching individuals with disabilities, we've seen it happen too many times not to believe it. For too long, individuals with disabilities have been offered programs built around limitations. We believe they deserve programs built around possibility. And when that happens, something remarkable occurs. They stop defining themselves by what others said they couldn't do. And they start discovering what they're actually capable of. One of the most common questions we get from families is: "How long before we see results?" It's a fair question. Whether you're a parent looking for fitness opportunities for your child, a caregiver supporting an adult with a disability, or someone interested in improving your own health and fitness, you want to know whether this will actually work. The answer is yes. But the first 90 days probably won't look the way you expect. Month One: Building TrustBefore we focus on strength, we focus on trust. Many of the individuals we work with have spent years being told what they can't do. Some have struggled in traditional fitness environments. Others have never had a positive experience with exercise at all. So our first priority isn't loading a barbell. It's creating an environment where the individual feels successful. That means we start with the basics. Not because we have low expectations, but because early success builds confidence. Confidence builds trust. And trust creates buy-in. During the first few weeks, we're learning how the individual communicates, what motivates them, how they learn best, and what support they need to be successful. At the same time, they're learning to trust us. They're learning that the gym is a place where they belong. They're learning that movement can be enjoyable. Most importantly, they're learning that they are capable. Many of our athletes could physically do more than we ask them to do during those first few weeks. But pushing too hard too soon often comes at the expense of confidence. Our goal isn't to see how much someone can do on day one. Our goal is to create enough success that they want to come back for day two, day ten, and day one hundred. Month Two: Building ConfidenceBy the second month, something usually starts to change. The athlete begins walking into the gym with confidence. Exercises that once felt unfamiliar become routine. The warm-up requires fewer reminders. The workout flows more smoothly. The athlete starts taking ownership of the process. This is where we begin increasing expectations. The exercises become more challenging. The weights start getting heavier. The standards get higher. Because strength matters. At Specialty Athletic Training, we don't believe in simply keeping people busy. We believe in helping them become stronger, healthier, and more independent. But before someone can be physically pushed, they need to believe they can succeed. When that confidence starts to develop, motivation begins to shift. Instead of participating because a parent, caregiver, or coach wants them to, they begin participating because they want to. That's when progress tends to accelerate. Month Three: Building Independence Around the three-month mark, families often start noticing changes unrelated to exercise. An individual becomes more independent with daily routines. Someone begins speaking up for themselves more often. A client who previously avoided challenges starts trying new things without hesitation. Parents report improved confidence. Caregivers notice increased initiative. Support teams describe greater independence. These are some of our favorite conversations because they remind us that fitness is about much more than sets and reps. The weights are simply the tool. What we're really building is confidence, self-belief, resilience, and independence. The strength gained in the gym often carries over into every other area of life. The Goal Was Never Light Weights When families first walk through our doors, they sometimes assume the goal is simply participation. It's not. The goal has always been strength, health, and greater independence. We start with the basics because trust has to come before challenge. Confidence has to come before heavy weights. And success has to come before high expectations. But the goal was never to stay there. The athlete deadlifting 200 pounds today didn't start with 200 pounds. The individual who now walks confidently into a crowded gym didn't begin with that confidence. Those outcomes were built one successful session at a time. The first 90 days are about laying the foundation. Building trust. Creating consistency. Helping the individual experience success often enough that they begin to believe they're capable of more. Once that happens, everything changes. The athlete becomes more confident. The motivation becomes internal. The expectations increase. And the weights get heavier. Because our goal has never been to keep individuals with disabilities comfortable. Our goal is to help them discover what they're capable of. The first 90 days simply establish what's possible.  Over the years, I've received hundreds of emails from trainers, therapists, parents, siblings, and advocates who all want to know the same thing: "How do I get started working with individuals with disabilities through fitness?" Some are certified personal trainers looking to expand their services. Others are physical therapists interested in what happens after discharge. Some are parents of children with disabilities who have discovered a passion for fitness and want to make a difference in their communities. The good news is that there has never been a greater need for qualified fitness professionals willing to serve the disability community. The challenge is that most people don't know where to start. The Biggest MisconceptionOne of the most common questions I get is whether there is a special certification required to work with individuals with disabilities. The answer is no. There isn't a single certification that suddenly qualifies someone to do this work. What matters most is whether you know how to coach, build relationships, communicate effectively, and individualize your approach. The principles don't change. What changes is how you apply them.  My Path Into Inclusive FitnessI didn't start as a trainer. I started as a one-on-one aide working directly with individuals with disabilities. That experience eventually led me to found Specialty Athletic Training in 2012. Over the last 14 years, I've learned that some of the most important lessons in inclusive fitness don't come from textbooks. They come from relationships, experience, and a willingness to keep learning. Questions I Get Asked Every WeekBecause these questions come up so often, I put together a free guide that answers topics such as: • Do I need a special certification? • What education or experience should I pursue? • How did Specialty Athletic Training get started? • What does this work actually look like day to day? • What mistakes do new coaches make? Download the Free GuideIf you're interested in helping individuals with disabilities become stronger, healthier, and more independent through fitness, this guide is a great place to start.
I hope it helps you take the next step in your journey. One of the most common things we hear from new clients has nothing to do with exercise. It starts long before the first workout. It's wondering whether the equipment will work for them. Whether staff will know how to help. Whether they'll be stared at. Whether they belong. For many individuals with disabilities, walking into a gym isn't exciting. It's stressful. And that's not because they're unmotivated or uninterested in fitness. It's because most gyms were never built with them in mind. That's not a criticism of any one facility. It's the reality of an industry that has spent decades designing spaces, equipment, and programs around a very narrow definition of who fitness is for. At Specialty Athletic Training, we've been working exclusively with individuals with disabilities since 2012. Over the years, we've worked with more than 1,000 athletes and provided over 10,000 hours of one-on-one training. We've seen the barriers firsthand. We've also seen what happens when those barriers are removed. Accessibility Is More Than a RampWhen people think about accessibility, they usually think about physical access. Can someone get through the door? Can they navigate the facility? Can they use the equipment safely? Those things matter. We've all seen gyms with tight layouts, equipment that can't be adjusted, or spaces that make it difficult for someone using a wheelchair to participate independently. But physical accessibility is only part of the equation. The bigger issue is often how people are treated once they get inside. We've seen trainers lower expectations the moment they learn a client has a disability. We've seen coaches assume someone can't perform a movement before they've even tried. We've seen individuals with disabilities talked to instead of talked with. And we've seen plenty of situations where people are excluded simply because nobody knows how to adapt an exercise or adjust the coaching approach. Physical access gets someone through the door. A welcoming culture is what makes them stay.  The Industry Has a Training ProblemThe truth is that most fitness professionals were never taught how to work with individuals with disabilities. Many certification programs spend little to no time discussing autism, intellectual disabilities, cerebral palsy, traumatic brain injuries, or other conditions coaches will inevitably encounter. As a result, many trainers simply avoid working with this population altogether. Not because they don't care. Because they don't feel prepared. That has to change. Working with individuals with disabilities shouldn't be viewed as a specialty that only a handful of coaches pursue. It should be a fundamental part of becoming a fitness professional. Start With the Person, Not the ProgramOne of the biggest mistakes the fitness industry makes is treating modifications as an afterthought. A program gets written first. Then someone tries to figure out how to make it work for the individual. We've always approached it the other way around. Start with the person. What are their goals? What motivates them? What challenges do they face? What support do they need to be successful? From there, build the program. Sometimes that means using a trap bar instead of a straight bar. Sometimes it means changing the setup, the coaching style, or the progression. None of those things are compromises. They're simply good coaching. The goal isn't to force someone into a program. The goal is to create a program that works for them. The Cost of Getting This WrongAdults with disabilities experience significantly higher rates of obesity, inactivity, and preventable chronic health conditions than the general population. Too often, people assume that's because they don't want to exercise. That's not what we've seen. What we've seen is a population that has repeatedly been told—directly or indirectly—that fitness spaces weren't built for them. When someone walks into enough gyms and feels ignored, excluded, or unsupported, eventually they stop walking into gyms. The problem isn't motivation. The problem is access. And access goes far beyond whether a building meets minimum standards. It's about whether people feel welcomed, supported, challenged, and respected once they're there. We Can Do BetterEvery person deserves access to quality fitness services. Every person deserves a coach who sees their potential. Every person deserves the opportunity to get stronger, healthier, and more independent. That shouldn't be controversial. It shouldn't be revolutionary. It should be the standard.
The disability community has spent far too long adapting to an industry that rarely adapts to them. It's time for the industry to do better. Because if a gym doesn't work for someone with a disability, the answer shouldn't be, "Fitness isn't for you." The answer should be, "How do we make this work?" That's where real inclusion begins. |
About the AuthorRyan Lockard, CSCS*D, CSPS*D, is the Founder and CEO of Specialty Athletic Training. He is accredited by the National Strength and Conditioning Association (NSCA) as a Certified Strength and Conditioning Specialist and a Certified Special Populations Specialist. Lockard is currently the NSCA Oregon State Director and has served on numerous non-profit boards serving the disability community, including the Autism Society of America.
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