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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.
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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. Every week at Specialty Athletic Training, we track sets, reps, weights, and everything most people associate with progress in the gym. But some of the biggest wins we see never happen in the gym at all. A few years ago, a parent shared something that stuck with me. Her son had just boarded the school bus by himself for the first time. No physical assistance. No hand on his shoulder. No adult walking him up the steps. Just confidence, independence, and the ability to do something that many people take for granted. To most people, it probably looked like a normal morning. To his family, it was a huge milestone. And to us, it was a reminder of what we're actually trying to accomplish. Because the goal was never to get better at lifting weights. The goal was to make everyday life easier. The workout was simply the vehicle. For many of the individuals we work with, independence is built one small victory at a time. Walking longer distances without fatigue. Navigating stairs more confidently. Carrying their own belongings. Getting in and out of a vehicle independently. Boarding a school bus without assistance. Those moments don't happen by accident. They're often the result of months or years of building strength, balance, coordination, confidence, and trust in their own abilities. The exercises themselves aren't complicated. Squats. Step-ups. Farmer carries. Rows. Sled pushes. Deadlifts. The magic isn't in the exercise selection. The magic is in consistently helping someone become more capable than they were yesterday. Over the years, we've seen this happen hundreds of times. We've watched autistic athletes grow comfortable enough to walk into a busy gym and confidently start their workout. We've seen individuals with Down syndrome develop the strength and endurance to participate more fully at work, home, and in their communities. We've seen people with cerebral palsy become more confident navigating curbs, stairs, and uneven surfaces without relying on someone else's arm. And we've seen families celebrate milestones that never show up on a workout sheet. That's because strength changes more than muscles. It changes confidence. And confidence creates independence. When families ask how progress is going, I often encourage them to look beyond the gym. Pay attention to everyday life. Are they carrying things they used to hand to someone else? Are they trying new things without being prompted? Are they moving through the community with more confidence? Are they asking for less help? Those are often the moments that tell us the most. For far too long, individuals with disabilities have been overlooked by the fitness industry. Not because they couldn't benefit from exercise, but because too few professionals understood how to coach them effectively. The result is that many people are living with less strength, confidence, and independence than they could have. We're working to change that. One workout at a time. One family at a time. One bus ride at a time. Because the gym isn't the finish line. It's just where the journey begins.  A few times a month, a parent, spouse, or caregiver asks us some version of the same question: "We have some extra space at home. What should we put in it so they can keep training between sessions?" It might be a garage. It might be a spare bedroom. It might be a corner of a basement. And honestly, most people are surprised by my answer. You don't need a room full of equipment. You need a space that's safe, predictable, and easy to use. Start with the floor and the layout, not the equipment Before you buy a single piece of equipment, take a look at how the person will actually move through the room. Is there a clear path from the door to the workout area? Can they get from one exercise to the next without stepping around clutter or navigating obstacles? For many of the individuals we work with, that's more important than what brand of dumbbells you buy. For someone with balance challenges, unnecessary obstacles create fall risks. For someone with autism, a cluttered or constantly changing environment can make it harder to focus and feel comfortable enough to train. Lighting matters too. If fluorescent lights bother them at school, work, or the gym, don't recreate that environment at home. Sometimes something as simple as warmer lighting can make the space feel more inviting and less overwhelming. The goal isn't to build the coolest gym. The goal is to build a space they'll actually use.  The equipment I would buy firstIf I were starting from scratch, I'd focus on a handful of versatile pieces that can be used for dozens of exercises. DUMBBELLS A few pairs of dumbbells or an adjustable set can go a long way. Squats, presses, rows, carries, lunges—you can build an entire program around them. One of my favorite exercises for many of our clients is simply carrying weight from one end of a hallway to the other. It builds strength that directly transfers to carrying groceries, laundry baskets, backpacks, and everyday tasks. AN ADJUSTABLE BENCH A bench opens up a lot of options. Pressing movements, seated exercises, and step-ups all become available. Step-ups are one of the most underrated exercises we use. They directly improve the strength and balance needed for stairs, curbs, and getting in and out of vehicles. RESISTANCE BANDS Bands are inexpensive, easy to store, and incredibly versatile. They're great for shoulder work, upper back strength, mobility exercises, and days when someone isn't ready for heavier loading. WHAT I WOULD SKIP A lot of home gyms get filled with equipment that looks impressive but rarely gets used. Most families don't need multiple machines. Most families don't need a wall of mirrors. Most families don't need a treadmill with 37 different workout programs. The more complicated something is to set up, the less likely it is to get used consistently. Simple wins. Every time. A home gym should support the program, not replace itA home setup can be an incredible tool. It helps families stay consistent when schedules get busy. It creates opportunities for extra practice. It allows individuals to build confidence outside of structured sessions.
But the most successful home gyms are the ones that support an existing plan. Programs need to progress. Exercises need to change. Technique needs feedback. That's where coaching still matters. When we help families set up home spaces, the goal isn't to recreate our gym. The goal is to give them the tools they need to keep building momentum between sessions. If you're part of the Specialty Athletic Training family and you're thinking about putting together a home gym, ask your coach. We're always happy to help you build something simple, effective, and specific to the person who's actually going to use it. Fourteen years ago, Specialty Athletic Training started with a simple belief: individuals with disabilities deserve access to high-quality fitness coaching. What began as a handful of sessions has grown into thousands of coaching hours, hundreds of families served, and a team of dedicated trainers. Along the way, we've learned a lot. Here's what the journey has taught us. Relationships Matter More Than ProgrammingThe best program in the world won't work if the athlete doesn't trust the coach. Before we can teach movement, we have to build relationships. Progress happens when athletes feel safe, respected, and understood. Every Athlete Deserves to Be Treated Like an AthleteToo often, individuals with disabilities are viewed through the lens of their diagnosis. At SAT, we focus on the person first. Expectations may be adjusted, coaching strategies may change — but everyone who walks through our doors is treated like an athlete. There Is No One-Size-Fits-All ApproachNo two athletes are the same. The strategies that work for one individual may completely fail with another. Flexibility, creativity, and adaptability aren't nice-to-haves — they're essential coaching skills. Progress doesn't always look like more weight on the barSometimes progress is a new PR. Sometimes it's making eye contact, entering the gym independently, trying a new exercise, or simply showing up consistently. Success comes in many forms — and every form counts. Behavior Is CommunicationMany of the challenges coaches face aren't behavior problems — they're communication challenges. When we stop asking "What's wrong with this athlete?" and start asking "What is this athlete trying to communicate?" everything changes. Confidence Changes LivesStrength training builds more than muscle. We've watched athletes gain confidence that carries into school, work, sports, relationships, and everyday life. The physical changes are often the least important changes we see. Families Need Support TooWhen a family entrusts us with their son or daughter, they're often carrying years of frustration, uncertainty, and unanswered questions. Supporting families is just as important as supporting athletes. Inclusion isn't lowering the standardTrue inclusion isn't about making things easier. It's about finding a pathway to success while maintaining meaningful expectations. The goal isn't to lower the bar — it's to help athletes reach it. Consistency Beats PerfectionThe athletes who make the greatest long-term progress aren't always the most talented. They're the ones who show up — week after week, month after month, year after year. Consistency wins. The Disability community is underserved by the fitness worldOne of the most frustrating lessons we've learned is how difficult it can be for families to find qualified fitness professionals. There are millions of individuals with disabilities who deserve access to exercise, yet very few trainers are prepared to serve them. That has to change. Strength Creates IndependenceThe goal has never been to create great gym-goers. The goal is greater independence — carrying groceries, climbing stairs, getting off the floor, participating in sports, navigating daily life. Strength gives people more options. Small Wins MatterA first push-up. A first deadlift. Walking into the gym without a parent. Trying something new. The small victories often become the foundation for much bigger successes — and they deserve to be celebrated every time. Community Is PowerfulMany athletes come to us for fitness. They stay because they find belonging. The friendships, encouragement, and sense of community that develop inside the gym are every bit as important as the workouts themselves. We are just getting startedFourteen years feels like a long time. But when we look at how many individuals with disabilities still lack access to quality fitness services, it feels like we're only scratching the surface. The mission remains the same as it was in 2012: make fitness accessible to the disability community. Thank you to every athlete, family member, trainer, partner, and supporter who has been part of this journey. The first 14 years have been incredible. We can't wait to see what comes next. There is a moment that happens in our training sessions more often than you might expect. An adult with a disability — someone who has spent their entire life being protected from difficulty — picks up something heavy for the first time. Their form is solid. Their effort is real. And somewhere behind them, a parent or sibling is standing with their arms crossed, fighting the urge to intervene. The athlete isn't the one struggling. The family member is. This is not a criticism. It is one of the most human things I have witnessed in fourteen years of training. When someone you love has been vulnerable in the world — when they have been excluded, underestimated, or genuinely hurt — you develop instincts. You scan exits. You speak before someone else can say something wrong. You say "be careful" before the thought is even finished forming. That reflex makes complete sense. But inside the gym, it can become the heaviest weight in the room. What We Actually See When Adults Are ChallengedTake someone like Marcus — a composite drawn from years of sessions — a man in his late twenties who experiences Down Syndrome and came to us having never used a barbell. His family described him as "not athletic" and asked us to keep things "light and fun." Light and fun is fine. But in our intake assessment, Marcus kept asking whether he was going to get "really strong." That was his word. Really strong. Within three months, Marcus was pulling 115 pounds on a trap bar deadlift. His gait was more stable. He was sleeping better. His family started calling it a transformation — but what I saw was simpler: a person being taken seriously in a weight room for the first time. That shift does not happen when every movement is pre-screened for risk out of habit. It happens when we apply the same coaching standards we would to any adult — scaled appropriately, progressed responsibly, but built on a genuine belief that this person can be strong. Adults with intellectual disabilities, cerebral palsy, autism, or limb differences are not inherently fragile. Many of them are undertrained and underestimated, and those are not the same thing. The Conversation We Have With Families We talk to families constantly. Not because families are obstacles, but because they are part of the training environment. When a parent's anxiety shows up on the gym floor, the athlete feels it. This is part of why parents stay off the training floor. The rule is simple, and the reason is real: when an adult with a disability isn't managing someone else's worry mid-set, they train differently. Harder, usually. More willing to try something that might not work the first time. The trainer-client relationship needs space to develop, and that space has to be protected. Part of what we do at Specialty Athletic Training is coach the people in the room who are not technically training. We help families understand the difference between protecting someone and limiting them. We explain what a safe progression looks like in concrete terms — not "we'll go easy," but "here's the load, here's the rep range, here's why the goblet squat comes before the back squat." We do that work up front — in intake conversations, in honest check-ins, in explaining the why behind every progression. By the time a family starts to see changes at home, the trust is already there. There is a particular kind of moment that happens when a parent realizes their adult child is capable of more than they had been allowed to demonstrate. It is not comfortable at first. It almost always becomes one of the most meaningful experiences the family has had. What the Shift Looks Like When families get there — and most do — the change shows up in their daily life before it ever shows up in a conversation with us. A mother in Vancouver who spent the first month sending cautious check-in texts now asks me programming questions on her son's behalf. A father in Portland who wanted us to "keep it simple" recently asked what a sled push was training, because his daughter had come home talking about it. The athlete changes. And then, slowly, the family changes with them. That is the actual goal of this work. Not just a stronger deadlift or a more stable gait — though both of those matter enormously. The goal is an adult with a disability who moves through the world with the knowledge that they are capable, and a family that has seen it firsthand and cannot unsee it. At Specialty Athletic Training, we have been doing this since 2012. We know that real training, given to real adults, produces real results. The weight on the bar is manageable. The weight of low expectations is what we spend every session pushing against.  5 Questions to Ask Before Hiring a Personal Trainer for Your Family Member with a Disability5/26/2026 Most trainers mean well. But good intentions don't equal the right preparation — and for families navigating disability fitness for the first time, that distinction matters enormously. Finding a trainer who genuinely knows how to work with your family member is one of the most important decisions you'll make. Not just for results, but for safety, trust, and the long-term relationship your loved one builds with fitness. The problem is that the fitness industry doesn't make it easy to tell the difference between a trainer who has invested in this specialty and one who is simply willing to try. Both might say yes when you call. Both might seem confident in a consultation. But what they actually do inside a session — especially on a hard day — can be worlds apart. These five questions cut through the surface-level confidence. Bring them to every consultation. The answers will tell you everything you need to know. Question 1: Have you worked with individuals with [specific diagnosis] before?This one seems obvious, but most families never ask it directly. They assume that if a gym advertises inclusive training, the trainers inside it are prepared. That assumption is often wrong. WHY IT MATTERS: Experience with one diagnosis doesn't automatically transfer to another. A trainer with strong autism experience may have very little exposure to cerebral palsy. That's not disqualifying — but it's important information to have before you commit. What you're really evaluating here isn't the yes or no. It's how they respond when the answer is no. LISTEN FOR: Honesty about gaps, combined with genuine curiosity and a willingness to collaborate with your family member's existing PT, OT, or medical team. A trainer who says "I haven't worked with many clients with that diagnosis, but I'd want to connect with their OT from the start and make sure I'm supporting their plan" is often a better choice than one who confidently overstates their experience. RED FLAG: A trainer who pivots immediately to "but I work with all kinds of clients" without acknowledging the specific question. Question 2: What certifications do you hold related to working with the disability community?The personal training industry has a certification problem: almost anyone can get a basic CPT (Certified Personal Trainer) credential in a weekend course. That credential tells you very little about someone's readiness to work with clients who have disabilities. WHY IT MATTERS: Specialized certifications signal that a trainer has gone beyond the baseline. They've studied exercise science at a deeper level, learned about specific populations, and invested real time and money into this specialty — which usually means they're serious about it. LISTEN FOR:
Be cautious if a trainer's only credential is a general CPT from a weekend program, especially if they haven't supplemented it with any continuing education in disability or special populations fitness. It doesn't make them a bad person — but it does mean their formal training didn't include your family member's specific needs. Question 3: How do you handle a session when my child is having a difficult day?This is the question most families forget to ask — and it's arguably the most important one on this list. Every individual with a disability will have off days. Sensory overload. Anxiety spikes. Low energy. Days where the plan completely falls apart before the warm-up is over. This is not exceptional. It is normal, expected, and part of the work. WHY IT MATTERS: A trainer without a clear plan for difficult days will do one of two things: push through when they shouldn't, or give up and end the session early. Both responses are harmful — one risks a negative experience that sets back trust, the other sends the message that success is conditional on a client performing at their best. LISTEN FOR: Specific, concrete strategies. Things like: "I'd shift to preferred activities to keep momentum," "I'd reduce the demand and focus on something they feel confident doing," or "I'd check in with the family after to figure out what might have contributed and adjust the plan." The word "flexible" should come up naturally. Be cautious of vague answers like "I keep them motivated" or "we just push through it." These responses suggest the trainer hasn't thought carefully about this scenario — and they will encounter it. Question 4: How do you communicate with families about progress?Hiring a trainer isn't just a transaction. When your family member has a disability, the fitness work connects to a broader picture — medical goals, IEP objectives, behavioral support plans, and family routines. Trainers who operate in a silo create gaps in that picture. WHY IT MATTERS: You should never have to chase your trainer for updates. Communication isn't a bonus feature — it's part of the service you're paying for. And for families coordinating care across multiple providers, it's essential. LISTEN FOR: A specific communication structure. Regular check-ins (weekly or after significant sessions), written session notes you can share with other providers, and an explicit openness to feedback. Ideally, a trainer who proactively asks about what's happening in other areas of your family member's life that might affect training. Be cautious of answers like "just trust the process" or "I'll let you know if anything comes up." That's not a communication plan — it's a non-answer. Question 5: What does your goal-setting process look like for someone with my family member's needs?This question reveals the trainer's underlying philosophy — and it's a significant differentiator between trainers who truly specialize in this area and those who are applying a general fitness model to a different population. WHY IT MATTERS: Generic fitness goals — lose weight, gain muscle, improve cardio — are often the wrong frame for clients with disabilities. The right goals are built around function, independence, and quality of life. Can they carry their own groceries? Navigate their environment with more confidence? Participate in activities they care about? Those are the outcomes that actually change lives. LISTEN FOR: An individualized process that starts with listening to the family and the client. Goals that are informed by your family member's daily life, not just by what's typical in a fitness setting. A willingness to define success on your terms, not theirs. Be cautious of trainers who jump straight to weight, reps, or general fitness metrics without asking about your family member's specific context, priorities, and challenges. What These Questions Are Really MeasuringEach of these questions is a window into something deeper than the surface answer. You're not just collecting facts — you're watching how a trainer thinks on their feet, how honest they are about their limits, and how seriously they've invested in this specialty. The right trainer will welcome these questions. They'll have thought about all of them before you asked, because they've encountered these situations in real sessions. They might not have a perfect answer to every one — but their responses will be grounded in real experience and genuine reflection. The wrong trainer will give you polished, vague reassurances. They'll tell you what you want to hear. And you'll feel it in the answers. Ready to Go Deeper?These five questions are a strong starting point — but they're not the whole picture.
The complete guide includes five additional questions you should ask before hiring a trainer, and five red flags every family should know before hiring any trainer. Get the full guide HERE The question comes up in almost every consultation. Sometimes a parent asks it out loud. More often, it sits underneath the other questions — about cost, about scheduling, about whether their adult son or daughter will like the trainer. It is the real question, and it deserves a real answer.
IS STRENGTH TRAINING SAFE FOR MY ADULT CHILD WITH A DISABILITY? We have been answering this question across Eugene, Portland, and Vancouver since 2012. The honest answer is that strength training, when programmed by someone who actually knows what they are doing with adults with disabilities, is one of the safest hours of your child's week. Often the safest. Safer than the drive over. Safer than the staircase at the group home. Safer than another year of sitting. WHERE THE FEAR COMES FROM Most parents we meet have spent twenty, thirty, or forty years being told to protect their child from the gym. Pediatricians said "low-impact only." PE teachers handed out a stationary bike and a stopwatch. Physical therapists, who do important work, were not in the business of building five-rep maxes. By the time their child became an adult, "exercise" had been narrowed to walking and water aerobics — and even those came with worry. That history is not paranoia. It is data. Parents have learned, correctly, that the world does not always treat their adult child carefully. The fear of strength training is really a fear of being mishandled by someone who doesn't know what they're doing. That fear is solvable. It is not solved by avoiding strength training. It is solved by finding a coach who has done this work before, in a real gym, with real adults with disabilities, for years, not weeks. WHAT "SAFE" LOOKS LIKE A safe first session does not look like a stripped-down workout. It looks like a coach who asks more questions than they prescribe. We ask about seizure history. We ask about joint laxity, which is common in clients with Down Syndrome. We ask about communication preferences for an autistic client who may or may not voice discomfort. We ask about medications. Then the first lift is usually an empty trap bar or a goblet box squat with a five-pound dumbbell. The point of week one is not load. It is teaching the body what good positions feel like — feet under hips, ribs stacked, slow breath, eyes forward — at a weight that lets the nervous system focus on learning, not surviving. From there, we add weight the way every good strength coach does: slowly, consistently, with a coach standing close enough to catch a bar that drifts. The progression is measured in months, not minutes. This is not bravery. This is craft. WHAT HAPPENS WHEN FEAR BECOMES THE PROGRAM The risk most families never weigh is the cost of not training. An adult with cerebral palsy who never builds posterior chain strength is at risk of falls for the rest of their life. An adult with Down Syndrome who never lifts loses muscle mass at a rate that affects independence in their thirties. An autistic adult who has only ever exercised on a treadmill misses out on the regulating effect that loaded carries and heavy compound lifts have on the nervous system. "Safe" cannot mean "do nothing." Nothing has its own price tag, and adults with disabilities have been paying it for decades. The version of safety we believe in is the kind that ends with a client carrying their own laundry basket up the stairs. Or driving themselves to the gym, eventually, because the strength to climb in and out of a car is no longer a question. Or pulling 155 pounds off the floor at their first powerlifting meet — and going back the next year for more. A DIFFERENT QUESTION TO ASK So we'd flip the question. Instead of "is this safe?" — which the right coach will absolutely answer for you, in detail, with examples — ask: "what does it cost my adult child if we keep waiting?" We have watched that cost too many times. We don't recommend paying it. If you are weighing whether to bring your adult son or daughter into a strength program, please go meet a few coaches. Ask the hard questions. Watch a session. Notice whether the coach is talking to the adult in front of them, or talking around them to you. Notice whether the workouts look like training or like babysitting with dumbbells. Then make the call you would make for any other adult in your life who deserved a real program. Because that is exactly what your child is. I’m excited to share that I’ll be speaking at the NSCA Performance Summit in Eugene on Saturday, March 28th. The theme of this year’s Summit is Athleticism for Life, which couldn’t align more closely with the work we do every single day at Specialty Athletic Training. My presentation is titled “From Forgotten to Included: Athleticism for Life Starts with Access,” and it’s a topic I care deeply about, both professionally and personally. WHY THIS OPPORTUNITY MATTERS TO MEFor years, I’ve worked alongside individuals who have been excluded from traditional fitness spaces. Not because they lacked potential. Not because they didn’t want to be there. But because access was never built into the system. What I’ve learned is simple but powerful: you cannot build athleticism without access. Performance is the outcome, not the starting point. Most coaches already have the knowledge they need to work with individuals with disabilities. What often gets in the way are the stigmas, myths, and uncertainty surrounding the disability community. This session is about removing those barriers and showing that inclusion isn’t about lowering the bar. It’s about expanding who gets the opportunity to reach it. WHAT I'LL BE COVERINGThis will be a practical, real-world session rooted in hands-on experience. I’ll be sharing lessons learned from years of coaching individuals with disabilities across different ages, abilities, and support needs.
We’ll talk about: • How coaches can use the skills they already have to train more inclusively • How inclusive coaching actually makes you a better coach for all populations This isn’t theory. It’s applied coaching, lived experience, and a clear roadmap for doing inclusion the right way. Athleticism for life isn’t reserved for a select group. It’s built on opportunity, consistency, and environments that invite participation rather than gatekeeping it. When we commit to access first, we don’t dilute the industry. We strengthen it. We create better coaches, stronger athletes, and communities where more people can experience what fitness truly offers. I’m honored to bring this message to the NSCA Performance Summit and grateful for the opportunity to contribute to a conversation that I believe represents the future of our field. If you’ll be in Eugene on March 28th, I’d love to see you there. I have spent my career creating spaces where individuals of all abilities feel welcome in the weight room. Strength training is not just for athletes. It is essential for everyone, especially those in the disability community who may face unique physical, metabolic, or motor coordination challenges. Strength training improves balance, bone density, joint stability, and daily independence. It helps clients move with confidence, reduce injury risk, and navigate life with more control. The best part is that strength training is adaptable. A squat can be performed with a box, a TRX, or even a set of parallel bars. A press can be done seated or standing. Movement should never be one size fits all.  Longevity is not just about living longer. It is about living better. When clients get stronger, they stand taller. They walk with more pride. They learn that their body can do things they never thought possible. This builds confidence that carries into school, work, social situations, and home life.
Our mission is simple. Build strength to build confidence. Build confidence to build independence. And build independence so every client has the freedom to live the life they deserve. |
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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