17/11/2025
Corrective exercise is one of those terms that gets thrown around as if it has some special power. The problem is nobody ever seems to agree on what exactly is being “corrected.” The way it’s marketed, you’d think a few repetitions of a movement suddenly change your structure, alter joints, or reverse years of living. That isn’t what’s happening. When you strip away the buzzwords, corrective exercise is simply movement that helps someone feel and function better based on what they can do at that moment. Nothing more dramatic than that.
When someone says they’re “correcting” something, the implication is that the body is wrong or faulty, as if your joints or soft tissues are sitting there in chaos waiting for a specific exercise to magically realign or re-engineer them. That isn’t how the body responds to exercise. What actually changes is confidence in movement, tolerance to load, and the way the nervous system interprets a task. You’re not putting anything back into place, you’re not restoring some mythical blueprint, and you’re not fixing a structural flaw. You’re guiding the patient through movements that reduce sensitivity, build capacity, and give them something they can rely on outside the clinic.
In practice, the only things being “corrected” are habits that have become limited because pain made someone avoid certain movements. You might help the patient regain ease in a movement they’ve been guarding, improve their tolerance to a position they stopped using, or re-introduce a direction that became uncomfortable. You’re not correcting a structure; you’re helping the patient do more than they could before. That’s it.
This is why I rarely use the term. It oversells what’s happening and gives patients the wrong message. You don’t need a magical corrective sequence; you need thoughtful movement that respects where the patient is right now. That’s the reality, whether the fitness industry likes it or not.