Inquisitive.me

“Three exercises for bulletproof knees.”

Whose knees?

Mine? Yours? The knees of someone who wants to get out of a chair more comfortably—or someone who wants to play football again?

I’m not even saying the exercises are bad.

But how did we get from three potentially useful exercises to a guarantee about the knees of everyone watching?

That’s quite a promotion for three exercises.

I come across these promises on social media, and they bother me.

“This supplement will fix your gut.”

“This exercise will eliminate your back pain.”

Apparently, the person making the video knows what will work for you without ever having met you.

I’d quite like that ability. It would save me a lot of questions.

But I also understand why those promises are appealing.

When you’re in pain, you want something that helps. Preferably soon. Preferably without having to work your way through another twelve explanations that seem to contradict each other.

Then someone appears with a clear answer.

Do this. Take that. Problem solved.

Finally, something to hold on to.

The problem is that a promise can feel reassuring long before we know whether it’s justified.

In my practice, I use some of the same exercises with different patients. A squat, for example, can take several forms.

For one person, we might start with sitting down and standing up from a higher surface. For another, I might change the foot position so one leg does more of the work.

The core movement stays similar. How we use it changes.

I choose the version based on the person in front of me: what they can currently do, what they want to do, and how they respond.

That’s the part a “bulletproof knees” promise skips.

An exercise can be useful without being the right starting point for everyone. And being useful doesn’t give it the power to guarantee an outcome.

The same applies to how we talk about results.

“These exercises helped me” describes someone’s experience.

“These exercises will fix your knees” makes a prediction about yours.

Those are different claims, even if the exercises in the video are exactly the same.

When I explain a plan to a patient, I want to give them reasons for it.

Here’s what I think is happening. Here’s why I’m choosing this approach. Here’s what we’ll look at to see whether it’s helping.

If we’ve already worked together for a few sessions, I can point to their progress:

“Look, these measurements have improved since our first session. That gives me a reason to be optimistic. I’m confident we can make further progress, but I can’t promise you’ll be back to 100%.”

There is uncertainty in that explanation. There is also direction.

I don’t need to guarantee the destination to explain our next step.

That’s what I wish came across more clearly in health content: explaining the limits of a claim doesn’t automatically make someone less competent.

Sometimes, those limits are part of the most useful information they can give you.

Of course, saying “maybe” doesn’t automatically make someone trustworthy either. You can be vague and still be wrong.

What matters is whether their confidence has a basis—and whether they explain how far it goes.

Who might benefit? Under what circumstances? What result can reasonably be expected? What remains unknown?

You don’t need a medical degree to notice when a guarantee has skipped those questions.

The stronger the claim, the stronger the evidence needs to be.

“This might help” and “This will fix your knees” shouldn’t get away with the same level of proof.

And you don’t have to reject every exercise or supplement that comes with an exaggerated headline. But you can question the headline before accepting the promise.

I understand wanting certainty, especially when you’re tired of pain and confusion.

Still, someone sounding certain about your body doesn’t mean they know it.

🧪 Let’s Experiment

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A convincing promise isn’t proof that it applies to you.

Next time health advice sounds almost too good to scroll past, take a moment to look beyond the headline.

🎯 Try This:

Choose one claim and ask:

• What exactly are they promising?
• Who is that promise supposed to apply to?
• What reason have they given me to expect that result?

Notice whether they describe a possibility, share a personal experience, or guarantee what will happen to you.

You don’t have to decide immediately whether the advice is good or bad. Start by noticing how much the promise asks you to believe.

🧠 Final Thought:

“Whose knees?” is a small question.

Someone promising to fix yours should have room for it.

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