I'm a lucky girl to have a mentor in her 80s and a 7-year-old guide.

A dear friend and mentor who has now passed on, was part of my daily life for the last decade. Although she is no longer with us, I hold two of her pearls of wisdom in my heart-mind. When we trained together, she would remind me:

In exploring a new movement pattern, with humor she’d ask, “Fran, you do remember I am in my 80s?” I’d always respond, “I sure do, that is exactly why we are trying this.”

And often at the end of a session as she wiped her sweat, with honesty she’d tell me, “Fran, I don’t do all the squat variations and the planks and the balance drills because I love them, I do them because I know they work, I get on and off the toilet pain free and hands free.”

We can all be grateful for the clarity of 80+ observations. What my wise friend was talking about is an essential function of human movement. Up and down. “Functional fitness” is a growing theme in the exercise industry. In my heart, based on all the wisdom from my elders, I hold these practices as functional freedom. To move pain free.

Of course, human movement up and down is not limited to getting on and off the toilet.

My 7-year-old niece is my current guide to dynamics of human movement. Once a week we walk in Rock Creek Park - a huge forest setting in D.C. with miles of wooded trails.

Getting as close to the water as possible, the 7-year-old manages to get face down to the ground to run her fingers through wet sand. She is curious to see what’s under the pile of leaves and investigate what lives in the tiny hole. We launch sticks at the water’s edge watching them swirl into the fast-flowing center of the creek.

Later we will scramble over boulders, balance on fallen logs and crawl under low branches. I note: How quickly – almost magically -- the 7-year-old is on her feet and running again.

Belly face down to full body upright goes more mindfully for me. I feel out a decent purchase for hands and feet, take a deep inhale and then exhale fully as I push up to something like a plank, to get to something like a down dog, to get to a squat, to figure out what comes next. Success. I am standing again. We continue our adventure.

Following the 7-year-old over and under the terrain of the creek side is sacred learning for me. From her perspective I see the natural world with renewed delight. For decades maybe centuries water has been carving through stone. The squishing sounds of our feet in the mud is our drum-beat connection to the Earth below. Kerplunk is the sound of the splash the rocks make as we throw them into the cold water. The sun emerges for a moment making the water glitter so brightly we must close our eyes. I pause with eyes closed and face to the sun -- just wanting to breathe it all in.

But only for a moment because soon enough she calls, “Auntie Frannie, come see…”

My daily movement practice takes me down to and up off the floor multiple times in multiple ways. I’m increasingly grateful for this daily practice because I can feel how a daily movement practice enables me to play along the creek with the 7-year-old.

I know from my mentor that when I’m in my 80s this same movement practice will help me lower to and rise from the potty pain free. I wonder if there could be any sweeter reward for a daily movement practice, awe, delight, and functional freedom.

It is a lifelong practice that starts now.

Let us move more in March.