A Dialogue with Gravity: The Biomechanical Elegance of Incline Bodyweight Training

From the moment we take our first unsteady steps, we enter into a lifelong dialogue with gravity. It is the silent partner in every motion, the unseen force that strengthens our bones, challenges our muscles, and ultimately, dictates the rules of our physical existence. For centuries, our approach to this dialogue in the pursuit of fitness has often been a confrontational one—a battle of lifting, pulling, and resisting this constant downward pull with brute force. But what if there were a more elegant conversation to be had? What if we could, in essence, tune the intensity of gravity itself, transforming it from a relentless adversary into a precise and adaptable training partner?

This very idea, though it sounds like the stuff of science fiction, has roots stretching back over a century. Imagine Stockholm in the late 1800s, a world away from our modern, high-tech gyms. There, a Swedish physician and inventor named Dr. Gustav Zander conceived of a revolutionary idea. He designed a series of intricate mechanical apparatuses—machines of wood, steel, and leather—not to build Herculean physiques, but to help the body heal and strengthen itself. His philosophy was profound: that controlled, guided motion, often using the patient’s own body weight in novel ways, could restore function and vitality. He understood that the path to strength was not always about adding more weight, but about intelligently managing the weight we already possess. This was the birth of mechanotherapy, a conceptual ancestor to the sophisticated systems we see today.

Fast forward to our present, and Zander’s core insight finds its modern expression in the elegant physics of an inclined plane. This is the heart of a system like the Total Gym XLS. It operates on a principle of beautiful simplicity. When you lie on a horizontal surface, you feel gravity’s full force, but it does little to challenge your muscles. As you begin to tilt that surface upwards, a portion of your body weight is translated into resistance—a force you must work against. Think of it not as an on/off switch, but as a dimmer. At a low incline, you are dialing gravity down, asking for just 10 or 20 percent of its full effect. At a steep incline, you are dialing it up, demanding a significant challenge. This allows for what exercise physiologists call progressive overload—the fundamental key to getting stronger—to be achieved not by fumbling with heavy, intimidating plates of iron, but with the simple, fluid adjustment of a pin. It is a way of negotiating with gravity on your own terms.

But the true genius of this approach lies deeper than just adjustable resistance. It lies in a concept central to modern biomechanics: the closed kinetic chain (CKC). To understand this, picture two scenarios. First, imagine throwing a baseball. Your hand is free, moving through space to generate speed and force. This is an “open kinetic chain” exercise. Now, imagine doing a push-up. Your hands are fixed to the floor, and your body moves as a single, integrated unit. This is a “closed kinetic chain.” Most exercises on an incline bodyweight trainer are, by their nature, CKC exercises. Your hands or feet are anchored to the glide board or handles, and your body moves back and forth.

Why does this matter? Because in a closed-loop movement, your joints are forced to learn to work together. The shoulder, elbow, and wrist must co-contract and stabilize each other in a coordinated effort. This is profoundly beneficial for joint health, as it promotes stability and teaches the muscles to protect the joint, a reason why users often describe it as being “easy on your joints.” It is a smarter way to train, building not just bigger muscles, but more intelligent ones. It fosters the kind of functional strength that translates directly into real-world activities, from lifting groceries to pushing a lawnmower, because life itself is a series of integrated, closed-chain movements.

Closely related to this is the awakening of a kind of sixth sense, a faculty known as proprioception. This is your body’s internal GPS—its innate ability to know where its parts are in space without you having to look. This sense is governed by tiny receptors in your muscles and joints. When you perform an exercise on the smooth, gliding platform, your body is in a constant state of subtle instability. It must perpetually make minute adjustments to maintain balance and control, firing up dormant stabilizer muscles and sharpening the communication between your body and your brain. This is more than just a workout for your muscles; it’s a high-fidelity calibration of your entire neuromuscular system. It improves your balance, coordination, and the very quality of your movement.

Of course, no single design is a panacea. The very nature of a machine built to accommodate a wide range of human bodies means it will have limitations. Its considerable length (typically around 90 inches) demands a dedicated space that may not be available in a small apartment. And as some users have noted, its ergonomics may not be ideal for individuals at the extreme ends of the height spectrum. This is the inherent trade-off in any universal design. The elegance of its mechanical simplicity—the source of its reliability and focus on bodily sensation over digital distraction—is also what defines its physical footprint and form.

Ultimately, engaging with a system like this is less about using a machine and more about entering that dialogue with gravity we spoke of at the start. It is an instrument that allows you to compose your own physical experience, to modulate the fundamental forces acting upon you. It is a modern heir to Dr. Zander’s century-old vision, reminding us that the most sophisticated tool for building a better body is often the body itself, when guided with intelligence, elegance, and a deep respect for the physical laws that govern us all. The conversation with gravity is lifelong, and the real question is not how we can silence it, but how we can learn to speak its language more fluently.